#lmk what you guys' voice claims are for them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

baekhyunsbestie · 2 months ago

Text

⟢ : NEED TO KNOW ★.ᐟ

˗ˏˋ ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ˎˊ˗ the x-ëxø guys wanna see what that cute lil human cooter is really capable of. each of them has their own vibe, their own way of wrecking you, and once they’ve got you… there’s no getting away. 👽💫💖 so, who’s it gonna be?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ content ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 18+/mdni. 14k+ words (baëkhyun's is the longest i'm so sorry). separate pairings. fem!reader. i'm ngl to u this is just straight up smut for the most part. explicit language. pussydrunk men. degradation. praise. pet names. talking u thru it. dark themes: obsession and possessiveness. brat-taming. powerplay. manhandling. biting. marking. pheromone kink. size kink. choking. spanking. chains. oral. use of their powers hehe (except junmyeon + yixing). p in v. creampies. overstim. aftercare. raw and fuckn ROUGH juseyooo <3

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ “i don't play w my pen. i mean what i write!” ;) omg so i was deep in a doja cat mv binge the other day when this one came on and i was like ??? 🫦 what an insane concept !!! inspired. got to cooking. now here we are <333 anywhoooo, happy monday !!!!!! hope u enjoy this and as always, lmk what u think 😚💞💖💗💖💓💘💗 MWAH! 💋

⟢ kāi

“i don't really got no type. i just wanna f*ck all night!”

the bass thrums through your body, a steady pulse that matches the rhythm of your hips as you grind back against him, your ass pressing into the hard line of his cock. kāi's hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your flesh, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“you’re playing a dangerous game,” he rasps, voice thick with restraint, but you can feel how badly he wants to snap, to take you right here in the middle of the club. you smirk, rolling your hips again, feeling the way he stiffens behind you, a curse slipping past his lips.

“take me home, then,” you purr, glancing at him over your shoulder.

before you can blink, reality shifts, the thumping bass disappearing as the world blurs and twists. the next thing you know, you’re in a dimly lit penthouse, city lights sprawling beneath you. kai’s body is already pressing into yours, hands greedy, mouths colliding in a desperate, open mouthed kiss as you claw at each other, tugging at clothes like they’re offensive barriers.

“i’ve been waiting for you all fuckin’ night,” he groans against your lips, teeth grazing over your lower one before sucking it into his mouth. his hands are everywhere, roaming, squeezing, claiming.

“didn’t think i’d be your type,” you tease between kisses, nipping at his bottom lip.

kāi lets out a dark chuckle, lifting you effortlessly as he carries you deeper into the room, “you think i’d let just anyone make me this fucking desperate?”

his free hand slides down your stomach, pressing lower, fingers slipping and dragging over the damp heat of your soaked panties. his breath catches, his entire body tensing as his fingers glide through the slick mess between your thighs.

“fuck,” he grits out, his hips rolling forward against you on pure instinct, letting you feel just how hard he already is. “you’re so wet for me already, baby. so fuckin’ ready.”

you struggle to catch your breath, still lightheaded from his grip, from the way his fingers move against you, teasing, barely touching, driving you insane. your body bucks against his, chasing friction, chasing more, but he just smirks, pulling away, leaving you gasping.

“kāi—”

“tell me you want me, baby.” his voice darkens, rough with warning, with command.

his fingers press in, slow, teasing, pushing just enough to make you whimper, to make you desperate.

“i—i want you,” you whisper, voice shaky, barely able to form the words past the heat crawling up your throat.

kāi curses under his breath, his body shuddering, his hand tightening on your throat for just a second, just enough to make your knees weak.

his arm releases you just enough for him to shove you forward, forcing you on to your hands and knees. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest down, forcing you into the mattress, keeping your ass high in the air.

his palm drags over your skin, slow, teasing, over the curve of your ass, down to where you’re already soaked, already throbbing for him.

“look at you,” he breathes, his voice drenched in hunger, in possession. “you’re fucking shaking.”

his fingers glide through the slick between your thighs, teasing, never giving you enough.

“so needy. so fuckin’ desperate. aren’t ‘cha, baby?”

his palm cracks down against your ass, sharp, punishing, making you jolt forward with a strangled gasp.

kāi just smirks, rubbing over the sting, soothing only to tease.

“you gonna take it like a good girl?”

you nod frantically, breathless, your fingers clenching in the sheets, already wrecked from just his touch.

kāi groans, low and deep, his head tilting back, his body shaking with restraint. “good—‘cause ’m not stoppin’ till you can’t walk.”

he doesn’t give you another second to prepare—he’s already lining himself up, already dragging the thick head of his cock through your sloppy folds, already pushing inside.

your body tenses, a broken gasp spilling from your lips as he stretches you open, forcing you to take every inch.

kāi hisses through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you still, making sure you feel every inch of him sinking into you.

“that’s it, baby,” he grits out, voice hoarse, thick with pleasure. “take it. take all of it.”

his head drops forward, his lips parting around a guttural moan, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

you feel so fucking good— he can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but fuck you.

his hips snap forward, hard, deep, forcing your body up the bed, forcing a sharp, choked-off moan from your throat.

his fingers tighten on your waist, anchoring himself, losing himself, fucking into you with sharp, brutal thrusts.

your moans shatter into something helpless, something completely wrecked.

kāi feels it all. he feels the way your walls clench, flutter, squeeze him like you never want to let him go. he feels the way your legs tremble beneath him, the way your nails dig into the sheets, the way your moans break into sobbed-out gasps, too much, too good, too deep.

“fuck—”

the groan rips from his throat, deep and ragged, breaking apart as his head drops forward, damp hair falling into his eyes, sweat dripping down his temple, chain swaying against your back with every sharp snap of his hips.

his hands slide down, rough and desperate, gripping your waist, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin, holding you there, pulling you back onto him, making you take every inch, forcing you to feel just how desperate he is.

he’s already too deep, too wrecked, too far gone. his jaw clenches, his breath stuttering, his thighs flexing beneath you as he fights for control, fights to hold himself together, fights the need to cum too fast because you feel too fucking good.

and then—you move.

your hips roll, slow and deliberate, fucking yourself onto him, making him feel every single inch, squeezing him tight, dragging him in deeper.

kāi freezes.

his grip tightens, sharp inhale cutting through the heavy air, his body tensing behind you.

and then he snaps.

his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging in, nails pressing deep, holding you down as he fucks into you with sharp, punishing thrusts, forcing a wrecked sob from your lips.

“holy shit—” his voice is hoarse, ruined, completely unraveling.

his rhythm stumbles, pace turning rougher, harder, deeper. he's fucking you like he needs it, like he’s lost in it, like you’ve just pushed him over the edge and now he can’t stop.

his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles, the contrast between the rough snap of his hips and the slow, torturous pleasure of his fingers making your body shake.

“gonna make you all fuckin’ mine, baby,” he grits out, hips snapping, faster, deeper, unrelenting.

your body locks up, shatters, pleasure slamming into you so hard your breath cuts off, leaving you gasping, shaking, sobbing his name.

he feels you tightening, pulsing, trembling beneath him, and it ruins him.

his hands fly up, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you back onto him, meeting you thrust for thrust, slamming so deep you swear you can feel him everywhere.

his breath stutters, groan breaking into something raw, something desperate. his forehead presses into the back of your neck, his lips dragging over your sweat-damp skin, panting, shaking, completely fucking wrecked.

his hips roll forward, pressing in deep, grinding so slowly it makes your head spin. you jolt, breath catching, a broken little whimper spilling from your lips as the overwhelming sensation crashes through you.

kāi groans, his head dropping forward, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, damp dark green hair sticking to his forehead.

“so sensitive already?” he taunts, voice mocking, playful, so damn smooth it makes your stomach tighten. “but we’ve barely started.”

your breath stutters, body trembling, pleasure crackling through your veins like fire.

“kāi, s’too much!” you gasp, the sound breathless, desperate, wrecked beyond repair.

he grins against your skin, his fingers tightening on your hips, his grip bruising, unrelenting.

and then—you try to shift.

just the smallest movement, a desperate attempt to pull away from the overstimulation, from the way he’s pressing so deep, from the way your body is still pulsing around him.

but he’s not having it.

his arm slides around your waist, yanking you back, shoving you down, holding you in place.

“oh, no, baby,” he coos, voice dripping with amusement, with dominance. “where do ya think you’re going?”

his free hand trails down your stomach, teasing, fingertips dragging over your trembling thighs before pressing between them, parting them wider.

“you can keep going.” his voice is low, commanding, drenched in certainty. “you’re still drippin’ f’me—fuck, look at you, baby.”

your lashes flutter, eyes hazy, dazed, barely able to focus—but then he forces you to look.

his hand slips under your chin, tilting your head down, forcing your gaze between your legs, forcing you to see exactly how much of a mess you’ve made.

and fuck—he’s right.

your slick coats your thighs, dripping down your skin, pooling onto the sheets beneath you, messy, obscene, proof of just how wrecked you are, proof of how much you love this.

kāi groans, voice low and wrecked, completely undone.

“shit, baby—” his fingers dig deeper into your skin, his cock twitching inside you at the sight. “she still wants me, huh?”

his hips pull back, dragging out slow, teasing, before slamming forward again, making you cry out, making your body arch beneath him.

his hands grip your hips, flipping you effortlessly onto your back. your breath stumbles, body shifting, legs instinctively parting as he settles between them, his weight pressing down, his chest hot against yours.

his eyes meet yours, dark and blown-out, filled with something ravenous.

“gonna watch you, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, voice molten against your skin. “gonna watch every fucking second while i fill you up.”

his fingers wrap around the backs of your knees, pushing them up, bending you in half, folding you under him until your ankles hook over his shoulders.

mating press.

deep. suffocating. brutal.

his next thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, the angle hitting so perfectly, so mercilessly, that your head tips back, a wrecked moan spilling past your lips.

kai groans, grinding forward, rolling his hips, pressing deeper, chasing the way you tremble beneath him, the way you clench around him.

“fuck—” his voice is wrecked, breathless, completely gone. “ya feel that? feel how deep i am, baby?”

his hands grip the backs of your thighs, holding you still, keeping you open, keeping you exactly where he needs you.

his lips drag along your ear, voice rough and commanding.

“gonna fuck my cum so deep inside you, you’ll still feel me tomorrow.” he pants, hips snapping forward, grinding deep, making you take it.

his words send heat pooling in your stomach, twisting tighter, unbearable, your body teetering on the edge.

“you gonna cum again, baby?” his tone is mocking, but desperate, hungry, like he wants it just as much as you.

you nod, gasping, shaking, barely able to hold on.

kāi groans, his hands slipping down to your stomach, pressing down, feeling himself inside you, pushing even deeper.

“that’s right, baby,” he breathes, his lips brushing against yours, sweat-damp and feverish. “gimme another one.”

your body shudders, pleasure tearing through you like wildfire, your breath catching, back arching, thighs trembling as you break beneath him.

kāi moans, long and low, feeling every pulsing squeeze of your walls, every desperate tremor of your body, every fucking aftershock of your orgasm rolling through you.

“fuck, baby—” his voice is wrecked, almost hoarse, his breath catching. “gonna—fuck—”

his hips stutter, slam forward, grind deep, and then—

he breaks.

his jaw goes slack, his body locks up, his cock twitches inside you, and then he’s spilling deep, hips jerking through every thick pulse of his release, filling you up, stuffing you full, keeping you there, keeping you under him, keeping himself buried inside you as he groans through the aftershocks.

his forehead drops against yours, damp hair sticking to his skin, his breath uneven, his body trembling.

“holy shit,” he exhales, his voice barely there, soft and wrecked and completely lost.

his hands slide over your thighs, up your sides, up to your face, his fingers tracing over your jaw, soft, slow, reverent.

his lips skim against yours, lazy, claiming, pressing in deeper, messier, letting you feel exactly how wrecked he is.“you’re mine,” he whispers, voice still shaking. “and i’m not fuckin’ done with you yet.”

⟢ chanyeøl

“your eyes told me, ‘girl, come ride me!’”

he can’t move.

his wrists are bound to the headboard, silver chains stretching taut, clinking against metal every time he tugs. every sharp movement makes them rattle, the sound cutting through the thick, heated air, a constant reminder that he’s helpless beneath you. his arms flex with the effort, biceps straining, veins prominent beneath flushed, sweat-damp skin, muscles coiled so tight it’s agonizing. tension rolls through his body in suffocating waves, every nerve set alight, every inch of him aching, burning, starving for more.

and you? you’re fucking killing him.

straddling his lap, hips rolling in slow, torturous circles, your body moving with deliberate cruelty. the drag of your slick heat around his cock is exquisite, unbearable, devastating. you keep it agonizingly slow, a teasing rhythm that drives him insane, that keeps him hanging on the edge but never lets him fall.

he feels everything.

the way your walls clench and flutter every time you shift, the slick warmth of you wrapped so tight around him, the delicious friction that makes his breath stutter and his fingers twitch—except he can’t touch you.

he can only watch. only feel. only suffer.

his pink hair is damp with sweat, messy strands sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, lips parted around ragged breaths. his chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven motions, every exhale shuddering through him like he’s barely holding it together.

his eyes—heavy-lidded, dark, desperate—stay locked onto you, filled with frustration, hunger, something utterly feral.

you grind down just a little harder, squeeze just a little tighter, let a slow, knowing smirk curl your lips—

and chanyeøl groans, head pressing back into the pillows, jaw clenched so tight it aches.

“baby,” he grits out, voice wrecked, deep, thick with warning. “stop fuckin’ teasin’ me.”

but you only tilt your head, lashes low, lips curling into something playful, something cruel, something that lets him know you’re not stopping anytime soon.

“why would i stop?” you murmur, voice sweet, teasing, soaked in mischief.

your fingers trail down his chest, slow, deliberate, nails scraping lightly over the firm planes of muscle, tracing along every dip, every ridge. the moment you reach his abs, you press down just slightly, feeling the way they clench, the way his entire body tightens, the way his breath shudders out of him in something between a groan and a curse.

but you’re not in a hurry.

your nails drag lower, teasing over his stomach, feeling the heat radiating off his skin, feeling every single slight tremor that runs through him.

then—you reach for the candle.

the wax is molten, thick and slow-moving, swirling in liquid fire within its glass prison. your fingers curl around it, lifting it carefully, tilting it just enough to let a single droplet gather at the edge—

and then it falls.

chanyeøl sucks in a sharp breath, every muscle in his body locking up as the wax splashes against his skin. it sears hot for the barest second before cooling, solidifying into something firm and unyielding, a mark of your control, your dominance, your ownership over him.

his breath stutters, his fingers flex, the chains rattling violently as he fights against them.

but he’s not fighting you.

no, he wants more.

you see it in his eyes, dark and blown-out, see it in the way his lips part, the way his thighs tense beneath you, the way his entire body reacts to the sensation.

so you give it to him.

another drip.

then another.

each one landing lower, dragging down his stomach, tracing the ridges of his muscles, painting a sinful path that has him breathing ragged, has him groaning deep in his chest, has him losing himself completely beneath you.

“you like that?” you whisper, voice nothing but a breath of air against his sweat-damp skin.

his jaw clenches, his hips bucking up instinctively, seeking more, needing more, but the chains keep him still, keep him bound, keep him at your mercy.

his pink hair is an absolute mess now, wild and untamed, sticking to his forehead in damp strands, his entire body slick with sweat, his skin gleaming beneath the dim candlelight.

and god, he looks fucking ruined.

but not enough.

you drag the candle higher, letting it hover over his chest, watching the way his abs clench, the way his fingers twitch, the way his lips part like he’s about to beg—

but then—

the chains snap.

heat surges, an overwhelming wave of raw power bursting from within him, and before you can react, before you can even blink, his wrists are free, silver links falling uselessly to the mattress, charred, burned through like they were never meant to hold him in the first place.

your breath catches.

the candle tumbles from your grip, caught effortlessly by his hand before it can spill another drop.

then his hands are on your hips, a bruising grip of pure desperation as he yanks you down onto him. no hesitation, no warning—just pure, raw need. his breath is ragged, his chest heaving, his entire body trembling with restraint, with need, with something dark and insatiable.

“ya really thought you could tease me like that?” his voice is a growl, low and wrecked, thick with amusement, thick with something more dangerous. “thought you could fuckin’ break me?”

his hips grind against yours, slow, deliberate, making you feel every thick, heavy inch of him pressing against your core, making you tremble, making you whimper, making you realize—

you’ve lost control.

chanyeøl smirks, lips curving into something dark, something devastating, something that promises you’re not leaving this bed without remembering who he is.

“my turn, baby.”

his grip is brutal, unrelenting, a bruising force of raw hunger and pent-up aggression. his fingers sink into the soft flesh of your hips, digging deep, holding tight, dragging you down with such devastating strength that the air gets knocked from your lungs the moment he slams you onto his cock.

you choke on a gasp, body seizing, nails clawing at his arms, your mind struggling to catch up with the sheer force of him—

but he doesn’t give you time.

doesn’t give you room to process the way he stretches you open, the way he fills you so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach.

he breathes, voice wrecked, thick with relief, with amusement, with something darker. his pink hair is a mess, sweat-damp and wild, strands sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted around heavy, uneven breaths.

his hands tighten, nails pressing into your skin, his grip so firm you know you’ll feel it tomorrow, know you’ll wake up with marks of his desperation painted across your body.

he keeps you there, keeps you pressed against him, keeps you right where he wants you, caging you in with his heat, his size, his overwhelming presence.

his smirk is devastating, nothing but pure sin, sharp edges and dark amusement curving his lips as he tilts his head, as his breath spills hot against your mouth.

“ya wanted to ride me?” his voice drips with something dangerous, something mocking, something completely and utterly in control. “then fucking ride.”

his hips snap up, sharp and unrelenting, the sheer force knocking the breath from your lungs, punching a strangled gasp from your throat, sending your body jolting from the impact. the air leaves you in a shuddering exhale, your moan breaking into something fractured, something wrecked, something high and breathless, barely coherent over the ruthless slap of skin against skin.

your vision blurs at the edges, a hazy, pleasure-drunk mess, the world narrowing to nothing but the overwhelming sensation of him—his hands on you, his cock buried so fucking deep inside you, his breath against your throat, the sound of his groans rasping against your skin, the desperation coating his every movement.

you try to move, try to match his pace, try to meet the brutal snap of his hips, but he doesn’t let you—doesn’t give you room, doesn’t give you control. your nails sink into his shoulders, clawing at him, grasping at the sweat-slicked muscle beneath your fingers, searching for something to hold onto, something to ground you. but chanyeøl doesn’t give you that either.

he doesn’t give you a choice.

his grip tightens, fingers digging in, palms spreading wide across your waist, holding you down, keeping you locked against him, keeping you exactly where he wants you. his thrusts turn ruthless, merciless, slamming up into you so hard you swear you can feel him everywhere, every thick inch stretching you, pressing into every devastating spot that has your body convulsing, your thighs trembling, your stomach tightening.

he’s completely lost now. completely feral. completely gone.

his moan rips through the room, raw and guttural, nothing but pure wreckage, his chest heaving, his body trembling, his muscles flexing beneath your fingers as his rhythm falters for just a second—just long enough for him to collect himself, to gather what little restraint he has left.

“that’s it, baby,” his voice is wrecked, shaking, breaking apart on every syllable, pure desperation dripping from his tongue. “take it—fuck, take all of it.”

his teeth find your throat, grazing, dragging over the flushed, heated skin, nipping and sucking, leaving bruises in his wake, marking you as his. his lips travel lower, over the curve of your shoulder, along your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses between every sharp, gasping inhale. his breath is hot, uneven, barely controlled, every exhale ghosting over your skin like he’s worshipping the way you fall apart for him.

“god, you feel so fucking good.”

his voice drops to a whisper, hoarse and trembling, more for himself than for you. his hips grind forward, deep, slow for just a moment, dragging out the sensation, pressing into you so perfectly, pushing against that one spot that makes your back arch, that makes your walls flutter, that makes you gasp out his name like a prayer.

he chuckles—low, teasing, smug—but there’s no steadiness to it, no confidence, just something wrecked, something helpless, something fucking lost in you.

“gonna make you cum all over my cock just like this, baby.”

his pace stutters, sharp, erratic, his control slipping, his own pleasure climbing too fast, too high, too much.

“fuck—” his moan is low, guttural, his head falling back, pink hair damp with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead, clinging to his temples, his entire body gleaming, flushed, overheated.

his hands slide down your waist, palms pressing into your stomach, holding you still, anchoring you to him as he grinds into you, as he feels you squeeze around him, as he feels you unravel.

his voice is a whisper, breathless and ruined.

“you gonna cum for me?”

your body locks up, muscles tightening, thighs clenching, every nerve in your body winding tighter and tighter, the pleasure swelling inside you, mounting, consuming.

“y-yes!”

your voice breaks, your hands gripping onto him, onto anything, onto whatever will keep you grounded as the pressure twists in your gut, as it builds too high, too fast, too fucking overwhelming.

chanyeøl groans, a low, drawn-out sound, his chest rumbling against yours as he dips his head, lips dragging along your jaw, breath hot against your ear.

his fingers slip between your thighs, sliding against your clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles, relentless, knowing exactly how to ruin you, knowing exactly how to make you break.

his pace turns frantic, desperate, his thrusts losing rhythm, losing precision, his body trembling as he chases your pleasure, as he chases his own.

“then cum, baby—” his voice is a command, low and rough, breath catching as he feels your walls pulse around him, as he feels you tense, as he feels you start to fall apart.

and fuck— you do.

the pleasure slams into you like a shockwave, too much, too strong, so intense your entire body locks up, a choked sob ripping from your throat as you shudder, convulse, lose yourself in the heat, the overwhelming flood of sensation crashing over you in waves.

your nails dig into his back, raking down the sweat-slicked muscle, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to the earth. your walls tighten, pulse, clench around him in desperate aftershocks, and you swear you can hear the way he chokes on his next breath, the way his body seizes beneath you, the way he completely fucking loses it.

“oh my god—” your voice breaks, barely even words, nothing but breath and sound and wreckage. “so deep—fuck, yeøl—feels so good! feels too fuckin’ good—”

chanyeøl curses, deep and filthy, a ragged groan ripped straight from his chest, shaking beneath you, trembling, muscles flexing and tightening like he’s on the very edge of ruin.

“jesus fuckin’ christ, baby—” his voice is barely a whisper, barely human, hoarse and guttural, completely wrecked.

his hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, your hips, your thighs, as if he can’t decide where he wants to hold you, where he wants to feel you, if he even wants to hold on at all or if he just wants to let go, let himself completely fucking break.

“shit—" he gasps, voice catching, his hips faltering, losing rhythm, losing control.

he feels everything. every flutter, every squeeze, every pulsing, desperate grip of your gummy walls dragging him deeper, milking him, pulling him under.

his head tilts back, jaw slack, eyes fluttering shut as his entire body locks up and then—he shatters.

his moan is long, drawn-out, completely destroyed, something between a groan and a plea, something raw and helpless, something utterly fucking wrecked.

his hips stutter, slam forward one last time, pressing deep, grinding as his cock pulses inside you, as he spills hot and thick, filling you, stuffing you full, making sure you feel it, making sure he’s buried so deep you won’t be able to forget it.

his fingers tighten, gripping you like he never wants to let go, like he wants to stay right here, like he’s trying to mold himself to you, like this is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

his breath stumbles, uneven gasps falling from his lips, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his entire body trembling beneath yours.

your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through damp, pink strands, holding him against you as he tries to catch his breath, as he comes down from the high, as he struggles to even comprehend the wreckage you just left him in.

and then—he laughs.

soft, breathless, utterly amused, the sound warm and lazy against your skin, like he can’t believe how fucking good that was, like he’s still trying to process it.

his arms wrap around you, dragging you closer, pulling you flush against his chest, keeping you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his lips pressing against your temple, slow, affectionate, completely different from the way he just ruined you.

“damn,” he chuckles, grinning against your skin, voice still thick with exhaustion, with satisfaction, with something teasing. “should’ve broken out sooner.”

⟢ sehůn

“i heard from a friend of a friend that that dick was a 10/10!”

you don’t hesitate.

there’s no second-guessing, no last-minute doubts gnawing at the edges of your resolve. you know exactly what you want, and tonight, you’re taking it.

your first time? it has to be good. not just good—worth it. unforgettable. none of that clumsy, awkward, hesitant nonsense. no fumbling hands or uncertain touches. no half-hearted attempts at pleasure. you want something that sets the standard so high, every encounter after this either rises to meet it—

or crashes and burns in comparison.

so when the rumors started swirling—whispers passed from friend to friend, low voices dripping with scandal—you listened. you heard about sehůn. about the way he ruins girls. about how he fucks like he has something to prove, like he needs to leave a mark, like he’s got a goddamn legacy to uphold. you heard that he’s got a fucking 10/10 between his legs, that he knows exactly how to use it, that he has girls losing their minds over it.

and that’s when you made up your mind.

which brings you here. now.

and sehůn? he’s unraveling.

“holy fuck, baby—”

his voice is wrecked, raw and hoarse, cracking under the weight of whatever the hell you’re doing to him. his gaze is locked between your bodies, pupils blown wide as he watches—watches—the way you take him, how your body stretches around every thick, veined inch of him, how your slick heat clings to him like you don’t want to let go.

he moves slow. deep. careful.

because fuck—he’s huge.

long, thick, stretching you open inch by inch, filling you up so perfectly, so completely, it knocks the air from your lungs. your thighs tremble, heat pooling deep in your core, every nerve ending alight. your nails dig into his arms, a sharp contrast to the slow, deliberate way he pushes in, making you feel every inch, every vein, every unbearable second of it.

too much. too good. too deep.

“oh my god,” you gasp, back arching, the burn of the stretch sharp and unrelenting, overwhelming in the best possible way. the pain fades into something hotter, something dizzying, something addictive.

above you, sehůn groans, teeth clenched so tight his jaw ticks, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline. his fingers flex against your skin, the tension in his arms evident, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he forces himself to move slow—forces himself to not snap his hips forward, not fuck you deep and raw and desperate.

because he can’t. because this is your first time. because fuck, he wants to ruin you, wants to wreck you, wants to make it so good that nothing, no one, will ever compare.

“ s-so fuckin’ tight,” he rasps, voice strained, uneven, breaking under the sheer effort it takes to hold back. his head tilts back, throat bobbing as he swallows hard, his fingers digging into your waist. too much. too perfect. too fucking good.

his hands tremble as they slide down, past your ribs, lower, lower—

then he presses. right below your navel.

his breath catches.

“holy shit, baby—”

you blink, dazed, breathless, pulse roaring in your ears as you follow his gaze down—

and fuck— you see it.

the outline of him. thick and deep, pressing against your stomach, buried so far inside you that you can see the way he stretches you, the way he fills you.

sehůn lets out a wrecked, shuddering breath, his eyes glazed over, his thumb tracing over the bulge like he can’t fucking believe it.

“look at that,” he groans, voice breaking. “fuck, sweetheart. i’m so deep inside you.”

sehůn groans, low and wrecked, something primal flickering behind his eyes, his fingers flexing against your belly, pressing down just slightly, just enough to feel himself inside you, just enough to make his cock twitch, just enough to make you moan, high and broken and absolutely ruined.

“fuck,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut, body jolting at the pressure, at the weight of him, at the way he just keeps sinking deeper. “so fuckin’ big.”

sehůn lets out a breathless laugh, something between smug and delirious, something completely pussy drunk.

“yeah?”

you nod, eyes hazy, lips parting, your voice softer now, higher, sweeter.

“s'good.”

his breath stutters, his heart pounding, something thick and hot curling in his stomach at the way you’re taking him, at the way you’re looking up at him like he’s the only thing in the world right now.

his fingers press deeper into your belly, his lips dragging along your jaw, his breath shaky.

you let out the softest whimper, legs trembling around his waist, your body clenching down around him, so tight, so wet, so fucking sweet.

and sehůn? he’s fucking losing it.

his body is trembling, sweat rolling down his spine, damp strands of black hair clinging to his forehead, his jaw slack, his eyes dark, unfocused, his grip on your waist so tight it’s almost bruising. his breath stumbles, breaking over the sharp gasps leaving his lips, wrecked, helpless, completely fucking gone.

his grip tightens, fingers pressing deep into your waist, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself together, to keep his control, to not fucking break. but he’s slipping—you can feel it in the way his hips stutter, in the way his voice shakes, in the way his nails dig into your skin like he’s trying to keep himself tethered to something real.

“gonna claim you, baby—fuck—gonna ruin you.”

his voice is low, rough, cracking under the weight of his own desperation, thick with need, with something raw, something wild, something completely fucking unhinged.

his hips snap forward, deep, fast, rough, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs, making your fingers clutch at him, nails biting into his sweat-slicked back.

he groans at the sting, the sound broken, wrecked, so fucking desperate.

“gonna fuck you so deep, so good, you’ll never want anyone else—"

his words hit like fire, heat spreading through you, searing, melting, consuming.

because you don’t. you don’t want anyone else. no one could ever fuck you like this. no one could ever make you feel like this. no one but him.

“gonna make this pretty pussy take the shape of my cock—”

his words are filth, pure sin, dripping from his lips like a promise, like a vow, like an unshakable truth.

your body reacts instantly, your walls clenching, pulsing, gripping him tighter, your legs wrapping around him, holding him closer, keeping him exactly where you need him, exactly where he belongs.

your practically breathless, wrecked, high and needy, gasping, pleading, your fingers dragging down the flexing muscles in his back, leaving scratches, leaving marks, claiming him the same way he’s claiming you.

because if oh sehůn’s the only dick you’ll ever have for the rest of your life—

you don’t fucking care.

as long as you can cum like this, as long as he fucks you like this, as long as he keeps filling you, stretching you, ruining you, making sure no one else can ever have you.

no one could ever compare.

you dig your nails in harder, dragging them over his skin, feeling the way his entire body tenses, the way his cock twitches inside you, the way he moans against your throat, high and broken and completely undone.

his forehead falls against yours, his breath mingling with yours, hot, heavy, wrecked.

“gonna cum,” he pants, voice barely above a whisper, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you down onto him, making you take all of him, every inch, every thick, perfect inch stretching you, filling you, ruining you. “fuck, baby, gimme one more—”

you let out a choked sob, every thrust sending fire through your veins, sending pleasure rippling through your body, tightening, twisting, coiling too tight, too much, too good—

“sehůn! fuck—”

his grip tightens, his fingers sliding down between your bodies, rubbing messy, fast circles over your clit, his voice a rough command against your lips.

“yeah, pretty, that's it—fuckin' cum for me—”

your body locks up, pleasure crashing over you, white-hot, mind-numbing, overwhelming. your walls flutter, clench, pulse around him, and sehůn completely fucking breaks.

“oh, fuck—”

his moan is wrecked, completely shattered, his hips slamming forward, pressing so fucking deep you swear you feel him everywhere, his cock throbbing inside you, hot and thick, filling you up, stuffing you full, making sure you take every last drop.

his body shudders, fingers gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to keep you here, like he needs this, like he needs you.

his forehead rests against yours, his breath heavy, uneven, his voice barely a whisper.

“shit, baby—never felt anything like this—”

his voice is wrecked, breathless, torn straight from his chest like he can’t believe what just happened, like he’s trying to catch up, trying to process the way you just ruined him.

you smirk, slow and lazy, lips parted, chest rising and falling in uneven waves. bliss coats your skin, warm and slick against his, the aftershocks still pulsing through you, still making your legs weak, your body hum.

you let out a breathless laugh, the sound light, teasing, laced with exhaustion. “was this your first time or mine?”

sehůn huffs out a rough laugh, but there’s no real bite to it, just something wild and wrecked in the way his arms tighten around you, his grip unrelenting, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second.

his lips find your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw—soft but firm, slow but desperate, like he’s mapping you out, memorizing the way you taste, the way you feel under his hands, against his skin.

“nah, baby,” he murmurs, voice nothing but gravel, nothing but heat against your pulse. “more like this is my last first time with anyone—”

his fingers press deeper into your hips, like he’s making sure you hear him, feel him, understand exactly what he means. his lips brush yours, breath warm, gaze dark, possessive.

“'cus this pussy is mine for life.”

⟢ kyüngsoo

“spank me, slap me, choke me, bite me!”

it all started as a joke. just harmless fun.

it’s friday night and you and your girls had gone to the ëxø bar, a place whispered about in certain circles—where the drinks were stronger, the air was heavier, and the men who owned it… well, no one really knew what they were. just that they were different. powerful. something more.

so, of course, after a few drinks, the conversation had taken a turn.

“i bet they’re fucking insane in bed,” one of your friends giggled, stirring her drink lazily. “imagine the things they could do to you.”

you had laughed, tipsy and unbothered, the warmth of alcohol making you bolder. “i dunno. some of them look like they could ruin you. like, completely wreck your shit.”

“which one do you think would fuck the best?” someone else teased, nudging you playfully.

your gaze had drifted—just for a second—to him. kyüngsoo. the one with the sharp eyes and the ridiculous shoulders, sitting in the corner nursing his drink like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“that one,” you had murmured, half to yourself. “he looks like he wouldn’t stop until you were a fucking mess.”

you didn’t know then that he could hear you.

but he did.

and now? now you’re here, in his bed, screaming his name like a prayer.

kyüngsoo has you folded, ass high in the air, face buried in the mattress as he pounds into you like he’s trying to break you apart and put you back together again. his grip on your hips is brutal, fingers digging in like he wants to leave bruises, like he wants you to remember this every time you see yourself in the mirror.

“this how you imagined it, baby?” his voice is rough, teasing, so fucking cocky. “when you were giggling with your little friends—wondering how i’d fuck you?”

you try to answer, but all that comes out is a choked moan, your back arching as he lands a sharp smack to your ass.

“answer me.”

you barely manage to stutter out, “it’s e-even b-better!” before he’s yanking you up, one thick arm wrapping around your neck in a headlock.

his strength is inhuman, his body unrelenting, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over like he’s got something to prove. and maybe he does. maybe he wants you to know that no one else could ever fuck you like this.

his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin, to make your body throb around him.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, voice rough against your ear. “pretty little pussy taking me so well. just like i knew it fuckin’ would.”

you’re gone, completely wrecked, every thought in your head wiped clean except for him. his strength, his power, the way he’s fucking you like he owns you.

the moment you start throwing it back, meeting him stroke for stroke, something in kyüngsoo snaps.

his power—his inhuman strength—was something he had always kept under control. always measured, always careful. but not now.

now?

he grabs you, one arm looping around your waist, lifting you clean off the bed like you weigh nothing, like you’re just a doll for him to use. you barely have time to gasp before he’s slamming you back down onto his cock, impaling you so deep you see stars.

“fuck—” your breath hitches, nails digging into his wrist as he manhandles you with ease, bouncing you on his cock like you’re just a toy for his pleasure.

“this what you wanted, doll?” his voice is dark, ragged, dangerous. “you wanna fuck me back? wanna take it like a big girl?”

his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise, and then he’s fucking up into you, his strength making it so you don’t have to move at all—just take it, just let him use you.

your moans are broken, breathless, your body limp in his grasp, barely able to handle the sheer force of his thrusts.

“too much?” kyüngsoo's voice is thick with amusement, a dark tease laced with mockery. his free hand cracks against your ass, the sharp sting making you jolt in his grip. he feels the way you shudder, the way your walls flutter around him. weak. trembling. desperate.

his lips brush your ear, his teeth grazing the shell as he purrs, “nah—you can take it. you were talkin’ all that shit in the bar, weren’t you?” another slap lands, harder this time, and you whimper. “so take it.”

kyüngsoo’s grip tightens on your hips, holding you steady as he fucks into you, his full strength unleashed. the bedframe creaks, the entire thing rocking under the sheer force of his thrusts, his cock slamming into you like he’s trying to fuck you through the mattress.

and he is.

your fingers scramble for purchase, clawing at the sheets, moans spilling from your lips in helpless little cries.

“w-want you so bad, ‘soo! hah—can’t get enough!” your voice is almost slurred, pleasure consuming you, your body begging for him.

he lets out a deep, primal groan, his whole body shuddering, and then—

he grabs you.

one hand wrenches your wrists behind your back, pinning them effortlessly, holding you captive with his sheer strength. his other hand? it wraps around your throat, squeezing, controlling your every breath, forcing you to stay exactly where he wants you. his hips snap forward, unrelenting, each stroke making the bed shake, making you sob with pleasure.

“huh? what’s wrong?” his tone is pure mockery, amusement curling around the edges of his words as he watches you fall apart. “thought you wanted to keep up? but look at you—”

he lets go of your wrists just to shove you down, flattening you into the mattress, his weight crushing you in the best way.

“can’t even move anymore, can you?”

he’s right. you can’t. you’re wrecked, nothing but a quivering mess, your body his to use.

his thrusts grow sloppier, harder, inhumanly deep, and then—

he roars, his grip on your throat tightening, his cock pulsing as he spills into you, filling you up so deep you swear you can feel it everywhere.

and the worst part?

you still want more.

⟢ suhø

“i just wanna know if you can fuck on me better!”

the bass from the club inside pulses through the walls of the dimly lit parking lot, but in here—inside the tight, fogged-up space of suhø’s car—there’s only the sound of your breathy moans and the wet, filthy slap of skin on skin.

you don’t even remember how you got here, how the casual, half-serious conversation over drinks turned into you being splayed out beneath him, your dress hiked up around your waist, his hands gripping your thighs like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

but you remember what he said.

“i can fuck you better.”

you had scoffed. rolled your eyes. told him every guy says that.

and yet—fifteen minutes later, you’re gasping for air, body trembling from the second orgasm he’s wrung out of you with nothing but precise, calculated thrusts that are too damn good. you hate car sex. always found it uncomfortable, never got off, never felt like it was worth the trouble.

but now?

now you’re draped over the center console, one knee propped up against the window, his fingers sinking into your flesh as he fucks into you so good, so deep, you swear you’re about to shatter. your body is still pulsing from the last climax, but you feel another one creeping up fast, winding tight in your gut, making your thighs tremble as suhø leans down, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“you have no idea how fucking long i’ve wanted you like this,” his fingers slide down to press against your swollen clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. you jolt, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as pleasure ripples through you.

“suhø—fuck—”

“hated every time you brought that fucking loser to my fucking bar.” his voice is low, rough, strained with the effort of holding back, “knowing he couldn’t make you feel this way—knowing it should’ve been me. should’ve always been me.”

you let out a breathless laugh, barely coherent. “if i knew you were gonna fuck me like this, i would’ve left him a long time ago.”

suhø groans against your skin, teeth scraping lightly against your jaw before he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something dangerous.

“yeah?” his hips slow, rolling into you deep enough to make you gasp. “then why the fuck did you waste so much time on him?”

“dunno,” you tease, even as your breath stutters. “bad decisions, i guess.”

“damn right,” he grunts, hand sliding down between your bodies, fingers pressing against your clit. “good thing i’m fixing that now.”

your back arches as you keen his name, body responding to him in ways it never has for anyone else.

“you feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, “you’re close again. i can feel you squeezing me.”

and you are—you’re right there, teetering on the edge, but you need something more.

with a desperate push, you press against his chest, flipping him over, straddling his lap. his head tips back against the headrest, hands automatically falling to your hips as you sink down onto him, nails digging into his shoulders.

“god—” he groans, voice tight, “look at you. fucking perfect.”

you roll your hips, slow at first, watching the way his jaw tenses, his fingers flexing against your skin. but then something inside you snaps, and you move faster, chasing that peak, riding him until the pleasure becomes unbearable.

“that’s it, baby,” he grits out, meeting your rhythm with sharp thrusts, “show me how bad you need it—”

you sob his name, and then—fuck—

it crashes over you like a tidal wave. your body locks up, pleasure consuming you as you squirt all over him, the wet, messy sound of it echoing in the car. suhø groans deep in his chest, a rough, guttural sound as his grip tightens, his cock twitching inside you before he thrusts up one last time, spilling deep inside you with a shaky, “fuck—yes—”

the only sound left is your panting breaths, the creak of the car as it rocks gently back and forth. the windows are completely fogged, the air thick with heat and sweat and sex.

suhø exhales heavily, hands roaming up your sides, fingers tracing gentle patterns against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“dump him,” he murmurs against your hair, “get with me instead.”

you hum, still catching your breath. “mmm, that’s a tempting offer.”

suhø scoffs, his grip tightening on your waist. “tempting? baby, i just made you cum three times. what’s there to think about?”

you smirk, trailing your fingers along his collarbone. “true. maybe i need more convincing.”

his jaw clenches, eyes darkening as he flips you back onto the seat in one swift motion, spreading your thighs apart again.

“oh, i’ll fucking convince you.”

his fingers dip between your legs, already teasing, already coaxing another moan from your lips.

“i can take care of you,” he whispers, gaze locked onto yours. “just leave him.”

⟢ baëkhyun

“baby come throw the pipe. gotta know what it’s like!”

your breathing is a trembling mess, uneven gasps breaking apart into soft, choked-off moans, and baëkhyun hears every single bit of it. it’s like your body is singing for him, and he’s so fucking tuned in, so hyperaware, so ruined by the way you fall apart beneath him. he feels the way your chest rises and falls in shallow, needy pants, the way your fingers claw at the sheets like you’re trying to ground yourself, the way your thighs tremble as they lock tighter around his waist. but nothing—nothing—compares to the way your gummy walls flutter and clench around him, gripping him like you never want to let him go. and fuck—he groans, deep and guttural, head dropping forward, fingers digging into your waist so hard they might bruise.

he’s never felt anything like this. it’s not inexperience. he’s had more than his fair share of bodies under him, pretty little things crying for him, scratching down his back as he made them come undone. but this? you? it’s too much. too hot, too tight, too good, dragging him under and drowning him in sensation so intense it turns his nerves raw. every squeeze, every slick pull of your body around him, every little pulse of your walls milking him for more—he feels it too clearly, too sharp, like his body was made for this, for you, for the unbearable pleasure of sinking into you and losing himself completely.

his head tilts back, silver chain catching the dim light, the delicate links shifting with every brutal roll of his hips. his breath is ragged, his body shaking, white hair clinging to his damp forehead as he fights to keep control—fights not to let you drag him under completely. but he’s losing. fuck, he’s losing. the way you take him, the way your heat tightens, flexes, pulls him in deeper like you were made to keep him buried inside—it’s breaking him down, reducing him to nothing but the sharp, desperate need to fuck you harder, to chase the feeling of you unraveling beneath him, for him, because of him.

his head tilts back, throat exposed, taut with restraint, jaw clenched so tight it feels like it might snap. the delicate chains draped across his face glint under the dim light, shifting with every sharp breath, every tremor of pleasure rolling through him, the cool metal a stark contrast against his burning skin. he’s holding on by a thread, barely keeping himself together, but fuck—you're making it impossible.

you're so tight around him, so fucking warm, gripping him like you don’t want to let him go, like you’re trying to pull him deeper, ruin him completely. every slick drag of your walls around his cock sends a fresh surge of heat rushing up his spine, settling low in his gut, twisting tighter, hotter, more unbearable by the second. his fingers dig into your hips, possessive, brutal, leaving behind a promise in the shape of bruises. he wants you to feel this, wants you aching tomorrow, wants you to remember who fucked you like this, who made you come apart.

his breath stutters, his grip tightening like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. “oh, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked, hoarse, barely more than a breathless rasp. “ya have no fuckin’ idea what you’re doing to me.”

but you do.

you know exactly what you’re doing.

your lips part in a slow, smug little smirk, body arching beneath him, rolling up into his thrusts, forcing a deep, guttural hiss from his throat. you feel the way he shudders, the way his breath catches, the way his muscles tense under your fingertips as you drag your nails up his arms, over the solid planes of his shoulders, teasing, testing, pushing.

“thought you were supposed to be stronger than this,” you murmur, voice silky-smooth, laced with cruel amusement, a challenge dressed up in honey. your fingers slip into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch, just enough to feel the way his cock twitches inside you.

baëkhyun tenses, exhales sharply through his nose.

“at least that’s what you were telling me at the bar earlier,” you continue, tone drenched in mock innocence, pretending you don’t feel the way his grip tightens, the way his jaw flexes. “or was that all bullshit to get me in bed?”

his eyes flicker—sharp, burning, dangerous. the silver chains draped across his face catch the light as he tilts his head, lips curling into something dark, something feral.

“oh, you wanna play it like that?”

his voice is low, dripping with promise, amusement laced with something sharper, something darker. he watches you, eyes scanning your face, the way your lips part, the way your lashes flutter, the way your body responds to the power humming beneath his skin.

and then—he moves.

he pulls out completely.

your breath catches, a whimper slipping past your lips before you can stop it, your walls clenching around nothing, aching, empty, desperate.

but he doesn’t give you time to complain.

before you can even suck in another breath, he slams back in.

deep. brutal. unrelenting.

the force of it sends a sharp cry tumbling from your lips, your back arching off the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets, legs trembling where they wrap around his waist.

he grins.

“yeah, that's what i fuckin’ thought,” he murmurs, pressing forward, completely caging you in, silver chain dangling between you, cold against your overheated skin.

his hips snap forward again, tearing another sharp, gasping moan from your throat, and he drinks it in, revels in it, watches the way your face twists, the way your body shudders beneath him.

“so cocky a second ago,” he muses, mocking, smug, devastating. “but look at you now.”

his voice is smooth, controlled, the kind of control that makes your stomach tighten, makes your breath catch, makes your body tremble beneath his.

“what happened, sweetheart?” his lips graze the shell of your ear, voice taunting, teasing, all teeth and arrogance. “thought you wanted me to fuck you like this.”

he rolls his hips deeper, sharper, filling you so perfectly you can barely breathe, barely think, barely do anything but moan his name.

“you talk all that shit,” baëkhyun continues, mocking, devastatingly smug, “but the moment i fuck you like this, you're just a trembling, moaning mess beneath me.”

he sinks in, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch, every ridge, every unrelenting stretch of him. he presses deeper, so deep you can barely breathe, until his hips are flush against yours, buried to the hilt, seated inside you so perfectly it almost hurts. and then—he stops.

a sharp inhale drags through his teeth, his muscles locking up, his body trembling as he forces himself to stay still. it’s too much. he should be moving, should be fucking into you the way he knows you want him to, the way you’re already arching beneath him, fingers digging into his arms, nails scratching at his skin like you’re begging him to give you more. but he can’t. not yet.

his head tilts back, throat exposed, silver face chain shifting with the movement, glinting in the dim light as his jaw clenches. his breath stutters out of him, shaky and uneven, barely holding on. his fingers twitch where they grip your hips, nails pressing deep enough to bruise, deep enough to remind himself that he’s still here, still grounded, still barely keeping himself together.

but fuck— he’s never felt like this before.

his senses are too sharp, too dialed in, too focused on you, on how fucking perfect you feel wrapped around him. he hears everything—the sound of your breath hitching, the erratic pounding of your heartbeat against your ribs, the slick, obscene noises of your bodies pressed together, the soft, shaky moan that catches in your throat when you shift beneath him.

he feels everything.

your walls flex around him, tight and pulsing, gripping him like you don’t want him to leave, like you want to pull him even deeper, keep him buried inside you forever. you’re so warm, so wet, so utterly wrapped around him, molding to him in a way that makes his vision blur, makes his entire body coil with the unbearable need to move, to fuck, to completely ruin you.

but then—you move first.it’s the smallest shift, just a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, just enough to make him feel it.

and baëkhyun nearly fucking breaks.

his jaw slacks, lips parting around a choked-off groan, hips jerking forward before he can stop himself, chasing the way you squeeze around him, the way you shudder beneath him, the way you’re already so fucking desperate. his hands fly to your waist, gripping tight, like he’s holding on for dear life, like he’s trying to keep himself from losing every last thread of control.

“oh, fuck, baby,” he gasps, voice wrecked, raw, disbelieving.

his hands glide over your body, slow and reverent, mapping every curve, every soft expanse of skin, memorizing the way you feel beneath him. his fingertips trace over the tremble in your thighs, the slight arch of your spine, the way your stomach tenses when his hands dip lower, gripping your hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

his cock twitches inside you, so hyperaware, so overstimulated, so fucking deep that every little flutter of your walls makes his entire body tense. it’s too much, too good, too perfect. the heat of your body is suffocating, intoxicating, addicting, pulling him in, swallowing him whole, leaving him so close to the edge he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold back much longer.

his head dips forward, silver chains swaying, brushing against your flushed skin, cold metal against heat. his lips part against your shoulder, panting, breathless, and for the first time, he realizes—

he might not last much longer.

“baëk.”

his name leaves your lips on a breathy sigh, and the moment it hits his ears, his eyes snap open—sharp, glowing, flickering with hunger.

he looks wrecked.

his silver chain glints under the dim light, swaying with every shaky inhale, white hair damp and sticking to his forehead, jaw tight as he stares down at you. there’s something dark behind his gaze, something borderline desperate, something completely unhinged.

and you can’t help it—you smirk.

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you whisper, voice thick with amusement, rolling your hips up just enough to test him, just enough to feel the way he shudders, the way his cock twitches inside you, so fucking sensitive.

his breath catches, jaw clenching harder, fingers twitching against your hips like he’s fighting the urge to pin you down, to snap, to completely ruin you.

“so cute when you're pussydrunk,” you murmur, letting the words sink into his skin, letting them wrap around him like a noose.

baëkhyun growls low, deep, and dangerous.

his hand shoots up, wrapping around your throat, forcing your chin up, tilting your face until your gaze is locked with his. his grip is firm, unrelenting, not choking, just controlling, just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

“you think that’s funny?” his breath is hot against your lips, ragged and uneven, shaky from restraint. his fingers press in just enough to steal a gasp from you, just enough to let you know he could take away even more if he wanted.

and then—he snaps.

his hips slam forward, brutal, punishing, unforgiving.

your back arches off the bed, a strangled moan ripped from your throat, high and broken, your body trembling beneath the force of him.

baëkhyun laughs, breathless and mocking, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against your ear, amusement curling at the edges of his voice.

“not so cocky now, are you, sweetheart?”

his words hit like fire, scorching through your veins, sending heat rolling through your body, pooling low in your stomach, twisting tighter, hotter, unbearable. his voice is thick with mockery, dominance, control, but you can hear the way it falters at the edges, the way his breath stutters, ragged and uneven.

you bite your lip, fighting a moan, refusing to give in completely. instead, you force your eyes up to his, your smirk lazy, taunting, but not quite as steady as before.

“who said i wasn’t?” you rasp, voice breaking on the last word as his next thrust steals the breath from your lungs.

baëkhyun growls, low and dangerous.

you feel it vibrate through his chest, through the press of his body against yours, through the way his fingers dig into your waist, bruising, possessive, desperate.

“you’re fuckin’ shaking,” he breathes, amusement curling at the edges of his words. “don’t think i don’t feel it, baby. your body’s givin’ ya away.”

he slows his pace suddenly, rolling his hips deep, deliberate, pressing into you so perfectly that your head tips back, a broken moan spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

your walls clench around him in response, whimpering, shaking, unraveling beneath his touch, beneath his pace, beneath the raw desperation in his movements.

and he feels it all.

he feels the way you pulse around him, the way your body trembles, the way you lose yourself beneath him, and it only makes him rougher, only makes him fuck you harder, deeper, sharper, until all you can do is take it.

your fingers scramble against his shoulders, against his back, nails dragging down his skin, searching for something to hold onto, searching for anything to keep you from completely falling apart.

“b-baëk—” you gasp, breathless, nearly gone.

he grins, breath hitching, but his eyes glow with something darker.

“what’s that, sweetheart?” he taunts, mocking, knowing. “weren’t you just giving me attitude a second ago?”

you bite back another moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction. instead, you roll your hips up again, tightening around him, watching as his lips part, as his breath stumbles—just slightly.

he curses under his breath, a sharp exhale hissing through his teeth.

“oh, you little—”

his grip tightens—on your hips, on your throat, everywhere, because he can’t get close enough, can’t get enough, can’t fucking stand the way you feel so perfect around him and yet it’s still not enough.

his lips drag along your ear, his voice breathless, shaky, desperate.

“i feel everything,” he whispers, voice raw, shaking with it. “you think you can hide it from me? think you can still play this little game when i can feel this perfect fucking pussy clenching around me?”

your body shudders.

“fuck—” you breathe, finally breaking.

and baëkhyun laughs, low, dark, triumphant.

your moans turn helpless, breathless, uncontrollable.

you’re close—so fucking close, and he knows it.

his fingers slide down, find your clit, start circling, pressing, teasing.

you jerk, tense, writhe beneath him, gasping his name, hands clawing at his back, at the sheets, at anything that can ground you.

“cum for me, my pretty girl,” his voice is pure wreckage, pure desperation. “lemme feel it, lemme feel this sweet pussy squeeze me so fuckin’ tight—fuckfuckfuck, just like that.”

his hips snap forward—deep, grinding, ruthless.

and then—you break.

the pleasure hits like a shockwave, rolling through you, drowning you in heat and static and white-hot euphoria, leaving you gasping, shaking, body clenching around him in waves.

and baëkhyun feels every single bit of it.

it ruins him.

“shit—‘m gonna cum, baby. fuck—gonna fill ya up, make a fuckin’ mess of you. ya want that? yeah? want me so deep you’ll still feel me next week?”

his thrusts grow erratic, rhythm crumbling as the pleasure coils tighter, hotter, winding through every nerve in his body like a live wire. he's barely holding on, teetering on the edge, lost in the unbearable heat of you, the way your gummy walls flutter and grip him, milking him, pulling him deeper into the abyss.

he's gone. completely, utterly gone.

his fingers tighten on your hips, bruising, anchoring himself as his body locks up, shuddering. the tension snaps like a live circuit, raw electricity bursting in his veins as his climax rips through him—violent, devastating, white-hot and all-consuming.

and then—

the world goes dark.

a deep, shuddering groan wrenches from his throat, his entire body seizing, electricity sparking through his nerves, his power surging beyond control. the lightbulbs overhead flicker, pulsing once—twice—before exploding in a cascade of shattered glass. outside, the entire city plunges into sudden, absolute blackness. streetlights sputter and die. neon signs fizzle out. buildings blink into nothing, their towering silhouettes vanishing into the void.

but baëkhyun doesn’t notice. doesn’t care.

he’s buried so deep inside you, cumming so hard, spilling into you in thick, pulsing waves, filling you until there’s nothing left of him, until he’s shaking, panting, forehead pressing into your shoulder, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps.

his body trembles against yours, completely wrung out, completely spent, every last drop of his energy drained, sucked from him the moment he lost himself in you.

his breath is uneven, sharp and shallow, his fingers twitching against your waist as he tries—fails—to regain control, to piece himself back together.

but he can’t.

you’ve ruined him.

you feel the weight of him, the heavy press of his body, the way his heart hammers against yours, erratic and frantic. he’s never felt like this before. never been unraveled like this. never lost himself so completely that he took the entire fucking city down with him.

then—he exhales a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“holy fuck.” his voice is hoarse, wrecked beyond belief, thick with something almost delirious, something that borders on awe. “did i just—”

you swallow, dazed, body still trembling beneath him, still reeling from the way he just ruined you.

“you… turned off the whole fucking city,” you breathe.

baëkhyun blinks.

then, slowly, a smirk curls at his lips.

“shit,” he mutters, breath still uneven. “guess i really was seeing the light.”

you groan, smacking his arm weakly, too exhausted to do anything else, and he chuckles, low and satisfied, lips pressing against your temple in something almost tender.

“’m serious,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion, but there’s something smug underneath it, something cocky, something dangerous. “might’ve just fucked the whole grid offline.”

you huff, shaking your head, but you can’t stop the way your lips twitch, amusement curling at the edges of your spent smile.

“so what now?” you mumble, voice still hoarse, fingers trailing mindlessly over his damp back.

baëkhyun hums, shifting slightly, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you against him, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“dunno,” he sighs, pressing a lazy kiss to your collarbone. “maybe i should do it again. see if i can take out the whole damn country next time.”

you laugh, smacking his shoulder, and he grins, shifting just enough to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

outside, the city remains dark, silent, caught in the aftermath of his power slipping, of his control completely unraveling.

outside, the city remains shrouded in darkness, silent, caught in the aftermath of his power slipping—his control unraveling at the seams.

but inside—

inside, baëkhyun is still glowing.

it lingers on his skin, a faint golden shimmer caught in the sweat-slick dip of his collarbones, in the silver glint of his chain, in the sharp, flickering brightness behind his half-lidded eyes. remnants of power, of pleasure, of something raw and all-consuming.

you watch him, gaze tracing the aftershocks still rippling through his body—the way his chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, the way his muscles still twitch beneath flushed skin, the way he looks so utterly wrecked, so completely gone—yet somehow still devastatingly beautiful.

his fingers ghost over your stomach, over your ribs, over the marks he left behind—absentminded, reverent, like he’s memorizing the proof of his presence on your skin.

then, with a slow, breathless chuckle, he exhales, “didn’t think i’d ever lose it like that over a girl.” his lips brush against your temple, voice thick, almost disbelieving. “a human one at that.”

you blink up at him, still hazy, still catching your breath. “oh? so what—you usually short-circuit cities over celestial beings?”

baëkhyun grins, lazy and wrecked, fingers tracing idle patterns against your hip. “never short-circuited anything over anyone.” he tilts his head, voice dropping lower, rougher. “guess you’re different.”

your breath stutters, but you mask it with a slow, smug smirk. “must be pretty humbling.”

he huffs a laugh, shaking his head, white hair damp against his forehead. “more like terrifying.” his fingers tighten against your waist, like he’s grounding himself. “what the hell are you doing to me?”

you hum, dragging your nails up his back, slow and teasing. “dunno.” your lips graze his jaw. “but i think you like it.”

his breath shudders, his grip flexing, his body still wound tight despite everything. his gaze flickers—something dark, something unspoken, something that burns like an eclipse.

“yeah,” he mutters, pressing a lingering kiss against your throat, voice dripping with something dangerously close to devotion.

“i really fucking do.”

outside, the city will wake up again. the lights will return, people will move on, life will resume like nothing happened.

but in this room, in this bed, wrapped in baëkhyun’s arms—

the world still belongs to him.

⟢ xiūmin

“tell me what's your kink. gimme the dick!”

it starts with a single ice cube gliding along your skin.

“cold?’ xiūmin murmurs, watching you flinch as the frozen edge drags down the curve of your stomach. his fingers, warm in contrast, follow right behind, soothing the goosebumps rising in its wake.

“y-yeah,” you admit, breath hitching, but you don’t pull away. the contrast between heat and ice sends a shiver through you, but underneath the initial shock, there’s something else—something thrilling.

xiūmin smirks. “good.”

he presses the melting ice against your collarbone, tracing the delicate line, the cold bite making you gasp. your hands twitch at your sides, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer. he notices, of course. his gaze darkens, flicking up to meet yours.

“relax. just feel.”

you nod, swallowing hard.

then he gets bolder.

the ice trails lower, circling a peaked nipple, and the sharp chill makes your back arch instantly. “oh—” your moan cuts off as his lips replace the ice, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin warmed by his mouth. the contrast is intoxicating, a push and pull between fire and frost, and it makes your head spin.

“so sensitive,” he muses, rolling the ice between his fingers before pressing it to the inside of your thigh, drawing slow, teasing patterns. you can barely handle it, hips shifting desperately as the cold sears pleasure straight to your core.

“xiū, please,” you whimper, barely recognizing your own voice. you weren’t expecting to react this intensely, but your body is on fire, every nerve ending hyperaware. the ice is melting fast now, water trickling down your skin, and his lips chase the droplets, tongue laving up the trails left behind.

he smirks as he shifts lower, spreading your thighs apart. the remaining ice cube in his fingers drags over the most sensitive part of you, the freezing contrast against your heat making you cry out. your body jolts at the intensity, legs trembling as he watches you come undone under his touch.

“fuck, you’re dripping for me already,” he groans, pushing the ice deeper between your folds, rolling it over your clit, and you swear your vision goes white. your fingers clutch the sheets, desperate and overwhelmed, a wreck beneath him.

“please—oh my god—” you choke out, hips twitching involuntarily as he circles the ice around your entrance, teasing. your body is thrumming, nerves sizzling from the unbearable pleasure.

when the ice finally melts, he replaces it with his mouth, lips wrapping around your swollen, oversensitive bud as he moans against you, the vibrations making you arch off the bed. his tongue is hot, relentless, flicking and sucking until you’re seeing stars, legs trembling on either side of his head.

“more,” you beg, voice wrecked, breathless.

his fingers slip inside, stretching you open as his mouth works you over, lapping at you like he’s starving. your release crashes over you so hard your entire body locks up, toes curling as you cry out his name, drowning in pleasure.

he doesn’t stop.

he keeps going, drawing every last wave out of you, overstimulating you until you’re shuddering, begging him to slow down. finally, he pulls away, his lips and chin glistening, eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you.

he shifts over you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, and his cock presses against your entrance, teasing, testing. he kisses you, slow and deep, before whispering, “ready?”

nervous, but desperate, you nod. “yes.”

he pushes in, slow and careful, letting you adjust to the stretch. the fullness steals your breath, but the burn melts into pleasure quickly, your body molding to him like you were made for this.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, voice strained as he fights to go slow, to let you savor the sensation.

but soon, your fingers claw at his back, your hips rising to meet his. “move. please.”

he doesn't need to be told twice.

he starts slow, deep, but the moment he hears you moan—really moan—he loses himself. his pace quickens, his thrusts turning desperate, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

“so tight, so perfect,” he grits out, watching your face contort with pleasure. “you love this, don’t you?”

“yes—yes, oh my god—”

he slips a hand between your bodies, circling your swollen clit, determined to push you over the edge again, and again, and again. the pleasure is fucking overwhelming, everything too much and not enough at the same time, and when you finally cum, it’s with a cry that echoes through the room.

xiūmin follows moments later, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he spills into you.

for a moment, all that fills the room is the sound of heavy breathing, the lingering tremors of pleasure humming through both of you. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a contrast to the intensity of what just happened.

“told ya you'd like it,” he murmurs against your skin, smug and satisfied.

with what little strength you have left, you manage a breathless laugh. “i loved it.”

his smirk returns, darker this time. “good. because next time, i’m making you beg for it.”

⟢ läy

“eat it like i need an apron on! eat it ‘til i need to change my thong!”

läy starts slow. agonizingly slow.

his lips are soft as they graze over the inside of your thighs, planting open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin, tongue darting out to taste the warmth of your body. his breath is hot, heavy, teasing. he knows what you want, knows how badly you need him between your legs, but he takes his time.

“you’re already so wet,” he murmurs, nosing against your clothed core, his voice rough with something dark, something hungry. “i haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

his fingers ghost over your hips, gripping just tight enough to make you squirm, just firm enough to let you know you aren’t going anywhere. then, finally, he leans in and drags his tongue up the center of your lace-covered slit, slow and deliberate.

a whimper leaves your lips. your hips lift off the bed, seeking more friction, but läy’s hands are there to press you back down.

“be patient,” he chides, but his voice is thick with need.

he presses his mouth against you fully this time, lips sealing over the damp fabric, tongue working slow circles over your clit through the lace. the friction of it—the way the fabric catches just slightly, the heat of his mouth dampening it further—makes you arch against him, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer.

“one,” you breathe, already trembling.

his laugh is dark, warm, reverberating against your core. “one already?” he teases, licking at you again, this time with more pressure, more intent.

your answer is a broken moan.

he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit again, the lace sticking wetly to your folds, your arousal soaking through as he laps at you like he’s savoring every drop. his fingers dig into your thighs as he holds you still, his mouth working you over until your vision blurs, pleasure cresting through your body.

“two,” you choke out, and läy hums approvingly, his tongue flicking over your clit just right, sending another jolt of pleasure straight through you.

your legs shake as he keeps going, undeterred by your gasping breaths, your restless hips. his hands tighten around your thighs, pushing them wider as he angles himself deeper. then, with slow, deliberate precision, he tilts his head and uses his tongue to push the lace aside, baring you to him completely.

“fuck,” he breathes.

his eyes flick up to yours, and the heat in his gaze makes your stomach flip, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“so pretty,” he murmurs before dipping his head back down.

this time, there's nothing between you. no fabric, no barrier—just his mouth, hot and wet, sealing over your cunt like he wants to drown in you.

his tongue slides deep, licking into you before dragging up to flick over your clit again. his nose presses against you, his lips closing around your swollen bud, sucking gently, then harder, and your hands clutch at the sheets, at his hair, at anything you can grab onto as he devours you.

“three,” you gasp, your body already teetering on the edge again.

he doesn’t slow. doesn’t stop. his fingers slide through your slick folds before pressing into you, curling against that sweet spot inside you, the one that makes you cry out his name. he works you open with practiced ease, fucking you with his fingers as his tongue works over your clit, coaxing you into another mind-numbing release.

“four,” you sob, thighs shaking around his head, but he only groans in response, the sound vibrating against your clit, making you tremble even harder.

he doesn’t give you time to recover. doesn’t let up. his fingers press deeper, his tongue moving faster, and before you know it, your body is seizing up again, another orgasm crashing through you so hard that you can’t even form words, can’t even count.

“five,” you whisper, barely audible.

and then, finally, he pulls back, his lips and chin glistening with your slick, his eyes dark with something insatiable.

you’re still catching your breath when he shifts onto his knees, hands moving to his belt, unbuckling it with slow, deliberate movements. your heart stutters as he unbuttons his pants, dragging the zipper down, freeing himself from the confines of his clothes.

his cock is hard, flushed, dripping, and he wraps a hand around the base, stroking himself once, twice, as he looks down at you with a smirk that sends a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

“okay,” he says, positioning himself between your legs, rubbing the thick head of his cock over your oversensitive clit.

and then he sinks into you, slow and deep, and you swear you see stars.

“fuck,” läy groans, forehead pressing against yours, his hands gripping your thighs as he bottoms out. “angel… you’re—” his words cut off into a sharp exhale, his jaw clenching as he struggles to hold himself together.

you’re gripping him so tight, wrapped around him so perfectly, your walls pulsing, clinging onto him like you never want to let go. and fuck, he’s barely keeping it together.

“läy”, you whimper, rolling your hips up, desperate to feel more, to push him deeper.

his hands tighten on you instinctively, his fingers digging into your flesh like he's trying to ground himself, like he's trying not to lose himself completely in the heat of you.

“you're so fucking tight,” he mutters, his voice rough, wrecked. “i can’t—fuck, i can’t—”

but you don’t let him finish.

your hands reach up, fingers curling around the back of his neck, tugging him closer until your lips brush against his, your breath mingling with his.

“don’t hold back,” you whisper, eyes locking onto his, and something in him snaps.

his control slips. his hips jerk forward, burying himself as deep as he can go, and a choked moan spills from his lips at the way you squeeze around him.

“baby,” he groans, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his body trembles with the effort of keeping himself from coming too soon.

but you want him to.

you want to push him past the edge, to make him lose himself in you the way he just made you fall apart over and over again.

so you move.

you plant your feet against the bed and lift your hips, fucking yourself up onto him, dragging him deeper, meeting every one of his thrusts with desperate, rolling movements that make his breath hitch and his arms shake.

“fuck—fuck, angel—” he gasps, and his hands fly to your waist, trying to slow you down, trying to hold on, but you don’t let him.

you pull him closer, your grip on his neck tightening, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “cum for me, baby. give it to me.”

his groan is guttural, a deep, broken sound as his hips snap forward, movements turning erratic, frantic, desperate.

“fuck—i'm—” he chokes out, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buries himself as deep as he can go, hips pressing flush against yours as he spills into you, white-hot pleasure crashing over him in waves.

he moans your name, his hands gripping you like a lifeline as he grinds into you, making sure every last drop is buried deep inside.

your fingers tangle into his damp hair, your lips pressing soft, slow kisses against his temple as his breathing evens out, as he slowly comes down from the high of it all.

“you okay?” you murmur, still holding him close.

he lifts his head, and his gaze is soft, warm, so full of something tender that it makes your chest ache.

“yeah,” he breathes, a lazy smile curling at the edges of his lips. “i just… think i fell completely fucking in love with you.”

your heart stutters.

“yeah?” you tease, your fingers tracing circles against the nape of his neck. “that good, huh?”

his laugh is quiet, sweet, and he presses a lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring against them, “it’s always that good with you.”

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 .

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heartsforvin · 1 year ago

Note

hey bestie, could you do a vinnie imagine where the reader do the "asking my boyfriend questions so i can start an argument" trend 💖

ARGUMENTATIVE QUESTIONS

thank you for the request !! i hope you like it <33 (ps. vin in his lil snoopy shirt is so cute 🥹)

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; cussing, use of pet names, bit of angst, arguing, if i missed anything lmk !!

summary; you try a trend you saw on tiktok on your boyfriend but it does not go as planned

today was not the day you expected to start an argument with your boyfriend, but once you saw the video of a new trend going around, you just knew you had to do it.

you watched a few videos, seeing that girlfriends were asking their boyfriends random questions just to start an argument.

you giggled at the reactions the girlfriends got out of their boyfriends, some genuinely taking the questions a bit too serious.

you decided to look through the videos and pick out a few of the questions others had asked.

once you had a handful down on a notepad, you smiled to yourself as you walked with your phone and the notepad into vinnie’s room.

“baby!” you exclaim, smile on your face as you see the blonde on his bed with hera in his lap.

“what’s got you so excited?” vinnie asks as he averts his gaze to you, still petting the cat.

you don’t reply right away. you sit on his bed, making vinnie sit up, hera eventually running off in the room as he does.

vinnie sees the notebook and phone in your hands and puts two and two together.

“another trend?” he asks, and you give him a wide smile.

you let out an ‘mhm’ before placing your phone against the lamp on vinnie’s bedside table and starting up the tiktok app to record the two of you.

pressing the record button, the two of you situate yourselves next to each other, vinnie looking at you, ready for what you’re about to get him into.

“i feel like starting an argument,” you tell the camera, averting your gaze to smile at vinnie. “you ready?”

vinnie sighs but doesn’t protest, he just leans back on his hands and waits for you to ask a question.

“if we were to break up, would you date again?” you ask with such seriousness in your tone of voice, making vinnie almost laugh.

you wait for your boyfriend to respond, you hear a quiet, “oh shit, you’re for real.” before he speaks up.

“not right away, but yeah.” he replies.

“wrong,” you immediately say before he can get another word out. “why would we break up?”

vinnie furrows his eyebrows at you. the question was more rhetorical, but you watch as he starts to speak up.

“wrong?” he asks. “how’s that the wrong answer?”

“because we wouldn’t break up, that’s how.” you tell him, a smile on your face as you watch his turn into aggravation.

you kiss his cheek to try and soften his mood before you go onto the next question.

“if you tell me you’re hungry but i say im not, would you still order me something?” you decided to ask a bit of a trick question to see if he picks up on it.

vinnie chuckles. “yeah, you’d steal all my fuckin’ food then claim you weren’t hungry after you ate it.” he replies.

you laugh. “correct,” you kiss his cheek again before moving on. “i’m on my period — what’s the one thing i need?”

it takes vinnie half a second to answer. “me, easy.” he replies, and you chuckle.

“what?!” he dramatically asks, making you laugh even more. “you’re always like, ‘vin come here! vin i want cuddles!’”

“the answer is hera, but i’ll give you a half point.” you reply, watching as vinnie rolls his eyes.

you fake scoff. “don’t roll your eyes at me, you know i’m right.”

“yeah okay, well next time your period comes, don’t come whining to me.”

you let out a quiet laugh as you watch your boyfriend cross his arms over his chest like a child who didn’t get his way.

“next question!” you try to rid the tension in the room, only to definitely have more to come soon.

“one of the guys asked me out to the club but it was only me and them, not you. what would you do?”

you can tell vinnie’s getting frustrated at you and doesn’t want to answer the question, but does anyway.

“they’re your friends too, i’d say go ahead.” he responds, to which he already knows you’re about to say he’s wrong.

“i’m wrong, aren’t i?” he asks once he doesn’t hear you reply.

you nod and watch as he scoffs and rubs his hands over his face. vinnie stands up and turns to face you.

with the look in his eyes you can tell he’s aggravated either with you or just with the questions you had asked.

you quickly turn off your phone so the video catches none of the words that are about to be thrown out of vinnie’s mouth.

“what the fuck is this?” he asks you, arms thrown into the air. “are you tryna fuck with me? ‘cause it’s workin’”

your mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out. you didn’t think he’d be so upset with you about this.

you stand, eye level with vinnie’s chest without looking up at him. “ baby, i’m sorry.” you stand on your tip toes, giving him puppy dog eyes.

it doesn’t work, though. vinnie backs away from you, arms folded over his chest as he stares down at you.

you try so hard to not run into his arms, you know he’s upset with you, but you just thought it’d be a silly trend to do.

“vinnie, please,” you plead to him, trying to get him to crack so he can stop being mad with you. “it was just a dumb trend, c’mon, you of all people should know that.”

he scoffs, walking away from you. sighing, you sit back on his bed and just wait for him to cool off.

about twenty minutes later vinnie comes back and sees you curled up on his bed with hera in your arms.

“princess,” vinnie crouches down, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as he whispers softly. “i know you’re not asleep, my love.”

you smile when you hear him say that sentence. rolling over, you face him with that same smile.

“can i talk?” he asks ever so softly, not wanting to make you upset again.

he knew his outburst, the tone in his voice, made you upset, and he didn’t want that to happen again.

nodding, you sat up slightly, just enough for vinnie to sit beside you. you rested your head on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“i’m sorry for getting upset with you. im sorry i ruined what was supposed to be a harmless and funny video.” he apologized to you.

he stroked your hair as he kissed the top of your head, whispering words of affirmation as he does so.

you melt into his touch, soaking up every single word he says to you, along with his apology.

“i really am sorry, sweetheart,” vinnie apologizes again. “to be fair, you do always need me when you’re on your period.”

smacking his chest, you both laugh at what vinnie says, even if it is true.

“it’s okay, vin. you’re right, though,” the two of you giggle. “and hera, so you weren’t totally off.”

both of you hug it out, vinnie apologizes profusely once more before you tell him it’s really okay and everything will be fine.

vinnie kisses you softly, both of you melting into the touch of each other. he cups your cheek and strokes it softly as he leaves kisses all along your face.

“i love you, sweet girl. forever n’ ever, alright?” he tells you, kissing the back of your hand.

you smile and lean in to kiss him again. “i love you more, baby. forever n’ ever.”

happy ending cus i don’t know a life without it !!

i hope you all liked this !! i’m tryna post consistently but work has been busy busy <\3

also i PROMISE the next few posts will be the part two of the cutest thing, im just trying to make it great for yall so its takin a bit !

taglist: @anqeliclust , @cosmicanakin , @forevergirlposts , @bernelflo , @visualbutterflysworld , @louloulemons-blog , @st4rswrld , @lovingsturniolo , @leqonsluv3r , @hallecarey1 , @kriissy4gov , @laylasbunbunny , @supabhad , @slvthrs , @violet0182 , @kayleiggh

#vhackerr #vincent hacker #vinniehacker #vvhacker #vinnie hacker smut #vinniehackerfanfic #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie x y/n #vinnie hacker headcanon #vinnie x reader

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jjangwonie · 5 months ago

Text

DOUBLE LIFE

DOUBLE LIFE MASTERLIST

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ summary: With your anonymous Twitter account, you've acquired a pretty good following and popularity, throughout your school as well. Jake, your long-time crush, is one of them, head over heels. Yet when you once confessed to him, he had rejected your confession, saying that he already has his eye on someone else. What happens when he finds out that his online crush is the person that he rejected? And... How are you going to deal with this?

jjangwonie note: FINALLYYYY

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ word count: ~2k

THIRTY TWO - DEFEAT

warnings: angsty, a lot of arguing, poor Riki being a bit harsh :( (I am sorry bby ily), confrontation, crying, yelling, lmk if I missed anything!

"Heeseung-hyung, you better not throw this time," Jake warned playfully. "I saw those stats from yesterday." One by one, all the boys joined the call, ready to start their gaming session.

"Ey, I was testing something," Heeseung defended himself, followed by collective snickers from the others.

But there was an edge to Riki's gameplay today - aggressive pushes, risky peaks, dying early in rounds.

"Riki, what are you doing?" Jake questioned after another failed push. "You're rushing in all alone."

"Maybe if you entered faster instead of backseat gaming," Riki shot back, his tone sharper than usual.

Sunghoon let out a low whistle. "Someone's feisty today," He said, making the rest chuckle. "Probably hungry," Jay joked, trying to ease the tension. "Remember when-"

"Speaking of hungry," Sunghoon interrupted, groaning. "Y/n had ordered a whole feast of takeaway food earlier. Period cravings are no joke."

Jake chuckled. "Oh yeah, how is she? Is she hurting a lot?"

"I don't know, she seemed happy with her food," Sunghoon replied. "She did bring me a big box of chicken."

"Aw, that is so sweet of her man," Jake said fondly, fast typing on the mechanical keyboard in the background coming to a halt for just a second.

Something in Riki's character movement stilled for a moment. His jaw clenched, it was as if he could hear the growing smile on Jake's face through his words. It ticked him off.

"Yeah, so nice. She's a real angel, don't you think?" Riki muttered sarcastically, but it obviously got picked up by his mic.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"Oh, nothing," Riki's character aggressively peaked another corner. "Just funny how you're acting all friendly with y/n lately."

"Uh guys, can we just play? I'm trying to rank up here." Heeseung's request was ignored.

The call went quiet except for the game sounds. Jake's character stopped moving.

"Okay. What is your problem lately?" Jake's voice had an edge to it now. "Ever since the match you've been-"

"My problem?" Riki interrupted. "y/n this, y/n that. So you got stood up by your online friend and you hop on to the next person like it's nothing? What, is it because she reminds you of her?"

"Guys?" Heeseung started.

"No, let him finish," Jake's voice was dangerously quiet. "What exactly are you trying to say?" But it stayed silent.

He scoffed. "Riki, I don't know what your problem is right now. I know she is your best friend but that doesn't give you some kind of claim on who she hangs out with-"

"No, but at least I am not the one crushing on her while still pining over her online account." Riki's voice beamed through the call.

The silence that followed was deafening. Heeseung's sharp intake of breath was audible. Sunghoon and Jay's confused "What?" overlapped each other.

"...What are you talking about?" Jake's voice sounded a little hesitant, more soft. As if he didn't want to get a grasp on what was being said right now.

"Don't act so dense, it doesn't take a genius to see that they're the same freaking person." Riki retorts back, agitation evident in his tone, all reason has flown out the window, too late for him to think about what he said.

Jake's character hasn't moved for a long time, nor had the other ones. "So you're saying she's..." The mutters are heard between Sunghoon and Jay's confusion. Between the words flying into each other about the game or the other, Jake's next words stop everyone from talking.

"I... I need to go," Jake's voice was strange, strained. The disconnect sound followed immediately.

"Riki-" Heeseung started, but another disconnect sound cut him off. Riki was gone too.

The remaining three sat in stunned silence, the game completely forgotten as "DEFEAT" flashed across their screens.

"Someone want to explain what the hell just happened?" Sunghoon's voice broke through the silence.

"Uh, the Twitter account Jake's been obsessing over for months?" Heeseung finally spoke, his voice uncharacteristically serious. Reluctantly, he continued. "That's, uh... It's y/n."

The Discord call had gone quiet, save for the sound of aggressive typing. Sunghoon's frustrated growl broke the silence.

"I can't find anything," he muttered, refreshing the page again. "I am not gonna even ask how you know. Heeseung hyung, show me."

Heeseung's hesitation was audible. "Listen, maybe we should-"

"Screen share. Now."

The gentle ping of Heeseung's stream starting filled the call. As he navigated to the profile, Sunghoon's expression grew increasingly tense. Photos of familiar places, glimpses of outfits he recognized, captions that were unmistakably his sister's voice - all accumulated over months without his knowledge. "I am going to talk to my sister. See you guys."

You've ignored the past knocks of Sunghoon, headphones blasting music as you lay on your side, rereading the texts of not long ago.

After you ignored your brother's following incoming texts now, Sunghoon stood outside your door again, his knuckles white against the doorframe. The sounds of sniffling from inside only strengthened his resolve. "Open the door," he repeated, firmer this time.

You swing off the blanket and stomp across the room. The door swung open abruptly. "What?" your voice came out sharp, but Sunghoon didn't miss how you instantly took a step back, arms wrapped around yourself in a self-soothing manner and your eyes were slightly red-rimmed.

"We need to talk about this account," Sunghoon started, stepping into your room with no hesitation. "Do you have any idea how dangerous-"

"I'm not a freaking child, Sunghoon," you cut him off, arms crossed tighter, like armour. But your voice wavered slightly, betraying the confidence you were trying to project.

"Clearly you are, if you think posting yourself online like this is okay-" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, pacing the small space between your bed and desk.

"I never showed my face! I'm not stupid!" Your voice rose defensively, but there was a tremor in it now. You backed up until your legs hit the edge of the bed, throwing your head back in frustration.

"That's not the point!" Sunghoon's voice rose to match yours, worry manifesting as anger as he paced mindlessly. "Anyone could-"

You quickly stood up. "I can do whatever I want!" you shot back, hands clenched at your sides. Your whole body was tense, like a string pulled too tight. "I don't need your permission to-"

"You need to think about-"

"I know, okay?" The string snapped. Your voice cracked, words suddenly tumbling out like a dam breaking.

"I know it was stupid, and I know I messed up, and now Jake won't even-" your breathing became erratic, shoulders shaking and your hand flying through your hair. "He texted me saying he needs space and I just-" Your voice hitched, fresh tears spilling over.

That broken sigh broke Sunghoon's eyes from the wall, looking directly at you. You seem so lost, and his shoulders drop, as does his heart.

"I fucked everything up. Now, he probably hates me and-" The last words dissolved into a sob that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside you.

Sunghoon felt all his anger drain away at the sight of his little sister breaking down. Without hesitation, he crossed the room and guided you to sit on the bed. You didn't resist when he pulled you close, one arm around your shoulders. Your body shook with sobs that you tried to muffle in your sleeve.

The room fell quiet except for your soft crying, the angry words from moments ago hanging heavy in the air.

Sunghoon rubbed slow circles on your back, the way he used to when you were little and had nightmares. He felt you gradually lean into him more, and he was thinking about how this isn't just about you having some secret account.

No, this is his little sister actually being hurt about something. That something that involves his best friend having pined on her for months and not knowing about it, yes, and it involves feelings from his best friend towards his little sister and it is messy indeed. But right now, it's you, the focus is on you, and you're hurt.

He sushed you, his chin leaning on your head as he continued rubbing your back. That little secret account was nothing but a pebble compared to the boulder of seeing you hurt and vulnerable, crushing his heart.

Several minutes passed before Sunghoon spoke again, his voice gentle now, all traces of anger gone. "So... you actually like him?"

"...Yeah, maybe..." you mumbled into your sleeve, not meeting his eyes, your voice raw from crying.

"Maybe?" His tone was knowing, gentle in a way that made you look up with your lower lip trembling, and all you see is a concerned him with a knowing glint in his eyes.

You turned to bury your face in his shoulder, fingers clutching his shirt. "I do," you groaned out, the words muffled against his shoulder but clear. "I really do."

After your tearful confession, Sunghoon fell quiet for a moment, still holding you close as you sniffled into his shoulder. Then he let out a small laugh, making you pull back slightly to look at him in confusion.

"You know what's kind of funny?" he started, his voice thoughtful. "All those times Jake wouldn't shut up about this mysterious Twitter girl." You tensed slightly. "God, he was insufferable. Especially when you- well, when she- started responding to his messages."

You wiped at your eyes with your sleeve. "What do you mean?"

"I've never seen him like that before," Sunghoon shook his head, a hint of amusement in his voice. "He'd burst into class with this stupid grin, shoving his phone in our faces. 'Look what she said!' 'Guys, she's so funny!' 'Do you think she'd like this?'" He mimicked Jake's excited tone, earning a watery laugh from you. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. When you agreed to meet him at the festival..." Sunghoon trailed off, feeling you stiffen again, so he caressed your head while continuing.

"He was practically bouncing off the walls for days. Wouldn't stop talking about how he was finally going to meet his 'angel.'" He paused, glancing down at you. "Though I guess he kind of already had."

You pulled away slightly, hugging your knees to your chest. "That's different. He likes the Twitter girl, not... not me."

"But you are her, y/n," Sunghoon pointed out gently. "And from what I've seen lately..." He hesitated, wondering if he should share this.

"The way he looked at you when you two were hanging at the festival? Trust me, it's the same look he got whenever he talked about his Twitter girl."

"But now he knows, and he's upset, and-"

"He's probably just as confused as you are," Sunghoon interrupted. "I mean, finding out the girl you've been crushing on online is actually your best friend's little sister who you've also been getting closer to?" He nudged your shoulder.

"Give him some time to process. Jake's... well, he's Jake. Sometimes things take a while to click."

You let out a mix between a laugh and a sob. "When did you get so wise about relationships?"

"Hey, I'm your big brother. It's my job to be wise," he grinned, before his face grew more serious. "Even if I'm still not happy about this whole secret Twitter thing."

"I know," you mumbled. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"We'll talk about that later," he sighed, squeezing your arm before standing up. "Right now, I think the little monster needs ice cream more than you need a lecture."

"You can't call me that-" your protesting got cut off because of a pillow hitting your face. "It's been enough time, you shit. I checked."

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golbrocklovely · 6 months ago

Text

careful what you wish for // sam and colby (pt. 5)

A/N: hey yall… long time no see with this fic. so, i'm gonna be honest with you, this one is rough in about every way you can imagine. idk why i felt the need to do all of this in this fic, but just be prepared when you read it. thank you for all of the love and support you guys have given me on this fic and the past 12 nights of other content I've been giving you. it means the world to me that you guys continue to stick around and read my shit lol thanks again, lmk what you think, and happy halloween !!

prompt: it's been a year since you last saw sam and colby. you hit up jess, your friend, to see if she can give you the magic spell book to finally get rid of them. but sam and colby know your plan, and they won't be taking this attempt to kill them too kindly. || vampire!sam and demon!colby x fem!reader

trigger warning: SMUT, like…. so much smut, supernatural powers being used on you, coming on command, multiple orgasms for Y/N, snc are fucking MEAN in this so just a forewarning, very possessive, you're being punished for being a bad girl, edging, watching sam fuck jess your bestie, don't worry she ends up not being real lol, cursing, magic, degrading and praising language, cliffhanger ending??, mentions of: princess, baby girl, good girl, slut, plaything, toy, sex doll, a lot of OURS mentions too, snc threaten you a bunch as well but flip back and forth between being nice and mean, dubcon just to be safe… so if none of that sounds like something you want to read turn back now :)

word count: 5945

You took a deep breath, stepping out of the uber. You strutted into the bar, anxiety hitting you once inside. You searched around, until finally stopping on Jess. You waved, walking over to her.

She stood up, giving you a quick hug, "Wow, Y/N. It's been so long! How have you been? You look great."

"Thanks, Jess. I know, it feels like forever since we last saw each other." You answered honestly.

"Yeah, I think the last time was..." Her voice trailed off, thinking.

"The book." You deadpanned.

She nodded, "Right. The book."

You sat down, your eyes looking her over, "Speaking of, do you have it?"

"Of course. I saw your text to bring it so I did." She pulled it out, sliding it across the table. It still looked the same, leather bound and old, and the sight of it made your heart flutter.

You sighed, "I appreciate you doing this. I wasn't sure if you were still mad at me from last time or-"

"No, no. I shouldn't have gotten so upset with you. Obviously, if someone had told me a magic book was going to make me a boyfriend, I too would have thought they were crazy," Jess laughed. "Well, I guess in your case, two boyfriends."

"Yeah about that... that's why I need this book." You admitted.

"You want to get rid of them? Why?" She asked, leaning in.

"They've been gone for a while now. They pop into my dreams, but haven't been around in about a year. The last time I saw them..." Your mind flooded with the previous time, months back, of them fucking you in front of all your coworkers. None of them remembered the next day, but you did. The images alone made it hard to look anyone in the eye anymore. Your face heated up, "I'll just say it was the last time I truly wanted to see them. They have gone too far and I just don't know how much more I can take from them."

Her expression softened. "I can only imagine what dating a vampire and a demon would be like."

"Dating is the nicest way to describe what we have. It's more of a... free use situationship." You huffed, "But I can't deal with it anymore. I want a normal life, no matter what they claim."

"What do they say?" She inquired.

"They say I enjoy this, what we do. And while that is true to some extent, I can't keep living like this. I mean, how much longer am I supposed to keep having them show up randomly in my life to fuck my brains out? Sure, I enjoy it in the moment, but afterwards I feel embarrassed." You divulged, lowering your eyes to the table.

"I mean, if you like it you shouldn't feel ashamed." She remarked.

"Well, I do. And I just want them gone. I think I've paid my dues back entirely to this book." You gaze down at it, stroking the cover, "I'm sorry. Please help me get rid of them."

She snickered, "How about we don't do that in the middle of this bar?"

"That's probably a good idea." You placed the book next to you, exhaling. "So, how has your dating life been since the book shut? Please tell me it went back to normal so that I might have something to look forward to."

"Oh yeah, it's been normal alright. Some highs, some lows." She chuckled, "Speaking of, I actually invited one of the guys I've been seeing to come here."

"That's cool. Is he nice?" You questioned.

"Yeah, super sweet. And he plans to bring his best friend with him. So, if you wanna stick around and meet him, maybe you can start this new chapter sooner rather than later?" She suggested, beaming mischievously.

You shrugged, "Sounds good to me. Let's get a drink first though."

"Already ordered. Should be here... now." Jess smiled at the waitress, who placed down two drinks. "Thank you."

You raised your drink, "Cheers... to new beginnings."

"Cheers." She raised her glass, clinking it with yours. You both sipped on your drinks, nodding at the taste. Jess' phone buzzed on the table, she glanced down and beamed. "Oh, they're here."

You nodded, waiting uncomfortably. You weren't sure if you were really in the mood to meet these two new guys, but you figured you'd stay to finish your drink and then leave. No harm, no foul.

"Hey baby girl, how you doing?" A familiar voice spoke, walking up to Jess and embracing her.

You glanced up. Your stomach dropped and your heart sped up. This can't be happening.

"Hey Sam. This is my friend Y/N." Jess introduced.

"Hello, nice to meet you." Sam grinned, then pointed next to you. "And this is my friend Colby."

"Hi." Colby stated simply, locking eyes with you. His face was cold, with just a hint of a devilish glint.

You shuttered a breath, chest heavy. "There's no fucking way..."

"What? What's wrong?" Jess furrowed her brow.

"I-I, I can't do this. No. I absolutely won't do this." You slid out of your seat, shoving Colby and walking towards the bathrooms. You could hear them call after you, but you ignored them. You needed to leave, you knew that. But you wanted to just be away from them for a moment to get your bearings.

You stumbled into the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall. You took some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You were okay, you were in control, and there was no way that this was going to start up again. Sam and Colby were just fucking with you, once again, and you were not going to allow that to happen. You had the book, and so you-

FUCK, the book! The book was still on the table.... now with Sam and Colby.

You covered your face with your hands, muffling a scream of frustration. You grunted, pushing the stall door open and exiting the bathroom.

You stomped back into the bar, freezing the moment you did. The table was empty, Jess, the boys, and the book were nowhere to be found. There was, however, a small note on the table. You grabbed it, reading it quickly.

If you want to see the book again, come to the back of the bar.

- Sam and Colby

You spun on your heel, retracing your steps. You passed the bathrooms, continuing to walk down the hallway. You had been to this bar a couple times before, knowing that the back area was for special occasions, parties. As you drew closer to the room, you noticed the red lights illuminating the hallway and door. You swallowed hard, turning the knob and stepping into the room.

It was dark, and very hard to make out anything in it. You knew there were tables and chairs around, but you didn't see any from the little vision you had. You raised your hand, trying to feel around for a light switch or something. Suddenly, you felt a hand grab you, shoving you down onto a soft surface. You fought against their hold; pushing, shoving. But it didn't stop them from wrapping something tight around your wrists, pulling them away from your body. You cursed out whoever was touching you, kicking them hard. They had no reaction to you, just pushing your legs back down onto the surface.

The lights in the room turned on. You blinked rapidly, looking around quickly. You were on a bed, tied to the bedpost by your wrist. At the end of the bed stood Sam and Colby, smiling at you.

"Princess, so glad you could join us." Colby quipped.

Sam nodded, "We've missed you so much."

"Fuck you! What the hell is this shit for?" You yelled, shaking against your binds.

"You know, we could ask you the very same thing about..." Colby pulled the book out from behind his back, "This."

"Care to explain why you have this?" Sam asked innocently.

"Just gonna do some light reading." You sneered.

Colby rolled his eyes, "You don't really have room to play coy with us, Y/N. You might want to start explaining yourself."

"I have nothing to say to you." You spat.

"Is that so? Then I guess you're okay with this." Sam pulled out a silk cloth. You glared at him and the fabric, confused. He slid up the bed, taking the cloth and wrapping it around your head, covering your mouth. You tried to fight against him, but with your arms tied there wasn't much you could do besides rock your body side to side.

"As much as I love your little moans and whimpers, you not being able to talk gets me going just as much." Sam teased, his voice low in your ear.

You rolled your eyes and watched him slithered back down to the end of the bed.

"Now that we've got your complete attention, let's start. First off, princess, how dare you?" Colby scoffed. "We've done nothing but make your life better and this is the thanks we get? You, trying to get rid of us? Bad girl."

"Even though we haven't been around, we have been watching you. And we heard about your little plan to cut us loose. How exactly did you think that would play out for you?" Sam demanded.

Colby stepped closer, glaring down at you. "Do you remember what we said last time? You're ours. We own you. What about that screams 'I have a choice'?"

Sam leaned against the bedpost, "Well, she does have a choice. She just realistically won't make the one that actually sends us away."

"You're right, Sam. You know why? Because she enjoys this. Us. What we do to her." Colby chuckled darkly.

"Exactly. And God knows, if she saw us with someone else, she would lose her mind." Sam taunted.

You grunted against the gag, angrily.

"What was that sweetheart? You're gonna have to speak up." Colby sassed, his eyes cold.

You glared daggers at Colby, cursing him out loudly in your head.

"Ooh, harsh words from such a sweet girl." He slid his hand over his chest, "If I had a heart, it would be broken."

"I have one... It doesn't beat, though. But if it did, it would beat only for you." Sam fluttered his eyelashes at you jokingly.

"Always the romantic, Sam." Colby exhaled, "Anyway, how about we test out our theory? Would you do the honors?"

"Sure." Sam turned to the door, calling, "Jess! Come on out."

Colby narrowed his eyes, mumbling. "I could have yelled for her."

Jess stepped into the room, slowly walking over and standing in between Sam and Colby. Your heart sped up, gazing back and forth between her and them. Was she under their spell? Why was she not reacting?

He pointed between the two of them, "Do you wanna go first or-?"

Sam agreed, "You go ahead. I am the one that's been dating Jess."

"That's true. Jess?" She turned to Colby, her glassy eyes reflecting in the lights. "Start sucking his dick."

Jess nodded, dropping to her knees instantly and undoing Sam's pants. You gasped against the gag, looking away as best you could.

"No no, princess. You need to watch. This is your punishment, after all." Colby marched up to you, turning your head to them. His eyes snaked over your face, smirking. "If looks could kill… I'd be dead again. But anyway, keep looking at them."

Your eyes locked onto Jess and Sam, widening as you realized you couldn't look away.

"Happy Halloween, babe." He warned cockily, "Remember... I'm a lot stronger tonight. And so is Sam."

Jess' head bobbed up and down on Sam's cock, slurping and sucking noises falling from her lips. Sam's hands rested on the back of her head, keeping her rhythm steady. He grew harder and harder in her mouth with her actions. He rolled his head back in pleasure, humming low.

Seeing Sam's dick work itself in and out of her mouth turned you on. You hated admitting it, but it was true. Just the thought of their dicks alone made you wet.

"We told you if you tried to get rid of us, we would have to punish you. So, this is what you deserve. You only have yourself to blame." Colby hissed.

You wanted to roll your eyes, or glare, but they remained on Sam and Jess. You could feel your sex grow slick, your thighs pressing together.

"Oh no sweetheart, you gotta keep your legs apart." Colby grabbed your thighs, forcing them open. You shoved at him with your legs, doing your best to kick him.

"Fine, if you're gonna do that..." He pulled back, snapping his fingers. Suddenly your legs were chained to a bar that separated them from one another. You tried to shimmy your legs, but the bar clicked them further apart.

Colby smirked, "You might want to stop doing that. The more you move your legs, the farther apart they are gonna be. And I have a feeling you don't want to be full spread eagle. Now, I wouldn't be against it-"

"Me neither." Sam chimed in, moaning.

"Him either, but assumingly because of your attitude, you wouldn't like it," he snickered. "Look at me, princess."

You turned your head sharply towards him, your eyes fixating on him. He smiled calmly, looking over your face. "Such a pretty girl."

You cursed at your stomach as it flipped from his words. You hated his affect on you.

"You can say that all you want, Y/N. But you didn't seem to feel that way every. single. time. I've fucked you. That we've fucked you. Do you need a refresher?

Colby placed a single finger in between your breasts, and your mind became flooded with thoughts and memories of your time together with the boys. You could almost feel them inside of you, fucking your cunt roughly and bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

You panted against the gag, feeling pleasure rack your body all over. You shook against the bed, grinding your hips up into the air to relieve some tension, but to no avail.

"Do you need some help there, baby?" Colby uttered, his face close to yours.

Sam's voice strained as he fucked Jess' mouth. "Yeah, Colby. Help her out. Maybe she can come when I do."

"Oh, that sounds fun." Colby waved his hand in a figure eight, and you felt a device press itself on your clit. A low vibration began, and your eyes rolled slightly into your head.

"How's that feel, Y/N? Good? Bad? Do you need more?" The vibrations turned up higher, your thighs wanting to clench around the device. "Or less?"

You whined, trying to push yourself harder onto the vibrator. Colby hummed, watching you squirm.

“Watch Sam fuck Jess' mouth.” He commanded.

Your head turned to Sam, taking in everything. He was holding onto Jess' head much harder now, bucking his hips into her mouth quickly. He looked at you, winked, and fucked her mouth harder. Jess enthusiastically gagged, digging her nails into Sam's thighs.

The vibrator grew to a higher intensity, your legs shaking pleasurably. Your heart was ramping up faster and faster, your body starting to feel like it was just coming close to the edge. Part of was jealous of Jess, because all you wanted was Sam to be fucking you like that. Or Colby. Or both.

"If you honestly think you're gonna come right now, you're wrong." Colby whispered harshly in your ear, turning the vibrator down low.

You grunted, wanting to look at him. You fought against your binds, the bar for your legs separating farther.

"I told you to stop doing that, sweetie. Because now, I can turn this up," the vibrator pressed harder into your clit, going to max speed suddenly. "And now, it can get even closer to you and your aching clit."

Sam's eyes met yours, "Baby girl, I'm sorry he's so mean. I swear when I'm done with Jess, I'll make sure to treat you right."

"Remember Y/N, he's the weird one. Don't trust him." Colby taunted, turning the vibrator down again.

"Fuck, I'm getting close. You have such a good mouth, Jess." Sam commented hungrily.

Colby gasped, "How about this, Y/N? Let's play a game. I'll let you come if you admit how jealous you are of Jess."

"Are you jealous, plaything?" Sam cooed mockingly, still fucking Jess' mouth.

Colby turned your head to him, holding your chin in his hand. "Oh, very. Let's see if she'll admit it."

He tore the gag away, a loud breath immediately leaving your lips. "The floor is yours, princess."

You seethed, "Fuck. You."

Aww, she's just playing shy now. Why don't we see how she really feels?" Colby cranked the vibrator up to the max setting, the buzzing loud in your ears.

You whimpered helplessly, thrusting your hips against the toy. You couldn't help it; your clit was throbbing and your mind was fuzzy from watching Sam fuck another girl's mouth. And all you wanted was for one of them to touch you.

This was not how you thought this night would go.

Colby pressed his body closer to yours. You could feel the heat of him rolling off onto you. "Just say how you truly feel, and I'll make sure you come. Speak your mind."

"I'm getting real close-" Sam's hips sped up, his body glistening with sweat. "Fuuuuck! So you better make it quick, slut."

"Come on, Y/N. Tell us the truth. Say you're jealous. Say you want Sam to fuck your mouth like that. Do it!" Colby ordered.

You held your tongue defiantly, whining as it felt like the vibrator grew stronger and stronger against your dripping sex.

He cocked his head to the side, "You're really not gonna speak? Okay, then. Maybe we really have to pull it out of you."

Hands and fingers began touching you all over, caressing your body in the most sensitive places. You rutted against the vibrator, your body having a mind of it's own. You moaned loudly, surprised by the pleasure.

"That's it baby, I know you're getting close. Just say you want to be here, with my cock in your mouth, and you'll get to come." Sam growled, thrusting faster and faster.

You stuttered, your mouth barely able to form words, "F-Fuck, fine. I want your cock in my mouth."

"And what else, princess?" Colby egged on.

"I-I'm jealous of Jess. Please let me come and please fuck my mouth." You whimpered, biting your lip.

"God, your pleas are so pretty. Fuck, I'm gonna come!" Sam bucked his hips hastily, slamming repeatedly into Jess' mouth. She choked and gagged on his dick, taking it effortlessly. He came down her throat, letting out a breathy groan as he did. He slowed his hips, still holding her head in place.

"Do you wanna come, Y/N?" Colby whispered.

You panted, moving your hips faster against the toy. "Yes! Please!"

"I'm happy you're in a better mood now." Colby smiled, then his face dropped. "But no."

The vibration and hands disappeared, leaving your body trembling, "W-What?"

"No. You don't get to come. You have to do much better than that." He snapped his fingers, the binds holding you down disappearing. "Take your clothes off, get on your knees, and masturbate in front of us."

Your body followed Colby's words, dropping down hard. You ripped your clothes off your body desperately. The cool air hit your warm skin, causing your nipples to harden and your whole body to grow chills. Your fingers found your swollen clit, rubbing intensely. You stifled a cried, anger filling your veins as you looked up at Sam and Colby.

"You've done your job, Jess. You can go."

Jess nodded, slowly walking out of the room with tear stained cheeks and cum drooling out of her mouth.

You snarled at them, somehow able to speak while pleasuring yourself. "How dare you do that to her! You guys are fucking sick."

"First off, what the hell did you expect from a demon and a vampire? We're depraved. Sue us." Sam rolled his eyes, annoyed. "And secondly, she wasn't even real."

You narrowed your eyes, your breath quickening. "What? H-How?"

"Magic. It's Halloween baby." Sam chuckled, jumping towards you, "Boo!"

"Jess was really here at one point, but she left a long time ago. Hell, once she gave you the book, she was done. So, the rest has just been in your head." Colby explained.

Sam added proudly, "Made up by us, of course."

"Speaking of the book, let me just pull it back out." Colby flipped through it, skimming over the pages lazily. He sighed, "It sucks I can't read Latin."

Sam scoffed, "Aren't you a demon? Isn't that what you guys do?"

"You know, that is incredibly rude to say. How stereotypical of you to think that, Samuel." Colby frowned disappointedly, "I expected more from you."

"Sorry. I'll do better next time." Sam apologized.

You groaned huskily, trying to stop yourself from masturbating. But your hands kept moving. "Don't you guys get sick of hearing your own voice?!"

Sam shook his head. "No. Not really."

"Oh I'm sorry, princess." Colby's eyes turned black as he lowered himself to your face. His voice thundered off the walls of the room, "Did you expect us to be fucking nice when you got this book to fucking kill us?! You're lucky all we're doing is making you edge. There are lot worse things I could fucking do to you, but this is me playing nice."

Sam gaped, "That gave me chills."

"Shut up, Sam." You jeered.

Sam's eyes turned red, glaring at you. He yanked the book from Colby's hands, flipping open to a page, and tearing it out of the book.

Your voice croaked, "W-What are you doing?!"

"Punishing you. I don't know if that spell was important, but let's hope for your sake it wasn't." Sam retorted.

"Please, don't! I'm sorry! Fuuuck. I'll be a good girl." You whined helplessly.

He snapped, "I'm sure you will. Since that's the only way you're gonna come."

You suddenly felt a vibrator press against your cunt again. A desperate wail ripped through you, sweat dripping down your back as your body grew hotter and hotter.

Colby cupped your face, making you look up at him and Sam. "Tell us the truth, Y/N. How did watching Sam fuck Jess make you feel?"

You felt your mouth speak, but you had no choice on what you were saying. The truth spilled out of you. "I-I hated it. Oh my God, I hated it! I wished it was me."

"And what about now? What do you want?" Sam asked teasingly.

You bounced on the vibrator, pushing yourself against it harder. "I want to come! I want you to fuck me! Please!! Fuck, please please. I just need to come so badly."

Colby leaned in, "Who do you belong to?"

"You!" You exclaimed.

Sam repeated, "Who do you belong to?"

"Y-You!" You looked at him, pleading.

"That's it baby. Get right to the edge, I know. I know you wanna come. Do it for me. Get right there, get right there!" Colby commanded, nodding as you did what you were told.

Your fingers rubbed faster and faster, the vibrator matching your speed. You panted and whimpered, feeling yourself get right to the edge. You knew any second now you were going to come. All you could think about was coming and having Sam and Colby fuck you.

Colby smiled, "Stop touching yourself."

Your hands dropped to your sides, the vibrator disappearing. Your eyes welled up, your body still shaking with ecstasy, ready to fall over the edge at any second. A strangled cry heaved in your chest, your eyes boring into Sam and Colby's.

"Don't look so sad, baby girl. We would never leave you unsatisfied." Sam rubbed your hair softly for a moment, "Get on the bed for us."

"Lay on your back. Keep your legs and head off the bed." Colby instructed.

You did as you were told, stumbling awkwardly to the bed again. You laid down, allowing your legs to dangle off one side and your head on the other. Colby was suddenly at your feet, naked and spreading your legs wide. You felt the bar back again, keeping your legs locked and apart. He took the bar and put it around his neck, keeping your legs up. Your feet rested on his shoulder as he gazed down at your soaked pussy.

"It pains me to torture you like this, princess. Do you know how hard you've made me?" He groaned, stroking himself, "My cock has just been dying to bury itself inside you. Exactly where it belongs."

"Hi, toy. You ready for me to use your throat? That's what you wanted, right?" Sam appeared above you, his shaft dangling just above your mouth.

You nodded, unable to form words with how horny you were.

They both filled you up at the same time, not even giving you a warning. They groaned in unison, your moans muffled by Sam's cock deep within your throat. They stilled their hips, pushing all the way to the hilt until they couldn't no more.

Colby sighed happily, "The best days of my life are when I'm inside of you, Y/N. Your cunt is like heaven."

"I don't know which one is better, her mouth or her pussy. But either way, I love them both." Sam keened.

Colby chuckled darkly, "That's all you are to us, you know. Just two holes. For us to use."

"What did she say we had? A free use situationship? That sounds about right." Sam laughed.

"And you wouldn't want it any other way. You love being used. You love how we take whatever we want from you." Their hips were matching each other in tandem, thrusting into you at a slow pace.

Sam continued, shooting back. "You were literally on the floor, begging us to let you come. And now your cunt and mouth are filled with our cocks. What a fucking slut.

Colby gasped breathlessly, "Fuck, you tightened around me when he said that. Is that what you are, princess? A slut?"

Sam mocked, tsking. "I thought you wanted to be a good girl."

"Good girls don't get used like this. Good girls don't try to get rid of their fuck buddies." Colby cursed.

"Good girls don't have fuck buddies. Good girls have boyfriends that love and cherish them." Sam snickered.

"Maybe we do feel that way for you, baby. We just have such." Colby bucked his hips into your hard once, "a funny." Twice. "way." Thrice. "of showing it."

"We do love you baby girl. We care about you so much. Which is why you can't be with anyone else. Who else is gonna treat you this good?" Sam moved his cock a bit deeper, making you choke.

"Exactly. Who else is gonna make you come like this?" Colby breathed, smirking.

Suddenly an orgasm rocked through you. You gagged on Sam's cock, unable to stop yourself from thrust back and forth on their cocks. You bucked wantonly, gripping the bed sheet as your legs shook against Colby.

Sam was in awe, "There's our plaything! God, having you choke on my cock makes me wanna come again."

Colby smiled lazily, "She's been so good for us. How about you give us another orgasm baby?"

Another orgasm hit you just as the last one started to fade. You shuttered against Colby's shaft, shaking intensely. You whined around Sam, white knuckling the bed.

"There you go. I know how badly you wanted to come, princess. You squeezed my cock so tightly then. You just want to milk me dry, don't you?" Colby spoke in a needy tone.

Sam buried himself in your throat, "How about another, just because?"

Once more, you erupted in euphoria. Your thighs trembled and your eyes blurred with tears as you cried out in pain and pleasure. Your mind went blank, seeing stars as you rode out your high.

The boys laughed, still thrusting into you, but now a bit faster. "Oh Sam, that was mean. She didn't deserve that."

"I thought she said she wanted to come. I'm just granting her wish." Sam sang teasingly.

"That's true. How about... Colby hummed, plunging all the way into your sex, "one more for good measure?"

Your cunt exploded in yet another climax. Your come leaked down your inner thighs, soaking you and the bed. Your back arched and your hands clung onto Sam's hands, needing something to ground you. You could barely think, the pleasure too much for you.

"I think you've had your fun, babe. It's time for us to have ours." Colby spat.

Sam and Colby sped up their thrusts, your body at their whim. Colby drove his sex into yours, the sounds of your wet cunt sending a shiver up your spine. Sam cupped your throat with his hand as he bucked his cock into you. Your jaw had grown slack, allowing him more access to your mouth and throat.

You laid still on the bed, letting the men use you. You felt dazed in the best way. Your body trembled with lust, your skin feeling cool in the hot air of the room. Maybe you were wrong about getting rid of the boys. How could you think of getting rid of them when they were able to make you feel this amazing?

Colby ran his hands up and down your legs, squeezing your thighs tightly. "God baby, I just love how tight you are. Fuck, you are taking my cock so well. You know what? I forgive you for your attitude earlier. Clearly you just needed a good fucking from us."

Sam moaned, "Just needed to be reminded who owns you."

"That's right. You're ours, princess. And we're yours. We'd never want to fuck someone other than you. You're all we want. And we're all you want, yeah?" Colby questioned, his voice hoarse.

You nodded, blinking rapidly from the tears clouding your vision as Sam continued pounding into your throat, gagging you.

Colby's eyes darkened as he glared at you. "Next time though, we won't be nice. You'll really learn the meaning of free use, you understand me?"

Sam grunted huskily, "God, don't tempt me. I would love to use you freely."

Colby leaned forward, uttering, "I told you he was a freak."

"As if you wouldn't too." Sam argued breathlessly. "Are you getting close, sweetie? Do you wanna come again?"

You groaned around Sam's dick, bobbing your head.

Sam gave a smug smile to Colby, picking up his pace. "I think that's a yes."

"Well, you're just gonna have to wait, princess. I want you to come with us." Colby matched his pace, plowing into you.

Sam whined, "I want to come in her pussy this time."

"So do I." Colby halted, "How about I come in her first and you come in her afterwards?"

Sam nodded eagerly. "Sounds amazing. You won't mind, right baby girl?"

You didn't say anything, just kept bouncing and sucking on their cocks. You were so mindless you barely understood them anymore. All you knew is that you wanted their cum inside you soon. That's all you could think about.

Colby cooed, grinning lustfully. "Aww, we mindfucked her. She has nothing going on up there."

"That's perfect. I love a girl so cummed out of her mind she doesn't know how to even speak." Sam growled, smirking.

"She’s basically a sex doll for us. No thoughts, just a set of wet holes for us to use and come in. God, you're so fucking sexy, princess." Colby's hips moved faster, his body shaking yours with each thrust.

Sam kept his cock inside of your mouth, "You getting close, Colby?"

"Fuuuck, yes. Her cunt is gripping my cock. Jesus Christ you feel so fucking good baby." Colby pounded your pussy desperately, his hands gripping your legs.

"That's it, Y/N. Milk his cock. Make him come." Sam bossed.

"I'm gonna fucking breed you, princess. You love when I do that. A-And you're gonna come when I do." Colby sped up his thrusts, jackhammering into you. He picked your hips up off the bed, hitting you even deeper. He shouted passionately, "Fuck I'm right there! F-Fuck! Come for me!"

You shattered, choking out a filthy mewl around Sam's member. Your hips met Colby's with each of his thrusts. He plunged into you a final time, spilling all of his seed deep within you. You felt your cunt fill with his load, throbbing around him intensely. His groans grew quiet, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

Colby caught his breath, exhaling deeply. "You're such a good girl for us. And now, you're gonna take Sam's come."

He pulled out, your pussy feeling empty and used. But then it was filled up once more, now with Sam. You gasped huskily, your throat sore from his round on it. You glanced down at Sam as he began pounding into you.

Colby rubbed your face sweetly, wiping the drool off of the corners of your mouth. "Open up, princess. I need somewhere to rest my cock until he comes."

You popped your mouth open, taking Colby's semi-hard dick and letting it fill you up. You were used to having something there now, and you were happy to have it be Colby's.

"Do you like tasting yourself on my cock, slut?" Colby commented.

You hummed, agreeing mindlessly. Sam started slamming himself into you, your body shaking with each deep thrust. Your cunt gushed around him, wet from your and Colby's cum.

"Holy shit, you feel amazing baby girl! Fuck I'm getting so close. When I come, you come too!" Sam howled, bucking wildly.

Colby reached over, rubbing your clit in time with Sam's thrusts. "Just one more time, Y/N. Give us everything you got. Be a good girl for us."

Sam's eyes flashed red, his fangs appearing. "God damn - yes! Milk my cock, Y/N. Take every drop of my fucking cum and come with me!"

The ecstasy you felt was unlike anything you every experienced before. Your vision went white, unable to see or hear anything. You rutted up to meet Sam's thrusts, your body moving purely on instinct. You no longer had even an ounce of control over your body. You felt your throat vibrate with gurgled screams and cries. You soaked his dick and sucked on Colby's, your body rag dolling against the bed.

"So good for us. You did so well, angel." Colby murmured.

Sam breathed, staring at you sweetly. "You're so pretty when you come. Our pretty girl. You can rest now"

Your eyes fluttered, your body exhausting beyond repair. You closed your eyes, passing out instantly.

When you finally awoke, your body was sore from your wrists to your ankles. You were back in your room, but you knew that that wasn't a dream. As you sat up in bed, an object on the floor stood out to you.

The book. It was here, in your house. And away from Sam and Colby.

You jumped out of bed, grabbing it. You looked it over, flipping through the pages. The piece that Sam tore out must have been back in as the book was intact.

You nodded to yourself, knowing what you had to do next.

Time to get rid of Sam and Colby.

<< Part 4 ||

#sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach fic #sam golbach fanfiction #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #sam golbach smut #colby brock smut #sam golbach one shot #colby brock one shot #sam golbach oneshot #colby brock oneshot #sam golbach x reader #colby brock x reader #sam and colby x reader #golbrocklovely's 13 nights of halloween

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hyukascampfire · 9 months ago

Text

TO: SOMEONE FROM A WARM CLIMATE ... ❨ O3 ❩ ⸺ 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸

𝓘N WHICH 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. "𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉. "𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍," 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌. "say what i am."

faerie!𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 ╱ faerie!𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇 · ƒ ! r 24.5k 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ⸺ violence, death, descriptions of past trauma, oral (m receiving), PIV sex, poisoning, mean taehyun... tell me if I missed anything ｡ ( playlist )

�� rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd! ♡(ᗒᗣᗕ )՞ →

🪶 ⦂ this one is hhheeefttty and packed with a bunch of angst, so buckle up pls. also... if you see any typos or weird sentences, no u didn't... 24k is a lot of words guys... but also lmk so i can fix it LMAOO. enjoy!!

You wipe at your forehead, dragging in breaths as you realign your stance. Each swipe and jab you run through wells up inside you, amassing frustration. They all feel infuriatingly sloppy. You had cracked open a window in the room. Though it lets a nasty winter breeze in, the cold works wonders against your clammy skin.

You had initially been practicing in the sparring room, but the heavy, blood-stained and battle-worn swords displayed on the walls, hung right next to the taxidermy heads of fallen faeries, began making you uneasy so you opted for another room in the estate. Taehyun’s father must’ve been a vicious general.

The words of both Yeonjun and the barkeeping hob at The Hovel are snug under your skin like burrs. He sowed a good seed of wicked into his son, the barkeep had said. Staring into the lifeless, beady eyes of the felled creatures had made you wonder exactly how wicked that seed had been. As far as you know, Taehyun harbors no love for his father, though. It doesn’t make any sense that he’d want to resemble him, especially in his behaviors. You can’t help but feel that you’re missing some intrinsic piece that would clear it all up for you.

There’s also the matter of what that man in the forest had said after you had stabbed him. You’re fucking dead, anyway. The words have echoed and ricocheted in your head endlessly, and you’ve tried ardently to dissect them. You’re only left with a queasy pit in your gut each time you do. You’ve decided that it’s best to pretend that they’re just the angry words of a man stabbed. You’d probably try to instill fear in the person who’d stabbed you if it was the last thing you could do, too.

Despite that, it still is concerning that he had known where to find you and had claimed that someone had told him where to do so. There’s also the fact that there had been people in The Hovel looking for you two. You’re not exactly sure what would happen if you and Taehyun were discovered; your suspicions range from a slap on the wrist to the breaking out of war between The North and The High Court. You’ve never so much as seen The Queen, but you can’t imagine she’d take too kindly to discover that The King has spies actively infiltrating her court. Your chest becomes tight with the reminder that the mission that you and Taehyun are on is endlessly delicate.

“You’re leaving too many openings between swings.”

Taehyun’s voice tugs you from your own mind. You drop your arms, making great effort to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Your limbs wobble with exertion. You had wanted to practice alone; having Taehyun observe and pick at your shortcomings would only irk you and make you so consciously aware of them that you could think nowhere beyond them. You had pointedly avoided seeking out his help for a reason.

“And,” he adds, “you’re so focused on what you do with your arms that you forget to move your feet.”

You toss your head back, willing down the tightness in your throat and the warm, frustrated tears pooling at your eyes. He’s right; you can feel it yourself, but no matter your efforts, your own limbs work against you. Your frustration manifests itself in the form of your heart thumping in your ears. It’s all you can hear. You snap at him. “I know.”

Taehyun doesn’t look taken aback by the bite in your tone, but he does release his sword from its scabbard, approaching you and leveling his arms into an offensive, swinging stance. Your arms are dead weight as you do the same, but with a defensive one. You anticipate his first swing, meeting it with a sturdy block. Metal sings as he sends you another one.

“Frustration throws your technique and strength out the window,” he says, going for a jab with the hilt. You narrowly miss it, throwing yourself back.

That would’ve been a black eye.

You furrow your brows at him, and then step forward, slashing your blade with hostile shock. He knocks it away. You throw your free hand up in an exasperated gesture. “What the hell? That would’ve knocked my eye out,” you say. It’s an overdramatization, but it definitely would’ve left a mark.

He slides a swift foot right at your feet, sending you crumpling the floor of wood. Your body quakes, soft and jelly against the ungiving ground. You stay down for a few moments, trying to brave the bout of roaring pain that sears your body in its entirety. Your knees weep red as you lift yourself to your arms, looking up from your spot on the ground right to the point of his blade in your face. You look past it, into his eyes. He’s studying you, picking apart where you lack and internalizing it.

“You let yourself get too frustrated. You need a level mind to make clever moves,” he says, sheathing the weapon and offering you a hand up. You accept it, not before sending him an accusatory glare first, your weary muscles pleading with you as you stand. You shake off the radiant pain in your wrists; you shouldn’t have broken your fall with your arms. Taehyun circles you, and you listen to his footsteps creaking until he’s standing behind you.

“Get in position.”

You collect your sword from the ground and bring it up by your face, staggering your feet. You shift and readjust your arms and legs here and there, trying to find a sweet spot where it all feels right. None of it does.

Taehyun’s arms find your shoulders, squaring them. You hold your breath as one of his arms then adjusts the height at which you’re holding the sword, reaching his arm around you. His skin is as cold to the touch as you remember it being, and the way it slides against the skin of your arm is tauntingly familiar.

You scramble to shove those memories far, far back. When his hands finally drop off you, you stifle a sigh of relief.

When Taehyun reappears in front of you, he’s holding the hilt of the sword at his hip in a white-knuckled grip, and his jaw is clenched tight. You hold your new stance, trying to settle into it, afraid you’re frustrating him.

“Swing,” he says. You hesitate. He doesn’t even have his sword out, but he’s watching you so expectantly, and so you do it, cutting the air. You don’t even get to finish the swing before the world whirls around you, Taehyun’s arms twisting you and encasing you so that your sword-wielding arm is stuck behind you. He smells of frosty pinewood musk as he holds you there. Your mouth drops open, and you try to register how he even approached you, caught your swinging arm, and pinned you in that minimal time frame.

He takes the sword from out of your compromised hand and tosses it. The heavy thing clatters to the ground a few feet away. “What would you do if I was an attacker?” he asks. “You’ve got no weapons. Show me what you’d do.” His muscle-corded forearms hold you pinned in a similar fashion to how that faerie man had in the forest, except now your arm is twisted behind you in an unnatural way that pinches your shoulder blade.

You wonder if he’s getting flashes of that moment in the forest, too.

Wiggling proves useless, so you try hooking your own leg into one of his to knock him down. He’s planted too well to the ground. You huff out in frustration, letting your head drop. He’s got you in his arms so tight that your lungs can’t even fully expand.

“Okay, I can’t,” you say. “Let me go.”

A few heartbeats pass before he does.

Taehyun crosses his arms over his chest. “You’d die, if that was real. We don’t know if we’re going to run into more things like what happened at The Hovel. There are ways to defend yourself from bigger attackers.”

You wince. The press of that dagger into your chest haunts you along with the sensations of hot blood coating your hands, and the pained grunts of the man. “We might at least know a little more, if you hadn’t stabbed him through the stomach before I could ask him any questions.” You rest your sword up against a wall, along with yourself.

“He was just trying to scare you,” Taehyun says, leaning back onto the edge of an old war strategy desk. You can tell he doesn’t even believe the words himself, his eyes narrowing as cogs turn in his head.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t think he was.” It takes every ounce of resilience you’ve got to not crumple down to the floor. You’ve been practicing for hours. “He said that he had found us, not that he just stumbled across us. And he knew who you are.” You remember the distaste with which he had regarded Taehyun. It may allude to his motivations.

Taehyun listens to you, his eyes narrowed in thought, and you take it as an invitation to continue. “I think he knew, Taehyun. He’s got to be the one who was asking about us at The Hovel. Unless he’s not even the only one who knows.” You kick yourself off the wall, despite the ache, and pace. “But he knew you. And I don’t think he liked you, either.”

Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a few moments as he thinks, tossing metal pieces from the strategy table he leans on as he does. His brow creases. “The Queen must have her own people laying low in Court. Summer’s solstice is only a few weeks away,” he says.

“What about the Summer Solstice?” you say. You know that the constant holding of Court in your time here has all been in service of the Solstice, but you can’t imagine why that would entail needing ears in your court.

“I’m not sure,” Taehyun says, thumbing over that figure of metal, feeling its grooves and features. “But The Queen would not have people out there looking for our kind unless she had something she wants quiet.”

You lick your dry lips. The Queen knows you’re here. “What do we do about the fact that they know there’s infiltrators?” At the very least, that faerie who saw your faces is dead. How much more death will you see in these coming weeks? Telling yourself that it’s for your own safety is doing a flimsy job of soothing you already; you’re unsure how well it’ll work when you have more blood on your hands.

Taehyun breathes out through his nose, standing up from the desk and taking another metal figure from it. He pushes the ones left, most of them fallen and in disarray, off to the side, before standing the two in his hands. They’re stood generally where the estate would stand on the map. He erects a few of the discarded figures, lining them up around where Court might be, and then lays one felled off in the woods that The Hovel boasts as its home. The faerie he had killed.

Something about seeing Taehyun, shady eyes and clad in the clothes of a warlord, interacting with the same strategy table that his father would’ve used to lay out his plans of carnage reminds you of repeated warnings and wary eyes bowing before Taehyun. Had the downfalls of those lifeless heads in the sparring room been planned on that same table, with those same figures?

��All we can do is keep doing what we’ve been doing. Can you promise me that you’ll be as discreet as possible from this point onward?” Taehyun finally pries his eyes from the table up to yours. “You need to watch your words no matter who you’re around. That includes the prince.”

Attitude flares in your chest at his last words, but you wrangle it back. You don’t think you have to worry about Yeonjun, but you know it’s better to err on the side of caution. You nod. “And if something happens?” you ask. The question is grim and grey on your tongue. Now that you’ve gotten a taste of what this life really means, you can’t help but ask.

“You do what it takes to survive, and then we return home with all the information we’ve got, and that’s that.”

The smell of hot iron melts over you, red and suffocating. You remember the thickness of it, and how it had crusted over a deep brown color and stayed plastered to your skin until you took water to it and scrubbed.

“Taehyun, I barely made it out of that forest. I’m...” You steady your breathing as it seems to get ahead of you. “I’m not going to win a fight one on one, Taehyun. I’m trying to get better, but that’s just not realistic, and you know it. That was luck.”

Some emotion passes over his face, his eyebrows pinching and eyes wincing, but it’s gone before you can even name it. “This is how you learn to survive. You don’t learn in sparring rooms,” he says. His sword clicks from the scabbard and its metal trills as he draws it again. "But for now, you need to make sure your odds are as good as they can be.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, releasing your breath.

“I’ve been in here for hours, Taehyun. I’m tired.”

He shakes his head. “You need to know how to fight tired.”

You’re not sure you’ll even be able to swing properly. You don’t barely have it in you to talk, nonetheless fight in any way worthwhile. But he’s right. You swipe your sword off the wall, the dingy metal no longer warmed by your hands. It bites your skin as you settle into the best stance you can muster. To use every bit of your energy in a wild offensive attack, or to slip into the defensive and try to last as long as you can? You’re not sure.

Taehyun seems to be making the decision for you, though, rooted in his spot, his eyes steady on you. He doesn't urge you to attack him; he just watches to see what you’ll do. Willing your poor, poor legs into motion, you gain on him. You know your legs and pace are lethargic as you move, but you just need to be closer so that you can begin to make moves. He doesn’t comment on the height of your arms or your pace this time.

You dart your eyes about his torso as if planning a hit there, before swinging down at his sword-bearing arm. Taehyun’s eyes flicker with something akin to surprise, but he dodges well before you can connect. You try not to groan as he darts away and sets back into that unmoving, certain stance. He’s trying to gauge the attacks you opt for. You throw a few unexceptional swings, and he meets all of them. You dart and swing. You need to catch him unaware or unprepared.

Every time you bring down your sword, it’s doing nothing for you except for draining your energy. He’s full of energy; he hadn’t been practicing like you. You drag full breaths in through your nose, each one not feeling like enough to feed your starved lungs. If you keep fighting like this, you’ll run your well dry.

You narrow your eyes. Everyone has openings, you just need to find Taehyun’s, however hidden and subtle they are. You take in the sure stance of him, the glimmering dark metal of his heavy blade, the slight way he has his face drawn so that it betrays none of his thoughts, and even the broad musculature of his chest. None are particularly helpful in finding you a clever attack, so you swing at his left. Taehyun is left-handed, you’ve observed that much in the time you’ve known him. Swinging closer to his sword will leave him with less airtime to deflect your hit. Hopefully.

Taehyun manages to parry your slashing, but it’s just with the edge of his blade, and he has to stumble back. He’s quick to reset, regarding you with twinkling interest in his licorice black eyes. That doesn’t matter—you have your angle, now. You suck in as much air as you can. Your limbs plead with you, whispering that your bed is waiting for you. You answer them by feinting a blow to the right, before pulling back and raising your arms and bringing the entirety of your blade to his left. Metal screeches. Taehyun narrowly meets your sword with his own, supporting the flat side of it with his palm, looking down at you with a smile twitching at his lips.

Is that a dimple?

A sturdy arm curls around your waist, spinning you up and tangling you into a knot. Taehyun pins you against him in exactly the fashion the faerie man had, arms pressed to your sides without seam.

“Damn it!” you hiss. You dig your fingers into the expanse of his forearm, tensed across your chest like a metal bar. Your sword lies discarded somewhere on the floor. Taehyun is quite a bit taller than that other faerie; he has you held so crushingly that only your toes connect with the ground.

“You need to stop wearing your thoughts on your face,” he says. His words puff out onto the breadth of your neck, so warm on your skin tingling with the winter air. “But good job trying to find an advantage.”

You tap out at his arm. “Okay, okay,” you say, trying to find good purchase on your tiptoes.

“No,” he says, voice thick and stern. He holds you fast to him with his one arm. “You can get out of this. I’ve seen you do it, so do it.”

You’re sent back to caging arms and words snarled into your ears for the nth time today. “I can’t,” you say, voice wobbly and untrustworthy. “I had to stab him, Taehyun.” You feel nauseous and claustrophobic.

“He was going to kill you. You don’t need mercy for those who have none for you; It doesn’t serve you.” He wraps his free arm around your waist, tight and oppressive in the same way his other arm is. “C’mon.”

You grit your teeth kick and buck wildly, digging your heels into his shins and prying at the bar of his arm. Your veins are empty of any fire. You let your head fall back, huffing, and it makes contact with the hardness of his shoulder.

He pulls you in so that your hips are flush to him. His head drops down near the crook of your neck. “Come on,” he repeats, more punctuated and demanding this time. The contours of his body are solid and hard against you. Your brain feels a little fuzzy. Is it from your shallow breathing, or the way you can feel the heaviness of his eyes boring into you? You’re unsure.

You pry and pry at his arms, wriggling yourself in hopes that, at one point, you’ll bend your body in a way that will let you slip out. You even reach behind you and shove at the hard planes of his stomach. All of it is infuriatingly futile.

“You can do more than that,” Taehyun says. “Hit me. Do something. A real captor would’ve done whatever they please with you by now. Come on!”

“I don’t want to hit you!” you say. When you begin twisting again, he opts for holding you to him by one hip, rather than his whole arm. His fingers dig into you.

Taehyun’s voice is low in your ears. “I told you to hit me, so do it.”

All that can be heard in the room for a few long, long moments are your panting breaths, until you bring your foot up and stomp down on his foot, driving your heel down. The thick leather and laces of his boots may pillow some of the force, but not all of it. He grunts, cursing thick and meaningful. He falls back from you, stumbling back until he’s propped up on that strategy table.

“I’m sorry,” you say, rushing over to him. You had brought your foot down on his harder than you had wanted.

Taehyun raises a dismissive hand, the wood of the table creaking under his weight as he leans on it, but his face has dropped and smoothed over. You wonder how one could ever be so good at veiling their emotions so completely. He nods at you, his eyes rounded and soft, despite how his foot might be groaning. “Good job,” he says.

You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. “You’re insane,” you say.

He smiles at you. “Maybe.”

There’s that dimple, again. It’s a soft, kind thing, so at odds with the hard lines and angles of his face. Finally, you let your shoulders soften and relax. You may fall asleep standing upright, if you don’t find the plush of a mattress soon.

❆

You bite down your hisses and sounds. Yeonjun runs his thumb over the deep purple and yellow bruises that litter your legs and arms, and some are too fresh to be touching. His face is pinched and troubled as his eyes linger over your scabbed knees.

“Where are you getting these?” he asks. His eyes flicker up to yours, sparkling under the dim firelight that he keeps in his room. Your mouth goes dry. The concern you see brimming there has you wanting to explode in a frenzy of apologies and truths. He deserves to know what you are.

Sighing, you prop yourself up and onto your elbows. “I do a lot of work at the estate,” you say. It’s a weak excuse for the severity of your bruising, but it’s all you have. His eyebrows lift, and he tilts his head to one side as he looks down at you, something unnamed playing in the lines of his eyes.

“He lets you get all beaten up like this?” he scoffs. “What kind of work does he even have you doing, anyway? What a piece of shit.”

You can tell he wants to extend his offer again. His eyes plead silently with you. You feel guilt the most of any emotion, these days. You shake your head, shrugging him off. “It’s not his fault, Yeonjun. Seriously. I’m just not the best at what I do.”

“It is his fault, if you come back to me looking like this under his care. I’m sick of it. Look at your arms,” he says, picking up the battered thing pointedly. “It kills me every moment you’re there with him, and I don’t know what’s happening to you. But then, you show up... like this. It’s hard for me to believe what you say, pretty.”

You sit up fully. You’re trying to find a way to explain it all away for him. You really are.

Your silence has him recanting. "I believe you. I do. It’s just...” Yeonjun takes his hand and soothes it over a deep bruise, his eyes trained on it and a bit distant. “I don’t trust him.”

There it is again. It’s beginning to feel more like cryptic omens the more you hear it. You gnaw at your cheek. “Why?” you blurt. “Why not? I don’t understand.”

“That family is a line of blood-drinking generals, and I can assure you that he is no different. His father pillaged and devastated as he pleased. Taehyun had no qualms with taking on his father’s legacy. He’s no stranger to killing, pretty. I don’t want you staying in that home.”

You shake your head, stomach feeling sick. You’ve known about Taehyun’s lineage. But you also know that Taehyun hates his father. Why would he maim himself the way he did if he’s just like his father?

An image of Taehyun, stone-faced and dark-eyed, standing over the body of that faerie man comes alive in your memories. He had sliced through that man like he was some sort of practice dummy, not a living, breathing thing.

“Please. I just want you to at least consider why I am asking you to stay with me.”

You nod, letting him bring you into soft, warm arms. His skin is flush and full of life against yours. It only makes you think of the crystalline and cold that Taehyun’s is. Where Yeonjun is a lush, living thing, Taehyun is more like if frost was stricken with the curse of sentience.

“Some of my friends are out having a bonfire,” he says, his voice soft. “Do you want to go?”

You nod. A night under the stars may not be enough to free you of your worries, but it’s enough to let you pretend that they don’t exist.

❆

The company Yeonjun keeps is admittedly less stuffy and pompous than you had in mind, but still, they are unfamiliar to you. You sit leaned into Yeonjun on some chopped up log, its dry bark digging into your palms and dirtying your skirts. The rumble of Yeonjun’s chest as he laughs and talks with the other faeries circling the towering fire is smooth on your ears. All that lights the gathering is the orange of the flame and the stars above. It’s a moonless night.

Some of his friends dance free and unabashed to the strumming of a lyre. The faerie plucking at its strings had stricken you a bit frozen when your eyes had first laid on him. You’re familiar with that flop of blonde hair, and that delicately built face. It was the same faerie Taehyun had spoken with in The Hovel. Your eyes linger on him the most—you’re not entirely sure why, but it just feels like an odd coincidence to you. The Hovel, or even its patrons and performers, is not the kind of place you imagined Yeonjun would find his friends.

He sings to some ridiculous and bawdy faerie ode that you pay no mind. His voice is clear, and it harmonizes wonderfully with the crackle of the bonfire. A jaunty pixie girl cracks up between her dancing at an especially outrageous line.

“Who is that?” you say, looking up at Yeonjun.

He looks down at you with starlight in his eyes, alive with the fragrant bliss floating through the air. “Who?” he asks, lips sweet with a smile. You want to kiss them. Is it okay to kiss him here?

“The guy playing the instrument,” you say, pointing him out. Yeonjun looks in the direction you point.

“Oh,” he says. “That’s Kai. Why, pretty?” he says, looking back down at you. His black tunic is silken and shimmers under firelight. He brushes strands of your hair from your face so that he can look into your eyes better.

You shrug. “No reason. Is he a bard?”

He nods, eyes searching yours. “He is. What are you so curious for?” he asks, the corners of his lips upturned and playful. His skin is fire-warmed, smelling of his familiar sandalwood and clove. You breathe him in.

“I’m just trying to get to know your friends,” you say. You maintain an air of cheekiness, but you can’t help running over the moment you had first seen the instrument-strumming faerie.

Yeonjun’s heart seems to tug at that. “I know. Thank you,” he says. His smile is radiant and smooth, and his eyes form crescents.

“They’re a bit less...” you say. You sit up from him, studying your company to find your words. They’re all more familiar to you—wilder fae, like the kind you might’ve interacted with back home. Not the preening gentry that you’ve mingled with in Court. As a prince, you had imagined Yeonjun might find his home in children of the gentry.

“Less what? Less frumpy than you thought?” he asks, laughing. His cheeks are flushed with some thick, nectary faerie spirit that the lot have been sipping on, and his breath is sweet with it. “I can’t stand that crowd. Reminds me of home.”

Your brows pinch with curiosity. “What is your court like?” you say. Someone hoots off in the background, but neither you nor Yeonjun are phased by it. You’ve been surrounded by similar sounds from the moment you arrived here.

His gaze turns skyward. “Court is court, no matter where it is,” he says, breathing out softly through his nose. “But... at home, things are different. At least, for me they are. I can’t...” He shakes his head as if he’s sorting through old memories that you’re asking him to bare. “I can’t live up to what they expect me to be. There was a time in my life where I tried, but It’s not who I am. You grow tired when it’s your own blood smiling in your face before sticking their blades in your back. All this,”—he takes his silken shirt in his hands— “It becomes tired.”

His eyes become duller as he speaks. You wince.

“Maybe it’s a cage of gold, but it is still a cage,” he says into the buzzing night air. Or, rather, he says it to the stars. “So, you get real good at pretending. When everybody is wearing a mask around you, you learn to wear one too.”

Yeonjun’s head finally drops back down, and he scans around, eyes drinking in the sight of cavorting faeries and the living fire. His eyes then land on you, soft and brimming and full. “It’s nice to have some place to take that mask off.”

You feel your heart surging in a bittersweet way. You don’t deserve to be that for him. All you do is lie to him, and yet, you can’t help the way your heart aches for him.

His gaze flickers down at your lips, and he’s leaning in tentative and unsure. You bridge the gap between your lips. He cups your face delicately with a hand, running it back into your hair. His lips have become something familiar; some sort of tonic that washes over you and seeps into your wounds. When you inevitably pull from him, he’s looking right into you. He tastes like that nectar liqueur, as well.

“I’m gonna go talk. You coming?” he says.

You shake your head. “I’ll stay right by this fire, thank you very much. It’s cold.”

He snorts, a corner of his lips turning up. “Yeah, it is. Who let you outside with nothing more than that dress, anyway? It’s freezing out here.”

“You did.”

He rubs at the back of his neck, sucking his lips in sheepishly before shuffling away. You roll your eyes and settle into your earthy seat, watching him go. You observe the gathering around you some more while you sit alone, enjoying the sound of true laughs and the music that Kai fills the rest of the air with. Some are sappy, and some are tellings of ancient faerie epics, but there’s one that, for a reason that you’re unsure of, catches your ear and beckons you to listen to it.

Walls have ears,

Doors have eyes,

Trees have voices,

Beasts tell lies,

Beware the rain,

Beware the snow,

Beware the man You think you know.

You listen as he repeats the ode like a mantra, your bones unsettled. It’s just an ode; you know that. It’s no different from any old, dauntingly ominous faerie folk song. But you think of Taehyun as the bard repeats the words, and you think of how many times you’ve been told to do just that. You try to shrug off that zinging feeling in the back of your neck telling you that you don’t really know Taehyun. In Faerie, there are no coincidences. You don’t know how long you can let words of concern and warning bounce off of you before you start to let them soak right in.

The metal tang of blood on your tongue tells you that it’s time to get up and distract yourself from your thoughts. You’d gnawed your cheek up. You stretch your limbs and find Yeonjun. He stands talking to a small crowd of faeries, and you join, sliding in next to him. A few of them gawk, and you feel it burning your skin, but you keep your eyes on Yeonjun and do your best to shimmy the feeling off. He wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you in closer to him.

Their conversation is quite honestly hilarious. Their snorts and hollering draw laughs out of you. They loosen your limbs and leave your cheeks pink. You feel as drunk on your laughter as they are on their drinks. Kai soon decides that, since nobody is even listening to his word-spinning anymore, he should join the circle.You don’t notice it, but at some point, the circle cracks off into many different conversations. You stick with Yeonjun, clinging to him for a sense of belonging among the unfamiliar faces. He talks with Kai and a lanky, bark-skinned faerie. The unfamiliar faerie’s eyes are beady and wet, and you feel uneasy under them. You have to strain your ear to clearly hear what they talk about as the other conversations around you mingle and turn into a big blur of jumbled words and sounds.

“Wouldn’t you?” the tall faerie says, his voice gravelly and heavy with bass. “The Queen knows it. She has until the Solstice to deal away with it.” Yeonjun and Kai share a look that is quick, but it is charged with meaning. You don’t miss how they shift with his words.

You shove down the urge to snap your head up and frown. The Solstice? What does The Queen know? And what is it?

The faerie adds, “I heard from a bird that they’ve got something set up at The Hovel for it, anyway. No worries.”

His word choice sends a chill over you. You can almost feel the blood draining from your face. It’s an echo of what you had heard in the forest after leaving The Hovel. It feels intentional, like some sort of code or meaning that you’re not privy to. Your mind begins patching together thoughts and memories and gathered information in a messy, hodge-podged way, but none of it forms a coherent line of reasoning. You commit the features of this unfamiliar faerie to your memory. You buzz with the consuming need to begin tearing through the woods and find Taehyun, wherever he might be tonight.

“Are you okay, pretty?” Yeonjun asks, leaning down. His voice is low and delicate. “You’re pale. Are you cold?”

You failed to contain your jolt of surprise, and a frown etches deep between his brows. “Is something wrong?” he says.

You can hardly feel your face. “I’m fine,” you say, dismissing him with a shake of your head. “Just tired. Really tired.” You need to be back at the estate. You need to tell Taehyun what you just heard.

Yeonjun’s face softens, and he pulls back. “Okay. Let’s get you to bed, then,” he says.

You can’t help but gnaw at your already chewed cheeks and lips as he walks you home through the ice-capped forest. Your feet break through shrubbery and, though some snap back up and claw at your legs, you can barely register their sting through the fogging of your brain. You’re not sure exactly what or when, but something is going to happen at The Hovel.

❆

You suck in breaths through your nose, holding your pounding chest as you come flying through the front door of the estate. You visit each of the rooms Taehyun frequents—his room, the sparring quarters, the war room—you find him in none of them.

You groan. Is he still at Court? Yeonjun had only just dropped you off here; seeking out Taehyun at Court would be a risky move. If he decides that he’s not done with the day and you run into him... You don’t even have a time, nor any idea what is actually going to be happening at The Hovel, to offer Taehyun anyway. But there’s this electricity flowing through your veins. It urges you to move; to do something.

You pace the floor of the estate furiously until you fear you may look down and find the wood weathered and worn down by your boots. Once you’re sure that enough time has passed and Yeonjun would have cleared the flat and the wooded area, you set for Court with your mind racing in the very same way your heart does.

Your feet carry you with the lightness of determination and will until you find yourself looking onto the warm, dancing lights of Court. You let yourself fear the consequences of what Yeonjun spotting you might bring for only a moment before you stamp it out and slip through the old pillar trees and join the merriments of Court with every morsel of bravery you have in you.

Your eyes rake over the scene. You filter out the noise of dancing bodies and opt for tunneling in on the faeries standing still and making conversation—that’s where you’ll find Taehyun. There are multiple groups and bundles littering the floor, and yet, you find that tall head of hair and cold face in none of them. You soothe over your dress with anxious hands as you narrow your eyes and look over the hall again. If not conversation, where is he?

Your eyes brush past a tall, brooding figure posted at the end of a table, his arms crossed and a heavy sword at his hip. Your eyes sweep back for a double take. Taehyun.

You restrain the initial urge to pick the hem of your dress off the floor and take off for him. It would only bring curious eyes your way, and you absolutely do not need that. You need to keep a low profile, like how a spy would. You forget yourself more with each moment you spend at Yeonjun’s side. Fearing attention is what you should be doing, not just as a spy, but as a human intermingling with cruel faerie courts, anyway. You make your way through the thick bunches of court-goers and tables.

Taehyun’s brows furrow when he spots you, full of questioning. You don’t usually seek each other out during court; it’s easier to float below everybody’s attention when separate.

Your veins buzz, thrilled to spill every word that has been sitting on your tongue with urgency. “Taehyun,” you say, closing the last steps of distance between you. “I have something to tell you, but... I can’t say it here.” He scans your surroundings, and you can see curiosity brimming all over him. He doesn’t ask the questions he has on his mind, though, simply departing from his post at the table and sifting through the crowds. You follow.

Only once you’ve left the hall that holds court and are into the trees does he ask, “You found something?”

You nod, but hasten your pace. Not only is the outside air biting into your skin without any tall bonfires to ward it away, but you’ve felt watched for a while now. The woods that you use as a segway between Court and Taehyun’s estate no longer feels like a haven—instead of just ancient holly and pine trees decorating the snowy grounds, you feel eyes on trees and ears in bushes. Taehyun doesn’t push any when you don’t explain, his face only grows increasingly grim.

When you’re surrounded by the sturdy, familiar walls of the estate you finally stop and lean into the dining table, running your hands over your face. Taehyun’s shoulders have become tensed and rigid. Your silence must be getting under his skin.

“I was out with Yeonjun, and I heard something. It was like—”

Taehyun cuts you off, his face souring. “Why weren’t you at Court? Where were you?”

“A bonfire,” you say, avoiding his other question. “Just with some of his friends. But that’s not the point. The point is that there was somebody there that was talking about The Queen knowing something, and that something is supposed to happen at The Hovel for it. He said something about how she has to deal with it before the solstice.” Your words run over each other and twist with the way you hurry to get their weight off your tongue.

Taehyun seems to process your jumbles of information for a moment before he says, “What did he look like?”

“He had bark skin, and was pretty tall,” you say. “I didn’t hear his name, or anything. Do you think you know him?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t. Did Yeonjun?” he asks, and something in his tone feels accusatory.

You shake your head. You’re not sure why you do it. “No, but that wasn’t all. There was something he said,”—your stomach flips at the memory— “it just felt off.”

“What?”

“He said that he had heard about whatever is happening at The Hovel from a bird,” you say, fiddling with frayed nerves at a heavy jewel hanging in your ear that Yeonjun had gifted you.

You recognize the look that etches itself into his features as you say it—it mirrors exactly the way your insides twisted when you had heard it. “We have to go see what’s going to happen, Taehyun. I mean, The Queen is involved! Doesn’t it all feel like it’s something bigger? What if that guy who attacked us was in on it?” You toe the wood flooring. “I feel weird about it.”

His face pulls into a grimace, but he nods. “We can check it out,” he says. “But I’m still wondering why you were out in the middle of the forest with a group of strangers, instead of at court where you should be.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I’m doing what you told me to do,” you say, tired of this conversation. “You asked me to make a show out of it, so I am. It was a little hangout with his friends, and Yeonjun was there with me anyway.”

“There’s no purpose in showing yourself off to his friends,” he says, his voice taking on a biting, sword edge. “Listen to yourself,” he says, throwing his hands up in an exasperated gesture. “I don’t care if Yeonjun was there. You were in the woods, surrounded by only him and his friends, alone. You found out for yourself what kind of company he keeps, didn’t you? What makes you so sure that he would choose you over your friends?” he sneers, and then his jaw sets. “I don’t care how much you’re practicing, or how many weapons you wear, you should be smarter than to put yourself into situations like that.”

You spin on your heel, venom spinning itself up potent and mean in your mouth. You choose to keep it there despite the way it sours and begs for you to spit it all out.

Taehyun’s fingers dig into your wrist as he catches it, as firm and unforgiving as his temper. “Don’t walk away from me,” he grits out. You throw your head back in an effort to keep yourself together, but all the effort it had taken you to not explode suddenly slips through your fingers like water.

You rip your arm from out of his hand, scathing him with your eyes. “It’s not up to you. If you want me to do something, then tell me. Otherwise, leave me alone. I’m tired of you acting like I don’t have my own brain. I can decide for myself what’s safe and what’s not.”

He shakes his head, tugging at the collar of his tunic as if it’s stifling around his neck. “I know you can,” he says, his words trained. “I expect more than whatever this is from you. This behavior is unbecoming of a spy.”

Your shoulders slump heavy with his words. “What? What is?” you say. “We’ve found nothing of value in court. The only thing you ever brought us fell flat on its face, and you brought me closer to death than I ever have. So, tell me how what I did is so awful? I found us something to follow. Can’t you just acknowledge that and move on, without reaching to find something to criticize me for?”

When you study his face, you expect to find only his torturous mask of ice, but you find his eyes at war with his face. While he seems to be trying to pull that mask over his face, he’s unsuccessful in smoothing over the layered, flickering emotion that his eyes are brimming with. You’re unsure of which emotions you see there. They’re knotty and thorny, and so viscous that you can’t see through or discern them. He doesn’t reply, only pressing his mouth into a thin, cruel line. You wish you could read his eyes and see there what he can’t seem to say with his words. When Taehyun feels his mask slipping away from him, he frantically grasps at straws of rage and mean words to distract from it.

“Yeah, I’m going to bed,” you say. You know it’s not what this conversation needs; you know that what you need to do is stay here and talk, but that would just be a waste of your time. Taehyun will never offer you the amount of bare emotion that something like that would require, and so you just save yourself the frustration.

You chew over more angry words as you storm off for your quarters. Taehyun does not make any attempts to stop you.

❆

Your eyes flutter open, and you blink them a few times to adjust to the morning rays of light. Birds trill outside your window.

Your bedding is a warming embrace around you, and it has your eyes drooping and mind fuzzy with sleep just as quickly as you had awoken. You fight it for only a few moments before letting sleep settle itself into your bones once more.

Your eyes pop back open as the sharp sound of something small and hard colliding with glass rings through your room. You sit up, removing yourself regretfully from the nurturing arms of your bedsheets, and listen. You jump when it happens again. It’s coming from your window. You slide regretfully from the bed and rub at your eyes before padding over to your window.

You frown at Yeonjun’s silhouette staring up to you from the ground, his hands in his pockets. The grin that he plastered over his mouth when he spots you in the window tells you that he is aware of the fact he had just dragged you out of your slumber. You push open the window, grimacing down at him.

“Why don’t you just go through the front door?” you gripe, running fingers through your tangle of hair. “Like a normal person would.”

He tilts his head, swiping his tongue over his lips. “I’m not normal,” he snarks. “You should know that by now, pretty. Do you need me to show you how special I am again?”

You flush at his innuendo.

“Tell me why you’re throwing rocks at my window at this hour,” you say, skirting around his words.

He scoffs. “This hour? What time do you think it is? It’s midday, darling.”

It’s midday? You’d slept like a rock.

“Anyway,” he says, “can’t a man just visit a pretty lady? You look lovely fresh from bed, might I add.” He waggles his brows in a gaudy, overdone way.

You grab at the open window. “Tell me why you’re here, or else I swear I’m closing this window and going back to bed.”

Yeonjun snorts, leaning his shoulder into the tree at his side. “I have somewhere to take you.”

You can’t help but remember how Taehyun had scorned you last night for something just like this.

You shoot a suspicious look down at him. “Where?”

“Somewhere,” he says. “You’ll love it. I promise.”

You close the window, saving your room from the bite of the morning air. You have such little time here with Yeonjun. It wouldn’t hurt to use your time together to its fullest extent. A knot forms in your throat as you think of the day you leave this place for home. Would Yeonjun follow you?

You meet him outside. Your breath furls from your mouth in white plumes, and his nose is tinted pinkish. You quirk an eyebrow, hunched and rallying your own warmth with your arms wrapped around yourself. “What’s inspired you to drag me from my sleep today?” you say.

Yeonjun shakes his head, eyes creasing into a sweet, sweet smile that wraps your cold bones and rids you of chills. “You’ve seemed worried recently. Is it so wrong for me to take you away for only a day? Would your lord object to even that?”

You hadn’t realized how much your double life has been weighing down on you. Is it that obvious? He must’ve been worrying.

“I’m sorry,” you say, kicking at a snow-tufted tree root jutting from the ground. "I haven’t meant to be uptight, or anything.” Your skin prickles as straying snowflakes twirl down and pepper your skin.

Yeonjun takes your chin in a firm hand, turning your face up from the ground to meet his own. He shakes his head at you, his eyes firm. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “You don’t have to apologize for being tired, or worried, or whatever it is. Not to me, at least. Let me take care of you; let me make it better.”

If your heart was fluttering before, it has grown legs and escaped you by now. You blink once, twice, or even three full times before you suck your lips in and give him a wordless nod. He smiles a content smile, running his thumb just under the plumpness of your bottom lip. “Good,” he says, voice thick. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips that leaves the cold skin of your cheeks warring against the blush that rises there. He slides a warming arm around you and leads you around the estate.

You pause as you round the corner and catch sight of a powerful, pearly-coated creature standing on the front grounds. It paws the ground, muscles rippling under its shining pelt.

“I am not getting on that thing,” you say, looking between Yeonjun and the frilly horse with your eyes blown wide. Horses are something only the gentry use as means of transportation—the rest of faerie ride by other means or simply by foot. This one is perhaps the second you’ve seen in the entirety of your life. You gawk at its long, powerful legs.

Yeonjun digs into a pouch that sits on the white flank of the creature, a taunting twist to his face. “You’re afraid of horses?”

His words rile you. “No,” you say, voice tilting up in affront. You reach out to run your fingers over the smooth surface of its neck and retract your hand when the muscles there flinch. Yeonjun, or perhaps his attendants, must care for it well. Its tail is laced with flowers of faerie, only unwilted for the fact that they have some form of faerie enchantment placed over them, and its mane is a white, dripping silk that does not even look windblown, though you assume Yeonjun had ridden it here. It seems that all things flourish under Yeonjun’s touch. “I’ve just never been on one before.”

He finishes rummaging through the pouch and produces something from it. A thick, fur-lined coverup made of white deerskin, inlaid with whorls of silvery thread. He offers it to you, and you gladly drown yourself in it. You sigh as it thaws out your skin. "I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says, reassuring you before kicking himself up over the top of the horse with practiced ease the speaks to his upbringing. He looks exceedingly princely as he extends his hand down to you, his hair falling into his eyes and his lips lined with charm. When you hesitate, eyeing up the climb onto the horse, he adds, “Trust me.”

And you do. Perhaps it’s foolish in a world built with elaborately hidden non-truths into its seams, but you do. You’re unsure of whether it emphasizes your foolishness or Yeonjun’s innate charm. You take his hand and slide your foot into the stirrup. You teeter on one leg before you feel the firmness of his hand in yours, and you throw the other one up and over, and then you’re seated on the solid back of the impressive creature. You laugh in disbelief, looking around at the world from this height. When you look down at the floor beneath you, you gasp and circle your arms around Yeonjun’s middle.

He runs and hand over yours, interlocking your fingers over his abdomen. “Hold on well, okay?” he says over his shoulder. He pats your hands before taking the reins into his own. You dig your fingers into the front of his doublet and press your cheek into his back, squeezing your eyes closed. When he feels your hold tighten, he snaps the reins. The way that the horse whinnies and then takes off, moving faster than you’ve ever moved within only a few blinks, has you reeling. The pull of the speed that you bolt with makes it feel as though you’ll tip back or fly off the rear of the being. You scoot yourself closer to Yeonjun; so close that your front melds into the hardness of his back, the muscles there tensed as he works on guiding the horse.

Wind whips your hair behind you, and you’re thankful for the way trees begin to litter the scenery. You slow to a trot, winding through ancient, towering trees gray of bark and crawling with lichen. The ambience of the silvery light rays that filter through the branch overhang and the singing of little songbirds has you breathing in until you feel as though you are bursting with air and then releasing it all in a deep, deep sigh. Hoofbeats form a deep, resounding song that you find yourself lost in.

“You’re quiet back there,” Yeonjun says. You can feel the reverberations of his voice through your cheek.

You hum, letting your eyes droop closed. “Mhm.”

A laugh rumbles deep in his chest. “Are you going to fall asleep?” he says, and you can hear his smile in his voice. “We’re not too far from where we’re going, pretty. Why are you so sleepy? You didn’t go to bed too late last night.”

His question drains every bit of exhaustion from you. You manage the tensing of your limbs carefully. To him, you had gone to bed early last night, but you were too busy sneaking around him and tossing in your bed to get a full night’s sleep last night. “I don’t know,” you say. Your lie is wretched in your mouth and mind. You’re sat on the back of his royal steed and he’s taking you somewhere because he’s worried about you, and you have the gall to lie to him straight through your teeth. For the first time, you envy the faerie composition for their inability to lie. Words claw long, raking welts down your throat as you tamper them down and pretend that they are not there. If you ever tell him your truth, it shouldn’t be now.

The trotting of the horse turns into leisurely walk. You sit up. Your surroundings look no more special than the last thirty minutes had.

“We’re here?” you say.

He slides off the back of the horse, his feet meeting the forest floor the only sound bar the typical buzzing of the forest. He offers you his arm. “We are.”

Despite his help, your descent is marginally less graceful than his. “Here, where?” you do a full spin before leveling him a curious stare. “This forest is nice, I suppose, but...”

“I’ve spoiled you rotten,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “This isn’t enough for you? I mean, these trees are just something else.”

You know the sparkle in his eyes is all taunt. You narrow your eyes at him. “It’s beautiful, yeah... But I could’ve gone tree gazing literally anywhere else.” You inspect the hollows between trees and the forest floor for some sort of faerie trick or veiling.

He smirks off your complaining, producing a small, silken cloth from the horse’s satchel. He unfolds it to unveil a glistening, plump chunk of Lachrymose. Faerie fruit.

“What is that for?” you say, giving him an incredulous stare.

He raises it to you. The dusty blue skin of it is coated in a fuzz. You’re not mistaken at all—that is faerie fruit. “I need you to eat it,” Yeonjun says.

“But that’s Lachrymose,” you say. “It’s faerie fruit. I can’t eat that. Why do you want me to eat it?” Shame tickles at your skull as you replay Taehyun’s words from last night. Yeonjun has showered you with nothing but his affection, you have no reason to doubt his intentions now.

“I know,” he says. “I know it is. Do you trust me?”

Do you? He had led you here to the forest and now is holding the fruit known to drunken your kind. Taehyun’s words double, and they meld with all that you know about the folk. They don’t care about you. What makes this faerie prince any different? Who’s to say that he didn’t bring you out here with ill intent? It’s not like anybody would come searching for you, anyway.

But, despite it all, you do. You trust Yeonjun with the blazing intensity of a girl who has not known what it is to be treated delicately. You trust Yeonjun even if it is to a fault. You nod.

He brings the chunk of yellow-pulp fruit to his lips, and his bite is punctuated by the crisp puncturing of the skin. He chews the fruit and swallows it, and then swipes his tongue over the pink of his lips to collect the thick nectar there. He drops the fruit to the ground.

Any words or questions die in your throat as he crashes his lips into yours. He rolls his tongue around yours and brings his hands up to hold your face in place. You mewl surprise into his mouth, but the cloying flavor of the nectar lingering on his tongue has each inch of your skin buzzing with the twinkle of faerie enchantment. The taste of Yeonjun mingles with the fruit in a way that seizes your senses. He licks at your bottom lip before pulling off of your mouth. The black of his pupil threatens to drink his eye whole, his eyes dilated and heavy with rolling lust.

You reclaim your stolen breaths as you watch him and his wet lips, but something behind him catches your attention. You peer around him.

Behind Yeonjun are multiple merchant stalls so full of odd ornaments and draping fabrics that you fear they’ll spill over onto the forest ground, seemingly appearing where nothing had stood before. Behind the stalls stand a myriad of different fairfolk, some haggling with customers and some fussing over their goods. Your feet grow roots into the ground and you gawk at the scene in front of you.

“How?—”

Yeonjun pats the flank of the horse, looping a lead around its gear and making a tree the anchor for the other end. “Faerie fruit is intoxicating to humans, yes,” he says, “but at lower doses it gives you true sight.” He looks over the little marketplace. “There’s so much of Faerie that you miss. Hidden places like this... I want to show you all of them. This is your home, too, isn’t it?”

Your eyes burn and your throat burns as you strain to bottle your tears up. Your home.

He takes one of your hands and gestures toward the stalls in a pointing gesture. “Come on, let’s see what they’ve put out for sale.”

You peruse the stalls with only your eyes for a few moments before walking up to one. This one, you find as you approach the stall, has art for sale. Canvases slathered with paint and telling stories of betrayals and greatness are propped up on display easels, so plentiful that the shopkeeper began littering them about the ground as well. Earthenware and pottery glazed in sparkling silvers and bronzes stand tall and beautiful alongside them. You can’t help but notice that the subjects of the art pieces are all human.

You drift to the next stall, but Yeonjun stays admiring the art pieces. This one boasts an odd collection of all sorts of seemingly stolen things. Piles of worn buttons and door handles and all other sorts of trinkets. You look over all the hanging baubles and dangling metal pieces that chime when a breeze worms through them. Much of it you can’t even recognize what sort of purpose it may serve, or at least what purpose it may have served at some point.

It’s all human.

A gnarled voice startles you. “Do you not see something you like, girl?” says the goblin shopkeeper as he peeks up and over the piles of his selection. The cap on his head is pointed and red, and his ears membranous and bat-like. You immediately know upon seeing him that all of this was gathered by the shopkeeper himself, and not bought off of suppliers. Goblins are infamous for their sticky fingers and fondness toward inconsequential human things like these. He zeroes in on a heavy, unfamiliar coin in your hands, his nose snuffling on his pointed snout. “That’ll run you a fair chunk of your hair.”

“Oh, I’m just looking,” you say, letting the coin drop back into the piles of unsorted knick-knacks. “Is this all human goods?”

The shopkeeper chortles. “This is a market for human things, girl. You’ll be harder pressed to find something of faerie make here.”

Your heart skips a couple beats. Yeonjun had brought you here because he thought being among human things might comfort you.

You move on to the next stall. This one offers delicate works of silver—earrings, necklaces, bangles, and even cold silver weaponry. You pick up a resplendent dagger, embellished with a myriad of swirling carvings running up the handle. You test its weight. It is heavy and the blade of it is in great shape. The ones you have been using from the arsenal at Taehyun’s estate pale in comparison.

“Anything catching your eye?” Yeonjun says, his voice sneaking up to your left. He must’ve caught up to you while you were busy browsing.

You nod, holding up the dagger of silver. "This is gorgeous.”

He gives you an odd look, tilting his head as he looks down at the weapon and then up at you. “What would you need a weapon for?” he says. “Not that it isn’t lovely.”

You laugh, and you hope it doesn’t sound as nervous as you feel. “I was just saying that it’s nice,” you say, shrugging. It’s hard to part from the beautiful, silver thing as you place it back down.

“This is all human stuff, isn’t it?” You turn to look at him.

He smiles, and his nose crinkles with it. “So, you noticed,” he says. “I thought you might like it.”

“I do,” you say. “I... I didn’t know there was anything like this here.” You gesture at the market around you, seemingly risen from plain snow and tree. It doesn’t make any bit of sense that there would be a market for human things when faerie craft is unfathomably superior. “I’m not sure why, though. It’s all so...” You mull over a way to put your thoughts into word for a moment. You look over the selection of the stalls, their goods dented and rusting and frayed around the edges. “Lackluster.”

He shakes his head, looking back at the paintings of the first stall that he had hovered at. “What makes you say that?” he says.

You pick up a necklace on a white gold chain, heavy with a weeping pearl at its apex, from a pile of other odds and ends. “A lot of it is pretty,” you acknowledge, bringing the pearl into your palm and feeling the imperfect shape of it. The color of it is a pale, oil spill mauve shade that you’ve never seen on a pearl, and it is not lovely and round like other pearls, either. “But none of it really matters, like handcraft here does. Like, those paintings don’t strike love in the viewer’s heart...” You look around, and your eyes are pulled like gravity to the blade that you had laid down. “And that dagger doesn’t gift its wielder the blessing of guaranteed victory in any fight they bring to it. They’re just... stuff.”

Yeonjun takes the necklace from your hands. He reaches around you, clasping the ends of it at the back of your neck. He picks up the drooping pearl from where it dangles about your cleavage, observing it and spinning it in his fingers. “Maybe this necklace isn’t inlaid with magic. Maybe it doesn’t gift its wearer boundless beauty, or act as a ward against evil enchantments. But how I look at it, somebody worked hard days of their lives learning the skillset and working their fingers raw to finally be able to make a piece like this. They had no faerie magic to help them do it, and they did not have the long lifespan of a faerie, either. Their lives were short and valuable, and yet, they spent their scarce time mastering their craft until they made this. Don’t you think that is more lovely than any faerie thing?”

You take the necklace into your own hand. Suddenly, the weight of it on your chest is more right than anything ever before. The junk around you begins to sparkle with the light of someone’s passions.

“It looks lovely around your neck, darling,” he says. The husky timbre that is spun into the words makes your skin burn. “It’s yours. Whatever you want from here is yours.”

You shake your head, still holding the pearl between your fingers and feeling its shape and temperature. “This is all I want.”

He smiles at you before pulling out a heavy bagful of coins, handing it to the shopkeeper who finally looks up from his ministrations behind the counter. “The necklace for the lady,” Yeonjun says. The shopkeeper’s eyes almost bug out of his head as he accepts the jingling pouch of coins that is visibly too much for just the necklace, but he does not protest or point it out.

Your heart tugs. That shopkeeper knows Yeonjun is prince—there is not a sentient being in these lands that does not know his title. Yeonjun could’ve asked for the necklace and the shopkeeper would’ve given it to him. Maybe a bit begrudgingly, but he would. And yet, Yeonjun handed him the payment for the necklace and more. The amount of money that Yeonjun just handed him is no dent to him, but to the shopkeeper...

“C’mon,” Yeonjun says, looping his arm around you. “We don’t have long before your true sight fades off. Let’s look at everything before then, yeah?”

You nod, leaning into his touch. You’re not sure you ever want that fruit to fade; not sure you ever want to leave the forest and face what you’re really here for. But, at least for the time you have here, you’ll pretend that this is it.

❆

You bound down the stairs, greeting Taehyun with a nod of your head when you spot him leaned against the wall by the door. He returns your nod. It’s the first you’ve seen of him in a few days.

You frown at him. He looks as if he’s been waiting on you. What other reason would he be hovering around the front door?

“What’s up?” you say.

He lets out a sigh, laced with frustration. “Whatever they’re doing at The Hovel, they’ve got it under wraps. It doesn’t matter if I sit there for half the day; nothing but usual customers pass through.”

You appreciate that he doesn’t mention how your information might be null, despite the fact that you know he’s thinking it. You are. Hopefully, it’s not because you whined so much about being taken seriously that he just accommodates you like a moody toddler. That can’t be the truth, though. If he’s taken multiple of his own days from your finite time here in the north to check it out, he has to believe that it holds some water.

Shrugging, you say, “We could just leave it, if it doesn’t seem like it’s actually anything.”

He shakes his head. “No. We’re going to follow this through,” he says. “Get some shoes on. I want to bring you with me, this time.”

He wants you to come this time. He wants your help. Maybe he’s just saying it to mend the tension that seems to be a permanent aspect of your relationship, but that doesn’t feel like Taehyun’s style. It feels dizzyingly validating for each of the nights you’ve spent running through your sword fighting skills until you wore your muscles down, even when you felt you might collapse.

You bend down to lace up your boots. Your necklace dangles from your chest, swinging and bumping your chin as you do. When you stand to ask him why he believes you being there might help, you pause as you catch his eyes trained intensely at your chest. You furrow your brows, thrown off by the smolder in his narrowed eyes.

He steps toward you, reaching up and taking Yeonjun’s necklace from where it rests. His fingers brush right where your breasts begin, if only for a brief, heart-stopping moment. “Where did you get this?” he asks, his tone flat and untelling, but his eyes blaze and do not flicker away from the pearl around your neck for even a moment.

You can’t muster an answer for a few beats, blundering with his sudden and uncalled for intensity. But, when you finally can, your voice wavers. You have no reason to have guilt roiling in your belly for wearing Yeonjun’s necklace, but you do. “Some market that sells human stuff,” you say.

His face tightens. “How did you get there?” he says. He must know exactly which market. He won’t look at you. “It’s from Yeonjun,” he says, more a statement than a question. He sounds scorned, as if you wearing some necklace has any reason to encourage this sort of reaction.

You wince, ready for him to berate you for drowning yourself in Yeonjun’s luxuries, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops the necklace as if it’s cold iron searing into his skin, stepping back from you. “Let’s go,” he says, cold and sharp and short.

There it goes; a smooth, flawless mask slides over his face and clicks into place without falter. You’ve become so sick of staring into an emotionless face.

“No,” you say, crossing your arms.

His eyebrows shoot up. “No?” he echoes.

“You’re angry about something. What’s your problem?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“My problem?” he asks, his lip curling. “I have no problem. We need to go.”

You bark out a barbed laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “Sure, let’s do this again. You lead the way.” You gesture at the door in an overblown, dramatic wave of your arm, utterly sardonic.

He gives you a long look before he does. When the heavy wood door swings open, a cold front of air blasts in, smacking you in the face. You snatch a woolen cloak up from near the door, wrapping yourself up in it and following Taehyun out into whipping wind.

You drag your feet through snow without any complaint or word exchanged with Taehyun—it’s not the first time you’ve braved a snow storm alongside a sickeningly quiet Taehyun, anyway.

❆

As you hook your boot into a low-hanging branch, tugging yourself up on unsure arms, you look up to see Taehyun already squatted and settled onto a thick branch a few levels up. He reaches a hand down to you, and you take it, amazed by how much easier it makes the rest of your climb up feel. You remember the buff of his forearms and the feel of them wrapped around you like solid metal through flickering memories, and it adds up. Taehyun does not just wield weapons well; his whole body is honed and molded to be used just as well as any weapon from what you’re sure are from years of spy work and being a general’s son.

You wobble on this higher branch, wrapping an arm around the trunk of the tree when you look down and see how high you are from the ground. Though it is powdered generously with a white layer of snow, you’re sure that fall would hurt. You focus on breathing. You’re not sure you would, if you don’t.

Taehyun and you had made the trek to this forest in a familiar, tense silence, only broken when he told you that you’d be climbing into a tree and keeping a bird's eye view of the path to The Hovel. Even now, he won’t address you. It irks you down to your soul; you had done nothing to deserve a cold shoulder from him.

Taehyun readjusts his footing on the branch and it wobbles under your feet, creaking. Your heart jumps up into your throat, and your arms encircle the tree until it aches. Bark bites your skin, but you couldn’t care less.

“You need to relax,” Taehyun says. “The more tense you are up here, the more likely it is that you’ll actually fall.”

You breathe out through your nose shakily, gritting your teeth. “It’s not that easy.”

“I know it isn’t,” he says, placing a steadying hand on your back. “But you have to.”

You attempt to let go of the trunk, but the second you let go, you find that your footing is insufficient, and you teeter. Your arms are back around the tree faster than you can even think.

“I didn’t say let go of the tree.”

You bite back a snark, opting to focus your energy on not slipping and cracking your neck. You would not be this uptight if the branches weren’t coated here and there in sheets of snow that has hardened into ice, making good foot placement imperative.

“How long are we going to be sitting up here?” you ask. You’re thankful for the way the branches and pine needles shelter you from the wind, but you’re unsure of how long you can handle the feeling of your lungs frozen in fear.

“A while.” he says.

You shudder out a breath at that. Well, if the tense atmosphere between you two wasn’t already enough on your plate, the threat of falling from this height is a lovely addition.

The two of you sit perched and hidden in the trees without so much as a passerby for awful stretches of hours. The more you throw yourself into listening and watching, despite the absence of anything to listen or watch, the less taut your muscles grow. At some point, you’re able to let go of the tree, holding to the branch underneath you. You grow intensely bored by the monotonous sight of falling snow and the occasional forest creature. Of course, nobody is visiting The Hovel today. Who would be?

“Okay, I think it’s safe to call it quits, Taehyun,” you say. Your knees ache furiously from the constant crouch you’re sat in, and you’re reaching your measly human threshold for cold temperatures despite your bundling. “Nobody’s coming. I’m sorry, I guess I interpreted things wrong. Let’s just cut our losses and go back.”

Taehyun looks at you with a strange look in his eyes. “I’ve been doing this for days. For days, I’ve been sat up in these trees and poking around the place. Do you think I’d waste that time on something that sounds like it could’ve been interpreted wrong?” he snaps. “None of that sounded like coincidence. You found something good, and we’re not going to leave it now.”

He says the words a bit harsher than you had hoped, but in some odd way that only Taehyun could pull off, it feels like an apology for treating you like dead weight before.

You huff. “If it’s nothing, you can’t say it’s my fault that we’ve wasted time on this.”

He doesn’t answer, and the forest slips back into just the quiet howl of wind and rustling branches. You rest your cheek into the tree, submitting to another bout of painfully fruitless watching.

Taehyun rustles on the branch next to you, sitting up and suddenly very alert. You shoot him a confused glance. There’s nothing and nobody in sight. You mouth the word “What?” at him.

He presses a finger over his mouth in a shushing gesture, holding it there as he seems to listen to something that you can’t hear. He pulls his bow off his back, notching an arrow. Your heart thumps in your neck wildly as you watch him do it. What, exactly, does he hear?

It’s a few long, long minutes before you start hearing anything. Indistinct chatter bounces off of trees and reaches you as a pair of faeries, one of them a long-limbed pixie and the other more humanoid aside from the pointed ears peeking out from his hair. You watch them trudge through the piling snow, unable to pick up their conversation from even this distance.

Taehyun pulls the bowstring taut, aiming at the pixie one with deadly precision. Your eyes bulge, and you turn your gaze to him with a wide-eyed stare. You want to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but you keep your mouth sealed water-tight. You can’t let them know you’re hidden away up here.

The utterly remote look on Taehyun’s face, even while having his bow pulled tight and ready to shoot a killing arrow at them, makes you nauseous. He doesn’t look to you, he only narrows his eyes in on the pair, studying them. They look inconspicuous to your eyes—he won’t let that arrow fly, you tell yourself. You tell it to yourself again as he readjusts his squat to better angle at them as they travel further down the path. That consolation does not work, though, when he releases the arrow out onto the pixie. It whistles before piercing the faerie right in the neck.

You cover your mouth so as to not cry out in shock, but the wail of the other faerie does the job for you. He drops to the floor, his eyes wide and his hands clasping around the entry point of the arrow as if to staunch the bleeding—as if it would save a man with an arrow through the neck. He looks up and around, searching for where the stray arrow had flown from, but Taehyun has you two hidden too perfectly among the branches.

You look up to Taehyun. He’s loosing another arrow, locking it into place and lining it up with the living faerie, his hands steady in a killing calm. The poor faerie is only just able to realize how vulnerable they are to an arrow before one spears through his chest. Taehyun had aimed for his heart, and he had not missed. His eyes go wide, his skin draining of its color, before he crumples over himself and joins his companion on the ground.

You watch the sight of their blood slowly embellishing the white snow unable to look away but so sick at the sight that you might bend over and hurl up your guts.

‘Why the fuck did you just kill them?” you say, and it’s all you can manage to get past your paralyzed lips.

When he turns away from his carnage and looks at you, all you can see is that detached face as he had made the conscious decision to let those arrows fly and rob those faeries of their lives without warning or even speaking to them. “They’re errand runners for The Queen,” he says before he slinks down the branches, landing on the forest ground. You follow him, suddenly lithe and unafraid of falling with the liquid adrenaline simmering in your bloodstream.

“So, you shoot and kill them on sight?” you say. “They didn’t deserve that. The most they do is run messages for her, they have no part in any of this.” Your lips tremble as you avoid looking at their still bodies, already losing heat in the snow. You can’t look; not this close. Down here, at their height, you can almost imagine the fear of looking up and knowing that someone sits somewhere in the shadows and knowing that you will be the next on the ground.

“That’s exactly it,” he says. “They run messages. We need those messages, and we wouldn’t have gotten them by just asking them and saying please.” The rustling sound tells you that he’s searching their bodies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, the noxious tang of blood finally hitting your nose. Your knees feel like they’ll buckle under you as you remember a time where you had been the cause of that smell. Only a few long steps away from here, you had dug your dagger into the flesh of another living being. How many more times will you see death, now that you’ve found yourself as a spy? Will you one day be as desensitized to its presence as Taehyun is?

No, you won’t. You can’t see yourself ever valuing the life of any living thing so little that you view it as some means to an end.

“They had lives, Taehyun. You have no right taking the liberty of that into your own hands. What are you going to do if you find nothing on them? What are you going to do?”

There’s some more rustling before Taehyun answers. “They would laugh to see you die.”

It’s true. You know it’s true. Yet, you still can’t find justice in their deaths.

“You don’t know that; you didn’t know them,” you say.

He laughs, but it’s empty of what a laugh should be. It feels cold and mocking. “They all would. Every last one of them.”

You spin on him, hearing his unspoken words. Yeonjun, too. “And you wouldn’t?” you hiss. As you finally look at him, you notice the folded-up paper he holds in his hands.

His eyes flash. “I am not one of them.”

Your eyes run over the roundness of his ears. No matter how round he may have sheared them, they can never soften the sharp faerie angles of his face. Not when you’ve seen him kill as wildly and beastly as they do. He has human running in his blood, and yet, the most terrible things you’ve seen have been at his hands. “Aren’t you?” you say. “I think it’s time you come to terms with the fact that you are, and learn how to live with it.”

He looks at you with eyes of such intensity that you have to make sure you’re still breathing. “You know nothing about me,” he snarls.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say, rubbing your hands together to fight the cold. “But... killing them, that wasn’t human.”

“I’m not human, either,” he says, shaking his head.

“Then, what are you, Taehyun?” you ask.

He looks at you for a long time, his face unmoving as if he tries but cannot conjure up an answer. “I don’t know,” he says, his tongue lashing. The raw emotion consuming his features, cracking his mask of ice, softens you.

“Why not?” you say, stepping toward him despite the turning of your stomach when the two fallen faeries come into view. The snow is already dusting them over and covering them; the earth reclaiming what is hers. “You don’t have to live your life in the shadow of that man. You don’t have to deny yourself your own identity because he was a monster. You are not him.”

As quickly as he let it fall, Taehyun plasters his face in ice and stone. “You have no clue who I am, or what I’ve done.”

With that last menacing line, Taehyun unfurls the piece of paper he pulled off the errand runners. You’re not sure if the chill resting at the base of your spine is you surpassing your threshold for freezing temperatures, or if the thought of Taehyun committing the same unimaginable atrocities as his father scares you that bad. With what you had just seen... Maybe Taehyun is the same monster that you’ve been continuously warned he could be.

His brows pinch as he takes in what’s scrawled on the paper, slowly becoming translucent is some places as snow flurries down and falls on it.

“What?” you say. You hope that whatever is on that paper is worth their lives.

“It’s just a nursery rhyme,” he says, flipping the paper over to check if there’s anything more. There isn’t.

You frown. “Let me see.” You take the paper from his hands. At the top sits a crude scribbling of a bird, and beneath it is a nursery rhyme you are vaguely familiar with.

One for sorrow,

Two for mirth,

Three for a wedding,

Four for a birth,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told,

Eight for a kiss,

Nine for a wish,

Nine for a bird you must not miss

It’s a rhyme about magpies and the meaning behind the numbers you might see them in. On the paper, the last line is written over many times, the writing jagged and almost violent. At the bottom, there are the words tomorrow day written, small and less likely to draw the eye than the bold lines of the rhyme. Your mind freezes up.

“Taehyun,” you say, swallowing hard. “Do you remember what kind of bird we found dead before I got attacked?”

He nods, as if catching on to what you’re saying. “It was a magpie.”

“And everybody is talking in these... codes about birds, right. There is some kind of organized thing happening here, Taehyun, and it involves The Queen. And, down there,” you say, pointing at the bottom of the paper. “Do you think it means that tomorrow is when it’s happening?”

He thinks for a long moment, probably running through any other possibilities. He nods. “Sounds like it,” he says, inspecting the paper for another few beats before folding it back up and stashing it away. “Let’s get back before it gets too dark.”

You look up at the overcast and dimming sky, nodding. You’re not sure what you’re going to run into tomorrow at that hidden little tavern, but you feel that you’ll need a better night’s sleep to face it than you’ve been getting. “Okay,” you say.

❆

You didn’t sleep well last night. Not at all. You tossed and turned, torn between trying to figure out what all the stuff you’re finding could mean and spinning your conversation with Taehyun over and over in your head until you’re sick of it, and then you spin it some more. You thought of the dead indifference on his face as he killed them, and you thought of what he had told you. You have no idea who I am, or what I’ve done. You had hoped for some showcase of the monster that everybody paints him out to be, and you had gotten it.

You know that the life of a spy is not a cake walk—you know it comes with violence and the constant threat of death. Killing those errand runners was clearly vital to discovering whatever The Queen has going on, and that note was a great help, yeah. Sure. But you can’t convince yourself that the loss of their lives was justifiable. You just can’t. Not even when the inhabitants of this world would do the same unto you without any such remorse.

When you tug yourself out of bed and meet Taehyun out by the blackthorn tree, he looks at you strangely. You must look as sleep deprived as you feel. He doesn’t mention it, though, and only runs his eyes over you to check if you’ve armed yourself adequately. Nodding in approval, he sets out.

Once you’ve cleared the trek to The Hovel and are looking upon the little hidey-hole entrance, you suck in a shuddering breath. This moment had plagued you last night, too. You run your hands down each place where you store away your hidden daggers—just for reassurance.

“Same as last time,” Taehyun says, breaking the silence of the woods to preface your entering the tavern. “If we look like anything other than lord and human servant, we’re going to get attention that we don’t want. Especially when we don’t know who could be in here. If they were able to find out who we were last time, we need to be a thousand times more careful this time. Unless I tell you otherwise, you need to stick by me, understood?”

You have to breathe manually, wiping your palms on your plain dress. You don’t have the luxury of wearing pants this time, no matter how much better it is in the case that you have to fight your way out of here. Female servants do not wear pants. “Understood,” you say, nodding your head and stepping into the mound entrance.

Your entrance into the tavern is almost as wild and slippery as last time, but at least you know what to expect this time around. You scan the room as soon as you catch ground, smoothing down your dress. Instantly, you catch sight of Kai’s blonde mop of hair, leaned up against a dirt wall, strumming a fast-paced song on an instrument. The crowd is no busier than the first time you had been here, either.

Maybe you had interpreted the paper wrong. Nothing looks amiss or curious. You let a little bit of your bottled-up stress out in a slow puff of air.

When Taehyun appears next to you, you whisper to him, “What do we do?”

He scans the room in a similar fashion that you had, before he cocks his head to the side in a follow me gesture. He pushes into the measly crowds. You follow him, weaving around drunken bodies and cackling, snaggle-tooth hobs until he comes to a stop.

You suck in a breath. Of course, he had to head straight for Kai. Just your luck. Taehyun may think that Kai is a good source for information, but you really wish he would’ve picked quite literally anybody else to try and pull information from. Kai is Yeonjun’s friend, and you have no idea what might happen tonight.

Kai looks up from his bored playing, and his brows shoot up as he spots you next to Taehyun. He doesn’t stop playing his music, though. You’re sure he could be asleep and his fingers would still be plucking strings. “Odd seeing you here,” he says, smiling at you before nodding his head in greetings to Taehyun. “Especially odd that you’re not with Yeonjun. What brings you here?”

Taehyun looks between you and Kai. You know he’s wondering how you two might know each other.

“Just out for some fun,” Taehyun says, cutting in and answering before you can. “She’s my ward, I’m unsure why she would make an appearance here with the prince.” There’s a distinct sour undertone to his words, but you can hardly determine why.

Kai is undeterred by Taehyun’s brooding, a lilting smile tugging his lips up. He tilts his head to one side, and the action reveals a pair of short goat’s horns that peek from his hair. The brown of them compliments well his forest green doublet. “I’m sure you’re well aware of the prince’s fondness for her, then, if she’s your ward.”

You had, when you first met him, thought that Kai fears Taehyun. Now, you’re more under the impression that he is not the type to really fear anyone.

Taehyun’s lips pull into a muted frown, but you can tell that he’s ruffled by the stiffness of his shoulders. “I’ve been made aware of it, yes,” he says. His jaw feathers, and he turns his gaze on you. “Would you bring us some drinks?” he says.

Kai gasps dramatically, furrowing his brows and placing a hand over his chest to feint offense. “That’s no way to treat a lady, Lord,” he says. “It’s no wonder she runs around with Yeonjun the way she does.”

You resist the urge to snort when Taehyun grits his teeth. He’s only acting like that because it’s how most faeries treat their human servants, but Kai knows how to taunt in a way that meets its mark.

“She is far from a lady,” Taehyun says, crossing his arms. “Grabbing a drink is a reasonable task for a servant, is it not?”

You decide to just scurry off and grab drink to save yourself the effort of not laughing at him. When you find the tap barrels from which you had gotten drinks from last time, it’s the same barkeeper. He greets you, but his demeanor is totally different now. He doesn’t speak to you again as he flips up the taps and fills you some goblets. It unsettles you, but you had only interacted with him that one time. You don’t know him well enough to justify saying that he’s acting weird.

You observe the patrons around you more closely while you wait for the drinks. If there is anything at all supposed to happen today like you had heard, they did a fine job of concealing it. You narrow your eyes, passing everybody over once more and then twice more. You had only been given a date, not a time. You may have to be here all day.

“Your drinks,” the barkeeper says, jousting out the goblets. Some of the drinks spill over the top and seep into the dirt below. You accept them and try not to let any more go to waste as you slither through the crowds.

Slipping back into Kai and Taehyun’s conversation, you hand Taehyun his drink. He doesn’t look at it or drink it; it’s more a prop than for his enjoyment.

“Oh yeah?” Kai says, challenging something Taehyun must’ve said while you were away. He looks to you. “How would you like to dance to some of my music, Lady?” he asks.

Dance? You look to Taehyun. You doubt he’d want you dancing right now.

He doesn’t object or shake his head like you think he might.

“Right now?” you ask, looking around you to the faeries cavorting and spinning. “I’m not sure I should. Dancing is dangerous, you know?”

Kai laughs, easing one song into another, more wild and twisting one. “You won’t lose yourself here. My music is different from other faerie music.”

You step back so that you hover near where most of the dancing folk are, looking to Taehyun. You’re not sure if this is what you should be doing right now. What if something happens, and you’re here dancing carelessly while he needs you? Maybe it’ll work wonders to keep your cover if you look like a simple human girl losing herself to dancing. You look around once more, gnawing at your cheek, before asking Taehyun with your eyes again for any objections.

He smiles, leaning into the dirt wall behind him and crossing his arms. “Dance,” he says, his tone softer and more playful than you've heard from his lips before.

Well, if he wants you to dance, then you’ll dance. You pick up the ends of your dress and begin twirling and letting yourself fall into the intoxicating ups and downs of Kai’s music. Kai is right—the edges of your vision don’t blur, and you don’t feel your mind slipping away from you, but your cheeks do begin to flush as you tap your boots to the floor and let your hands swirl about to Kai’s singing voice. You feel the burning of Taehyun’s eyes on you. It sends an electric feeling up from the root of your feet to the center of your spine. You can’t explain why the weight of his eyes is so exhilarating, but perhaps it has something to do with the fact that, for once, you are being free in front of him and he isn’t pretending that it’s the worst thing ever. Or, maybe, it’s because you remember the way he tastes.

You look out from your spot of spinning and enjoying yourself to Taehyun. He rips his attention off of you when your eyes find him, sipping at his drink and looking over the tavern as if he had not been watching you at all.

Once your skin grows slick with effort and your thighs begin to burn, you crawl off the dancefloor and sidle up next to Taehyun.

Well, if he’s drinking, then you can drink too, right? You seek out yours, taking it into your hands. You swirl it and inspect it as you stand beside Taehyun. The bubbly liquid tornadoes beneath an unmoving, frothy layer on the top.

You pause. You suppose you couldn’t have expected a place like this to have the highest quality wine. You sip it anyway—you intend to relish the sour taste of the plum wine. It’s a bit powdery upon the first drink; little grits of something wash down with the sweet fruitiness. Your nose crinkles. It’s nasty.

Taehyun doesn’t speak with Kai any more. It seems that he did not have any of the information he had hoped he could find from him. Still, he stays nestled in the little corner where Kai prefers to perform in; you’re sure it’s because it keeps his back protected against the wall, not to mention it lets him observe the entirety of the tavern. Kai doesn’t seem to mind; he’s far more interested in his music, anyway.

You try and look over the place as well, but there isn’t much to note. Faeries stumble around drunkenly when they aren’t tittering and dancing. Kai’s music begins to swirl and blur in your ears. You blink away the same blurring around the edges of your vision. That must be an awfully strong cup of wine.

You affirm that none of it is indicative of some covert, shady thing that you’re anticipating. Your stomach feels heavy. Taehyun had sat out here for multiple days because he relied on you; he had killed those two errand runners because of your information. And here is the fruit of your efforts to contribute to this mission: you’re wasting your time in a shabby, dug out little tavern alongside drunken faeries, joining in on their debauchery with a drink in your own hand. You frown down at your cup of wine. The image of it bends and wobbles.

“Did I do a bad job?” you ask. Your words slur, as if your lips can’t keep up.

Taehyun stops his monitoring to look at you. His face is fuzzy in your eyes, but you can see the confusion written all over it. “What?” he says.

You stumble a bit. Your feet don’t seem to be falling where you will them to. “I’m sorry,” you slur. “It’s my fault.”

He rushes over to you. You don’t even notice you’re falling until he’s catching your weight, keeping you held upright. “Shit,” he says, snatching your drink from you. He inspects it for a moment, swirling it how you had earlier. Whatever he sees makes his face drop, his eyes hardening—as if preparing for something. For what? You lift your head with much effort. It feels dragged down to the earth. You blink and look around.

Taehyun throws your drink to the ground, the goblet thudding against the dirt. You watch a few heads pop up from the crowd. They watch as Taehyun tries to carry you out. Your clumsy limbs make his efforts more difficult. You can feel him growing more desperate beside you until he curses under his breath, and then hoists you over his shoulder. The world spins around you until you’re staring down at the ground, and Taehyun is heading for the exit. Your fingers and toes buzz.

Taehyun crawls up the entrance, all while you’re laying over his shoulder like dead weight. Fresh air burns your skin as he clears it. You watch the ground turn from trodden dirt and twigs to snow path. He secures an arm around your waist to steady you, and then he’s taking crashing through the forest.

You can feel your mind slipping more, as something liquid and hot replaces your blood. You watch the ground pass you by, trying to count the bushes and study the shrubs in hopes that it’ll help you stay present. You can’t tell if it’s working.

Taehyun stumbles to the ground. You, being on his shoulder, follow. The white blanket on the forest floor does not do anything to cushion the fall. Sharp foliage greets you, slicing up your skin. You bite down a warbled yelp as you struggle up onto your arms.

Taehyun is hunched over into the snow, grunting into the ground. A bird-feather arrow pierces his shoulder, making the cloth around it dark and sticky with his blood. He writhes there for a moment that seems to stretch. You crawl toward him; you’re sure that if you stand, you’ll just fall anyway.

“Taehyun.” You shake him. Your heart is up in your throat, choking you. “Taehyun, get up,” you beg. The ground thunders beneath you. There are people coming. Too many of them to fight off by yourself, if the roar of their approach is anything to go by. Adrenaline pumps through you, pushing out some of that substance and making room for itself. It sobers you up, just enough to grasp the dire situation you’re in. You can’t fight them in this state, and you’re not sure if Taehyun can now, either. “Please!”

He trembles as pushes himself off the ground. The growled sounds of pure, undiluted pain he makes twists your stomach sick. “Do I pull it out?” you ask, your voice thin. Your words are still a bit slow and they still blend into one another, but at least you’re making sense now.

He pants, shaking his head. “Break it off,” he grits out through his teeth. You crawl behind him on your knees to inspect the arrow. A short breath of relief slips past your lips. It’s shallow enough that you’re certain it didn’t puncture his lung. You bring your hands up and take the whittled shaft of the arrow into your hands. His shuddered breath as you do makes you pause.

You can’t. You really, really can’t get your hands to move. You’re stricken down by fear, frozen by it. Your breaths come shallow and inadequate—as if your fear constricts your lungs and takes up the space where air should be. Approaching voices and the rumbling forest floor devastates every last ounce of rationality you’ve got in you.

“Now,” he snaps. “Do it now. Break the end off, and get back. Don’t worry about me.”

You blow out air, gripping the stem of the arrow harder. You betray your mind and wrench the thing down, trying to snap it in half. It doesn’t work, only digging the tip end of it around in his shoulder. You cover your mouth with your quivering hand as he roars, digging his fingers into his pant legs. His whole body is wracked with tremors at your clumsy hand. Acid crawls up your throat. You grab the portion that is nearest to his skin, holding it in place as you try and snap it again. It works this time. Taehyun’s chest rumbles with a deep, tortured groan under your hands, but it worked.

He rises from the ground, his pupils blown wide and his skin clammy. He turns to face your pursuers, sliding his sword out. He takes on a defensive stance. There’s a grim set to his face. You wonder if he’s making peace with the impossibility of you making it out of this alive. He’s wounded, you’re not of the right state of mind, and you’d be outnumbered in even a perfect state.

A flock of faeries you recognize from The Hovel surround you. A red cap with a gnarly scar scrawled across his face, a man with spindly black hair and jagged tusks that curl up from his mouth, and a lanky horned imp with beady eyes. All of them had been separate and inconspicuous when you had seen them, hidden between the crowds. Despite your imposition, you drag yourself off the ground. They don’t even spare you a passing glance.

“I thought we’d just be snuffing out some forgettable flame today,” the red cap says, laughing. “Oh, could you have imagined it’d be the general’s son?”

The one with the tusks barks a laugh from your left. He’s holding a bow—he’s the one who shot Taehyun down. “To think you gave your loyalties to The King, considering your own father’s loyalties to our queen,” he says, sneering at Taehyun. This is a hunt—they’ve chased you down like a wild animal, and now that the arrow has hit its mark, they intend to laugh and yip at you like prey. “You’re the spy,” he says, and then gestures at you, “and this is the human companion, then?”

Taehyun doesn’t answer.

“Fine. We don’t need your conversation to enjoy this, Lord.” He spits out Taehyun’s title in the very same way the man had during your first run-in that had taken place in this forest. They’re connected—it’s all connected in some grand scheme. And, The Queen is involved. Even if you and Taehyun make it out of this forest alive, leaving a single one of these lackeys alive would expose your identities. Not to mention, it would confirm the fact that The King has spies here. Even if you don’t die here, you and Taehyun are done. Where had you gone wrong? You’re not sure where any of this had slipped off. You hope that it’s just been to the effect of some grand plan much, much out of your own control. You hope it isn’t Taehyun’s blood on your hands, next.

“I’d heard that you returned to Court recently,” the man continues. “I couldn’t have imagined that it would be because you’d return to your own Court as a spy. Is that why you ran off to those lands? To work at the hand of that worthless king? What would your father think?”

Taehyun tenses up, the grip on his sword white-knuckled. You pray he doesn’t slip right into their taunting. If you’re to die here today, let it not be as their entertainment. The one thing you promised you would no longer be is their entertainment.

The horned one cuts in, speaking for the first time. He sounds young. “Speak up, you piece of shit. You at least owe us your fear, for all you and your father did to these lands.”

They’re growing more antsy and aggressive, their jaws snapping like hungry, circling wolves. You’re not sure how much longer they plan on just taunting.

“And where is your allegiance?” Taehyun says, breaking his tense silence. “What is this?” He gestures at them with his sword.

The three of them share a laugh, short and sardonic. The black-haired one speaks. “This is what happens when a worthless man sits on the throne for a millennium, expecting fealty for only his name. This is revolt.”

You frown. As far as you know, the land of Faerie has never known a time where its denizens, specifically the ones that swore fealty to him, would outright denounce The King. A revolt is unheard of—the throne is an ancient, primordial thing.

“The Queen is committing treason,” Taehyun says, low and menacing. “And so are you. What name do you call your insurgency?”

The redcap answers. “We call ourselves The Magpies,” he says. There it is—it all makes sense. All the weird, cryptic words and the wobbly scent trail you and Taehyun have been following. That poem you found on those errand runners, that dead magpie you had found before getting attacked. One for sorrow. It was a message. All of this was a set up; they had intended for those errand runners to die, and they had anticipated you would catch wind and wind up here. You’ve walked yourselves into a wolf den, fully believing that you were the ones a step ahead. You walked yourselves to your deaths.

No. You walked the two of you to your deaths.

They don’t plan on you surviving. Them laying this all out for you attests to that. You don’t want to die; not now, not when you’ve found something to live for. Not when Yeonjun will have to deal with the loss of you.

“C’mon. Where’s all your fight now? Where’s the man that tore down villages by his father’s side? Do something.” The redcap says. They all inch a little closer.

Your heart stutters in your chest. You hope that he lies; that he’s embellishing Taehyun’s past. You look at Taehyun, and that dead, killing face is there. You know it’s true. He’s exactly the monster you’re supposed to be wary of. But you’re here clawing for your life right beside him. He’s here making a stand to protect you; he could run and leave you here in order to save his own life. You’d be stuck here on poisoned legs and be swiftly dealt with before they take off for him. But he doesn’t leave you. He won’t let you die alone. Is that the heart of a beast?

“I am loyal to no king or queen,” Taehyun spits out. “Not to my father, either.”

The red cap groans a patronizing groan. “You’re loyal to nothing, not even yourself. It’s why you fled your homeland the moment you could, isn’t it? You thought distance would change what you’d done?”

You have to do something. They won’t expect you to, and to sit here would be to just lay down and accept it. You refuse to. If Taehyun can stick his neck out for you, you can try. Maybe your limbs are clumsy and drunken, but if you die, it won’t be for not trying. And, if you make it, you can sort all of this stuff out with Taehyun.

You inspect the three men. They don’t have their eyes on you; you’ve got that to your advantage. Plus, your blade is made of cold iron. A normal stab would hurt, but a stab with iron would poison them. If you can eliminate at least one of them, you’ll even the playing field just enough for a real fighting chance. You narrow your eyes. You’ll have to use the fact that they aren’t paying attention to you the most efficiently you can—you have to get the biggest threat down. The horned imp is reedy and he doesn’t scare you as bad as the other two do. The black-haired one is wide set and imposing, but you know you’ve got to go for the redcap. Their kind are violent and savage by nature; they breathe the tang of blood in the same way you breathe air. Once they satisfy their bottomless thirst for killing, they dip their red cap into the blood of their victim, and wear it as a trophy. This one’s cap is a testament to his danger, so crusted over and made stiff with old, brown blood that it does not move. You’re unsure why he believes he has the right to accuse Taehyun of violence while he wears his own violence upon his head.

You bring your hand down to your hip and find a dagger under your dress and at your thigh as fast as you can. You know that if you don’t move fast enough, they’ll see you reaching for something and put an arrow or sword through you. You stumble for the redcap, willing your legs to keep you upright as you do. Please. Please, let this work. Let you be good for something.

You drive your blade into his abdomen, and then reclaim it from his body. The spray of warm, molten blood comes as less of a shock this time, but it makes you no less nauseous. He makes a sound of howling pain, and then he falls to the ground, spitting out blood. His abdomen hisses and steams, as if burning. You’re sure he’ll stay down there.

Stabbing him had them finally tearing their attention away from Taehyun. The one with black hair grabs you up quick, spinning you into a hold. He grabs you by the throat, cutting off your air supply. You sputter, clawing at his hand.

“You’re a sneaky little bitch, aren’t you?” he growls, pulling you tighter. You make a strangled noise. You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. “I was going to deal with you after him, but look what you’ve done now. Should’ve stayed in your place, huh? Have you forgotten what it is? Let me remind you.”

You’re shoved down to cold earth, and then his foot comes down onto your neck, twisting and digging into it. “In the dirt. You are nothing. You had no right poking yourself into the business of your superiors, so what made you think you could come here as a spy—”

You can tell he intends to continue, but he’s cut short by the sword that pierces his chest. He stumbles off you, and you suck in air once his foot is off your neck.

Your body hurts. It hurts as if your muscles and bones are punishing you for depriving them of their oxygen, as if the poison still loitering around in your veins is making a final, excruciating hurrah. You don’t have time to sink into it, though. You push yourself up on your arms just in time to see Taehyun, wide-eyed and looking part beast, cutting down that imp as well. It’s quick and brutal. Once he’s down and unmoving, Taehyun looks to you. You almost flinch at the sight of him, blood-sprayed and lip-curled. He clears the distance between you in a few, long-legged strides and tugs you up.

On your feet, you look down at the carnage below you. Blood sits on the snow in puddles and sprinkles it like terrible little blooming flowers. The redcap writhes on the floor, slow and meaningless, as the iron works itself through him. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

Taehyun tugs at your arm. “We need to go. We need to go now.”

You find yourself unable to move.

“Now,” he growls. “I don’t know if there’s more of them. We need to get out of this forest before we die.”

You try, but your legs are as solid as water as you do. You were clear headed enough for that last-ditch effort, but it was just that: a last-ditch effort. You barely have control of your limbs enough to go running through the forest.

“Damn it,” he says, sheathing his sword and taking you back over his good shoulder. It’s just as disorienting this time, but you don’t have it in you to complain. And then, he’s cutting through the forest again, the forest floor of ice and snow whirling by and rendering you sick.

Please, let there be nobody following you.

❆

At some point, the poison had worn off you enough for you to travel the rest of the way yourself. It’s an awful journey, with both you and Taehyun watching over your shoulders and each sound of rustling forest creatures makes you jump. Taehyun doesn’t make any commotion about the arrowhead still nestled into his shoulder, but you can see in the stiffness of his movements that it’s bothering him.

The last stretch of white, snow flats until you’re finally back at the estate is long and arduous. You sigh in relief as you stumble through the front door.

You can’t fully relax yet, though. Taehyun collapses into the table almost immediately, sliding down into a seat. His skin has a sickly pallor to it.

“You need to take this thing out of my shoulder,” he says, straining to look up to you. His eyes are so, so wary.

Your stomach does a cruel twist with just the words, but you know it’s true. You nod. “I’ll go get some thread.”

You clamber up the stairs and throw open drawers in a frantic search for your sewing kit. If working for Nut-hatch had taught you one thing, it was the importance of keeping a sewing kit around. Oh, and how to sew a solid stitch. You’re not so sure how well your stitching skills will cross over into suturing skin closed, but it has to be better than nothing. It has to be.

You find the little wooden box in a dressing drawer, and then you bolt back down the stairs. He had spent so much time free bleeding that you worry he’s lost too much; you’ve got to get that closed up.

Taehyun is peeling off his layers as you’re bounding down the last steps. You help him peel the last bit of his doublet off, and then his tunic, until his bare back faces you, a plane of toned muscle and marred skin. Your heart thunders in your chest.

His back is littered with an outrageous number of scars, some superficial and some so deep that they leave jagged valleys in their paths. None of them are as gruesome or gnarly a sight as the festering wound at his shoulder, shimmering with his blood. The tip of the arrow is lodged well into it. You run a hand up the skin of his back until it’s resting right before the puncture wound begins. The thought of digging your fingers in there and tugging that arrow out from his flesh is a terrible, terrible one.

You just have to do it.

You curl your fingers around the ragged, splintered butt of the arrow where you had snapped it off, and you begin trying to wiggle it loose. Taehyun’s head drops, and he suppresses strangled grunts.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. You know it doesn’t make it feel any better, but you want him at least to know that doing this to him is making you ill. You tug on it some more, trying to find the path of least resistance. He shakes under your hand. “I’m sorry, Taehyun.”

The arrow dislodges finally, leaving an awful open wound now dripping with fresh blood. You take a deep breath before reaching for your sewing kit, grabbing a curved needle. It doesn’t steady your trembling hands.

He doesn’t make so much noise as you stitch the wound closed, just dangling his head, facing it head-strong. Each time you dig the needle through his skin on one side and then again on the other to form a stitch, you grow increasingly ill. You rub circles into his other shoulder. You’re not sure if they even register for him. Maybe they’re more for you than they are for him.

“What do we do now, Taehyun?” you ask. You know it’s not the best time to be interrogating him, but you’re lost. You’re not sure if you’re going to be fleeing here tonight, or if you’re going to be able to carry on under the radar. “Do we leave?”

Taehyun speaks through gritted teeth. “We don’t know all who was at The Hovel. We have no idea who saw what happened. We can’t be certain that every loose end is tied up.”

Your stomach drops, swift and heavy. You can’t leave; you can’t leave Yeonjun here. You know he returns to his court for the rest of the season, but things will be different there from here. Can’t you just stay here, in this time and frame where you are cherished, forever? At some point, you had forgotten that this was your fate from the very start.

You wince as a particular stitch has Taehyun trying to hold back his shaking. “When do we leave?” you ask. Let there at least be enough time for you to see Yeonjun.

He steadies himself. “I don’t know—” he sucks in a withering breath as you stitch him mid-sentence, “let me think about it.”

You sigh out a selfish, self-serving puff of air. At least you aren’t packing up and scrambling tonight.

You continue sewing his wound closed for a few tense, silent moments more.

“Taehyun,” you say. You have to ask; have to talk about it. You have so many questions. Do you leave with Taehyun to continue being a spy when you now know that Taehyun has skeletons in his closet? Is that the new life you dreamed of when you ran away from your old one?

Taehyun lifts his head to let you know he’s listening. You’re sure he can hear the tension in your tone.

“In the forest,” you begin. “They said you did those awful things with your father. And, they’re not the only ones I’ve heard say stuff like that.”

His head snaps up. “From the prince?” he says, his eyes dark and dense with pain.

“What does it matter?” you say, stepping back from your stitching. “What does it matter where I heard it from? Explain it to me, Taehyun.” Your tone is rigid and accusatory, but there’s also an undercurrent of pleading that slips from you before you can catch it.

His jaw feathers, and he swallows hard.

“So, it’s true, huh?” You finish up your last stitch with imprecise hands, tying it then and cutting it off so that you make some distance between you and him. You had known that, but you had hoped it’d all be by your misunderstanding. “What was that story in the cave about your father, then? Buttering me up so that I wouldn’t be afraid of you? And I believed it all, too. Are you even half human? What are you, Taehyun?” you say, your words a bitter echo of a question you had already asked him.

Hurt fizzles over his eyes and lines his face. “It seems you’ve already decided what I am for me, haven’t you?” He stumbles up from his seat, towering over you with a curled lip. “Say it,” he challenges. “Say what I am.”

“You’re just like all of the rest of them,” you say. You back up some more; he’s standing over you with more venom and unadulterated emotion than you’ve ever seen him allow. It terrifies you. How deep had you driven your pick, that you had shattered that ice mask and revealed his true face? “You’re a monster.”

“Like the rest of them?” he says, his eyes blazing. “What about the prince, then? Is he a monster, too?”

Your back touches the wall. He’s standing right over you. It’s a mirror image of the time he had you backed against a tree, but this time he doesn’t reach out and touch you. “Yeonjun is different. Different from you, at least. He isn’t a murderer. He loves me.”

Taehyun reaches up for your chest. You flinch, bracing, but he only grabs Yeonjun’s necklace there. Disbelief and hurt flashes over his eyes as you do. You’re not sure why he’s surprised; you had just dubbed him a monster. Maybe the distinction lies somewhere on the borderline where you would believe that he would hurt you.

“You can’t trust a word from his mouth. Not one.” He rips the necklace from your neck, snapping the delicate chain. You reach up, feeling the empty space there. And then, you see red.

A few moments of thick, charged disbelief fill the air before you’re finally able to pull together your scattered, frayed and vicious thoughts. “And I’m supposed to believe yours?” you snap, blood roaring in your ears. “You are a filthy, filthy liar, and a murderer too.” You’re not sure whether or not Taehyun can lie. You’re not sure whether or not he is any part human. You’re not sure of anything about him at all.

“The prince is a liar, too,” Taehyun says. "You really think that he is going to wed you? To make you his wife? Maybe he loves you today, but he will forget you tomorrow. You’re nothing more than a thing to dress up to him, until he finds the next thing to do the same to.” He holds up your ruined necklace and dangles it in the air. “He thinks he can buy you with this. Is that your worth? Pretty necklaces?”

When you don’t answer, he continues, his face pulled taut into a sneer. “It is now, isn’t it? You’d be content with a life as his mistress, hidden away because he is ashamed of you, for the entirety of your life, just as long as you’re draped in his silks and bows. He will never marry you. He is a prince.”

That one drives deep into your chest, the wound as visceral and aching as the one in Taehyun’s shoulder. You will back scalding, angry tears. “He said he loves me,” you say. You try and not let your voice wobble, and to not let it sound pathetic and self-convincing. You try to make it sound true.

He laughs in your face. “He’s had a lifetime perfecting how to lie in his own way.”

You shake your head. You know sincere eyes when you see them, don’t you? His words weasel down into your mind, anyway. Perhaps you had let your disgusting, decayed heart cling to the smallest morsel of what you had thought was love just a little too tightly. You hope it would not destroy you to try and pry it off; that you are not so sickeningly dependent on the thought of being wanted that it would ruin you to lose it.

You have nothing. No longer a home, no longer a companion, and no longer a lover. Though, maybe you never had Yeonjun in the first place.

“Maybe he’s just playing me,” you say. “Maybe that’s true, but you are a murderer, Taehyun.”

“I never had a choice,” Taehyun says.

It’s your turn to laugh in his face. “It wasn’t your choice to kill?”

He shakes his head. His face is still pale with blood loss. “My father brought me when he’d tear down those villages. He’d make me sit and watch because he knew it tortured me. I never once killed any of those people. He was embarrassed to have an heir that didn’t carry out his will, and so he let them think I did it by his side.”

You reel, trying to imagine a young Taehyun made to witness the gory deaths of innocents. Your words from earlier rise like bile in your throat. You want to ask why he never did anything, why he wouldn’t save them, but you know looking over the jagged, nasty scars that litter his arms and torso that he had. He had, and he took his father’s wrath each time he did.

“Why didn’t you try to tell them that you didn’t?” you ask. “Why did you let them believe that about you?”

“I don’t care how they see me. I don’t care for any of it.”

The estate is silent again as you grapple with your own mind. You know why he left the north, but none of this explains why he’d found himself as a spy to The King.

Taehyun retracts. You can tell that bearing this out is not a comfortable thing for him; his face is grave and almost sullen.

Your stomach feels full of rocks. His mean words fill your mind to the brink, and then your own top it off until your mind is spilling over. You grit your teeth. You want to stomp off and explode in your room, to scream into a pillow and pace the floor until daylight. But you can do none of that without disinfecting his wound.

So, you take a rag and alcohol from the kitchens, and you dab it at the stitching in dense, dense silence. And once you’re done, you disappear upstairs to toss and turn in your bed with awful thoughts and fitful sleep.

❆

You slip out of the estate as soon as the sun settles into the sky. You don’t know if Taehyun intends on leaving today, or any day soon, but you can’t go without seeing Yeonjun. You have so much you want to leech from your mind. You can’t leave with your mind full like this. When you make it to Yeonjun’s place, no servants even send you a second glance. They know your face, now.

Your body buzzes as you reach his tall, white doors, and you walk in without any hesitating. You had been tortured with the inability to see or speak or touch him not just since last night, but also for the past few days.

Yeonjun’s head swivels to you once you’re in his room, eyebrows pulling together. He’s buttoning up a silken shirt, no doubt getting dressed and ready for the day.

“Is something wrong?” he says, looking over you with worried eyes.

You crash right into him, circling your arms around him and holding him in your arms.

He rubs one hand over your back, the other cupping the back of your head. You stay that way for a bit, before he pulls you off him and inspects your face. His eyes then dart to the empty space at your neck. “Where is your necklace?” he asks, his voice dipping.

You hate the concern on his face. You can’t tell if it’s an act, or if he really worries for you.

“Hey,” he says, taking your face in one hand with a grounding hold. “Say something. Please.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it got broken,” you say, grimacing. “Just hold me, please.” You want to feel his arms around you, to have him envelope you so entirely that you can’t help but believe there is anything but love in his hold.

He does without question, delicately guiding you back into the wall. “It can be fixed, darling. We can fix it,” he says, soft and lovely into your ear.

It feels as though he reached his hand right into your core and brushes his fingers over your tainted thoughts. You almost begin fearing that he has been keen to your thoughts this whole time, the way his words patch over your open wounds. It’s as if he knows something beyond just the necklace has been broken here.

He presses your hip into the wall with a hand. He brings his head back to inspect your face before bringing your lips together in a warm, savory kiss. You flatten your palm against his stomach, and then drag it down until you cup his rapidly hardening length through his pants. He makes a sharp sound into your mouth and then pulls his mouth off of you to shoot you a look.

“What are you doing, you little vixen?” he says. You palm him harder, reveling in the way he sucks his lip into his teeth to repress a groan. Please, just let you have this one night in his arms before you have to go. You need his warmth to thaw you out, and then maybe you can leave this frozen place and return to the place where there is no frost or snow. Maybe it’ll make it harder in the end, but you can’t find it within yourself to care right now. You need to breathe him in like oxygen.

You slide down the wall and let your knees rest on the cold wood of the floor, looking up to his hair obscuring his eyes as he watches you get on the floor for him. You work on his pants, unbuttoning them with nimble, eager hands and then freeing him. The way his length stands tall in front of your face exhilarates you—you did this to him.

“You don’t have to do this, baby,” he says, but the haze over his eyes says differently.

You take his cock into your hands. It’s warm and heavy, and leaking from the tip. You do. You need to see how much he needs you; how he craves your touch. You want to make him so ravenous for your touch that he’ll declare his love for you, and it’ll be real, and then you can stay here like this forever. You want his arms to be home, where you don’t have any other place to call home. “You don’t want my mouth?” you say, drunken with the potent need in his eyes.

“I didn’t say that,” he says, groaning as you kitten lick his slit and then down the side. “On your knees is such a filthy place for a pretty lady to be,” he says, eating up the image of you.

You take him into your mouth, making sure to run your tongue along the bottom of him as you let him in. He shudders and lets his head fall back, and then snaps his head back down as if thriving off the sight. You bob your head, taking him down until he tickles the back of your throat. You have to force down the gags that prick tears at the corners of your eyes. He cradles the back of your head.

Yeonjun laughs. “How did you learn to use your mouth like this?” he says between his panted breaths. “You haven’t let him have this, have you?”

Your eyes flutter open as he says it, your brows furrowed.

He grabs the hair at the back of your head and uses it to pull you off of him. You suck in full breaths while you have the chance. “What?” he says, letting his saliva-slick length rest on your cheek. It feels more lewd and dirty than having him in your mouth. “I know you kissed him. He told me himself.”

Your mouth drops open, but he’s guiding himself back into your mouth before you can say anything. Taehyun had told Yeonjun you’d kissed? You couldn’t defend yourself if you tried; he’s rutting into your mouth, hand fisted at the back of your head as he looks down at you with something blazing in his eyes. You can feel the restraint in his hands and in his face. His stomach grows taut.

“I should’ve known he’d get his hands on you the second he could, pretty. That dog doesn’t know how to keep hands off of what’s not his. I’m going to have to keep you on a tighter leash, huh? I don’t like other men knowing what you taste like, baby.” His words are measured and taunting, but he’s twitching in your mouth and his thrusts are growing more frantic, and his hand is twisted into your hair as if you’ll run away and leave him needy if he doesn’t hold you there.

You’ve never heard Yeonjun speak like this. He’s expressed distaste for Taehyun before, but never like this. Never like he’s sinking his teeth into you and staking his claim. Yeonjun doesn’t need to cling to his possessions—not when everything he’s ever wanted has been at his fingertips. So, why does he sound like a frantic dog showing its teeth so that another won’t reach for its toy?

His thrusts become more feverish and shallow, whimpers escaping the back of his throat. Saliva pools out from your lips and sullies your chin, but you’re too focused letting him use your throat that you can’t be bothered with it.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his abdomen going rigid. He slips out of your mouth quick, before he can melt into your mouth and cum. His cock is red and angry, frustrated with denied release. “Your mouth is so good, baby, but when I cum, I want it to be in you,” he says, reaching down to wipe the mess off your chin with his thumb.

You whine, the sound a bit hoarse with use. He uses his words in a way that leaves you so weak. The two of you stumble over to the bed, where he lays out and you climb up over him. He pushes your dress up and over your thighs, the skimming of his fingers electric and shooting up straight into your cunt. You hover just above him, lining the weeping tip of him up with you, but not yet sinking down onto him.

“I waited for this,” he says, taking your hips into his hands. “For multiple days, I yearned to touch you like this again. And, where were you these past few days, darling? In his bed?”

You brace your hands on his chest, the shirt there disheveled and unbuttoned now, despite him having only freshly put it on. You sink down just a little bit, watching his face contort despite his fiery words.

“No,” you insist, sinking lower. He stretches you just as deliciously as the first time. “No, ‘Jun. I promise, baby. This is just for you.”

His head falls back, and he’s looking at you down his nose, his fingers digging divots into your hips. You take him down to the hilt, and then pick yourself up and drop back down, falling into a delicious rhythm. The roll of your hips and the perfect angle of his cock has him brushing up against a sweet, soft spot inside of you, sending your thighs trembling each time it does.

“Make me believe that, pretty,” he says. His lips are bitten red as you pick up speed, leaning forward onto your hands to fuck yourself down on him harder and faster. You relish in the way he reacts for you. “Make me believe you never gave him what is mine.”

You try. Oh, you try. Your thighs begin aching, burning with exertion, and sweat sheens your neck. Once your thighs are unable to fully lift you off of him, you opt for rolling your hips into him frantically, chasing that knot deep in your belly the same way you chase to watch him grow restless under you, his hands alternating between holding your hips and the bedsheets and your chin.

His hands come to your hips again, taking them with a more solid, reinforcing grip. His cheeks are tinted pink. “Need help, baby? Getting tired?” he purrs, picking you up and bringing you back down on his cock with renewed vigor that has you falling forward and whimpering into his neck. He opts for fucking up into feverishly you now that you’re bent over him.

“I love you— I love you, Yeonjun,” you pant, clinging to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You’re sorry for so much. You’re so sorry that you can’t help but let it slip out into his skin while you’re in his arms. You’re sorry that you’ve lied to him, you’re sorry that you’ve doubted him, and you’re so awfully sorry that you have to leave him.

“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay,” he manages through his labored breaths. He holds you to his chest like he can meld you into him there. You know he’s not comforting you for what you wish he would be, but it swells emotion up in your chest regardless.

He’s so, so close. You can feel him twitching inside you, so riled up that he’s going to cum before you.

You lift off of him, taking in his heavy eyes and rapidly rising and falling chest, before you crawl off of his cock.

He whines, reaching out for you. “What are you—” he says, cut off by the strangled hum of relief as you wrap your hand around his length, slick and ruined with your essence. A look of recognition passes over his eyes, and something akin to hurt as well. You hadn’t worried about letting him cum in you last time, but last time you had been reckless and forgotten that you’re living on borrowed time. Your mind was not jaded with the knowledge that you don’t have forever like it is now.

You slide your wrist up and down him, devouring the bucking of his hips and the way he chants your name. Your name. Finally, he stills, cursing and cumming white, hot spurts up onto his belly, soiling part of his shirt that had not yet ridden up. The sight of it has you fluttering around nothing.

He pants, but picks his head up off the bed with effort before frowning. “You didn’t get off. Let me help you, pretty. Let me take care of you.” He pushes up off the bed, taking your face in one hand.

You shake your head, falling down into the side of his bed that has become yours. “I’m okay,” you say. Though you’re a sticky, awful mess between your thighs, that’s not what you need. You usher him to lay down with you with a hand. “I just want to be here with you.”

He gives you an odd look, but lays down on his side, facing you, albeit tentatively. The two of you are quiet for a minute, eyes flickering over each other's faces as if you both have something you want to say, but both can’t form the words or speak them.

You breathe in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. You have to tell him; it’s what you came here for. Can’t your last day just be left untainted? You worry you’ll be forever forced to remember these moments by the sick flipping of your stomach, instead of the angles of his face and the rhythm of his heart beating as it floats down from euphoria.

“I have to leave this place, Yeonjun,” you say, eyes flickering up to his finally. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Something happened, and I have...” You swallow hard. “I have to tell you something.”

You expect his face to twist up in confusion or worry, but it doesn’t. Instead, it falls. He doesn’t speak for a moment too long, and your heart plays cruel tricks on you.

“I know,” he says, and all the air is whooshed from your lungs.

“What?” you say, flying up onto your arms. “What do you mean?”

“I know why you’re here. I know that the both of you are spies for my father.”

Your mouth is paralyzed with all the moments you’ve spent petrified of this exact moment so that you can barely speak. “How?” you say. “Since when?”

He sighs, sitting up as well. “Since today.”

He doesn’t answer how, but you already know. It all clicks into place in at this very moment. The only way that he might have found out just today was that Kai had told him. You remember the looks on their faces when that bark-skinned faerie had said something about the solstice and some kind of set-up at The Hovel. Not only had that been a set-up, but Yeonjun had known about it. Him and Kai both had. Whether or not they knew it would be you and Taehyun who would show up until you did, you don’t know. Kai knew there would be a poisoned drink for the spies if they fell into that trap that day, and the moment he saw you go down he knew it was you and Taehyun.

You jump off the bed, backing up and away from him. “You’re one of them?” you say, your voice fragile.

“What?” he says, looking at you weird. “One of them? You mean part of the rebellion?”

You scoff. “Yes.”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

Is there something wrong with that? They had tried to kill you twice. Would he be complacent with your death, so long as it’s in the name of his loyalty to The Queen?

“Your people poisoned me, and have made attempts on my life twice,” you say, stepping away from him again. “And I’m leaving because they might make even more.”

He shakes his head, his eyes wary watching you back away from him. “They won’t,” he says. “Not now that I know it’s you. They will never lay another finger on you again, nobody will. You don’t have to leave here.”

“Oh, but if it were any other human girl, that’d be fine? You’d live with the knowledge that the people you cozy yourself up with killed her? And, what about Taehyun? Does your courtesy extend to him, prince? You expect me to just accept your protection and let them hunt for his head? I know your distaste for your father and that crown, Yeonjun. But, is this really the way you intend to do this? Inciting war is not going to mend that.”

He shakes his head, closing in on you and taking your face into his hands. “War is going to happen regardless of my meddling. It has been charging up for years. I don’t want you working as a spy for my father when it happens; I want you here.” His eyes dart between yours. “If Taehyun decides on staying here, if it will allow me to keep you here, then I will extend every bit of my power to protect the both of you. Forget your duties to my father. You have no need to work as a spy when I will support your life endlessly, pretty. Please.”

Your stomach roils with flame and acid. Yeonjun hadn’t lied to you, but somehow this is worse. You suppose you can’t feel too left in the dark—he had just found out your deceit, and yet... Here he is, pleading with you to stay. You had imagined he’d cast you out and renounce you upon finding out your truth. In some ways, that almost seems better. You don’t know how to work with this, and you had not prepared for this.

Would Taehyun even agree to stay here? You honestly don’t know. You don’t know what Taehyun’s intentions are with being a spy, but you can’t imagine him wanting to stay here. Not when you know his past here in the north.

Do you want to be a spy? If war is genuinely coming, would it just be returning home with a target on your back?

Taehyun’s spitted words crawl up to the forefront of your mind. You’ll never be sure if Yeonjun will stay true to his promises of protection and love. Would he wed a human, even when estranged from the throne and his father?

You search Yeonjun’s desperate, pleading eyes. You hope that what you see there is more than just sparkling need to dig his claws into his play toys.

🪶 ⦂ yeaaah. i said it was angsty!! i know u taehyun girlies are waiting on a taehyun scene but guys i promise the longer you wait the better it'll be I PROMISEEE. also, lmk in the comments if you think she should leave the north or stay there with Yeonjun.

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▸ tׁׅagᥣׁׅ֪ꪱׁׅstׁׅ @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

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sgfgmichaelrry · 1 year ago

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⁎⁺˳✧༚ king of my heart

pairing: luke castellan x afab!reader

warnings: major fluff, kissing, pre tlt, just some sweet stuff to read on a wednesday night

word count: 434 words

an: reader’s claimed, but it’s not specified so you can imagine them as whatever demigod works for you 😘 also! this is my first time posting my work so lmk if it sucks ass 😋

“Luke, stop!” Her voice squeaked out in a delicate hymn that graced his ears, the apples of her cheeks illuminated under the moon’s light. Luke, in the midst of his relentless attack on her sides, let out a chuckle that thundered within his chest as he wrapped his arms around her frame. He pulled her into his embrace as his features lit up, the corner’s of his eyes crinkled as his lips tugged into a smile.

The warmth from his frame radiated into her rib cage as the cool night air bit at their skin. The dense forest surrounding them did not do much in helping them remain warm, but there hadn’t been much to complain about when they were tangled in each other’s arms. “What’s got you acting up like this? Didn’t see me enough today?” She tilted her head up to look into his hickory eyes, a smirk quirking at her lips as she teased him.

“We can call it that, baby,” A heat rushed into his cheeks as he was brought to look at her eyes, the rich color drowning out any thoughts in his mind. He turned her body around to face him, moving his hand to lift her chin up. “Just missed you, is all.” His fingers delicately rested on her chin, whispering his words on her lips. “What, is it a crime to miss my girlfriend now?” A cocky grin graced his features.

“Oh shut up, Castellan,” she uttered before bringing his face down to meet hers, both their eyes fluttering shut at the domestic buzz between them. Her fingers trailed up and wrapped themselves gently in his curls as one of his hands held onto the soft plush of her hip, the other resting on the small of her back. She felt his lips split into a smile against her own, and it only made pulling apart from him that much harder.

Her eyes flickered and peered up at Luke, and she was met with an eyes of adoration looking down at her. She pressed another quick peck on Luke’s soft lips, eliciting sweet smiles from the two of them. Her eyebrow furrows as she quips a brief, “Race you to the lake?”

In an instant, Luke’s smile turns into a smirk at the sight of a friendly competition. “Only if I’m the one winning!” Upon his response, she’s quick on her feet, attempting and failing to beat her boyfriend to the lake’s shore. As the stars continue to twinkle above them, the lake’s edge is met with the sound of waves crashing and lover’s laughter.

hope you guys enjoyed this little drabble i thought of during the dark ages (i was sick and unhinged). lmk if you guys want a part two of them at the lake🙈

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #luke pjo #luke castellan #luke x reader #percy.txt #luke.txt #percy jackson x reader #fluff #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo fluff #luke castellan fluff

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seillarium · 11 months ago

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melt my heart and claim it as yours

tl;dr. the classic 5+1 fic for my one and only love

pairings : portgas d. ace x reader

notes : mild angst (?), happy ending, no pronouns used (as far as i know) but written with fem reader in mind, no proofread, lowercase intended, a few profanities, english isn't my first language, overuse of italics lol, PORTGAS D. ACE LIVESSSS

word count : roughly 3.5k words

sincerely, sei : AAAAAARGHHH OMGOMG I FINALLY FINISHED IT ACTUALLY HOLY SH 😭😭 anyway, please lmk if there are grammatical errors, or typos, hopefully i don't fumble this, i think it's not rlly good. but to be fair, i was experimenting 😥

you're a new recruit of the whitebeard pirates, having been rescued from an organization that experiments on people—honestly you didn't think you'd live this long with how things were going with your life.

you were hesitant at first, meekly greeting the members of the seemingly kind pirates around you. as far as you knew, pirates were pictured as barbaric, evil, and cruel. but all that you see are warm people that see each other as family. it left a foreign feeling in your chest, one that you can't seem to decipher.

but you have only one thing in mind: do you belong here?

your first day on the moby dick was chaos. good chaos, you convince yourself. you were utterly overwhelmed by the amount of people, and holy fuck, did you just get a thousand siblings in less than a day??

they threw a party, for the new nakama, they said. it was heartwarming to say the least, and a small smile appeared on your face for the first time ever since you were put into that hell.

you try to put your mind into what was happening now, 'stop thinking about that, you have a new life ahead of you.' there were a lot of people introducing themselves, though you can't understand most of them. you were dragged, pushed even, as the dining area was suddenly filled. maybe the term 'barbaric' was fitting for them, after all.

the first to approach you one on one was the first division commander; marco. he had checked if you were doing alright, and all you did was smile and nod—biting your tongue, trying not to mention how you think he looks like a pineapple.

the second would be thatch, he was a tad drunk drunk and his mind is cooked. his flirtatious words were slurred. he called you multiple names, he claimed that your smile is quite fetching. you weren't really affected, he is amusing, though.

a few more approached you, some just greeting briefly, some were inviting you to drink (you didn't, the taste of alcohol is shit anyway), and some just gave you a warm "welcome to the crew!"

they sure are a rowdy bunch, you think, as you were leaning on the railing. then another person approached you. he leaned on the railing next to you, copying your position.

when you finally looked at him, your mind short-circuited for a moment. the mysterious man was certainly attractive. he's topless, that's what stupefied you for a second. not that you never saw any other guy who walks without any shirt—this one just has a nice figure, definitely easy to look at.

"hey there! you're the new recruit, yeah? my name is portgas d. ace, it's nice to meet you."

his voice startled you, whoops, you're staring, how inappropriate. he's bowing politely, and it baffled you for the nth time today because; what is this, a pirate crew whose motto is 'we're different from other pirates'?! you had never met a pirate this polite your whole life. you ought to pinch yourself; maybe this is a silly dream after all.

"hello? earth to you, er.." he waved a hand to your face, only then did you look to his face. great, so you were looking at his open tits first?

"(name). it's nice to meet you." you greeted back with a small smile, and he grinned. oh, he looks so... kind. you felt your heart thump—or did it actually stop?

"(name), huh? what a pretty name for a pretty face." oh, cheeky. he's got a coy grin on his lips now. he's like thatch, then. but he succeeded to make you blush slightly.

"thanks...?" wow, way to go! you honestly didn't know what to reply, given that you were locked up for about 5 years with almost no social interaction with others.

he didn't seem to mind, in fact, he looked pleased at your answer. though, he did seem to notice your uncomfortable shift. he props his elbow to the railing, resting his cheek on his hand. "you're adorable."

and your mind clogged again, face exploding into a deep red as you furrowed your eyebrows, forming a confused expression. he seems sober, and he says it like he means it. the temperature just skyrocketed, must be from how flushed your cheeks are.

he laughed at your expression, and you found yourself liking the carefree sound and his boyish grin. he gazed at your eyes again, slightly pink cheeks and a grin that screams mischief. more compliments spill from his mouth. looks like you're in for an embarrassing night.

once the night ended, ace slapped a hand on his mouth, his cheeks flushed—fuck, he's on fire, literally. he was mesmerized by you, thus, the sudden compliment escaped him. he didn't mean to, but with your reaction? oh he wanted more. he honestly thought flirting would be a good way to take your mind off of things, thank god he didn't fumble. such a miracle you didn't notice how his back was on fire the whole time...

II.

weeks had passed since you became a whitebeard pirate. you learned a lot of things. one, you were living under a rock, literally and figuratively. the lab that you were once in was underground. you've been there since you were 15, causing you to lack knowledge about the recent happenings in the outside world.

two, it was hard to keep up and remember each of their names. your overwhelmed brain is turning into mush at this point, thankfully they're kind enough to say their names over and over again for you.

three, ace. that's it, ace. you learned that he's some kind of lost dog. trailing you everywhere you go, not that you're complaining. honestly if he wasn't sticking to you, you'd be sticking to him.

there's this magnetic pull that drags you to him, seems like you couldn't resist his warm nature. like a moth to a flame you were attracted to him. and you feel yourself burn, not in a bad way—like you were succumbing to his very fire and you think you'll be fine as ashes if it meant you'd be closer to him.

but it's like, his fire flickers when you move forward. he let's you near, but never close. it's like you know about him, but you don't know him. like he's keeping you at arm's length.

that does not stop the flirting, though.

"hey, I'm lost, can you give me directions to your heart?"

"if you were a triangle, you'd be acute one."

"aren't you tired? you've been running through my mind all day."

you're becoming a puddle of goo, it just gets embarrassing to the point you can't even form words.

"hey, (name), do you have a pen and a paper?" he suddenly approached you as you were walking around the ship. you shook your head 'no', surprised he's not making moves today.

"damn, no pen, no paper, yet you still draw my attention." he said with a shit-eating grin and a wink. "...."

"wait! (name)!!"

III.

a day alone with ace in a strange island is absolute havoc. you wonder how it's possible for one person to destroy half of a forest. well, to be fair, he is fire.

"are you a dumbass?!" you screeched, running away as fast as you can while a strange lion goes after you both. ace tried to pet it, you almost did too and out of a sudden everything went haywire.

"i didn't know it would be immune to fire!!" he screeched back, holding your wrist and practically dragging you.

"why the hell did you even try and pet a wild lion in the first place?!"

you're now sitting by a bonfire, lit by yours truly. you hug your knees to your chest, watching as the fire dances in the air.

the lion incident has passed, finding out it's actually frightened by water. you crossed a river and found a hilltop—which is where you are right now.

"you still cold?" he asked, sitting next beside you.

"kind of," not really, you're not exactly freezing, you just want more. of him, preferably.

he scooted closer, your shoulders touching. and heat immediately seeps through you. and for a moment you just relished his body temperature.

then the next thing you knew, your whole being was enveloped by his warmth. his arms looped on your waist, his head resting on your shoulder. he sent you a smile, and god, everything about him is warm.

"are you a campfire? because you're hot and i want s'more." and just when you though you could sit in peace.

"ace, you're literally the hot one between the two of us." you answered, exasperated to your wits' end. "aww, you think I'm hot?" you didn't know if you want to slap the smirk off his face or bury yourself 6 foor under.

"n-no?! i mean, you are, literally—" his grin widens. "y-you know what i mean!! and I'm cold.."

"think i can make your heart melt?" oh he did. you sighed, does he really mean all of this? you never really gave him replies, not that you could even form words with how your brain turns into a puddle when he throws you the most cheesy ass pick up line ever. where does he even gets all of these?

"Is it chilly out, or is that just the chill you send down my spine every time I see you?" a scoff escaped you. "it's cold right now."

"well, thank god i brought some socks, you're giving me cold feet." he said rather dramatically, his body sagging against yours.

"do you really mean all of this?" you asked out of the blue. is he just messing with you? is he really gonna burn you after all? maybe his flames would just combust your lonely heart to oblivion, then leave it to heave in the remaining smoke.

"of course." he replies almost immediately, his eyes seeking yours. sincerity swam in his dark orbs, a soft yet genuine smile on his lips. oh. maybe he was just trying to cradle you with his warmth, after all.

he takes a mental note to take this more seriously. thus, you didn't fail to notice how his lines were a bit more genuine, it still has a hint of playfulness—but everytime he looks into your eyes, it seems as though he's swallowing each emotion in them, fully drowning in you with those obvious lovesick orbs.

IV.

the night was cold, so was your heart. thatch had died, murdered by the hands of his own family. his own nakama. you sat on your bed, blank eyes staring to the window. it was pouring, as if the clouds were affected by the loss. the raindrops fell harder and harder, jut like the pounding in your chest as his death sinks in.

there were sudden knocks on your door. you didn't have to sit up, you knew who it was. "come in.." you croaked, voice breaking slightly.

the door opened and revealed a disheveled ace. he was quiet as he invited himself in, the familiar scent of your room filling his senses. "hey.." he greeted, yet it lacked the familiar warmth he always held. it was replaced by the bitter cold, gnawing at his insides.

"hey, you." despite his state, you felt warm. everytime the pirate comes into view, your heart is immediately filled with fervor. sparks surging through your veins.

ace wordlessly sat down beside you, head hung low and you know why. "I'm going to kill teach." he muttered, his resentment surfacing with each passing second.

"what?" you gaped, and you don't know whether to let him go or not. you weren't sure if the awful pit on your stomach was something worth noting. before you could speak further, his voice cuts into the air. sharp and determined.

"and you can't do anything to stop me." and for the first time ever, he made you cold. unpleasant shivers went down your spine and your heart dropped to the depths of doubt. and before you know it, protests escapes your lips while you shake him. it's unsettling, how you're holding onto him yet he's so cold.

"i don't care if it's dangerous, he killed thatch, he betrayed his own!" he raises his voice, but you can't find it in yourself to even flinch, still seeking that certain fire in his eyes. it's there, it's ignited, but not the kind of flame that you're looking for.

"i just... didn't want to leave without telling you goodbye." he mumbled, voice softening significantly.

"are you saying this will be the last time I'll see you?" you can't ignore it anymore, tears are stinging your eyes.

".... i—" he hesitated, breath hitching. "of course not, I'll come back for you."

for you.

his words rang in your ears, he sounds so genuine yet so full of doubt. and as your gaze on him lingers, all you could see is a lost boy, his judgement crumbling right before your eyes.

"come back alive, okay? I'll wait for you." you told him with such warmth and affection, your hand cupping his cheek.

at that moment, he looks like he'll break, your warmth seeping through his freckled cheek and straight through his heart and soul. it felt so surreal for him, he's made of fire, but it feels as though you were burning him.

"i don't know, it's like you're already killing me here, 'cause you took my breath away."

sigh.

you're on fire.

not literally, but it may as well be with how you can feel the intense determination and fear in your bones. you stood near pops, the tense atmosphere wafting through the thick air in marineford.

ace is there, at the execution grounds—chained, bruised, bloodied, and regretful. you could see him clearly, yet he feels so far away.

and once the war started, you did your best to avoid the attacks sent to you, sprinting straight towards ace. you knew it was futile, the marines surrounding him far too strong compared to you. but you can't stop.

I'm coming for you, ace. the rapid thumping of your heart is all that you could hear, ignoring his desperate pleas of 'don't come here! it's not worth it!'

ace, ace, ace. you repeat his name in your head like a mantra. ace, ace, ACE. you screamed this time, voice breaking.

you legs stopped once you saw the dark hair of a young boy—screaming his lungs as he calls for his dear brogher, along with the intense surge of his haki. you weren't weakened by it, but you felt a sense of relief as he ran through the sea of marines ready to take his life.

instead of heading to ace, you sprinted to the boy—luffy, you assumed based on the countless stories from his brother. you helped fight off anyone in his way, putting all your trust in him.

you watch as he somehow freed ace. in awe as they fought alongside together, having perfect harmony.

you could only watch as he finally ran, straight to were you and the others were. and you felt so light seeing him, alive and well.

yet, you could only watch, as he was provoked by admiral akainu. you could only scream at him to stop, to just let it go. but of course you knew it was pointless. he's ace, he'll never let anyone dare to throw dirt on the name of his savior. he wouldn't let anyone insult the man who kindly called him as his son.

and thus, you could only watch as magma seeped through his chest. the ring in your ears eating up all your sanity, you couldn't even hear nor feel as the others dragged you away—unaware that you were running to him again.

you only watched as he whispered words to his brother, hugging him helplessly.

then everything became a blur.

VI.

the morning birds chirped, or was it the seagulls handing out the newspapers? nonetheless, the light from the window indicates that a new day is starting.

a new day, as you sat next to ace's bed. you never left his ever since you woke up. his organs were ruined, and you wonder how marco and the others had healed him.

but you didn't care about how. all you could ever care about is ace. he's alive. still, he's yet to wake up.

it's been a week, the familiar routine of sitting next to his bed was slowly embedding in your mind. you want nothing more than to see his eyes again, to see that bright smile that makes you think that the sun was nothing but an irrelevant orb up in the sky.

his chest was filled with bandages—another reminder of an ugly memory. you stared at him solemnly, fingers tracing his freckled cheeks.

then he stirred, and you flinched. your mind went blank. the gears in your head only turned once he gazed at you with those pretty eyes—effectively pulling you into the depths of your emotions.

"why are you crying?" were his first words, his voice was strained, his throat dry. only then did you realize everything was blurry.

"y-you—!" clutching his arm almost desperately, you found yourself crumbling in front of him. "you said you'd come back alive!"

"but i am alive." he said matter-of-factly.

"what if you died?!" honestly, you didn't know nor cared if you were making a point. all you did was sob his name over and over again, you arms coming up to wrap around his neck. crying as the man stroked your unkempt hair.

"...is this real?" he then asked, and the doubtful tone you once heard was at it again. you looked into his eyes, witnessing a broken man who looked as though he couldn't believe what has happened. "I'm actually alive?"

"of course you are! you're here, ace. you're fine." you said, partly to yourself, but mainly to him who looks like he'll break you with how he's holding you.

"you're alive. thank god you're alive, ace." and he cries. he cries and sobs and you don't know what else to do but to hold him.

"do i deserve to live? do i really deserve to survive?" and you felt your own tears falling. he sounds so broken, so lost, so doubtful.

you didn't question why he was asking that, rather, you cupped his cheeks and stared lovingly in his eyes.

"you do, ace." was all you have to say. was all he needed to hear. it won't be easy to remove those thoughts, no. but for now, it was enough.

"yeah?" he sniffled, a lopsided grin on his lips. you kissed his tears away, as he closed his eyes in bliss.

"yeah."

he grinned from ear to ear, and you returned it. and you both sat there, just giggling to each other.

"can i borrow your sunglasses? i can't stare at you too much 'cuz you're hotter than the sun." instead of laughing or blushing like you always do, your eyes softened.

"really? your eyes must be weak then. i can stare at you for hours." and before he could even so much as react, you continued.

"you know, you're like the sun. so bright, so warm. and every time i see you, i don't know whether i should bask in you or to hide because you burn me. god, you set my heart on fire, ace. and i don't care if i turn into ashes as long as i can be beside you all the time." you finished, staring at him like a lovesick fool.

he was out of words, his face exploding in a bright red and you wondered how much restraint he has right now to not burst into flames on the spot. he gaped at you as you stared at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

"i love you." he muttered. now you were the one rendered speechless. no words can express how he makes you feel. and you all but grinned, giddy and drunk off of the feeling of his love.

"i love you too." and before you two could lean in and share that sweet sweet kiss, the door opened and you saw the half of the crew falling down from their pile. looks like they've been eavesdropping.

and they didn't even had any shame as they cheered, chanting 'kiss, kiss, kiss!' loud screams of jovial voices filled the cabin once you two actually did.

familiar warmth seeped through your body and cradled your heart. and you had an epiphany at that moment: you belong here, right at this very moment, forever and more.

ps. : NAHHH CAN YALL TELL I GOT LAZY AT THE END im sorry it took so long i procrastinated for like 2 days 🙏 thank you for reading!!

taglist : @captainportgasdace @malxoxo (there's so many of yall who liked my previous post, my lazy ass could never, i might tag yall later tho if i get my energy back <33)

#portgas ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #fire fist ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #ace x reader #op ace x reader #ARGGGHH I CANT BELIEVE THIS #where did those 3k words come from? definitely not from my lazy ass #sincerely‚ sei

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aquaholicsanonymousworld · 2 months ago

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Call Sign: Legacy

Pairing: Tom Cruise x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Years ago, the world watched as the estranged daughter of Hollywood icon Tom Cruise publicly severed ties with him, claiming he had chosen his career over her. The fallout from the scandalous interview echoed for years, with both continuing to rise in their respective careers—Tom as the indomitable star of action blockbusters and his daughter as a critically acclaimed actress determined to forge her own path.

Author's Note: How do we feel about nepo baby fics? Lmk, I have ideas for more.

The first time she saw him again, it was on the Paramount lot, standing by a jet. Tom Cruise, her father, looking exactly like the movie star the world knew him to be—iconic aviators, white shirt, exuding effortless charm. The only problem? She wasn’t part of his world. Not anymore.

She crossed her arms. "So, is this where you say you regret everything and beg me to forgive you?" she asked, her voice cool.

Tom took off his sunglasses, studying her. "No. This is where I tell you that you belong in this film."

She let out a dry laugh. "That’s a new one. Last time we talked, I was telling an interviewer that I wanted nothing to do with you."

His expression didn’t waver. "I know."

She wasn’t sure what she expected—deflection, maybe, or that easy-going Cruise grin to smooth things over. Instead, he was being direct, and for the first time in years, she didn’t quite know what to say.

"Why me? You could’ve gotten anyone for this role."

"Because you’re the best actor for it. And because, whether you like it or not, this story is yours too."

She clenched her jaw. "So, this is your idea of a reconciliation tour? Bringing me into your movie?"

"This isn’t about me," he said firmly. "This is about you. And what you want. You can say no, walk away, and I won’t try to stop you. But if you take this role, you’ll be stepping into something that’s always been part of you. I just want you to have that choice."

For a moment, she didn’t speak. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words from years of estrangement.

"I’ll think about it," she finally said.

She took the role.

The internet went wild the moment the casting announcement dropped. "Tom Cruise’s estranged daughter joins Top Gun: Maverick!" "What changed? Did they make up?" The speculation was nonstop, and she ignored it all. She wasn’t doing this for the press, and she certainly wasn’t doing it for him.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

Their scenes together were few and far between, but there were moments when it was just the two of them. On set, in between takes, catching glimpses of each other in ways neither of them had in years.

One afternoon, after shooting a particularly intense training scene, she found him in the hangar, running his hands over the frame of one of the jets.

"You never stop working, do you?" she asked.

Tom looked up, startled, but then smiled. "Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on me."

She shrugged. "It’s hard to ignore when you’ve built an entire career around being that guy."

He studied her for a moment before nodding toward the cockpit. "Wanna sit in it?"

She hesitated. But then, against her better judgment, she climbed in. The leather seat was familiar in a way she didn’t expect, and as she ran her fingers over the controls, she felt something settle in her chest.

Tom watched her carefully. "Your mother told me you used to pretend to fly when you were little. Used to say you’d be better than me someday."

She swallowed hard. "I used to say a lot of things."

A beat of silence passed.

"I know I missed a lot," Tom finally said. "Too much. But you being here... it means something to me."

She exhaled sharply. "You don’t get to just say that and expect everything to be fine."

"I don’t expect that at all," he admitted. "But I meant what I said. You belong in this film. Not because of me. Because of you."

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time in years, she saw something other than just Tom Cruise, the movie star. She saw the father who had once lifted her onto his shoulders, who had taught her how to tie her shoes, who had—somewhere along the way—forgotten how to be part of her life.

She let out a breath. "I guess we’ll see about that."

The promotional poster was released a few weeks later. Her character stood in front of a jet, helmet tucked under her arm, her name listed alongside his.

The internet exploded.

And for the first time in years, she didn’t feel like running from it.

The press tour was a whirlwind, with every major outlet lining up to ask her the same loaded question: What made you change your mind?

"Was this your way of reconnecting with your father?"

"How does it feel to share the screen with someone you publicly criticized years ago?"

She kept her answers professional. "I took this role because it was a great opportunity as an actor. But honestly, getting to work with my close friends Miles and Glen was the best part for me."

But even as she kept her responses measured, the scrutiny was exhausting. One afternoon, after an especially intense round of interviews, Miles Teller found her in the greenroom, nursing a cup of coffee.

"Holding up okay?" he asked, leaning against the counter.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Barely. You’d think we were promoting a soap opera instead of a movie about fighter pilots."

Miles grinned. "That’s Hollywood. People love a redemption arc."

She scoffed. "Funny. I don’t remember signing up for one."

Just then, the interviewer shifted gears. "This question is for you. Given your well-documented history with your father, do you feel that making this film was a step toward repairing your relationship with him?"

The room fell silent. Miles and Glen exchanged glances, and she felt the weight of the question settle heavily in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. The emotions—ones she had tried to keep buried—rose faster than she could push them down.

She exhaled sharply, blinking rapidly. "I—can we move on to the next question?" she asked, her voice quieter than before.

The interviewer hesitated but nodded, shifting topics. Miles placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and Glen leaned in, whispering, "You okay?"

She nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just... unexpected."

Later, during a group panel, Jennifer Connelly subtly squeezed her hand under the table after yet another journalist pressed about her father.

"You’re handling it well," Jennifer whispered.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Thanks."

And then there was Tom. He never interrupted, never tried to speak for her, but when one particularly persistent reporter kept pushing, he finally cut in.

"She doesn’t owe anyone an explanation," Tom said smoothly, flashing that signature movie-star smile. "She’s here because she earned it. Next question."

For the first time in a long time, she felt something almost like gratitude toward him.

The night of the premiere, the red carpet was a whirlwind of flashing cameras, excited fans, and overwhelming noise. She had walked plenty of premieres before, but this one felt different. More personal. More intense.

The moment she stepped out of the car, the crowd erupted into cheers. But it was when she and Tom Cruise stood side by side for photos that the noise reached a fever pitch.

"Smile like you mean it," he muttered through his grin.

She scoffed under her breath. "You assume I don’t."

As she's answering interviewers questions on the carpet, she laughed lightly, adjusting her dress as she jokes, "Honestly, flying in G-force is easier than some of the questions I've gotten on this press tour." The interviewer chuckled, nodding along as cameras flashed around them.

Inside the theater, the cast gathered for last-minute words of encouragement. As the lights dimmed and the film began, she snuck a glance at Tom, who, for once, looked more nervous than her.

The internet reaction was immediate. Social media exploded with reactions to her performance, gifs of their red carpet photos, and emotional tweets about their history.

"Seeing Tom Cruise and his daughter side by side on the red carpet? My heart can’t take it."

"Not gonna lie, I teared up when they had that one scene together. Damn, that hit different."

"THE LOOK SHE GAVE HIM IN THAT ONE SCENE? You could feel years of emotion in that."

She scrolled through the reactions later that night, surprised by how much it all affected her.

And when she received a simple text from Tom—Proud of you.—she let herself believe, for the first time in a long time, that maybe things could change.

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #tom cruise #miles teller #glen powell #imagine #fanfic #oneshot #nepo baby

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whxre4hange · 2 months ago

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the hargreeves vs zombie apocalypse - my headcanons!

op's note: hihi so i finished watching sweet home (monster apocalypse) and thought hey i know i have 2 assignments going on BUT ima make some tua hc's instead :D ....sigh i need to get a life...and a bf/gf...if u look like aidan gallagher hmu i cook clean and cry. anyways. lmk what u think tehe...here we goooo

luther: immediately declared himself "commander of survival operations" and made everyone vote on it, even though no one else ran. thinks he’s giving inspiring speeches, but they always just turn into long-winded monologues about "the importance of teamwork" while everyone else loots the area. sweats even more than usual because the apocalypse is stressful and deodorant is a thing of the past. so he stinks. really. bad. once tried to punch a zombie with his bare hands because “they’re technically just slow-moving people,” and almost got bitten. keeps a detailed survival journal but it’s mostly doodles and passive-aggressive notes about diego ignoring orders.

diego: treats the zombie apocalypse like it’s an elaborate training montage just for him. dual-wields knives at all times, even when eating. thinks guns are for "amateurs" but once tried to throw a knife at a zombie and accidentally hit five (who then spent 30 minutes cursing him and his entire bloodline while bandaging himself up). keeps sneaking off alone to "clear out infestations" but always ends up running back covered in blood (his) and pretending it was part of the plan. has an actual kill count scoreboard going against five, but no one else cares. tried to roundhouse kick a zombie’s head off, tripped and fell on his face. five still hasn’t let him forget it.

klaus: thriving, honestly. claims he’s "always been a post-apocalypse kind of guy." wears a fur coat, cargo shorts, and mismatched crocs because "fashion is still important." talks to zombie ghosts just to see what they have to say—turns out, it’s mostly just "braaaains" and regrets. keeps making bets with ben on who will be the first to get bitten (ben doesn’t find it funny). once used an old ouija board to ask the undead for directions—accidentally summoned a ghost horde instead. somehow still has a never-ending supply of alcohol despite no one ever seeing him loot anything. tried to convince the others to start a zombie wrestling league for entertainment; diego almost agreed.

allison: has fully leaned into her "mom friend in the apocalypse" role. keeps a clipboard with laminated pages to track supplies and rationing. still does her makeup every morning, even if the world is ending—calls it "a small act of self-care," but five thinks she’s just flexing. uses her rumor power only when absolutely necessary, except for the one time she got sick of diego and five fighting and just went, "i heard you both shut up for five minutes." once convinced a zombie to walk off a bridge just to test if it would listen to her (it did). pretends to be chill but secretly writes everything in a tattered notebook titled "this is why we’re all gonna die."

ben: still dead, still annoyed. sticks around out of sheer spite, even though he’s not affected by the apocalypse at all. the only one who doesn’t have to fight for survival, but complains the most. keeps pointing out everyone’s bad decisions, but no one can hear him except klaus, who either ignores him or deliberately misinterprets everything he says. once tried to warn them about an ambush but klaus was too busy trying to do a handstand to listen. occasionally poltergeists objects to mess with people. once whispered "behind you" to diego in a creepy voice during a supply run—diego screamed and nearly stabbed luther. absolutely haunts reginald out of spite. keeps track of all the dumb ways klaus has nearly died (current count: 14).

five: convinced the apocalypse is everyone else’s fault. keeps muttering about how "if i had just been in charge, none of this would have happened!" goes feral on zombies like it’s personal, but still somehow has perfectly combed hair. does not believe in rations, refuses to eat canned food, and once teleported into an abandoned café just to make himself an actual cappuccino (he was chased out by a zombie horde but it was worth it). has a whole mental flowchart for survival scenarios but refuses to share it because "you wouldn’t understand." yells at everyone for being inefficient but nearly died once because he was too busy monologuing about quantum theory to notice a zombie sneaking up behind him.

viktor: quietly the most terrifying person in the group. has turned emotionally repressing his rage into a tactical advantage. never panics, never runs—just stares at approaching zombies like he’s thinking about it. could and would clear an entire street of zombies in one dramatic violin solo but refuses to use his powers for anything practical, like opening cans. once casually mentioned that he "has a plan" if any of them get bitten—has not and will not elaborated. writes in a notebook constantly, but no one knows if it’s for strategy, revenge fantasies, or fanfiction about the group. keeps making unsettlingly specific comments like, "if we had to eat someone to survive, i know exactly who it would be."

lila: showed up unannounced in the middle of a supply raid, eating an apple and acting like she’d been there the whole time. refuses to explain how she’s survived alone this long. mocks diego for being dramatic but absolutely eggs him on whenever he gets in a fight. regularly disappears for days and comes back with a suspiciously good haul—won’t say where it came from. keeps threatening to start her own rival group just to mess with luther. once convinced klaus to let her yeet him over a fence for fun (it did not go well, but at least ben's "klaus kill count" went up alot). absolutely the kind of person who’d trip you to escape faster but would feel kinda bad about it later.

reginald: still an absolute bastard, even in the apocalypse. probably knew this was going to happen but didn’t bother to warn anyone. survived longer than anyone expected by somehow manipulating the zombies into ignoring him—no one knows how, and he refuses to explain. still demands perfection from the siblings, even though they’re all just trying to stay alive. once built an elaborate fortified bunker but only let himself inside, forcing the others to fend for themselves. keeps making cryptic remarks like, "this was inevitable," and "you should have been prepared," despite offering zero helpful advice. has a secret spot filled with supplies, food, showers but refuses to let the others in because they "need to learn resilience." probably caused the zombie outbreak but won’t confirm or deny. treats the apocalypse like a science experiment and keeps making notes on who’s "adapting" best (spoiler: he thinks they’re all disappointments). will absolutely sacrifice someone "for the greater good" and won’t even pretend to feel bad about it. somehow never looks dirty, despite wandering through the same zombie-infested wastelands as everyone else. if anyone asks him for actual survival advice, he just gives cryptic nonsense like, "the key to survival lies within the absence of fear" while nodding wisely (he has no idea what he's doing either)

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httpsnali · 4 months ago

Text

WEALTHY CHARADE

CHAPTER TEN: Tensions Pt.1

✬ Pairing: Park Sunghoon x Female Reader

✬ Genre: strangers to lovers!AU, angst!romance

✬ Synopsis: Forced into a union that promises more complications than peace, you must confront the ghosts of the past and decide if you will bend under the weight of family duty or carve out your own path.

✬ C/W: sensitive language, implications of drug abuse, mentions of death, psychological trauma, toxic family, suggestive themes (lmk if i missed anything)

✬ A/N: this is a work of fiction. none of the descriptions of the characters are an actual representation of them in real life. if you wanna be tagged reply or send me a dm...i love reading your comments and interacting with you guys so reblogs, likes and feedback are highly appreciated! xx

✬ W/C: 7.8k

You sat cross-legged on your bed, phone in hand as you scrolled through yet another sting of nasty comments about yourself. Each swipe reveled a fresh wave of vitriol: accusations, rumors and lies. You sighed, your thumb pausing over one particularly disgusting claim about you having an abortion—something you had seen countless times in the past week. Your stomach churned with frustration, but you were too exhausted to react. Your image obsessed mother had given the go to have the articles released claiming that it was going to be good publicity. ‘They won’t be able to twist the story if we release it ourselves, we have more control this way,’ she had said. Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto the mattress beside you.

“Seems pretty twisted to me,” you mumble, stirring the attention of your best friend Aeri.

“I wish you’d get off your phone,” her voice broke thorough the silence. She was perched at your desk chair, carefully applying mascara. “It’s not doing you any good.”

“I know,” you muttered, throwing yourself back against the pillows. “But it’s hard to ignore when people are out here acting like they know my entire life story.”

Aeri glanced over, her brow furrowed with concern. “You don’t have to fight every battle, Y/n. People will say whatever they want to say. Let them talk. Just don’t let it get to you.”

You groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over your eyes. “Do you know they’re saying that Yun’s the father of my imaginary child now?”

Your best friend snorted, but her tone was sharp. “I heard. Jake is absolutely livid about it. If he weren’t so busy with his dad’s campaign, he’d be suing everyone with a Twitter account.”

That earned a small chuckle from you, but it quickly faded. You let your arm drop and stared at the ceiling, voice turning solemn. “How do you think Seungho would have reacted to all of this? The engagement, the charade…everything.”

Aeri’s hand paused mid-application. She turned to you, her gaze softening. “You know he wouldn’t have let it get this far. He would have stopped it before it even started.”

You chuckled lightly, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Your brother, you always believed, was the braver one. You assumed it was tied to his role as the firstborn, a role he played exceptionally well—always coming to your aid when you needed him and defending you during arguments with your parents. In many ways, he was your rock, someone you trusted with your life. You swallowed hard, trying to clear the familiar lump in your throat that always formed whenever you thought or spoke about him. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

Aeri’s tone softened further. “But I think he’d be proud of you, too. For the way you’re handling all this.”

Your smile faltered. You hoped Aeri was right. There had been so many moments when you felt like you were on the verge of losing it completely. But something kept you hanging on—a stubborn determination, or maybe just the unwavering support of your friends. You didn’t know which. What you did know was how much you hated depending on them so heavily, even though they had assured you time and time again that you weren’t a burden.

You glanced at the bedside clock. The time made your stomach flip. Downstairs, guests were beginning to arrive. The caterers and staff were moving in a flurry, making last-minute adjustments for tonight’s engagement dinner party. The thought of it all—the scrutiny of judgmental eyes, the web of lies you had to maintain, and the overwhelming pressure to perform flawlessly—made you feel like throwing up.

Aeri, ever perceptive, nudged you gently. “Come on, stinky. Time to start getting ready. Your mom’s going to freak if you’re even a minute late.”

Before you could protest, she tugged you up by the arm and practically shoved you into the ensuite bathroom.

“I’m going, I’m going,” you grumbled, shutting the door behind you.

After a quick shower, you emerged feeling marginally refreshed. Aeri was busy unpacking your dresses for the evening, humming to herself. You slipped into your silk robe and settled at your vanity to start on your makeup, trying to force yourself to be present in the moment. It reminded you of the nights you used to spend getting ready together in high school and college, prepping for parties or nights out. The nostalgia was comforting, even if the circumstances weren’t.

Aeri’s phone pinged with a notification. “Is that Yun?” you ask, glancing at her through the mirror. She hums in confirmation. “He says he’s on his way… His dad’s coming too. He hates that he’ll have to stay sober all night.” She scoffs, and you chuckle softly.

You and Jake’s family had always been close. In fact, the two of you first met in the hospital just after you were born—only two hours apart. Your parents were hardworking individuals who barely had time for their kids, so regular playdates became the norm to keep you both entertained. It also helped that you lived less than 20 minutes apart.

Growing up, you shared joint birthday parties, endless sleepovers, and countless milestones. Jake was, in many ways, like your twin brother. You had seen each other at your best and worst. You watched his father rise through the ranks, from prosecutor general to minister, to prime minister, and now, possibly, the presidency.

Despite their busy schedules, Jake’s parents had always been generous with their love for him. His mom, especially, extended that affection to you, filling in the gaps where your own parents fell short. She loved to tease you both, often jokingly calling you her future daughter-in-law.

The thought left a sinking sadness in your gut. You knew she must have been surprised—or even a little disappointed—when she heard the news of your engagement to someone else. You weren’t blind to how people loved to ship you and Jake. At first, it had been irritating to constantly correct them, to remind everyone that you were just friends. Over time, you stopped paying attention and simply ignored the comments. The two of you were just friends, and you loved how Jake understood that, keeping things natural and free of awkwardness.

“Tell him he can sneak up to my room for a few shots later, after everyone’s too drunk to notice,” you say with a grin. “I’ll leave a bottle under my pillow.”

Aeri respond by shooting him a quick text.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, catching the sound of her quiet snicker.

She grinned, “I was just wondering if you’ve spoken to Sunghoon since, you know, since you’re supposed to be all over each other tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, “I haven’t spoken to him since he explained the whole plan to me. Why?”

Aeri shrugged, her expression amused. “It’s just... bizarre, don’t you think? Here’s this guy you barely know, and now you’re tied to him. You’re supposed to love him—or at least act like you do.” She paused, then tilted her head. “What do you think about him?”

You sighed, turning your attention back to your reflection. “I think he’s professional. Responsible. I trust him to play his part.”

Aeri raised a brow. “And?”

“And nothing,” you replied firmly. “This is a contract. If feelings were involved, it would complicate everything. I wouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place.”

She smiled knowingly but said nothing. You noticed the look but decided to let it go, focusing instead on the finishing touches of your makeup.

A sudden knock at the door interrupted you. A maid entered, bowing politely. “Miss Y/n, Mr. Sunghoon Park is requesting your presence for a moment.”

Aeri muttered under her breath, “Speak of the devil.”

You arched a brow and frowned. “Tell him I’m not ready yet. I’ll see him when the party starts.”

The maid hesitated. “He said it’s urgent and promises not to take up much of your time.”

You exchanged a glance with Aeri, who shrugged. With a sigh, you stood and tightened the sash of your robe. “Fine. Lead the way.”

The maid guided you down the hall to a quiet room on the same floor, away from the commotion of the party preparations. Sunghoon stood near the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking every bit the composed businessman. But there was a tension in his posture, a tightness to his jaw that hadn’t been there before.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

He turned away from the window as he heard the soft click of the door, his eyes immediately landing on you. You froze under his gaze, your breath catching when his eyes raked over your figure. You cursed herself internally for wearing the flimsy silk robe that barely did anything to cover you. Hugging yourself in embarrassment, you became painfully aware of how thin the fabric was and how chilly the room suddenly felt—or maybe that shiver down your spine was from the way Sunghoon hadn’t blinked once, openly studying you.

Clearing your throat, you tried to break the tension. “You wanted to see me? I still have to get ready.”

Sunghoon blinked rapidly, seeming to snap out of his trance. He cleared his throat, his voice low. “Forgive me. I wasn’t trying to…”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you cut him off quickly, your cheeks burning.

He shifted awkwardly, gathering his composure. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought. The exhaustion of the past week must have been catching up to him because he couldn’t understand why he was thrown off balance by the sight of you. Yet he let his gaze linger too long on the curve of your waist, your slender legs, and bare neck, which looked almost too inviting—as though it was begging for something to adorn it. A necklace. His hand. Bite marks…

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stop. He was being inappropriate. With a deep breath, he focused on why he’d asked to meet you.

“I won’t take much of your time,” he said, taking a hesitant step closer. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, dainty leather box, extending it toward you. “For you.”

You arched a brow, your curiosity piqued as you took the box. Flipping it open, your jaw dropped. Inside was an exquisite square-cut diamond engagement ring with rounded edges and a diamond-encrusted band. You stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Sunghoon, who stood there with his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly trying to avoid your gaze.

“How… why…” you stammered before correcting yourself. “I mean, I know why, but… why?” You gestured at the ring.

“It’ll help with the ruse,” he said simply.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say. I’m not even sure if I can accept this.”

The man stepped even closer, his expression softening as he reached for the box. “May I?”

When you nodded, he carefully removed the ring and gently reached for your left hand. His touch was firm but warm as he slid the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly.

“It fits,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

He hummed in agreement. Standing so close, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle details of his face: the dark circles under his eyes, the faint crease in his brow. He looked exhausted, and for a fleeting moment, you felt a pang of concern. He probably hasn’t been sleeping much since this whole thing started, you thought. You clenched your free hand into a fist, stopping yourself from reaching up to touch his cheek.

“What would you have done if it didn’t fit?” you opted for lightening the mood instead.

“I’d have had it resized,” he replied casually. “Or I’d buy a new one.” his tone so nonchalant that it caught you off guard.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, stretching out your hand to get a better look.

He felt a twinge of satisfaction as he took in your impressed reaction. You seemed like you were doing okay, at least on the surface. His thoughts drifted back to Jay’s suggestion to check up on you after the wave of nasty comments about you online. If he were honest, he had considered it, but the terms of your agreement made him hesitate.

Contrary to what Jungwon believed, Sunghoon hadn’t gone home to rest after clocking out early that day. Instead, he had spent hours combing through online comments, reading old stories about you and your family, and even trying to find you on social media—only to discover that your accounts were private. You guarded your personal life closely now, though it hadn’t always been that way. From what he gathered, you had once been quite active on social media, a rising influencer of sorts, until three years ago when you suddenly disappeared.

He hadn’t found anything conclusive about why you left. There was no proof to support the rumors about your relationships with multiple men or alleged drug abuse. Jungwon had already confirmed that those were nothing more than baseless accusations. Still, there was one lingering mystery that even Jungwon hadn’t been able to find information about: the boy in the picture.

Sunghoon’s thoughts were interrupted when you blinked and pouted, noticing his quizzical gaze. The subtle action caught his attention, drawing his eyes to your lips before he quickly refocused.

“Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, his tone soft but curious.

You looked confused, prompting him to elaborate. “I mean, about tonight. Are you nervous?”

You smiled appreciatively. “This isn’t my first time being the center of attention in front of people,” she admitted. “But if I’m honest, I haven’t been around this many people in a while, so… yeah, I guess I’m a little nervous.”

Sunghoon was tempted to press further, a little curious, but he decided against it. Instead, he opted for reassurance. “Don’t worry too much,” he said with a small smile. “Just follow my lead.”

His calm demeanor had a way of putting you at ease, but it also left you conflicted. There was an air of confidence around him that made you want to trust him, yet Jake’s words of caution echoed in your mind. How much did you really know about him? Other than the fact that he was a workaholic?

Realizing how close you two had been standing, you stepped back, wrapping your arms around yourself again. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, her tone serious.

Sunghoon tilted his head, confusion flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you going along with all of this? It’s obvious that I need you more than you need me. So why are you being so…open-minded about it?”

He watched as you began to pace, your words spilling out faster now. “You came up with this plan—this ingenious plan—which you didn’t have to, by the way. And it feels like I’m the one gaining more than I’m giving.”

Sunghoon’s lips curled into a small smirk as he asked, “Would you rather I demand you give me something?”

The suggestive tone caught you off guard, and your face flushed deep pink. “Th...that’s not what I meant,” you stammered, flustered.

Amused by your reaction, he took a deliberate step toward you. Your breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And what would you have to offer me?”

You swallowed hard, placing your hands on his chest to push him away, but he caught your left hand instead. His eyes dropped to the ring now sitting snugly on her finger.

“I have no ulterior motive,” he said, his tone more serious now. “If that’s what you’re worried about.” He paused, his gaze flicking back to your face. “But who’s to say I won’t change my mind later? Three years is a long time. A lot can happen.”

He let your hand fall gently back to your side before stepping away. Sunghoon’s eyes lingered briefly on your exposed neck before he turned to leave. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said over his shoulder, his voice even.

You stood there for a moment, dazed and confused. You let out a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair as you tried to process what the hell had just happened. What did he mean by that? she wondered. You thought back to the way he’d looked at you, like he… wanted you. No, that’s ridiculous. You shook your head, trying to push the thought away.

It’s just the circumstances, you told yourself. We’re alone in a closed room, we’re both young, and I’m dressed like this. That’s all it is. You groaned, frustrated with yourself. “I mean, what could I possibly even have to give him?” you muttered under your breath. The thought of him wanting something more from you—whatever it was—made your stomach churn. No way. Tensions are just high. That’s all.

Determined to shake off your ruffled state, you rushed back to your room. You leaned against the closed door, exhaling deeply. Aeri, now fully dressed, turned to you with a concerned look.

“What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. And you need to hurry up; we have, like, five minutes.”

Without a word, you slipped out of your robe and into your gown, Aeri helping you with the zipper. As you adjusted the fabric, Aeri grabbed your hand, her eyes widening at the sight of the ring.

“Holy shit! What the hell, Sunghoon? That’s one huge rock! And for a marriage that’s not even real?”

“It is real,” you corrected, “in every way except personally. There will be a contract, and I’ll have to take his last name too.”

Aeri grinned knowingly. “Mrs. Y/n Park, huh? That’s hot. He’s hot for giving you this ring.”

You shot her a stern look, but Aeri didn’t bother hiding her growing smile. She stopped teasing but hummed softly.

As you slipped on your heels, there was a knock at the door. Your mother entered, her expression as stern as ever.

“Good, you’re ready,” she said curtly before spinning on her heel wordlessly beckoning you to follow her.

You exchanged a glance with Aeri whose expression had turned sour. You gathered your composure and stepped out into the hallway.

~~~~~

You descended the grand staircase with her mother and Aeri in tow, your gown flowing elegantly with each step.

At the base of the stairs, Sunghoon was engaged in conversation with Jungwon. However, the moment he looked up and saw you, his words faltered. His jaw went slack, his eyes following your every movement as if entranced. Jungwon noticed Sunghoon’s sudden silence and turned to see what had caught his cousin’s attention. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he saw you.

“You’re staring,” Jungwon whispered, clearing his throat to snap Sunghoon out of his trance.

But Sunghoon didn’t respond. He remained frozen, standing there like an idiot when he should’ve been at your side, playing the part of the doting fiancé. The room’s attention shifted toward the staircase, and the low hum of chatter softened as heads turned to admire you. Your father stood near the bottom, his face beaming with pride as if presenting his daughter to the world. A mixture of sadness and betrayal swelling within you, and your heart clenched. You quickly redirected your focus to Sunghoon, locking eyes with him. Your heart skipped a beat, the memory of your earlier interaction upstairs still fresh in your mind. You silently prayed your face wouldn’t betray your emotions. But perhaps a hint of bashfulness would even add to the act.

Jungwon nudged Sunghoon in the ribs, breaking the spell. “Move. She’s waiting for you,” he muttered.

Sunghoon blinked rapidly, composing himself before stepping forward to meet you at the base of the stairs. He offered his arm, and you took it with a bright smile, your fingers gently curling around him. Your gazes locked briefly, a calculated moment of affection for the audience. Together, you turned to face the crowd. Your grip on his arm tightened, both for support and to play the part of the loving fiancée.

Your father’s boisterous voice broke through the quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my daughter and her fiancé, Mr. Park Sunghoon!” The announcement was met with applause and murmurs of admiration. You forced yourself to smile through it all, even as the weight of the lies pressed heavily on your chest.

You and Sunghoon moved through the crowd together, greeting guests and responding to endless comments. “What a stunning couple!” “Your gown is simply exquisite!” “Such a handsome man you’ve got!” “When’s the wedding?” “Your children will be gorgeous!” The compliments felt unending.

Once again, Sunghoon proved himself to be reliable, seamlessly taking the lead and answering most of the questions. You couldn’t help but admire him. His ability to craft convincing explanations and weave believable stories about the two of you on the spot made you feel an odd rush of heat. He sold the narrative of your families being close for years, leading to a natural blossoming of feelings that eventually grew into mutual love. Your heart skipped a beat every time he delivered that line, locking eyes with you like he truly meant it. If the circumstances had been different, you might have believed he actually harbored some affection for you.

Smiling brightly, you maneuvered through the crowd of at least 400 guests. The backyard gardens had been transformed into an elegant hosting area, with tables scattered across the lawn. Caterers and waitstaff weaved between guests, refilling flutes of champagne and offering hors d’oeuvres. A string quartet played softly in the background, their music blending with the hum of chatter and laughter.

Spotting your father in the crowd, you noticed him beckoning you and Sunghoon over to greet the Sim family. Mr. Sim, the prime minister, was undoubtedly the most important guest tonight. While the engagement was technically about you and Sunghoon, you knew many attendees were far more interested in the prime minister’s presence. The whole charade felt absurd, and the weight of the lie left a nauseous pit in your stomach.

You waited as Sunghoon shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Sim. Jake’s mom surprised you by pulling you into a tight hug. She whispered how happy she was for you, adding that you were always welcome in their home and should never hesitate to reach out if you needed anything. You swallowed hard, fighting the lump rising in your throat and blinking away the moisture threatening to form in your eyes. She had always been like a foster mom to you, filling the emotional gaps left by your own mother.

Mr. Sim offered his congratulations and reminisced about your childhood, recalling a particular incident with chocolate cake. The group erupted into laughter, except for Sunghoon, who looked slightly out of place. Jake, standing beside his father, flushed red and groaned, “Dad, can you not?” Mr. Sim only laughed, clearly enjoying his son’s embarrassment. You couldn’t resist chiming in, mentioning that you still had the picture from that day.

Jake’s eyes widened, and he turned to you with mock horror. “Yah! I thought I told you to get rid of that!” The laughter continued, the group agreeing that such memories were worth keeping. Sunghoon stood beside you, smiling politely, occasionally adding a comment but clearly an outsider to the dynamic.

As the Sim family moved on to mingle with other guests, Jake gave you a subtle nod, silently asking if you were okay. You nodded back reassuringly, and he left with his parents. Sunghoon adjusted his tie and cleared his throat, breaking the brief silence. “I didn’t know you were so close with the prime minister’s family,” he remarked.

You explained that you and Jake had grown up together, that he was your best friend and so naturally, your families became close. Sunghoon nodded, but a flicker of doubt crossed his face. “Just a friend?” he asked carefully.

“Yes,” you assured him, “just a friend. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Why would I worry?” he replied coolly. “Our relationship isn’t personal, so you’re free to be with whoever you want.”

The reminder of your arrangement stung, but you nodded in agreement. The two of you stood there awkwardly, smiling at guests who passed by, until Sunghoon broke the silence again. “What was that ‘chocolate cake incident’ about?”

You raised an eyebrow, and he elaborated. “If we’re selling this story about being in love, it makes sense for me to know some details about your life—like that, for example.”

Realizing he had a point, you decided to share. You explained how, at your joint fourth birthday party with Jake, you had eaten far too much chocolate cake and ended up throwing up all over yourself. Seeing you in distress, Jake started crying—and then promptly threw up on himself too. Your mothers had to put both of you in the same bathtub to clean up. “I still have the picture of us in the bath,” you admitted with a laugh. “Jake’s crying his eyes out while I’m grinning at the camera.”

Sunghoon chuckled, noticing the fondness in your tone. “Does that mean you have trauma around chocolate cake?” he teased.

You shook your head. “Not at all. I actually love chocolate—chocolate ice cream especially, which, by the way, is controversial to some people. Jake, on the other hand, can’t even stand the sight of chocolate. It’s like he breaks out in hives just looking at it.”

Sunghoon watched you speak animatedly, and smiled at how open you were being with him. When you caught yourself rambling, you apologized, but he grinned. “It’s fine. You’re allowed to do that.”

That odd rush of heat returned, and you quickly looked away. By the time you had made your way around the entire party, your face ached from smiling, your feet throbbed from walking, and your heart felt heavy from the relentless lies. Sunghoon noticed your tightening grip on his arm and glanced down at you. You were leaning into him slightly, your steps faltering. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you to your designated table.

“You okay?” he asked quietly as he helped you into your seat.

You let out an embarrassed sigh, trying to mask your exhaustion. “I’ve had enough already,” you admitted, your voice low.

Sunghoon nodded, his expression understanding. “I’ll get you some water,” he said, stepping away towards the refreshments.

You slumped slightly in your chair, resting your elbows on the table and rubbing your temples. You barely knew half the people in attendance, yet you’d been performing for all of them. The absurdity of it all made you want to roll your eyes.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice drawled, cutting through your thoughts.

You looked up to see your cousin, Ningning, leaning over the table with a smug expression. “Look what the cat dragged in,” you muttered, unable to mask your annoyance.

Ningning scoffed. “I could say the same. How was sightseeing in Peru? Or was it Nepal? Honestly, I have a hard time remembering insignificant details.” Her tone was as slimy as ever, laced with mockery. She was referring, of course, to the excuse your mother had given to relatives to explain your sudden and prolonged absence.

Despite being cousins, you and Ningning have never shared a good relationship. There has always been underlying animosity between you, particularly from Ningning’s side. From a young age, you two were often pitted against each other, with you consistently coming out on top—a fact that only fueled her resentment.

Your strained dynamic was further complicated by the tension between your mothers. Your mother and Ningning’s mother, who were sisters-in-law, didn’t get along. More accurately, your mother didn’t trust Ningning’s mother which created an atmosphere of suspicion that clearly trickled down to the next generation.

Your eyes narrowed. “Prague, actually,” you replied sarcastically. “Shouldn’t you be bothering someone else?”

Feigning offense, Ningning sat down beside you. “Can’t I congratulate my dear cousin on her engagement?” The sarcasm was thick in her voice. She leaned in closer, her tone turning cold. “You’re not fooling anyone, Y/n. It’s obvious this is all fake.”

A chill ran down your spine, but you forced yourself to remain composed. “What are you talking about?” you asked evenly.

Ningning chuckled darkly, her eyes narrowing. “Seriously? You’re going to sit there and pretend like you don’t know?”

Your heart raced, but your expression didn’t falter. You knew the danger Ningning posed. If your cousin discovered the truth, it wouldn’t be long before others did too. But then, Ningning’s smirk faded, and she let out a short laugh, leaning back. “Relax, I’m just joking.”

Your muscles remained tense as Ningning added, “It’s just hard to believe someone like you could pull someone like Sunghoon. He’s so proper and poised, while you’re...” She trailed off, giving you a pointed look up and down.

You refused to take the bait. You sighed, looking around desperately for Sunghoon to return. Ningning’s mocking voice pulled you back. “Where is the man who stole your heart, anyway? You’ve been clinging to him all night. One would think you were joined at the hip. Or maybe...” She smirked. “He doesn’t feel the same way?”

Gritting your teeth, you decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “How’s your mom?” you asked pointedly.

Ningning glanced toward her mother, who was seated nearby, her eyes fixed on the two girls. Raising her glass in a greeting, your aunt returned her attention to her own conversation. Ningning’s voice turned bitter. “Like you care,” she spat, and you rolled your eyes. “She’s never been one for parties, but tonight was mandatory. All board members were expected to attend. Would’ve looked bad if she skipped.”

Ningning sulked, her expression almost convincing enough to stir sympathy. You began to feel a twinge of pity for your cousin. You knew Ningning’s parents had impossibly high expectations for their daughter—in many ways mirroring your own parents—but with one key difference. Where your parents expressed their disdain through cold silence and neglect, Ningning’s parents chose a more physical approach to convey their disappointment. It was hard not to feel bad for her.

But the moment was short-lived. Ningning’s demeanor shifted sharply, venom dripping from her words as she turned to you. “If you think you can just waltz into the company acting like you own the place because you’re married to Sunghoon, think again,” she snapped.

You blinked, taken aback. “What are you talking about?” you asked cautiously.

Ningning’s sneer deepened. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve worked my ass off these past two years to rise through the ranks—through merit, not because Daddy gave me a free pass.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“God, are you thick in the head?” Ningning shot back, her tone biting. “If you think you’re going to outrank me just because your father’s the chairman and you’re now tied to Sunghoon as well, I’ll make your life miserable. Mark my words.”

Your frustration bubbled to the surface. “Do you have a stick up your ass or something? Ranks? That’s what you’re worried about? We’re not in high school anymore, Ningning. We’re all here for the same reason: to see the company improve.”

Ningning’s teeth clenched as her glare darkened. “You might think it’s stupid, but this means everything to me. I’ve sacrificed too much to let you waltz in and ruin it. I won’t hesitate to make sure nothing gets in my way.”

You threw your hands up in exasperation. “In the way of what?”

“Of me possibly becoming heir,” Ningning said coldly. Her gaze flickered toward her mother briefly before quickly looking away. “While you were off sightseeing and doing God knows what for three years, I was here. Working. Proving myself.”

You sat back, stunned into silence. You hadn’t anticipated your cousin becoming a potential obstacle to your plan. Why was she even talking about wanting to take over as heir? Your father was the chairman—he always had been—and leadership was meant to pass directly to his descendant: you. That’s how it had always been. Was Ningning expecting that to change? Had someone told her it might?

Ningning cleared her throat, regaining her composure, but the malice in her tone was unmistakable as she tsked, “Too bad about Seungho, huh? Too much potential, gone to waste.”

The sudden mention of your brother’s name sent a shockwave through you. Your jaw tightened, and your breath grew heavier as rage simmered beneath the surface. Ningning’s eyes gleamed with a cruel glint as she watched you struggle to keep your composure.

She was goading you—bringing up her desire to inherit the company and now mentioning your deceased brother. As if to suggest that if he were still alive, you wouldn’t have to worry about the company slipping into her hands. It was both insulting and utterly ridiculous. The suspicions you had about her nature just in general, grew a tenfold. You needed to keep your guard up around her from now.

Your voice was low and steady, each word a warning. “Don’t you dare talk about my brother again.”

Ningning tilted her head mockingly. “Struck a nerve, did I?”

You were torn between lunging across the table to tear your cousin’s hair extensions out or maintaining your composure. The weight of the guests’ admiring gazes, oblivious to the venomous exchange currently happening, kept you grounded. You gripped the edge of the table, your nails digging into the wood.

The tension was mercifully broken by Aeri’s sharp voice cutting through the atmosphere. “Move along, witch,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Take your ugly face somewhere else.”

Aeri and Jake had appeared just in time. Ningning turned to them, her expression shifting into a mocking smile. “Oh, look. The mediocre bunch.”

Aeri stepped closer, glaring daggers at Ningning. “Say one more thing, and I’ll bite you,” she growled.

Ningning raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “How predictable. Classless, as always.” She turned back to you. “Should we expect you at the office on Monday? Let me know and I can ask them to have a red carpet rolled out for you,” her tone dripped with contempt.

Aeri slammed her glass on the table, sneering at Ningning. “I’ll let you know what you can expect, my Jimmy Choo’s so far up your ass, you’re gonna start seeing stars.”

Ningning flinched at Aeri’s crudeness. She scoffed, stepping away from all of you. Turning back to you, she blew you a kiss. “See you later, cuz.”

She cast a fleeting glance at Jake, who avoided her gaze entirely, before rolling her eyes and sauntering off into the crowd with a haughty air.

Jake immediately turned to you, concern etched across his face. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, though her clenched fists and tense shoulders betrayed her unease. You exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the encounter.

Aeri took a seat beside you crossing her arms. “What the hell did she want?"

From a few yards away, Sunghoon had witnessed some of the scene. He stood with a glass of water in hand, his jaw tightening as he watched Ningning torment you. On his way back to you, he’d been stopped by Jay and Heeseung, who were animatedly discussing something with wide grins.

“Damn,” Jay had said with a low whistle. “This estate is insane. Look at the size of this yard.” He gestured dramatically around them.

Heeseung nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food from the plate he was holding. “The Ahn family used to host yearly galas here. They were the talk of the town. First one in years, though.”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged a look of mild disgust as Seung continued stuffing his face.

“What?” Seung asked, mouth still full. “It’s either this or I start downing champagne. Your choice.”

Jay rolled his eyes and turned to Sunghoon. “So, what do you think of Y/n? She’s…” He smirked. “Attractive, right?”

Sunghoon frowned. “You’re being ridiculous.” He had braced himself for the inevitable teasing from his friends about you, but he wasn’t confident he’d be able to keep a straight face if they brought you up. In his defense, it wasn’t his fault he was drawn to you—your pretty smile and those doe eyes that always seemed to soften when you looked up at him, how you looked when you spoke about something amusing and your seemingly stubborn determination. He’d caught himself mesmerized by you more than once tonight, each time leaving him more conflicted than before.

He could tell you’d started to trust him. You didn’t need to say it outright; it was in the way you looked at him, the way you let him take the lead without hesitation. It was in your agreement to this whole act in the first place. And as much as his emotions threatened to cloud his judgment, he knew better than to let them take over. You had expectations of him, and he’d be damned if he ever let you down.

“Oh, come on,” Jay pressed. “We’ve been watching you watch her all night. Either you’re a fantastic actor, or there’s something there.”

Sunghoon’s thoughts drifted back to his earlier interaction with you upstairs. How he’d been drawn to you in a way that felt… unsettling. The way your skin felt warm as he slipped the ring on your finger and how inviting your scent was, leaving him momentarily dazed as he breathed it in. Your flustered reaction to his teasing had been adorable, and he’d found himself smirking at the memory. His friends noticed immediately.

“See that?” Jay pointed, grinning. “He’s smiling. Told you.”

Heeseung leaned casually against the table. “You know,” he began, looking directly at Sunghoon, “Jungwon mentioned something interesting to me earlier. Apparently, you were totally dumbstruck when you first saw Y/n today.”

Sunghoon shot his older friend an agitated glare. “Stop fishing for gossip from my assistant,” he snapped.

At that moment, Jungwon himself approached, beaming with excitement. “Hey, guys—”

Sunghoon cut him off, pointing a finger. “HR. Monday. Be there.”

Jungwon’s smile froze, then quickly dropped. “What? Why?” he stammered, glancing over at Heeseung, who was grinning sheepishly.

“Don’t do that!” Jungwon defended himself. “This guy’s relentless, okay? He’s always badgering me to spill stuff.” He pointed at Heeseung. “I swear, I’ve never said anything too sensitive!”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes. “What exactly does that mean, Jungwon?”

Jungwon hesitated, then began fumbling with his words. “Uh, you know... nothing, like, serious! Just little things! Things that don’t matter!”

“Oh, so my meeting with my lawyer didn’t matter?” Sunghoon countered, his voice sharp with disbelief.

“You were going to tell us anyway.” Jay defended.

Seung snorted, clearly enjoying the exchange. “It’s not like he told us your deepest, darkest secrets, man.”

Sunghoon turned back to Jungwon, exasperated. “That doesn’t make it okay, okay? Why am I even arguing with you about this?”

Jungwon raised his hands defensively. “I don’t know! I’m just saying, that even when I spill, I’ve got boundaries, okay?”

“Boundaries?” Sunghoon repeated, incredulous. “Clearly, they’re not strict enough.”

Heeseung, unable to contain his laughter, chimed in, “This is the most entertaining shit I’ve seen all week.” He reaches out and grabs a champagne glass from a passing waiter’s tray.

Sunghoon shot him another glare before turning back to Jungwon. As frustrating as it was for Jungwon to share details about him with Heeseung and Jay, Sunghoon couldn’t bring himself to fully resent the guy. Deep down, he understood that Jungwon didn’t mean any harm. The three men standing before him were his closest confidants, and it was almost natural for them to discuss his business—even when he wasn’t involved. Maybe it was because Sunghoon trusted them, knowing they would always come clean if they learned something important. Secrets didn’t last long in their circle; sooner or later, they’d spill, especially if it was something concerning.

Firing Jungwon wasn’t an option either. Despite his occasional lapses in discretion, no one was as meticulous or hardworking. It also didn’t hurt that they were family. In Sunghoon’s demanding line of work, having someone trustworthy to handle important tasks, keep him grounded during moments of weakness, and genuinely look out for him was invaluable. And no one did that better than Jungwon.

Before Jungwon could respond to Sunghoon, Jay tapped him on the shoulder and gestured toward your table. Sunghoon followed Jay’s gaze and immediately noticed something off. Your posture was stiff, your jaw clenched, and your fingers gripped the table tightly as you spoke to the girl seated next to you. Your irritation and discomfort were palpable. Sunghoon’s brows furrowed in concern, and he leaned forward slightly to observe the interaction.

“Man, is her whole family this ridiculously attractive?” Jay asked, his eyes flicking to the girl beside you.

Sunghoon hummed noncommittally, his attention still locked on you and the tension radiating from you. He studied your body language and the way the other girl’s lips curled in what could only be described as satisfaction. Something was definitely wrong.

“Did you see the Prime Minister earlier?” Jungwon chimed in, breaking the momentary silence. “Crazy that her family has ties with him. Just goes to show how powerful they really are.”

Jay nodded, nudging Sunghoon. “Must be intimidating, huh? Being tied to a family like that?”

Sunghoon’s focus wavered, his gaze briefly flickering back to his friends. He’d been so engrossed in watching you that he’d barely registered the conversation. He remembered greeting the Prime Minister earlier, feeling distinctly out of place when the two of you exchanged pleasantries and laughed at a joke he didn’t understand. It had been a stark reminder of how little he knew about you and your family—a gap in knowledge he was beginning to wish he could fill. Not for personal reasons, of course. It was for the sake of the charade.

He gave a vague hum in response, making no effort to hide that he hadn’t been paying attention. The men exchanged amused looks before sighing in unison.

“You should get back to her already,” Heeseung said, swapping his champagne glass for another from a passing waiter.

Sunghoon didn’t respond. His gaze returned to you, whose knuckles had turned white from gripping the table so tightly. Your companion seemed to relish your reaction. He saw two figures approach the table, and moments later, the girl seated beside you stood and left, her expression shifting to one of slight annoyance.

The prime minister’s son placed a hand on your shoulder, his posture protective. Sunghoon’s feet moved before his mind could process it, carrying him toward the group. By the time he reached you, he heard your friends murmuring to, urging you to calm down and ignore the other girl.

Your brow was furrowed in frustration, but your expression softened slightly when you noticed Sunghoon. “Sunghoon?” you said, voice tinged with surprise.

Aeri and Jake turned to face him. Aeri’s face lit up with a bright smile, and she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Aeri, Y/n’s best friend.”

Sunghoon bowed slightly as he took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly.

He turned to Jake, who hesitated before shaking his hand. “And you’re the Prime Minister’s son? We saw each other earlier, but I didn’t get the chance to say hello. Forgive me.”

“It’s fine,” Jake replied curtly, his attention shifting back to you.

You and Aeri exchanged a glance, immediately sensing the tension between the two men. You wondered if Sunghoon’s standoffishness had anything to do with you mentioning Jake earlier and calling him your best friend. Was he… jealous? You shook the thought away, deciding it was ridiculous.

Aeri broke the awkward silence with an exaggerated scoff. “Alright, this is weird. I’m getting a drink. Jake, come with me.”

Jake started to signal a waiter for champagne, but Aeri stopped him. “No, something stronger. Let’s find the good stuff,” she said with a mischievous grin and a wink.

Your heart sank momentarily. You could already imagine them raiding your parents’ liquor collection. Your parents wouldn’t notice, but you still hoped they wouldn’t make too much of a mess.

“Find me if you need anything, Y/n.” Jake said over his shoulder and Sunghoon narrowed his eyes.

Aeri waved at Sunghoon. “Lovely to meet you. Take care of her, alright?”

Once they were gone you turned to your fiancé who for some reason was still standing. You raised an eyebrow, your voice cutting through the lingering silence. “Are you planning to sit at all?” your tone was light but edged with exhaustion.

He ignored the remark, his gaze softening slightly. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low but carrying a genuine note of concern.

You hesitated before letting out a quiet sigh. “My feet are killing me,” you admitted, glancing down at the unforgiving heels you’d been wearing all evening. “I was just thinking about slipping into something more comfortable.”

Sunghoon nodded, noting how your guarded tone and distant eyes betrayed more than just physical discomfort. He didn’t press you; you clearly weren’t ready to discuss what had unfolded earlier. Instead, he extended his hand toward you in a silent offer.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but took his hand. His grip was firm yet gentle as he helped you stand. For a fleeting moment, you were acutely aware of the warmth of his touch. But you pushed the thought aside, reasoning that this was just another example of Sunghoon’s impeccable manners—nothing more.

You began weaving through the clusters of guests, moving past pockets of laughter and animated conversation. The party’s energy had shifted as the champagne flowed freely, with voices rising and laughter growing louder. You clung a little tighter to Sunghoon’s arm, partly for balance but mostly for a sense of steadiness amidst the chaos.

Inside the house, you reached the grand staircase. You paused, staring up at the daunting ascent. Your shoulders sagged slightly, and you muttered under your breath, weighing the pain in your feet against the effort it would take to climb.

Sunghoon watched you closely, his brow furrowing. For a moment, he considered offering to carry you or walking you all the way to your room. But he stopped himself, unsure if such a gesture would be overstepping. Instead, he stayed silent, ready to assist if needed.

Just as you had gathered herself to take the first step, a soft, melodic voice called out your name. “Y/n?”

You turned, your posture straightening in surprise when you saw the source of the voice. Your voice was a mix of shock and warmth.

“Sana?”