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dandelions-143 · 1 month ago

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Sex Tape - Hyunjin

Kintober Masterlist

Word Count: 5114

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, explicit sexual content, taped sexual acts, over stem.

No summary just smut under the cut

You held your hand out, fingers splayed in a futile attempt to shield your face from the lens of the vintage video recorder Hyunjin was pointing at you. The device, an old Panasonic VHS-C camcorder from the late 1980s, was just the latest addition to his ever-growing collection of retro cameras. Its bulky form and slightly worn edges spoke of years of use, giving it a charm that modern, sleek devices simply couldn't match.

"Hyunjin, stop!" you whined, your voice a mix of embarrassment and amusement. The red recording light blinked steadily, a silent testament to the moment being captured. "Come on... I look terrible today." Your hair was slightly disheveled, and you were wearing your comfiest, albeit least flattering, loungewear - a baggy t-shirt with a faded logo and well-worn sweatpants.

Hyunjin chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate. His eyes crinkled at the corners, forming little crow's feet that you found utterly endearing. He lowered the camera slightly, revealing his face. His hair was pushed back with a headband, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. The soft whirring of the device filled the comfortable silence between you, a nostalgic sound that transported you back to a time before digital dominance.

"You're stunning," he insisted, his voice rich with sincerity. His gaze softened as he looked at you, a mix of adoration and admiration evident in his eyes. "You could definitely be an actress, a model... your face is made for the camera." As he spoke, he adjusted the focus ring on the lens, ensuring every detail of your expression was captured perfectly.

His words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, a blush creeping up your neck despite your attempts to hide. The compliment, delivered with such earnestness, made your heart flutter. You could feel the warmth spreading across your face, knowing that the old camera, with its ability to capture the subtle play of light and shadow, would undoubtedly record your flushed complexion in all its glory.

Noticing your persistent shyness, Hyunjin gently set the camera down on a nearby mahogany table. He angled it carefully, ensuring it would still capture the intimate moment unfolding between you.

Hyunjin approached you with measured steps, his movements slow and deliberate. The floorboards creaked softly beneath his feet, adding to the cozy atmosphere of the room. "Hey," he said, his voice as gentle as a summer breeze. He reached out, his hands warm and inviting. As his fingers intertwined with yours, you felt a comforting tingle spread from your fingertips up your arms.

"You don't have to hide," Hyunjin continued, his eyes soft and understanding. "I just want to capture this moment with you." His thumb traced soothing circles on the back of your hand, a silent reassurance. Slowly, he guided your hands away from your face, revealing your features to the camera's lens.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, its rhythm quickening at the tenderness in Hyunjin's gaze. His eyes, a warm shade of brown, held a depth of emotion that made you feel cherished and safe. The vintage camera continued its soft mechanical song in the background, a testament to Hyunjin's passion for preserving memories in a tangible, nostalgic format.

"Okay, okay," you conceded with a soft laugh that filled the room like melodious chimes. You squeezed his hands, feeling the strength in his grip. "But only because it's you." The words came out barely above a whisper, laden with affection.

Hyunjin's face transformed at your words, lighting up with unbridled joy. His smile, brighter than any camera flash, crinkled the corners of his eyes and revealed a row of perfect teeth. The happiness radiating from him was almost palpable, filling the space between you with warmth and love.

Hyunjin returned to the camera, his eyes sparkling with renewed enthusiasm. As he lifted the device, its weight familiar in his hands, you felt a sudden surge of confidence coursing through your veins. The nervousness that had plagued you earlier evaporated like morning mist, replaced by a playful energy that tingled in your fingertips.

You struck an exaggerated pose, channeling your inner supermodel. Your arms stretched dramatically overhead, one hip cocked to the side, and your lips pursed in an over-the-top pout. The ridiculous stance caused Hyunjin to burst into laughter, the sound rich and warm, filling the room with joy. His shoulders shook with mirth as he struggled to keep the camera steady, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you loved.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged between chuckles, his voice warm with affection and a hint of something more. "Just be yourself." The vintage camera whirred softly, capturing your genuine smile, the love that shone in your eyes, and the comfortable intimacy between you. The red recording light blinked steadily, a silent witness to your shared moment.

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself relaxing more and more under Hyunjin's attentive gaze. You twirled for the camera, letting out a carefree laugh as your hair fanned out around you. The soft afternoon light streaming through the windows caught the highlights in your tresses, creating a halo effect that Hyunjin couldn't help but admire.

Suddenly, Hyunjin lowered the camera slightly, his eyes meeting yours over the top of the device. A mischievous glint appeared in his gaze, sending a thrill of anticipation down your spine. "Hey, baby," he said, his voice dropping to a sultry tone that made your breath catch in your throat. "Why don't you show me your sexy side?"

The suggestion caught you off guard, a delicious mix of excitement and nervousness fluttering in your stomach like a swarm of butterflies. Your breath hitched as you considered his words, the atmosphere in the room shifting palpably. The air seemed to grow thicker, charged with an electric tension that made your skin prickle with awareness. You could feel the weight of Hyunjin's gaze on you, intense and full of desire, as he waited for your response.

"You mean... like, right now?" you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and intrigue. Your eyes widened slightly, a flush creeping up your neck as the implications of Hyunjin's suggestion sank in. The room suddenly felt warmer, the air thick with anticipation.

Hyunjin nodded, his gaze intense as he watched you through the viewfinder. His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the movement drawing your attention to the strong line of his jaw. His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the camera, betraying his own nervousness and excitement.

"Only if you're comfortable," he assured you, his voice dropping an octave lower, the deep timbre sending shivers down your spine. His eyes, usually a warm brown, had darkened with desire, the pupils dilating as they roamed over your form. "But I'd love to capture how beautiful and sensual you are." His words hung in the air between you, charged with electricity. They ignited a spark of desire within you, your skin tingling with anticipation, goosebumps rising along your arms despite the warmth of the room.

You bit your lip, considering his request. The soft flesh gave under your teeth, and you noticed how Hyunjin's gaze zeroed in on the movement, his breath catching audibly. The vintage camera whirred softly in his hands, its mechanical sound oddly soothing in the charged atmosphere. It was a tangible reminder of the moment, of the potential to capture something intimate and beautiful.

With a deep breath, you decided to embrace the moment. You could feel your inhibitions slowly melting away like ice under a warm sun, replaced by a heady mix of nervousness and excitement. Your heart raced in your chest, its rhythm matching the steady blink of the camera's recording light. As you met Hyunjin's gaze again, a silent understanding passed between you, and you felt a surge of confidence. This was Hyunjin, after all - the person you trusted most in the world. With him, you were safe to explore, to be vulnerable, to be sensual.

Your fingers, trembling with a mix of nervousness and excitement, traced a delicate path down your body. They danced along your collarbone, skimmed over the swell of your breasts, and finally came to rest at the hem of your shirt. The soft cotton fabric felt cool against your fingertips as you toyed with it, your touch feather-light and teasing. You could feel the heat of Hyunjin's gaze through the camera lens, his intense focus making your skin tingle.

With a coy smile playing on your lips, you slowly began to lift the material. The fabric whispered against your skin as it rose, revealing your body inch by tantalizing inch. First, the smooth plane of your stomach came into view, the soft curves of your waist accentuated by the dim lighting. As you continued to raise the shirt, the delicate lace of your bra peeked out, the intricate patterns casting subtle shadows on your skin.

Hyunjin's reaction was immediate and visceral. His breath hitched audibly, the sound sharp in the quiet room. You watched as his knuckles turned white, his grip on the camera tightening to the point where you could see the tendons in his hands straining. Despite his obvious desire, his movements remained steady, the camera unwavering as he captured every sensual movement. The red recording light blinked steadily, a silent witness to the intimate moment unfolding between you.

Emboldened by Hyunjin's encouraging gaze, you let your shirt fall to the floor with a soft rustle. The fabric whispered against your skin as it descended, revealing your lace-trimmed bra inch by tantalizing inch. The delicate material hugged your curves perfectly, the intricate floral patterns of the lace casting intricate shadows on your skin in the dim light. Your chest rose and fell with quickened breaths, the subtle movement drawing Hyunjin's eyes to the swell of your breasts.

The camera's soft whirring seemed to intensify, its mechanical purr matching the rapid beating of your heart. You could almost feel the heat of Hyunjin's gaze through the lens, his eyes darkening with unbridled desire. His pupils dilated visibly as he drank in the sight of you, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "You're breathtaking, baby," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, husky and thick with want.

You bit down on your bottom lip, feeling the plump flesh give under your teeth. The slight sting sent a jolt of pleasure through you, heightening your senses. Your fingers, trembling slightly with anticipation, trailed over your exposed stomach. The touch left a trail of tingling skin in its wake, goosebumps rising as your hand moved lower. You traced the curve of your hip, fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants before coming to rest on the soft fabric of your sweat pants.

"You watching?" you teased, your voice low and sultry, barely above a whisper. Your eyes locked with Hyunjin's, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat. "Don't take your eyes off me, now." The words came out as both a command and a plea, charged with the electric tension building between you. You held his gaze, feeling a heady rush of power at the way his eyes seemed unable to leave your form. The red recording light of the camera blinked steadily, silently capturing every detail of this intimate moment.

Your hands moved to remove your pants, the soft rustle of the draw strings being untied and coming undone echoing in the quiet room. The sound seemed amplified in the charged atmosphere, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. With deliberate slowness, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband, relishing the feel of the soft material against your fingertips. You began to slide the fabric down your hips, revealing more and more skin. The cloth whispered against your legs as it fell, the friction creating a subtle tingling sensation that heightened your awareness of every exposed nerve ending.

Hyunjin's gaze intensified, his eyes darkening with unbridled desire as the camera captured every exquisite detail. You could see his pupils dilate even more, drinking in the sight of your curves being unveiled - the soft dip of your waist, the gentle swell of your hips, the smooth expanse of your thighs. The vintage camera whirred softly, its mechanical purr a stark contrast to Hyunjin's labored breathing. "Baby, you're driving me crazy," he murmured, his voice thick and husky with want. A slight tremor in his hands betrayed his composure, the camera wavering almost imperceptibly as he fought to keep it steady.

You giggled softly, the sound light and teasing, a stark contrast to the heavy tension in the air. Slowly, you turned around, presenting your back to Hyunjin. The movement was deliberate, almost choreographed in its sensuality. You glanced over your shoulder, catching his intense gaze through the camera lens. The heat in his eyes sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core. Your hands, slightly trembling with anticipation, reached behind you to unhook your bra. The delicate lace fabric whispered against your skin as you carefully unclasped each hook, the suspense building with every tiny 'click'. The straps slid down your shoulders, revealing the smooth plane of your back inch by inch. You could feel Hyunjin's gaze like a physical touch, tracing the curve of your spine, the subtle dimples at the small of your back.

As the bra fell away, you let it slide down your arms with exquisite slowness, savoring the sensation of the cool air kissing your newly exposed skin. Goosebumps erupted across your flesh, a physical manifestation of the anticipation coursing through your veins. You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes locking with Hyunjin's intense gaze through the camera lens. His eyes, usually a warm brown, had darkened to near black with desire, his pupils dilated so wide they nearly eclipsed the iris. His lips were slightly parted, his breath coming in shallow pants as he drank in the sight of your bare back.

The anticipation built to a fever pitch as you began to turn to face him. Your movements were deliberate and sensual, each shift of your body a carefully choreographed dance designed to tease and entice. As you pivoted, the soft glow of the room played across your skin, casting gentle shadows that accentuated every curve and dip of your body. The light caught the subtle sheen of perspiration on your skin, making you glisten like a work of art come to life.

Hyunjin's reaction was immediate and visceral. A deep, guttural groan escaped his lips, the sound so primal it made your pussy throb intensely. The camera wavered in his hands, the image blurring momentarily as his grip faltered. You watched as he visibly steadied himself, his jaw clenching with the effort of maintaining his composure. His knuckles turned white as he tightened his hold on the camera, determined to capture every exquisite detail of your beauty despite his own overwhelming desire.

His eyes roamed over your body with an intensity that felt almost tangible, as if his gaze alone could caress your skin. You could see the hunger burning in his eyes as they traced the slope of your neck, lingered on the swell of your breasts, and followed the curve of your waist. His chest rose and fell with quickened breaths, each inhale sharp and ragged. A flush had crept up his neck, staining his cheeks a deep red that spoke volumes about the depth of his arousal. The air between you crackled with tension, electric and charged with unspoken promises of pleasure to come.

Your nipples instantly hardened under his scrutiny, the cool air and the heat of his gaze sending electric shivers cascading down your spine. You watched, heart racing, as his eyes focused intently on your breasts, drinking in every detail of your peaked nipples and the soft, inviting curves of your chest. Hyunjin's tongue darted out, slowly wetting his lips in an unconscious gesture of want. The tip of his pink tongue traced the outline of his mouth, leaving a glistening trail that caught the dim light. His lips, now moist and slightly parted, looked even more inviting than usual, tempting you to lean in and capture them with your own.

"Keep going, baby," Hyunjin encouraged, his voice dropping to a low, husky whisper that seemed to reverberate through your very core. The deep timbre of his words sent a jolt of arousal straight to your center, igniting a fire that spread rapidly through your body. You could hear the barely contained desire in his voice, the way it trembled slightly with the effort of maintaining control. "You're so beautiful," he continued, his eyes never leaving your body as he adjusted the camera slightly. The soft whir of the device seemed amplified in the charged atmosphere. "I want to capture every inch of you, every curve, every perfect detail." His words washed over you like a warm caress, making you feel both exposed and empowered. You could see the adoration in his eyes, mixed with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat. Your confidence grew with each passing second under his adoring gaze, emboldening you to move with even more sensuality. The knowledge that every movement, every expression was being immortalized on film only heightened your arousal, pushing you to embrace your sexuality fully.

"Turn around for me," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. His eyes, dark and intense, roamed over your body as you slowly pivoted. The soft whir of the camera filled the room, punctuated by Hyunjin's sharp intake of breath. The red recording light blinked steadily, capturing every curve and contour of your form.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his free hand reaching out to caress your skin. The first touch of his fingers sent a jolt of electricity through your body, making you gasp and arch into his touch. His calloused fingertips, warm and slightly rough, traced delicate patterns along your collarbone. The contrast between his gentle touch and the coolness of the air made goosebumps erupt across your skin.

Slowly, teasingly, his hand moved lower. It skimmed over the swell of your breast, his thumb just barely grazing your nipple. The feather-light touch sent a shiver down your spine, your nipple hardening instantly. You bit your lip, stifling a moan as his hand continued its exploration, tracing the curve of your waist and the dip of your ribcage. Each touch left a trail of tingling skin in its wake, your body hyper-aware of every point of contact. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers danced along the sensitive skin of your stomach, the muscles there quivering under his touch.

With agonizing slowness, he slid his hand lower, his touch feather-light yet scorching against your sensitive skin. His fingers danced over the curve of your ass, kneading the soft flesh with a gentleness that belied the hunger in his eyes. A low, primal growl rumbled deep in his chest as he pressed his body flush against yours, the heat of his skin searing into you like a brand. Every hard plane of his muscles, every defined contour of his body molded perfectly against your softer curves, creating a delicious friction that had you gasping for air.

You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against your back, his heart thundering in tandem with yours. The contrast between his firm grip on your hip and the gentle caress of his other hand, still steadily holding the camera, sent conflicting waves of sensation through your body. It was as if he was simultaneously claiming you and worshipping you, the dichotomy igniting a fire deep in your core that threatened to consume you entirely.

The feel of his hard, sculpted muscles pressing against your soft flesh sent violent shivers cascading down your spine. Every subtle movement, every breath, allowed you to map the contours of his toned body with your skin. The heat radiating from him was almost overwhelming, his skin feeling like liquid fire against yours. The stark contrast between his firm, chiseled physique and your softer, more yielding curves was intoxicating, each point of contact between your bodies a source of exquisite pleasure.

A powerful wave of arousal rolled through your body, starting from where his skin met yours and spreading outward like wildfire. The intensity of the sensation made you instinctively squeeze your thighs together, desperately seeking some friction to alleviate the growing ache between your legs.

Hyunjin's voice dropped to a seductive whisper, his hot breath tickling the sensitive shell of your ear. "Turn around, baby," he murmured, his lips barely grazing your earlobe. "Let me see that beautiful face." His words were like liquid velvet, wrapping around you and drawing you in, impossible to resist.

You complied, your movements slow and deliberate. As you turned, you savored the exquisite sensation of his body sliding against yours. The friction of skin on skin was electrifying, each point of contact sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. Your nipples, already hardened peaks, brushed against his chest, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

Finally face to face, your eyes met his intense gaze through the camera lens. You felt utterly exposed, vulnerable under his scrutiny, yet the vulnerability only served to heighten your arousal. Your heart raced, its rapid tempo echoing in your ears as a flush crept up your chest, staining your cheeks a deep crimson.

"Now," Hyunjin commanded softly, his voice husky and thick with desire, "touch yourself for me." His free hand reached out, fingers ghosting along your collarbone, leaving a trail of tingling skin in their wake. "Start with your breasts. Show me how you like to be touched." His eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat, pupils dilated so wide they nearly eclipsed the warm brown of his irises.

Your hands trembled with anticipation as you cupped your breasts, the soft, pliant flesh yielding under your touch. You began to tease the sensitive buds, your fingers dancing across the areolas before gently rolling the hardened peaks between your thumb and forefinger. The sensation sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making your breath catch in your throat.

A soft, breathy moan escaped your lips as you increased the pressure, pinching your nipples with just enough force to teeter on the edge of pain and pleasure. The jolt of sensation went straight to your core, igniting a fire that spread rapidly through your lower belly. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your breasts further into your hands as you continued your ministrations.

Hyunjin's reaction was immediate. His breath hitched audibly, the sound sharp and ragged in the quiet room. The camera wavered slightly in his grip, the image blurring for a moment before he steadied himself. His eyes, dark with desire, were fixed on your hands as they worked your breasts.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice dropping an octave lower, thick and husky with lust. The sound sent another wave of arousal coursing through your body. "You're so fucking sexy. The way you touch yourself... it's driving me crazy." He shifted his stance, adjusting his grip on the camera. "Keep going," he urged, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Show me how good it feels."

"Slide your hand down," he instructed, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper that sent electricity coursing through your veins. The roughness in his tone was palpable, each word dripping with unbridled desire. "Spread those beautiful legs for me," he continued, his eyes darkening to an almost obsidian hue. "I want to see just how wet you are for me, baby." His gaze, intense and unwavering, burned into your skin as he made minute adjustments to the camera, ensuring every tantalizing detail would be captured.

You complied, your fingers quivering with a mix of anticipation and arousal as they traced a torturously slow path down your stomach. The cool air of the room kissed your heated skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in the wake of your touch. Your breath hitched as your hand inched lower, the anticipation building with each passing second. As your legs parted, the rush of cool air against your heated core made you gasp audibly, the sudden contrast in temperature sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

Your fingers finally reached the apex of your thighs, and the first brush against your sensitive flesh elicited a breathy moan that echoed in the quiet room. The camera whirred softly, its lens drinking in every detail - the slight arch of your back as pleasure coursed through you, the rosy flush that crept up your chest, painting your skin with desire, and the way your teeth worried your bottom lip, a mix of concentration and ecstasy etched on your features. Your fingers explored further, sliding through the slick heat of your arousal, and you couldn't suppress the shuddering gasp that escaped your lips as you touched yourself more intimately.

"That's my good girl," Hyunjin praised, his voice thick with lust. The sound of it sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core, making your inner walls clench with anticipation. His eyes, dark and intense, burned with desire behind the camera lens, drinking in every minute detail of your exposed form. "Now, I want you to finger yourself," he continued, his words coming out in a low, gravelly tone that made your skin prickle with goosebumps. "Nice and slow. Let me hear every pretty little sound you make."

You held his gaze as you settled back, your body sinking into the soft, cool sheets. The contrast between the silky fabric and your heated skin sent a shiver down your spine. "Like this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, breathy and trembling with arousal. Your fingers, slightly shaky with anticipation, found your swollen clit. The first contact sent a jolt of electricity through your body, making you gasp audibly. You began to circle it slowly, teasingly, feeling it swell further under your touch. Each pass of your fingertips sent waves of pleasure radiating outward, making your toes curl and your back arch slightly off the bed. Your hips rolled instinctively, seeking more friction, the movement fluid and sensual. The soft whir of the camera seemed to grow louder in the charged atmosphere, capturing every twitch, every gasp, every expression of pleasure that flitted across your face.

In the dim lighting, your arousal glistened on your fingers, the sight making Hyunjin's breath hitch audibly. The soft, warm light cast a golden glow on your skin, accentuating every curve and dip of your body. Your fingers moved languidly, spreading the slick wetness, each movement causing the light to dance across your glistening flesh. The sight was mesmerizing, drawing Hyunjin's gaze like a moth to a flame.

Your own labored breathing mixed with Hyunjin's, creating a symphony of desire that filled the room. Each exhale was punctuated by soft, breathy moans that seemed to caress the air. The sound of your pleasure was intoxicating, making Hyunjin's heart race and his body burn with need. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Through the fabric of his pants, you could clearly see the outline of Hyunjin's hardening cock. It strained against the confines of his clothing, the impressive length and girth evident even through the layers. As he palmed himself, trying to alleviate some of the building pressure, the movement only served to emphasize his arousal further. His hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, matching the rhythm of your own ministrations.

Hyunjin's struggle to keep the camera steady was evident in the slight tremor of his hands. The vintage camera, with its bulky form and worn edges, seemed to weigh heavier in his grip as his desire grew. He shifted his stance, trying to find a balance between capturing every tantalizing detail and giving in to his own mounting pleasure. The soft whir of the camera's mechanics provided a constant backdrop to the erotic scene unfolding before its lens, preserving every moan, every touch, every heated glance for posterity.

Your back arched off the bed, a sinuous curve that highlighted the sensual lines of your body, as you slowly slid two fingers inside yourself. The initial penetration drew a breathy, trembling moan from your lips, the sound echoing in the quiet room. The sensation of your own fingers exploring your wet heat was electric, sending shivers cascading down your spine like a waterfall of pleasure. You could feel every ridge, every fold of your inner walls as they clenched eagerly around your digits, desperate for more stimulation.

As you began to move your fingers, curling them slightly to brush against that sensitive spot inside you, your body responded with a symphony of micro-expressions. Your toes curled, pressing into the sheets, while your free hand fisted in the bedding, knuckles turning white with the intensity of your grip. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, punctuated by soft whimpers of pleasure that seemed to hang in the air.

Hyunjin's reaction to this display was visceral and immediate. His eyes, already dark with desire, seemed to darken further, his pupils dilating so wide they nearly eclipsed the warm brown of his irises. The change was subtle but profound, transforming his gaze into something primal and hungry. His grip on the camera tightened visibly, the tendons in his hands standing out in sharp relief as he struggled to keep the device steady. A soft, almost inaudible growl rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated want.

Unconsciously, Hyunjin's tongue darted out to wet his lips once again, leaving them glistening in the low light. The movement was slow, almost sensual, as if he was imagining tasting you instead. His gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on the movement of your hand between your legs, tracking every twist and curl of your fingers with an intensity that was almost palpable. The soft whir of the camera seemed to grow louder in the charged atmosphere, capturing every twitch, every gasp, every expression of pleasure that flitted across your face.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice thick with desire, a low rumble that reverberated through your bones. His eyes, dark and intense, burned into yours with an almost predatory hunger. "You look so fucking good like this. The way your fingers move, the flush on your skin... it's intoxicating." He licked his lips, his gaze never wavering from your writhing form. "Keep going, show me exactly how you like to be touched. Every little detail, every spot that makes you shiver." His words, dripping with raw, unfiltered arousal, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you entirely.

Hyunjin's resolve finally shattered, the tension in his body palpable as he carefully set the camera down on the nightstand. His movements were deliberate, almost reverent, as he angled it meticulously to capture the entire bed. The soft whir of the device seemed to echo in the charged atmosphere, a constant reminder that every moment of your shared passion would be immortalized. "I can't just watch anymore," he growled, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved to his shirt buttons with an urgency that betrayed his barely contained desire, fingers trembling slightly as they worked to expose his skin.

Your eyes widened, pupils dilating with arousal as you watched him strip. Each inch of his toned body was revealed in agonizing slowness, as if he was purposely teasing you with the display. The planes of his abs flexed and rippled with each movement, the low, warm light of the room casting dramatic shadows that accentuated every curve and dip of his muscled form. A thin sheen of sweat had begun to form on his skin, making it glisten tantalizingly. You found yourself mesmerized by the way his muscles moved beneath his skin, the strength and grace of his body on full display. The sight of him, combined with the knowledge that every second was being captured on film, sent a fresh surge of arousal flooding through you, making your core clench with anticipation.

He swiftly discarded his remaining clothing, his erection springing free with an audible slap against his toned abdomen. Your eyes widened, pupils dilating at the sight of his impressive length. It stood proudly erect, the shaft thick and veined, the head swollen and glistening with a bead of pre-cum that caught the dim light. Your mouth watered involuntarily, your tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips. Your fingers, still buried between your legs, increased their pace, matching your rising anticipation.

Hyunjin's approach was predatory, his movements fluid and calculated as he crawled onto the bed. His muscles rippled under his skin with each motion, the low light casting shadows that accentuated every curve and dip of his physique. His eyes, now almost black with lust, were fixed unwaveringly on your writhing form. The intensity of his gaze made you feel like prey, pinned and exposed under his scrutiny. "Keep touching yourself," he commanded, his voice a deep, husky growl that sent shivers racing down your spine. The authoritative tone brooked no argument as he positioned himself between your legs, his hot breath fanning across your sensitive skin.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of his exhalation against your inner thigh, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room that raised goosebumps across your flesh. He placed a soft, almost reverent kiss on the sensitive skin there, his lips warm and slightly chapped from his heavy breathing. Then another kiss, slightly higher, and another, slowly working his way up your thigh with agonizing precision. Each press of his lips sent jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, making your skin tingle and your muscles twitch with anticipation. The teasing pace was maddening, each kiss bringing him tantalizingly closer to where you needed him most.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin but still loud enough for the camera to pick up. The vibration of his words against your sensitive flesh sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. Without warning, his tongue darted out, licking a long, slow stripe up your slit. The sudden wet heat of it made you gasp audibly, your back arching off the bed. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward from your core. A loud, unrestrained moan tore from your throat, the sound echoing in the room and undoubtedly captured by the camera's microphone. Your hips bucked involuntarily against his face, seeking more of that delicious friction, desperate for him to continue his ministrations.

"I can't wait to watch you later," he mumbled against your inner thigh, his breath hot and moist against your sensitive skin. The warmth of his exhalation sent shivers racing up your spine, making your muscles twitch with anticipation. "How fucking perfect and sweet my girl is." His lips brushed against your flesh as he spoke, the slight friction igniting sparks of pleasure that radiated outward. The vibration of his deep voice against your skin added another layer of sensation, making you gasp softly. His words, dripping with raw desire, sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through your body, making your core clench with need.

Hyunjin's tongue worked magic on your sensitive flesh, his skilled mouth drawing out breathy moans and whimpers from your lips. He alternated between broad, flat strokes that covered your entire slit, the wet heat of his tongue sliding from your entrance to your clit in one fluid motion, and focused flicks against your swollen bundle of nerves. Each pass of his tongue sent jolts of electricity through your body, making your toes curl and your back arch off the bed. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the pleasure built within you, threatening to overflow. You could feel the silky strands of his hair between your fingers, the texture a stark contrast to the slick heat of his mouth against you. Your grip tightened involuntarily with each wave of ecstasy that washed over you, causing Hyunjin to moan against your core, the vibrations adding yet another layer to the overwhelming sensations.

The camera continued to whir softly in the background, its presence a constant reminder that every intimate moment of your shared ecstasy was being immortalized on film. The knowledge that your most private expressions of pleasure were being captured, every moan, every twitch, every flush of your skin, only served to heighten your arousal further. The soft mechanical sound seemed to blend with your heavy breathing and Hyunjin's hungry groans, creating a symphony of desire that filled the room. You could almost feel the lens of the camera on your skin, its gaze as palpable and electrifying as Hyunjin's touch, preserving this moment of intense passion for eternity.

"Fuck, baby," Hyunjin growled, his tongue delving deeper into your folds. The warmth of his breath against your sensitive skin sent electric shivers cascading up your spine, making your toes curl with pleasure. His skilled tongue traced intricate patterns, alternating between broad, flat strokes that covered your entire slit and focused, rapid flicks against your swollen clit. Each pass of his tongue sent jolts of ecstasy through your body, making your back arch off the bed. "I want to make you scream,” he murmured, the vibration of his words against your core adding another layer of sensation that had you gasping.

You bucked your hips against his face, desperate for more friction. Your fingers tangled in his silky hair, pulling him closer, feeling the soft strands slip between your fingers. The gentle tug elicited a deep moan from Hyunjin, the sound reverberating through your core. The soft whir of the camera in the background only heightened your arousal, reminding you that every moan, every twitch, every expression of pleasure was being immortalized on film. "Please, Hyunjin," you begged, your voice breathy and high-pitched with need, cracking slightly as another wave of pleasure washed over you. "I need you inside me. Now." Your words hung in the air, heavy with desperation and desire.

Hyunjin smirked, his lips glistening with your arousal as he rose up to position himself at your entrance. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours, pupils dilated so wide they nearly eclipsed the warm brown of his irises. The intensity of his gaze made you feel like prey, pinned and exposed under his scrutiny. "You want my cock, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky, dripping with raw, unfiltered arousal. He teased your entrance with the tip of his length, the swollen head sliding tantalizingly along your slick folds, making you whimper with need. Your hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more contact, more friction, more of him. "Tell me how badly you want it," he commanded, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Show me, just how much you crave my cock."

"I want it so fucking bad," you moaned, your voice thick with desire. Your legs spread wider, thighs trembling with anticipation. Your fingers clutched desperately at the sheets, knuckles turning white as you gripped tighter. The cool fabric against your heated skin sent shivers down your spine. "Please, fuck me hard," you begged, your eyes locked on Hyunjin's, pupils dilated with lust. "I need to feel every inch of you.”

Without warning, Hyunjin pushed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, powerful motion. The sudden fullness made you cry out in ecstasy, your back arching off the bed. Your nails raked down his back, leaving angry red trails across his smooth skin. The sharp sting only seemed to spur him on. "That's it, baby," he grunted, his voice low and husky in your ear. He set a punishing pace, each thrust driving deeper than the last. The bed creaked rhythmically beneath you, the headboard thumping against the wall with each powerful movement. "Take it.. so good.. fuck yes," he growled, his words sending a fresh wave of arousal through you. "Show the camera how well you can take it, how perfectly you were made for me."

The room filled with a symphony of passion - the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your arousal, your high-pitched moans mingling with Hyunjin's deep, guttural grunts. The camera continued to record faithfully, its lens capturing every thrust, every expression of ecstasy on your faces. You could almost feel its gaze on your skin, heightening your awareness of every touch, every sensation. The knowledge that your most intimate moments were being immortalized on film sent a thrill of excitement through you, fueling your arousal to new heights. Your eyes fluttered closed as pleasure overwhelmed you, but Hyunjin's voice brought you back. "Open your eyes, baby," he commanded breathlessly. "Let the camera see how good I make you feel, how beautifully you come undone for me."

"You're so fucking tight," Hyunjin groaned, his hips snapping against yours with increasing intensity. Sweat glistened on his brow, trickling down his temple and along the sharp line of his jaw. His muscles rippled and flexed with each powerful movement, the low light accentuating every curve and dip of his toned physique. "Squeeze my cock, baby," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you love it.”

You clenched around him, your inner walls gripping his length tightly. The sensation of your silken heat constricting around him drew out a deep, guttural moan from his lips. The sound reverberated through your body, sending shivers down your spine. "That's it," he praised, his hand snaking between your bodies. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, precise circles that made your vision blur at the edges. The dual stimulation of his relentless thrusts and the expert manipulation of your sensitive bundle of nerves made your toes curl, your back arching off the bed as pleasure built rapidly in your core. "I want you to cum all over my cock," Hyunjin growled, his eyes dark with lust as they bore into yours.

Hyunjin slipped his fingers into your mouth, his eyes dark with desire. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, his pupils dilated so wide they nearly eclipsed the warm brown of his irises. "Suck," he commanded, his voice husky and demanding, the single word dripping with raw, unfiltered lust. You eagerly complied, your tongue swirling around his digits with practiced precision. The taste of your own arousal mingled with the salt of his skin, creating an intoxicating flavor that made your head spin. Your taste buds exploded with the tangy sweetness of your juices combined with the slightly bitter, musky flavor of his skin.

The camera captured every detail as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking his fingers deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. Your lips wrapped tightly around his digits, the soft pink flesh a stark contrast against his tanned skin. A thin string of saliva connected your bottom lip to his hand as you pulled back slightly, only to take his fingers deeper again. Your eyes never left his, the intensity of your shared gaze adding another layer to your building pleasure. You could see the fire burning in his eyes, the raw desire that threatened to consume you both.

"Good girl," Hyunjin groaned, his hips never slowing their relentless pace. His voice was thick with desire, the words coming out as a gravelly growl that sent shivers cascading down your spine. You could feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest, pressed flush against yours. "Show the camera how well you can use that pretty mouth." The words hung in the air, heavy with anticipation, each syllable dripping with promise and barely contained lust.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Hyunjin reached over to grab the camera, his movements fluid and purposeful. The muscles in his arm flexed as he stretched, the low light accentuating every curve and dip of his toned physique. He never broke his rhythm, his body moving in perfect sync with yours, the steady slap of skin on skin providing a primal backdrop to the scene. "I want to capture every detail of your beautiful face," he panted, bringing the lens close to your flushed features. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, warm against your skin. The cool metal of the camera contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from your skin, the sudden temperature change making you gasp around his fingers. The lens of the camera glinted in the dim light, its unblinking eye drinking in every detail of your pleasure-contorted face.

The camera whirred softly as Hyunjin angled it to capture your parted lips and lust-filled eyes. The mechanical sound, a gentle hum in the background, seemed to heighten your senses exponentially. Every nerve ending in your body became hypersensitive, acutely aware of the slightest touch or movement. The cool metal of the camera contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from your flushed skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Look at the camera, baby," Hyunjin commanded, his voice husky and thick with desire. The low, gravelly tone of his words vibrated through your body, igniting a fire deep within your core. His breath, hot and heavy, ghosted over your ear as he spoke, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. The intimacy of the moment, combined with the thrill of being recorded, sent a jolt of electricity through your body, making your toes curl and your back arch slightly off the bed.

You moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the room as your eyes locked with the lens. Hyunjin continued to thrust deep inside you, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The camera's unblinking eye seemed to drink in every detail - the flush spreading across your cheeks, the way your lips parted with each gasp, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. Knowing that every expression of ecstasy was being immortalized on film sent a new surge of arousal through you, intensifying every sensation tenfold.

"Yeah..," Hyunjin groaned, his free hand tangling in your hair. His fingers wove through the strands, gently tugging at your scalp. The slight pain mixed with pleasure, sending sparks cascading down your spine and pooling in your lower abdomen. "You're so fucking beautiful when you're taking my cock." His words, raw and unfiltered, dripped with lust and admiration. The praise washed over you, further stoking the flames of your desire. You could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest, pressed flush against yours, adding another layer to the overwhelming sensations flooding your body.

The camera lens captured every detail of your ecstasy-filled expression as Hyunjin continued his relentless pace. Your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, the pleasure threatening to consume you entirely. But Hyunjin's voice brought you back, anchoring you to reality. "Open those beautiful eyes for me, baby," he commanded, his voice strained with pleasure. You could hear the tension in his words, feel it in the way his body moved against yours. "I want to see you cum.” His request was both thrilling and intimidating, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Your body tensed as you felt the familiar pressure building inside you. Hyunjin's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing ragged. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the room, mixing with the soft whir of the camera. Sweat glistened on your bodies, catching the dim light. "I'm close, baby," he groaned, his voice husky with desire. His eyes locked onto yours through the camera lens, dark and intense. "Cum with me. Let go."

With a cry of unbridled ecstasy, you felt yourself tipping over the edge of oblivion. Your back arched sharply off the bed, the curve of your spine almost painful in its intensity. Your fingers dug desperately into Hyunjin's shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his smooth skin. Your walls clenched rhythmically around Hyunjin's cock, the pulsating pressure so intense it bordered on overwhelming. Each contraction sent shockwaves of pleasure cascading through your body, from your curling toes to the roots of your hair.

Suddenly, an intense rush of warmth flooded between your legs. The sensation was unlike anything you'd experienced before - a powerful, uncontrollable release that left you gasping for air. You squirted forcefully, your juices coating Hyunjin's thighs and soaking the sheets beneath you. The warm liquid gushed out in pulsating waves, each one coinciding with a new crest of pleasure. The air filled with the heady scent of your arousal, musky and intoxicating.

The sensation was utterly overwhelming, short-circuiting your senses. Your toes curled so tightly you could feel the strain in your calves. Your vision blurred at the edges, the room seeming to spin around you. Bright spots danced behind your eyelids as you squeezed them shut, your mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. Every nerve ending in your body seemed to fire at once, leaving you trembling and oversensitive. The intensity of your orgasm left you breathless, your chest heaving as you struggled to draw air into your lungs.

Hyunjin's eyes widened in surprise and arousal, his pupils dilating so much that only a thin ring of brown remained visible. "Fuck, baby," he moaned, his voice breaking with pleasure, the words coming out as a guttural, primal sound. His hips stuttered, losing their rhythm as he reached his own climax, his movements becoming erratic and desperate. He buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing forcefully as he came hard. You could feel the warmth of his release filling you, each powerful spurt intensifying your own pleasure. The sensation of his hot seed coating your inner walls sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your body, prolonging your orgasm. All the while, he managed to keep the camera steady on your face with trembling hands, his biceps flexing with the effort as he captured every moment of your shared ecstasy.

The camera faithfully recorded every minute detail of your shared orgasm - your flushed cheeks, a rosy tint spreading down to your chest and blooming across your collarbones. Your lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure, glistening with saliva from your earlier activities. Your eyes, half-lidded and hazy with bliss, remained locked with Hyunjin's through the lens, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never express. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on your skin, catching the low light and giving you an ethereal glow. Hyunjin's deep groans of pleasure mixed with your breathless moans and whimpers, creating a symphony of ecstasy that echoed off the walls. The air was thick with the heady scent of sex and sweat, a potent cocktail of pheromones adding to the sensory overload of the moment. The vintage camera whirred softly, its mechanical sound a stark contrast to the organic, passionate sounds filling the room, as it diligently immortalized this intimate, passionate encounter between you and Hyunjin.

As Hyunjin slowly withdrew, his eyes smoldering with renewed desire, he gracefully moved up your body. His cock, still semi-erect, glistened tantalizingly with your combined fluids. The dim, warm light of the room caught on the slick sheen, accentuating every prominent vein and ridge along his length. His well-defined muscles rippled smoothly under his tanned skin as he positioned himself over you, the vintage camera faithfully capturing every sensual movement.

"Taste yourself on me, baby," he commanded, his voice a deep, husky whisper that sent electric shivers cascading down your spine. The raw desire in his tone made your core clench with anticipation. "Show the camera how much you love it." His hot breath fanned across your flushed skin, carrying the intoxicating scent of sex and sweat that hung heavy in the air between you.

You eagerly complied, your tongue darting out to trace a slow, deliberate path along the underside of his shaft. The complex flavor of your combined essences exploded on your taste buds - a heady mixture of salt, musk, and a hint of sweetness that was uniquely you. The taste was so intense it drew a soft, breathy moan from your lips. The camera whirred softly in the background, its mechanical eye fixed on the scene as your lips wrapped around the swollen head of his cock. Your cheeks hollowed as you savored the tangy sweetness of your own juices mingled with his, your tongue swirling expertly around the sensitive tip. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, lost in the sensations - the weight of him on your tongue, the familiar stretch of your lips, the musky scent filling your nostrils. When you opened them again, you were met with Hyunjin's intense gaze, dark with lust and admiration, as he watched you through the camera's lens.

“Fuck," Hyunjin groaned, his hand tangling in your hair. His fingers tightened, sending electric sparks of pleasure-pain cascading across your scalp. You could feel the powerful trembling in his muscular thighs as he fought to maintain control, his body quivering with the effort of letting you set the pace. The veins in his neck stood out prominently as he strained, his jaw clenched tight. "Take it all in your pretty mouth, baby. Show the camera how well you can please me." His voice was low and husky, dripping with desire. The camera lens caught a glint of light, its unblinking eye capturing every intimate detail of your passionate encounter.

As you continued your ministrations, Hyunjin's reactions intensified palpably. His breathing became more ragged and uneven, punctuated by soft, breathy gasps and deep, guttural moans that reverberated through his chest. The camera faithfully recorded the subtle changes in his expression - the slight furrow of his brow as pleasure built within him, the way his full lips parted in ecstasy, revealing the perfect white teeth behind them. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, catching the dim light and giving his skin a tantalizing sheen.

"You're absolutely incredible," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion and raw desire. The words came out barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid speaking too loudly would break the spell of the moment. He was overly sensitive but you knew he liked being overstimulated, Hyunjins hips stuttered and jerked uncontrollably. His fingers, which had been gripping your hair tightly, now loosened, gently caressing your scalp in a tender gesture that contrasted beautifully with the passion of the moment. The touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as his fingertips traced delicate patterns against your skin. His eyes, dark with lust but soft with adoration, never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster.

You gazed up, your eyes meeting Hyunjin's through the camera lens. The connection between you was electric, a tangible current that transcended the physical act. His eyes, dark and intense, were filled with a potent mixture of love, admiration, and unbridled desire. The depth of your relationship was reflected in that gaze, speaking volumes without a single word uttered.

The room was enveloped in a cocoon of intimate silence, broken only by the soft, wet sounds of your ministrations and the gentle, rhythmic whir of the camera. The air was thick and warm, heavy with the intoxicating scent of your shared passion - a heady mixture of sweat, musk, and arousal. Every touch, every movement felt electric, charged with an intensity that made your skin tingle and your heart race.

With renewed determination, you redoubled your efforts. Your tongue moved with expert precision, swirling around Hyunjin's length in intricate patterns. You traced every prominent vein, every ridge, memorizing the texture and taste of him. Your cheeks hollowed as you created a tight suction, the sudden increase in pressure making Hyunjin gasp and his hips buck involuntarily. Slowly, deliberately, you took him deeper, feeling him hit the back of your throat. You suppressed your gag reflex, your eyes watering slightly as you pushed past your limits. The fullness in your mouth, the weight on your tongue, the slight strain in your jaw - all of it combined into a heady cocktail of sensation that had you moaning around his length.

Your hands weren't idle. They roamed over his muscular thighs, feeling the tension coiling beneath your fingertips. You could sense the minute tremors in his muscles, the way they flexed and relaxed with each calculated movement of your mouth. Your nails, perfectly manicured, grazed lightly along his inner thighs, leaving faint red trails in their wake. The sensation elicited a full-body shudder from Hyunjin, his skin erupting in goosebumps under your touch.

Your fingers danced upwards, tracing the sharp V of his hips, feeling the definition of each muscle. They ghosted over his abs, feeling them contract and relax with each ragged breath. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the thin sheen of sweat making him glisten in the dim light.

Hyunjin's breathing became increasingly labored, his broad chest heaving with each gasping inhale. His moans grew in volume and intensity, transforming from soft, breathy sighs to deep, guttural groans that reverberated through the room. The sounds echoed off the walls, creating a symphony of pleasure that spurred you on, each noise a testament to your skill and dedication. You could taste the familiar salty sweetness of his pre-cum on your tongue, the flavor intensifying with each passing moment, a clear sign of his impending release.

As you worked him towards his second climax, your movements became more purposeful, more intense. Your tongue swirled around his length, tracing every vein and ridge with meticulous attention. You hollowed your cheeks, creating a tight suction that had Hyunjin's hips bucking involuntarily. Your hands moved to his hips, steadying him, your fingers digging into the firm flesh there.

You chanced a glance upwards through your lashes, and the sight that greeted you was nothing short of intoxicating. Hyunjin's head was thrown back, the long column of his throat exposed. His Adam's apple bobbed prominently as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenched tight. His plush lips were parted in a silent cry of ecstasy, occasionally forming soundless words - your name, perhaps, or breathless pleas for more. A light sheen of sweat covered his skin, making him glow in the soft light of the room. His brows were furrowed in concentration, his eyes squeezed shut as he lost himself in the sensations you were providing.

The camera, still whirring softly in the background, captured every minute detail of his pleasure-contorted face. It immortalized the way his chest heaved with each labored breath, the flex of his abs as he fought to maintain control, the trembling in his thighs as he neared his peak. Every twitch, every gasp, every subtle change in his expression was forever preserved, a testament to this moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

"Fuck, baby," Hyunjin groaned, his free hand tangling in your hair, fingers twisting gently but firmly against your scalp. His voice was low and raspy, thick with desire. "I'm close. Don't stop." The desperation in his tone was palpable, sending shivers down your spine.

The camera continued to whir softly, its mechanical eye capturing every detail of your passionate exchange. Your lips moved up and down his shaft with increased fervor, your cheeks hollowing as you intensified the suction. The warmth of your mouth enveloped him completely, your tongue tracing intricate patterns along his length. Hyunjin's hips began to buck erratically, his grip on your hair tightening. His thighs trembled with the effort of holding back, muscles taut beneath your palms.

With a final, guttural moan that seemed to come from deep within his chest, Hyunjin reached his peak. His cock pulsed rhythmically in your mouth as he came, spilling his seed onto your waiting tongue. The taste was familiar yet intoxicating - salty, slightly bitter, uniquely him. You eagerly swallowed every drop, your throat working to take it all in. All the while, your eyes remained locked with his through the camera lens, the intensity of your shared gaze adding another layer of intimacy to the moment.

As Hyunjin's orgasm subsided, you gave his softening length one final, gentle lick, savoring the last traces of his essence. Your tongue swirled delicately around the sensitive head, eliciting a soft shudder from him. The oversensitivity made his breath hitch, a small gasp escaping his parted lips. The camera faithfully captured the look of pure satisfaction on both your faces, a testament to the intense passion you shared. Hyunjin's eyes were half-lidded, pupils still dilated, a mix of adoration and lingering desire evident in his gaze. A light sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, making him appear almost ethereal in the dim light of the room.

Hyunjin lowered the camera, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, catching the dim light of the room. The muscles in his arms quivered slightly from the exertion of holding the camera steady for so long. His eyes, dark and intense, were fixed on you with a mixture of adoration and lingering desire.

"That was... absolutely incredible," he panted, a lazy smile spreading across his face. His voice was still husky, a reminder of the passionate sounds he had made just moments ago. His fingers trembled slightly as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your cheek, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I can't wait to watch this later. The way you look when you're lost in pleasure... it's breathtaking. The way your eyes flutter closed, the soft moans that escape your lips, the flush that spreads across your skin... it's like a work of art."

You glanced at Hyunjin, a soft smile playing on your lips. Your skin still tingled from his touch, every nerve ending hypersensitive in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. You could feel the pleasant ache in your muscles, a delicious reminder of the intensity you had just shared. The air around you was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, creating an intimate cocoon that separated you from the outside world.

"Baby, can you put the camera away now?" you asked, your voice gentle but pleading. Your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm. You marveled at the smoothness of his skin, the definition of his muscles, the way his body responded to even your lightest touch.

Hyunjin's eyes softened at your request, understanding the intimacy you craved. He carefully set the camera aside on the nightstand, his fingers lingering on the device for a moment before withdrawing. The soft click of the camera being set down echoed in the room, a subtle yet distinct sound that marked the transition from raw passion to tender affection. As he turned back to you, the dim light caught the contours of his face, highlighting the gentle curve of his cheekbones and the fullness of his lips. You opened your arms invitingly, your body yearning for his warmth, the sheets rustling softly beneath you as you shifted to create a perfect space for him.

"Come here," you begged softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes, still hazy with lingering desire, met his, conveying a depth of emotion that words alone couldn't express. The sheets whispered against your skin as you moved, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from your body. Your fingers reached out, ghosting over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Without hesitation, Hyunjin moved towards you, his movements fluid and graceful. He gathered you in his arms, his skin warm and slightly damp against yours, a comforting contrast to the cool air of the room. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he settled beside you, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all his emotions through that simple gesture. You could feel the softness of his lips, the gentle puff of his breath against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You snuggled deeper into his warm embrace, intertwining your legs with his and pressing your body flush against his. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat reverberated through your chest, a soothing cadence that matched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His arms tightened around you, one hand tracing lazy patterns on your back while the other cradled your head, fingers tangling in your hair. The scent of his skin - a mix of his natural musk and the faint traces of cologne - enveloped you, familiar and comforting.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter, the world outside your intimate bubble faded away into insignificance. The soft sound of your synchronized breathing filled the room, punctuated occasionally by the rustle of sheets as one of you shifted slightly. The warmth of your bodies mingled, creating a cocoon of comfort and contentment. In this moment, wrapped in each other's arms, nothing else mattered - just the two of you, your love, and the intimacy you shared.

Tags: @rylea08 @syedazarintasnim @cashtonsbetch @pasaatimonarkin @tzeweiii05 @sincerely-sun @moonchild9350 @athforskz @babigriin @seunmong-in @cookiesandcreammy @rockstarkkami @bangchans-angel @salemluvsmusic @seungmincenteric @kpflyn @iovecb97 @juskz @sadrosessing @fawnpeaks @galaxy4489 @chuuyaobsessed @tirena1 @tsunderelino @kissesmellow21 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @nightmarenyxx @simpforleeknaur @ririwhiskers @satosugu4l @mihoonz @redlightsrachaaa @mintymintmint251 @velvetmoonlght @minniesverse @everythingboutkpop @yaorzu-blog

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skzdarlings · 9 months ago

Text

i do ; skz ; felix x reader

requested by anonymous: ' I would love if you could use these prompts...on Felix x fem reader:❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜I love possessive Felix, istg i would give amything to have him' plus two anonymous requests for: 'i'd say you need someone to put you in your place' for felix.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: look this request was for possessive!felix and so possessive!felix i delivered. he is a little weirdo in this tbh. but i think after all my anti-rich-guy stories, i have earned the right for one problematic possessive mafia boss who throws his money and his dick around hahaha. so yes, possessive!felix, virgin!reader, wedding night, arranged marriage, felix being a criminal boss, insta-love. reader's backstory involves a verbally abusive/neglectful family. explicit sexual content. word count: 4000 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

Your new husband is astoundingly pretty. You expected a different face to be waiting at the end of the wedding aisle: harsh, old, scarred. Maybe, if you let yourself fantasize, he would be handsome in a rugged way.

You were not expecting Felix. Slender, delicate Felix with his high cheekbones and freckles, his dark eyes and feather-soft blonde hair. He smiled a dimpled smile as your father surrendered your hand.

That surrender was a visual representation of a literal transaction. You were a bartering tool to save your father’s business. You knew an arranged marriage was inevitable when a few trades went sour and the company went bankrupt. The family could only maintain relevancy and safety through a match to someone more powerful.

Lee Felix is the heir to a very dirty criminal syndicate that blends in high society. Everyone knows their money is blood-spattered, but they throw a good party and the jewels sparkle the same.

You knew his name long before the wedding. Of course you knew his name. But you did not know his face. You expected a devil, not a vision of divinity, resplendent in white and gold.

Your heart has not stopped racing since he first lifted your veil and kissed you with lips softer and gentler than your grandest fantasies.

Now you are perched on a lavish bed in a beautiful penthouse suite. The walls are windows, externally tinted but offering you a glorious view of the glittering cityscape at night. You wonder how much of the city your new husband owns.

Would that be an impertinent question? It is not as though there is any real charade to play; this is not a love match and there is no sense pretending otherwise. Enquiring after financial assets is arguably appropriate insofar as business goes.

Then the door opens and your new husband enters. All thoughts of business flitter into nothing, an insignificant detail next to your wedding night. A night with this powerful and beautiful stranger.

“Are you nervous?” he asks in a voice so deep it keeps surprising you. It suits his angelic appearance in a way, something so captivating about its low tones, effortlessly melodic. But that melody is coloured darkly in its depth, scratching a shiver up your spine. When he speaks, it feels like he is trailing his fingers up your back in a curious, searching touch.

He looks at you with as much depth, dark eyes penetrating as he circles the bed. He has been nothing but polite, but you can’t help but feel like prey being circled by a predator.

Even more concerning, you can’t help but like it. Since the moment he took your hand, his eyes have not left you. It is almost overwhelming. You have been invisible your whole life. No one ever looked at you. No one ever wanted you. Your father scared off anyone who tried.

Felix is not just anyone. Anyone sensible would be scared of him.

You are also not just anyone.

“No,” you answer.

“Really?” He lifts a curious eyebrow.

You are both in your wedding clothes, all white and gold. Your veil is draped over a chair in the corner. He puts his coat there too.

He never looks away from you, rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms as he approaches the bed.

“May I ask, why not?” he asks. It’s a funny question, so polite but only posed because he knows his own reputation. He knows what you must think of him. The bloodshed, the ruthlessness, the merciless command he holds over his family’s legacy. He might look unassuming, but he is not to be trifled with. That gentle exterior could be unnerving to some people, even more than an outward brute.

But you have dealt with those brutes your whole life. An abusive father, cruel brother, an uncaring mother. Hurt, neglected, ignored.

Tonight, while you circled the reception to greet everyone, your father and brother pulled you aside. Your mother had already berated you on the details of your appearance, but they were reprimanding you for every other misstep.

You almost burst into tears, tired and frightened. You were so afraid you would never escape them. Even at your wedding, on the cusp of a new life, they were dragging you around, kicking and screaming.

Then you felt a tap on your shoulder. Bang Chan, one of Felix’s most trusted agents, stood there with a forced but cordial smile. He looked at you and not your family.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Your husband is asking for you. Please, come with me.”

Your father sputtered indignantly, unaccustomed to such blatant disrespect for his authority. Chan said nothing to him, simply offered you his arm. He also opened his jacket to flash the gun in his chest holster. Your family had their weapons stripped before entering the reception. It was a subtle reminder of who was really in charge.

So your father and brother were left sputtering helplessly as Chan escorted you across the room. Felix was sitting with some of his men, smiling his bright smile and looking like any happy young groom.

That sunny face faltered when he saw your morose expression. His glance passed to your family, a flicker of anger in his gaze. Then he smiled at you and held out a welcoming arm.

“Come here,” he said. “Sit with me a bit. Please.” That deep voice. You felt it like a touch inside you. He had recited the scripted vows earlier. This invitation was his first real address.

You nodded. Your legs were shaky from the confrontation, never mind the wobble from your heels. Your feet hurt. Sitting would be a relief if nothing else.

There was an empty seat behind Felix. It was the type of seat you were usually given: at the back where you could be forgotten.

Once you were within reach, Felix grabbed you around the waist. Your breath caught as you stumbled towards him. He caught you and held you. Then you were sitting in his lap, your dress draped everywhere, a glittering ivory prize perched safe and pretty on his knee. He wrapped a possessive arm around your middle.

It was more than a power play. It was one thing to put you on his lap and show your family that he owned you now, but it was another for him to frown as he touched the painfully tight pearl belt around your waist.

“Why is this so tight?” he asked, looking at you with concern.

“I’m sorry,” you said automatically, in the habit of grovelling whenever someone took a disappointed tone. “My mother,” you spoke softly, not wanting the rest of the table to hear.

He leaned closer to you, offering you his ear directly. A whisper was all you managed, unaccustomed to such attention.

“They’re real pearls,” you whispered. “Very expensive. Very fine. Too fine for me. My mother had the belt made small so I would remember to act worthy of them. Sit straight. Not over-eat. You know.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing. Instinct compelled you to soothe that displeasure, laughing like you were not upset.

“It’s all right,” you said. “She’s right. They are very fine pearls.”

“It’s not all right,” Felix said. He looked at you, held your gaze in his own. You found yourself counting his freckles. “Do you like it?” he asked.

Maybe it was his display of power. Maybe it was his arm around you. Maybe it was the freckles. He looked so sweet, so sincere. You could not bring yourself to lie. Though you had defended your cruel family all your life, the truth fell from your lips in a rough exhale.

“No.” You felt tears in your eyes. “I know it’s expensive. I know it’s beautiful. But I’ve never hated anything more.”

He held your gaze, your watery eyes in the dark depths of his own.

Then he grabbed the belt by a thin material strand and yanked. A couple pearls popped right off and scattered. The rest dangled on the belt, an absurd amount of wealth in his hand.

Felix tossed it over his shoulder like it was garbage. Then he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you against him.

You chanced a look at your family. They were scandalized. Horrified. And you breathed easier for the first time in a long time. You have long suffered the oppressive strangle of control masquerading as love. His protective arm felt nothing like that pearl belt.

So you look at him now. You strive to articulate all these feelings. You are not used to speaking and having someone listen.

“I can’t explain it,” you say. “Maybe it’s foolish. But I… I just feel like I was meant to be here. With you. Like this.”

Your heart jumps at his expression, a luminous pleasure that brightens this dimly lit room.

“That’s funny,” he says. “I feel the same way.”

You swallow as he sits beside you. Slowly, touch by touch, breath by breath, he is bringing your bodies together. His knee touches yours, his arm your arm. He folds his hands in his lap but he is close enough you can count his freckles again.

“I need to be honest with you,” he says. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. A year ago. At the winter masquerade.”

You look at him with surprise. All at once, his eyes come back to you, gazing at you behind a golden bird mask at the annual winter social. You couldn’t place the handsome stranger at the time. His hair was dark then, his face in a mask. He did not speak. His distinctive voice would have given him away.

He danced one dance with you, the only person who danced with you all night. You were later reprimanded for behaving like a slut, even though he touched your waist and nothing more.

“You were very kind,” he says. “I watched you with the staff. You were the only one in that whole room to say please and thank you to them – did you know that?” He sighs and looks away, thoughts travelling beyond this room. “I came from nothing,” he says. “My family… we fought to get where we are now. But I remember, you know. What it feels like to be the smallest and least important person in the room.”

You sit straighter when he looks at you. Oh, your heart has not slowed its thunder. Excitement and affection swirl together in a motley tempest of sensation, touched by his words and yearning for more. You thought you had been sold to an uncaring bidder, but Felix touches you slowly, like he would a very fine work of art. His knuckles caress your cheek, the slope of your jaw.

“I thought…” He looks at you reverently. “I thought… I would do anything to preserve that goodness. I would protect it. Like your family wasn’t.” His brow furrows now, a shadow of his face. “They would have ruined you.”

His hand continues, knuckles skimming down your throat, your shoulder, your arm. You shiver. He has a terrible scar, scoring the whole back of his hand. A stark difference to your unblemished hand, your manicured nails against his calloused fingers.

He says, “I know what it’s like to be ruined.”

You look from your hands to his face, his handsome profile, the slope of his nose and his soft lips. He is still looking at your joined hands.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he says. “I’d give anything to have my innocence back. But I can’t.”

He lifts your hand, cradles it between both of his like something precious. Your breath catches when he kisses your palm, lips soft against your skin.

“So I told myself, I would do anything to save yours,” he says. He looks almost… afraid. An expression you never expected to see on this man. “So I destroyed your father’s business,” he says. “It was all me. I knew he would never give you to a man like me unless he had no choice. He would have given you away to one of his friends and they would have broken you. But you were already mine. So I left him no choice but to see things my way.”

“Oh,�� you say, surprised beyond all words.

“I wanted you to know before anything… happens… between us,” he says. “But I understand if your feeling are complicated. Or if you… fear me.”

Your father has often boasted how many men fear him. It does not sound like a boast from Felix, rather something lamentable. His face is shadowed in shame.

“My feelings are not complicated,” you say. He is still holding your hand in both of his. You lay your other hand there, a complete joining.

He meets your gaze, an intense and imploring stare.

“I’m not my father’s daughter anymore,” you say. “I’m my husband’s wife. My loyalty is to you. My place is with you.”

“Yes,” he says, spoken on a breath. His smile returns. “Your place. I’d say you need someone to put you in your place. Your rightful place.”

He springs off the bed like there is lightning under his feet. He is all smiles and sunlight again, a beacon in the blue dark of this room. You cannot help but bask in his warmth, bereft in the chill when he leaves your side.

He takes something from his discarded coat pocket, a case swathed in velvet, soft to the touch. You hold it, admiring the texture.

He kneels behind you on the bed while you open it. Inside is the most breathtaking necklace you have ever seen in your life. When you lift it, the chain is long, designed to sit low, loose around your neck. No more chokers. No more pearls.

“Oh, Felix,” you say, breathless and amazed, then very embarrassed. You are not used to such lovely gifts. Even the pearls were a punishment. “I can’t accept this…” you say, stunned.

“You can,” he says.

He takes the clasp then strings the necklace around you. His fingers on the nape of your neck have you shivering. The necklace clasps in place, then his lips are on your neck, a chaste press that nonetheless lights fire under your skin. “It was made for you,” he says. “Like you were made for me.”

He takes the zipper of your gown between two careful fingers, so slowly lowering it. It feels like you are unravelling with it. The zipper reaches the base of your spine and his fingertips dance across your bare skin.

He steps off the bed. He looks down at you, his eyes intense but his smile soft. He touches your cheek, strokes his thumb across it lovingly.

Then he is sinking to his knees in front of you. You already feel weak as jelly, but your whole body goes soft and pliant when he gently grasps your ankle, when he slides your painful shoe off your foot and tosses it aside. He somehow finds every sore spot and rubs it better.

“This is how it works,” he says. He is on his knees but somehow his presence looms bigger than you. You cannot look away from the thrall of his gaze. “You are my wife. And when we are out there, I am your servant.” He takes your other foot and removes that shoe as well. He massages you gently. “I will never deny you anything,” he says. “You can ask me for anything. All right? I will give you the whole world. I will give you my whole heart. In return, I only want one thing.”

“What’s that?” you ask, already breathless.

“I am your husband,” he says, “and in here, you are my servant. Only I can touch you. Only I will have you. All of you. In every way. Always, starting from today. Starting from right now.”

“Yes. Yes. But I – I’ve never done this before,” you say, aching to surrender but fearful he will regret this. Though you are knowledgeable, you are lacking in experience from years of isolation. “I’ve been alone for so long,” you say. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You don’t,” he says. He lifts your leg, swoops down to kiss your calf, then higher: your knee, your thigh. “You could never,” he says, guiding your leg to rest on his shoulder. He gathers the volume of your wedding dress in his hands and pushes it up, up.

You almost forget to breathe. He kisses higher on your thigh. Then he grabs the thin material of your white tights and rips them open.

“You’re mine,” he says. “You’ve always been mine.”

You fall back on your elbows, limbs already quivering as he tears through your underclothes as if impatiently ripping open a prettily wrapped gift. With your expensive lace panties shredded and your tights in tatters, he pushes your skirts up and out of his way. You hold them while he kisses up your thigh. He runs his tongue along the seam between your thigh and somewhere much more sensitive.

“No one else has done this to you?” he asks. He already looks flushed. Desperate.

“No,” you answer. You swallow hard. “Never.” You know some men do not enjoy providing this type of pleasure to their wives, so you are about to tell him that you have no expectations in that regard—

But then he is on you like a starving man, eyes closed and mouth open and licking through all that wet desire. You fall on your back, pressing your heel into his back. He groans, pressing deeper, tongue seeking, swiping, stroking.

He grips your thighs possessively, holding you in place as he ravages you with his mouth. He takes you up and over a blissful crest. It leaves you a drenched and panting mess.

He stands, wiping his arm across his wet mouth. He does not look satisfied, eyes still hungry as he climbs on top of you.

“My wife,” he says, like the word is sacred and impossible, like he thought a man like him could never say it. “All mine,” he says, running his hands up your thighs, up your waist, touching every inch of you until he is cradling your face delicately in his careful but calloused hands.

It makes your whole body clench up tightly, your breath stuttering as he kisses you. You melt into the kiss, so different from the chaste peck of your ceremony. It is a claiming kiss, the taste of you still on his lips, his moan in your mouth, his chest against yours as those sounds of pleasure rumble through him.

He tugs down your bodice, then he is ripping through your underclothes again. When your bodice is around your waist and your chest is bare except for his necklace, you find yourself covering your breasts instinctively. He takes your hands, not forcefully but firmly, holding your gaze. His mouth is already so pink and raw from kissing. You wonder if you look as ravished. Maybe more. It makes you whimper, surrendering when he pins your hands on either side of your head.

“This is mine,” he says, kissing your jaw, your throat, then lower. “All mine, sweetheart.”

He wraps his lips around a pointed nipple and you feel the reaction between your legs, as if connected by a thread. Your legs try to close around his hips but he presses down. The crumpled skirt of your dress is between you, but he feels your thighs clenching, feels you desperately bucking.

Even his chuckle is a deep sound. He smiles at you, batting his eyelashes as he licks the curve of your breast. Your whole body twitches again.

“Mm,” he says. “You feel that? You getting all tight… and hot… just for me…”

“Felix,” you say, you beg.

He sits back on his heels to get your wedding dress off. It is a flurry of ivory and silk, earning some laughter, then it is gone and your husband is staring down at you. Again, you feel like prey, like a meal spread out helplessly for some predatory creature. Again, you like it.

He is just as impatient with his own clothes. He does not look away from you while tearing his shirt open. Buttons fly, forgotten, and he rips the material down his arms and off. His belt is next, leather whistling through the air then joining the heap on the floor. He grabs your hand and guides it to the hard shape in his white pants, groaning deep in his chest as your palm curves around it.

You are so captivated him, by the way he feels, by the sounds he makes, that you are surprised when he touches you too. Your legs part instinctively, then your thighs twitch to close when you are embarrassed by your eagerness.

“Don’t be shy,” he says. “Not with me.” His fingers feel divine inside you, gliding as if through silk, pressing at your walls and making you whimper. “Yeah, my baby. So nice… ‘n wet… for me…” he murmurs, more to himself than you. It still makes you clench, like your body wants him deeper, pulling tight around him. “God. Perfect.”

“Aren’t we g-gonna—” Your eyes drop to his waistband, then up to his eyes again.

He smiles, laughs, and withdraws his fingers slowly.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he says, unbuttoning his pants. “We are. Be patient. You’re gonna enjoy this. Gonna remember this night forever.” He leans down so his body is over yours. He kisses you, presses you into the pillows. When he pulls back, he traces a finger along the necklace, smiling brightly. “The first time I made you mine,” he says, speaking low and soft against your lips. “I’m going to do everything with you,” he says. “And you’re gonna want it. All of it and more.”

He has you begging for more already. When he finally is pushing inside you, after so much torturous build-up, you are a breathless, sweaty tangle of limbs. It feels like he is pinning you to the mattress, taking you so deep and so hard, like your whole body is changing to fit him. There is a long, slow burn, but you are so wet and he is so careful; it is an ache that gives way to pleasure.

His arms are around you, holding him above you, making you feel so completely shielded and enveloped. He starts a slow pace that turns more frantic. Your hands move all over his chest and shoulders to find a grip.

“I love that no one else has seen you like this,” he says, grabbing your searching hand. He brings it to his mouth, kisses your palm, your fingers. He puts your hand on his shoulder, then he slides his hand under your head to cup your neck, holding you steady while he rolls his hips into yours. “That no one else has felt you before,” he says. “Been inside you. They don't get to have you, but I do.“

“Yes,” you say. “Always. My husband.”

“Mm.” He drops his forehead to yours. “My wife.”

You come again but it feels different, starting deep inside you and rolling outward, a full-body spasm that has you crying out his name. He comes too, holding you against him, his lips on your neck as he says your name.

Then he kisses you. Then he lays you down. He wraps you in his arms and squeezes.

“Sleep for now,” he says. “It’s been a long day. And I want you again.”

“You have me,” you say, nestling in his arms, your head under his chin.

“Yes,” he says with a smile. He looks so sweet even while his wicked hands hold your body in a strong, possessive grip. “I do.”

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix x you #felix x you #valentinesdaystories

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novaursa · 4 months ago

Text

The Silent Pyre

- Summary: It was a rainy night when Blood and Cheese came to deliver you your half-sister’s message; a son for a son.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N. Aegon and the reader have four children, the oldest son named Aeron, a daughter, Daena, and twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon. These events happen after Twin Fires and before The Fire That Binds Us. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot. Anonymous user inquired about these events, and I've decided to post it and share it with you all, it has been stashed away for too long in my file graveyard.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (no adult content, but there are graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 5 133

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The night is heavy with the scent of rain, the coolness of autumn seeping into the stones of the Red Keep. The fire in Helaena’s chamber casts long shadows across the walls, flickering as the wind howls faintly outside. You stand by the door, the weight of your crown pressing down upon you as you gaze at your younger sister. Her pale hair gleams like moonlight as she kneels by her children’s cradle, whispering a soft lullaby. Her voice is a quiet, fragile thing, a melody that seems almost too delicate for the world that surrounds you both.

“Helaena,” you murmur, stepping closer. She lifts her head, her violet eyes distant and unfocused, as though she is seeing something far beyond the chamber walls.

“Y/N,” she replies, a small, distracted smile gracing her lips. “Goodnight. May the Seven bless your dreams.”

“And yours, sister.” You reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sleep well.”

With one last glance at her serene face, you turn and leave the room, pulling the door shut softly behind you. The corridor outside is eerily silent, the usual clamor of the servants and guards muted, as if the Keep itself holds its breath.

As you walk through the darkened halls, a sense of unease begins to coil in your chest. The silence feels unnatural, like the calm before a storm. The rain patters against the windows, a steady rhythm that should be soothing, but instead heightens your anxiety. You pull your cloak tighter around yourself, the chill of the stone floors seeping through your slippers.

Your thoughts drift to Aegon, waiting for you in your shared bedchamber. You picture him sprawled across the large bed, his platinum blond hair tousled, perhaps with a goblet of wine in hand. There is comfort in the thought of him, of the warmth of his body against yours, but it does little to dispel the growing dread that gnaws at your insides.

As you approach the nursery, the unease sharpens into fear. You pause, your hand hovering over the door. The sound of something crashing softly from within reaches your ears—a faint, almost imperceptible noise, but enough to send your heart racing. The shadows behind the door shift, moving in ways that shadows should not.

You swallow, forcing down the rising panic. Your children are in there, your precious sons and daughter. Steeling yourself, you push the door open slowly, trying to remain as silent as possible.

The scene before you is one pulled from the darkest of nightmares. The warm, cozy nursery is cast in a pall of terror. Your eyes first find your mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, bound and gagged on the floor, her eyes wide with a terror that you have never seen before. She struggles against her bindings, her muffled cries like the wail of a ghost in the suffocating silence.

But it is the two men in the center of the room who capture your attention—the one holding your eldest son, Aeron, in his arms, a cruel knife pressed to his throat, while the other stands nearby, his presence looming and sinister. Your son is awake, tears streaking down his face, his small body trembling in fear.

“Do not scream,” the man holding your son whispers, his voice low and threatening. “Or the boy dies.”

Your breath catches in your throat, a wave of nausea rising within you as the reality of the situation crashes down. You force yourself to remain calm, to not give in to the terror clawing at your heart.

“What do you want?” you manage to say, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

“Vengeance,” the other man—Cheese, they will call him, from his size and the rat-like cunning in his eyes—replies coldly. “For son's blood has been spilled. Now, it is your blood that must pay.”

You take a step forward, and the knife digs deeper into Aeron’s tender skin, a small whimper escaping his lips. Your entire body tenses, every instinct screaming at you to protect your child, but you are powerless, bound by the threat that hangs over him like a blade.

“Let my son go,” you plead, your voice cracking. “Please. He is but a child.”

Cheese’s grin is twisted, devoid of mercy. “A choice, Your Grace. You must choose one of your sons. Two to live, and one to die.”

The words hit you like a blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, the world spinning as the horror of what they ask becomes clear. They want you to condemn one of your children to death. To choose between your sons.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I cannot.”

“You must,” the man holding Aeron insists, his voice a menacing growl. “Or we kill them all three.”

You look between your sons, your heart shattering into pieces. Aeron, your eldest, so brave despite his fear, his wide eyes pleading silently for you to save him. And twin boys, Vaelon and Baelon, still asleep in their cribs, blissfully unaware of the nightmare unfolding around them.

Tears blur your vision, the anguish of the choice tearing at your soul. You cannot do this. You cannot be the one to decide who lives and who dies. But their lives, three of them, hang in the balance, and the choice is yours to make.

“Please,” you beg once more, though you know it is futile. “Do not make me choose.”

Cheese steps closer, his breath foul as he leans in. “Choose, Queen Y/N. Or your precious children will all die, and it will be on your head.”

The weight of your crown feels like a curse as you stand there, trembling, the choice before you too terrible to comprehend. Your hands are shaking, your heart breaking, as the words begin to form on your lips, but they can't leave them.

The world narrows to the unbearable choice before you, every second stretching into an eternity. You stand frozen, the screams of your heart drowned out by the silence that has gripped your throat. Aeron, your firstborn, stares at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, pleading for a salvation you know you cannot grant him. And there, in their cribs, laid Vaelon and Baelon, so small, so unaware, their chest rising and falling peacefully with each breath.

It is the smaller and younger twin’s innocence, his lack of awareness, that seals your fate. If he must die, let it be without knowing fear. Let him slip from this world in the safety of his dreams.

Your decision comes not from cruelty, but from a twisted, desperate kind of mercy.

“Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice a broken thing. “Take him.”

The words taste like ash on your tongue, a confession of the darkest sin. The man holding Aeron grins, his eyes alight with a sadistic satisfaction. But even as the choice leaves your lips, a cold realization claws at the back of your mind—this was never meant to end well. They were never going to let Aeron live.

You see it happen almost in slow motion, the knife glinting in the dim light as it draws across your eldest son’s throat. The sound that escapes him is a choked gasp, eyes widening in pain and betrayal as the blood wells and spills down his neck.

“No!” The word tears from your throat as you lunge forward, but it is too late. The man has already sliced deeper, crimson blooming like a terrible flower. Yet, Aeron is not yet gone. The blade catches as the man’s hand slips, and in that moment of weakness, Alicent—your mother—finds her strength.

With a fury you have never seen, she throws herself against the man holding Aeron, her bound body knocking him off balance. He stumbles, the knife digging deeper but freeing your son from his grasp. Aeron falls to the floor, clutching at his bleeding throat, his small hands stained red.

A scream of pure, primal rage rips from your chest as you hurl yourself at the man, the world around you narrowing to a singular purpose: kill him. You grab for the knife, your hands slick with Aeron’s blood, and wrest it from his grasp. The man struggles against you, but your desperation lends you strength. With a wild, desperate thrust, you drive the blade into his side, feeling the give of flesh and bone as it sinks in.

He gasps, a wet, gurgling sound, eyes wide in shock as he stumbles backward, clutching at the wound. You pull the knife free and stab again, and again, each strike fueled by the agony that has consumed you. Blood splatters across your face, warm and sickening, but you do not stop until he falls, lifeless, to the floor.

In the chaos, you do not notice Cheese until it is too late. He has turned his attention to one of the twins, to Vaelon, your youngest, the one you had chosen to condemn. As your daughter, Daena, screams—a piercing, heart-rending sound that echoes through the nursery—Cheese moves swiftly, seizing the smaller boy from his crib.

“No! Please!” you cry out, scrambling to your feet, but your voice is drowned by the sheer panic that has overtaken you. You are too far, too slow. Vaelon’s eyes flutter open, confusion and fear flickering across his tiny face as the knife flashes once more.

And then it is done. The light fades from Vaelon’s eyes as his small body crumples to the floor, lifeless.

A silence falls over the room, broken only by the sound of your daughter’s sobs, Baelon’s baby gurglings and the ragged breaths of Alicent, who is desperately pressing her hands against Aeron’s wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

“Aeron!” You rush to him, dropping to your knees beside him. His eyes are glazed with pain, his breathing shallow and labored. The wound is deep, but he is alive, clinging to life by the barest thread.

Cheese is panicking now, his eyes darting around the room as if realizing for the first time the gravity of what they have done. The plan, whatever it was, has gone horribly wrong. He looks at the bodies—the man you killed, Vaelon’s small, lifeless form—and he falters, unsure of his next move.

“You will die for this,” you hiss, every word trembling with a deadly promise. “You will not leave this room alive.”

Cheese takes a step back, fear flashing in his eyes, but before he can act, you move. Fueled by a mother’s wrath and the madness of grief, you surge forward, the bloodied knife still clutched in your hand. He tries to fend you off, but he is no match for the fury that drives you. With a wild, savage strike, you plunge the knife into his chest.

He gasps, a final breath escaping his lips as his eyes go wide, then glassy. He collapses to the floor, joining his fallen companion in death.

You stand there, panting, covered in the blood of your children’s murderers, and of your children themselves. Your hands shake as you drop the knife, the sound of it clattering to the floor barely registering in your mind.

“Y/N,” Alicent calls out, her voice trembling. “Aeron needs you.”

You blink, the fog of rage lifting just enough for you to focus on your son. You drop to your knees beside him, your hands finding his, trying to staunch the flow of blood with trembling fingers.

“Stay with me, my love,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Stay with me. Please.”

Alicent is beside you, pressing her hands down on the wound with all her might. “He’s strong,” she says, though her voice wavers. “He will survive this.”

You nod, though your heart is breaking. You dare not look at Vaelon’s still form, his twin, Baelon, now wide awake in his crib, or at your daughter, Daena, who is now curled into a ball in the corner, sobbing for her brothers. You can only focus on Aeron, on keeping him alive, as the horror of what has happened sinks into your soul.

The night is no longer just cold and rainy; it has become a night of death and despair, one that will haunt you until your last breath. But you will not let it claim Aeron. Not him, too.

And as the dawn begins to break, casting pale light over the carnage, you hold your son close, praying to the Seven to spare him. To spare at least one of your children, as the taste of your own choice, the bitterness of it, poisons your every breath.

Aegon sits in the dim light of your shared bedchamber, his goblet of wine resting lazily in his hand. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls, but the warmth it offers does little to chase away the chill of the autumn night. He sighs, his thoughts drifting to you, knowing that you will join him soon. The bond you share, forged not only by blood but by a deep, consuming love, is one that neither of you can escape, nor would you wish to. Sleep eludes him without you by his side, as it always has since you were children.

He takes another sip of the wine, waiting for the familiar sound of your footsteps approaching. The thought of the night ahead, of holding you close, offers a comfort that softens the weariness in his bones.

But then, a scream pierces the stillness of the night—a scream that he recognizes instantly as belonging to your daughter. It is followed by your voice, raw with anguish, echoing down the corridors.

The goblet slips from his hand, clattering to the floor as he leaps to his feet. The wine spills across the stone, forgotten as dread seizes him. He knows something is terribly wrong. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rushes to the door, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Your Grace!” one of the Kingsguard calls as they fall into step behind him, but Aegon doesn’t respond. The only thought in his mind is to reach you, to reach his children.

He tears down the hall, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone, until he reaches the nursery. The door is ajar, shadows flickering ominously in the light from the hallway. The scent of copper fills his nostrils before he even crosses the threshold, a scent that chills him to the core.

He bursts into the room, but in his haste, he doesn’t notice the slickness beneath his feet until it’s too late. His foot slips on the blood that pools on the floor, and he stumbles, barely catching himself on the doorframe before he can fall.

For a moment, everything seems to slow. He looks down at the blood smeared across the floor, the vivid red of it stark against the stone. And then he sees the scene before him, a tableau of horror that makes his breath catch in his throat.

Two men lie dead on the floor, their bodies twisted in death, blood oozing from fatal wounds. But it is not them that hold his attention; it is the small, lifeless form of Vaelon, his infant son, lying not far from them, his throat cruelly slit. Aegon’s heart seizes, his vision blurring with tears that he fights to hold back.

“No… no, no…” The words are barely a whisper as he staggers forward, his mind unable to fully comprehend the sight before him.

But there is more—your mother, Alicent, is on the floor, her hands pressed desperately against Aeron’s throat, trying to stem the flow of blood. And there you are, kneeling beside your eldest son, your hands covered in blood, your face a mask of desperation and despair as you try to keep him alive.

“Y/N!” Aegon chokes out your name as he rushes to you, his voice filled with fear and anguish. “What… what happened?”

You look up at him, your eyes red and swollen from crying, and the sight of you breaks something deep within him. “Aegon… they… they killed Vaelon,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “They tried to kill Aeron… we… I couldn’t stop them…”

Aegon falls to his knees beside you, his hands hovering uselessly over Aeron, unsure of what to do. He can see the life fading from his eldest son’s eyes, the pale skin, the way his breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps. Aegon feels a crushing sense of helplessness, something he has never experienced with such intensity before.

“Aeron, my boy… stay with us,” Aegon pleads, his voice thick with emotion as he brushes a trembling hand over Aeron’s hair. “Stay with us, please…”

Alicent looks up at her son, her own eyes filled with tears, though she fights to keep them at bay. “We need to stop the bleeding, Aegon. If we don’t… if we don’t…”

“I know,” Aegon says, though his voice is strangled. He tears a strip of cloth from his sleeve, pressing it to Aeron’s wound with a firm but gentle hand. “Stay with me, Aeron. You’re strong. You can fight this.”

But even as he says the words, he feels the cold dread settle in his chest, knowing that the wound is too deep, that his son’s life is slipping away with every passing moment.

You lean into Aegon, your body shaking with sobs as you press your bloodstained hands over his, trying to help, trying to do something—anything—to save your child. But the blood keeps coming, seeping through your fingers, staining the floor beneath you.

“Please… please…” you whisper, over and over, your voice breaking with each word. “Don’t take him from us…”

Aegon pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you even as he continues to press down on Aeron’s wound. He can feel your pain, your sorrow, as if it were his own, and in that moment, he knows that this night will haunt both of you for the rest of your lives.

The Kingsguard finally arrive, swords drawn, their faces pale as they take in the scene before them. But there is nothing they can do; the threat is already gone, the deed already done. All they can do is stand there, silent and grim, as the horror of what has happened sinks in.

“Get a maester!” Aegon commands, his voice rising with desperate urgency. “Now!”

One of the guards rushes off without a word, the others standing watch as if expecting another attack, though it is clear that the danger has passed. Aegon looks down at Aeron, his heart breaking as he watches the light in his son’s eyes flicker and fade.

“Stay with us, Aeron,” he whispers again, but the words sound hollow, empty, even to his own ears.

Alicent, her hands still pressed against the wound, glances at you, her eyes filled with a sorrow so deep it seems to swallow the room whole. “Y/N,” she says softly, her voice thick with grief, “he’s… he’s still fighting. But we need to prepare ourselves… we need to…”

“No!” You cry out, shaking your head violently. “No, he’s going to survive. He has to. He’s strong. Please, Aegon, tell her… tell her he’s going to survive.”

Aegon swallows hard, trying to keep the tears at bay as he looks at you, seeing the hope in your eyes, fragile and desperate. “He’s strong,” he agrees, his voice trembling. “He’s a dragon. He’ll survive this.”

But even as he says the words, he knows that they are more for your sake than for his own. He knows the truth, as much as he hates it, as much as it tears at his very soul.

And then, as if in response to your pleas, Aeron’s breathing hitches, a faint, ragged sound that sends a jolt of hope through your heart. But Aegon sees the truth in the way his son’s eyes begin to flutter shut, the way his small body goes limp beneath your hands.

“No, no, stay with us, please…” you sob, your voice breaking completely as you try to shake him awake, as if you can keep him from slipping away just by sheer will alone.

Aegon pulls you closer, holding you tightly against him, his own tears falling freely now. “Y/N… he’s…”

But before he can finish, the maester arrives, pushing his way into the room with a satchel of supplies. He takes one look at Aeron and immediately sets to work, but Aegon can see it in his eyes—the resignation, the grim acceptance of what is to come.

Aegon watches as the maester tries to stem the bleeding, his hands moving quickly, efficiently, but it is clear that he is fighting a losing battle. You cling to Aegon, your tears soaking into his tunic as you watch, your breath catching in your throat every time Aeron’s breathing falters.

Minutes pass, each one stretching into an eternity, until finally, Orwyle pulls back, his face pale and drawn. He looks up at Aegon, then at you, and shakes his head, his expression filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he says quietly. “There’s… there’s nothing more I can do.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you cry out, your hands trembling as you reach for Aeron, as if you can somehow pull him back from the brink.

“No… no, please, no…” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you cradle your son’s head in your lap, your fingers brushing through his hair.

Aegon feels his heart shatter completely as he watches you, as he sees the light finally fade from Aeron’s eyes, his small body going still in your arms. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but hold you as you break down completely.

The days following the brutal attack on your family pass in a haze of grief and despair. The Red Keep is draped in a suffocating silence, its once lively halls now cold and empty, as though the life has been drained from its very walls. The horror of that night lingers in every corner, every shadow, a constant reminder of the blood that was spilled and the lives that were lost.

Your remaining children, Daena and Baelon, are kept under the strictest watch by the Kingsguard. No less than two knights are stationed outside their chambers at all times, and they are never left alone, not even for a moment. The memory of what happened to their brothers hangs over the nursery like a dark cloud, and every sound, every creak of the floorboards, sends a fresh wave of terror through the household.

But it is you, their mother, who is most affected. The grief has hollowed you out, leaving you a mere shadow of the woman you once were. You spend your days in a state of numbness, your heart shattered beyond repair. Nothing and no one can console you, not even Aegon, who tries desperately to reach you, to bring you back from the edge of the abyss into which you have fallen. But his attempts are in vain. You are inconsolable, broken beyond words.

Aegon himself is a man consumed by fury. The fire of his rage burns hotter with each passing day, fueled by the sheer injustice of what has happened. He holds a small council meeting in the dead of night, summoning only those he trusts—or at least, those whose loyalties he can control.

In the dimly lit council chamber, Aegon sits at the head of the table, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles are white. His eyes are bloodshot, his face drawn and pale from lack of sleep. The tension in the room is palpable, every man present feeling the weight of the King’s anger pressing down on them like a physical force.

Around the table sit Otto Hightower, his face a mask of stern concern; Ser Criston Cole, his expression grim and unyielding; Lord Larys Strong, who watches the proceedings with his usual calculating gaze; Lord Jasper Wylde, the Master of Laws, his fingers tapping nervously on the table; Lord Tayland Lannister, the Master of Ships, who remains unusually quiet; and Grand Maester Orwyle, who sits with his hands folded, his eyes downcast.

Aegon’s voice breaks the silence, a low, seething growl that sends a shiver down the spine of everyone in the room. “How did this happen?” he demands, his eyes blazing with fury as he looks from one man to the next. “How did two men infiltrate the heart of the Red Keep, murder my sons, and nearly take the life of my other children without anyone knowing? Where were the guards? Where was the protection I was promised?”

Otto is the first to speak, his voice calm but firm. “Your Grace, we are all grieved by this tragedy, but rest assured, we are investigating every possible lead. The guards who were on duty that night have been questioned, and those found negligent will be dealt with severely.”

“Dealt with severely?” Aegon echoes, his voice rising with incredulity. “My sons are dead, and you speak of discipline as if that can undo what has been done! This was not just negligence—this was treason, betrayal of the highest order!”

Ser Criston Cole, ever the loyal sword, speaks next, his tone as hard as steel. “Your Grace, the Kingsguard were stationed as ordered, but the enemy was cunning. They knew exactly where to strike, and when. We are searching for any who might have aided them from within the Keep.”

Aegon glares at him, his anger still simmering. “You should have been there, Ser Criston. You should have been protecting my family, as you swore to do.”

Criston bows his head, accepting the rebuke without argument. “I failed you, my king, and I will bear that burden until the day I die.”

Larys Strong, who has remained silent until now, leans forward slightly, his voice smooth and unhurried as he speaks. “Your Grace, the men who did this were not acting alone. This attack was meticulously planned, designed to strike at the heart of your family and weaken your claim. There is but one who stands to gain the most from such an act of terror.”

Aegon’s eyes narrow as he fixes his gaze on Larys. “Speak plainly, Lord Strong. Who do you accuse?”

Larys meets Aegon’s gaze without flinching, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her husband, Daemon. They are the ones behind this atrocity. They seek to undermine your rule, to sow chaos and discord within the realm, so that Rhaenyra might usurp your throne.”

Aegon’s breath hitches at the mention of his half-sister’s name. His hatred for her is no secret, but to hear that she might be responsible for the deaths of his sons sends a fresh wave of fury coursing through him. “You have proof of this?” he demands, his voice shaking with barely contained rage.

Larys inclines his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. “The men who committed the murders—the butcher and the rat catcher—are known associates of Daemon Targaryen. They were hired by him to carry out this heinous act. The gold they were paid with was traced back to Rhaenyra’s supporters in King’s Landing. This was not just an act of violence—it was a message. Response to the death of Lucerys Velaryon by the hand of Prince Aemond.”

Aegon’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into the wood of the table. “A message? They dare to send me a message by murdering my sons? Two innocent boys?”

“Yes,” Larys replies, his voice as cold as ice. “They wish to show that you are vulnerable, that your rule can be challenged. They wish to provoke you into rash action, to draw you into a conflict that will weaken your position.”

“Rash action?” Aegon scoffs, his anger flaring anew. “They think they can provoke me? They think I will sit idly by while they murder my children?”

“Your Grace,” Otto interjects, his voice measured. “We must be careful. If we move too quickly, without proof, we risk turning the realm against us. Rhaenyra still has many supporters. We must gather our strength, consolidate our power, and then strike when the time is right.”

But Aegon is beyond reason, his grief and rage too great to be tempered by caution. “I will not wait!” he snarls, slamming his fist on the table. “They have taken from me what I hold most dear, and I will make them pay for it, tenfold! If Rhaenyra wants war, then war she shall have!”

The council members exchange uneasy glances, each man aware of the storm that is about to be unleashed. Aegon’s wrath is a dangerous thing, and they know that nothing they say will dissuade him from the course he has set.

Grand Maester Orwyle finally speaks, his voice soft but insistent. “Your Grace, the lives of your remaining children—Princess Daena and Prince Baelon—must be your foremost concern. They are the future of your house, and they must be protected at all costs.”

Aegon’s expression softens slightly at the mention of his children, the thought of them momentarily piercing through the fog of his anger. He knows that Orwyle is right, that the safety of Daena and Baelon is paramount. But even this knowledge cannot quell the burning desire for vengeance that has taken root in his heart.

“I will protect them,” he says, his voice hardening once more. “But I will not allow this attack to go unanswered. Rhaenyra and Daemon will know the price of crossing me.”

Otto inclines his head, understanding that there is no turning back now. “Then we must prepare for war, Your Grace. We must rally our banners, secure our allies, and strike swiftly and decisively.”

Aegon nods, his jaw set with determination. “Do it. Call the banners, prepare the dragons. We will bring fire and blood to those who dare to defy us.”

The council members rise from their seats, each man knowing that the decisions made this night will plunge the realm into chaos. As they leave the chamber, Aegon remains behind, staring at the bloodstained map of Westeros spread out before him. His thoughts drift to you, to the shattered look in your eyes, to the bodies of his sons lying cold in their graves.

He swears to himself, to the gods, and to the memory of his murdered children that he will not rest until Rhaenyra and Daemon are brought to justice. No matter the cost, no matter the blood that must be spilled, he will have his revenge.

And so, the storm begins to gather, the winds of war stirring in the darkness of the Red Keep.

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower #otto hightower #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd aegon #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x you #blood and cheese #criston cole #helaena targaryen

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hxnbi · 5 months ago

Text

HAYATO SUO knew something was wrong when he received that phone call. He reached for his cell phone and held it up to his ear, but no sound came from the other end.

“Hello? Hello? Y/n??”

“.....”

"Y/n I can't hear you, can you say that agai—"

His heart dipped, and he was left with nothing but the sounds of being drowned in his own panic.

Suo’s lips remained tightly shut when you said your first and only words to him that entire call before the line went dead and the call froze from the other end.

The voice that came from your end. Did he really hear that correctly...?

The sound of your voice—so lovely and melodious—disguised the hidden horror of what was truly going on behind the curtain.

“The ambulance— here!!”

"They're bleeding too much..."

“Start CPR ASAP!!”

Beads of cold sweat ran down Suo’s back.

‘No… that can’t be for you, right?’

The only words he could comprehend at that moment were the sirens of what he assumed to be an ambulance, and the dozens of bystanders, medical staff, and a man, screaming, yelling, and throwing a tantrum, being taken away from the other end of the phone.

Not even Suo's shaky hands could reach yours. The distance between you both was immeasurable.

That was the last and only time he picked up the phone from your number that day. And from the only time he did, when Suo clicked your ID and, in horror, saw the dozens of unanswered calls and several increasingly cryptic texts from hours ago, his heart sank.

He didn’t read or care about a damn one.

[Y/n]

Just left my house, I'll be there in 10!

Suo! When are you coming? I’m at the cafe!

Kotoha is wondering where you are too. Get here soon! Your food is getting cold

Hayato, it's been an hour, are you okay…?

I’m coming to Furin, I’ll be there in 30 minutes so don't move!

Hayato, are you nearby?

I feel like there's someone behind me but I don't wanna look back

I found a space to take cover for a bit, so im okay for now

I see his hair peering from outside the cafe

Can you come soon? I'm getting a little worried

The cafe is closing so I'm heading back home. I'm a bit scared but I've got it aha

Hayato, please answer me

I'm

[ unread ]

That final message from you was sent two hours ago.

…He forgot about you.

Him. Hayato Suo, had let you down.

And because of that, you were at the hospital.

Suo had mere seconds to steel himself, holding in the tears that would inevitably taint his perfect face if he considered the worst-case scenarios, but they came along anyway, swirling around like parasites in his mind. And why wouldn't they? For all he knew, you might not make it through the night.

And that... that clenched at his heart.

Your unconscious self, with wires, tubes, and bandages dangling from your beaten-up body. The steady beep of the heart monitor crossed the silence, and an IV drip was attached to your arm, slowly delivering the necessary fluids and medications. Your face—pale and peaceful—contrasted with the harsh reality of your condition and his own reality.

“How… How could this have happened?”

It was a bitter feeling. Because he knew. He knew what had happened, but because of his own involvement, he refused to admit it.

You, the only one he would ever love in his life, lying on a hospital bed, with visible injuries from head to toe.

No words could ever describe the hurt he felt when he saw your fragile form. You were suffering, and he couldn’t even do anything about it.

He inwardly scoffed, a fleeting expression of frustration crossing his face. Did he even have a right to worry about you…? When he was the reason you were here in the first place?

He couldn’t protect you, all because of him.

Hayato Suo, he had let you down. Time and time again, for it wasn’t the first. He put Furin, he put himself, and worst of all, he put everything else over you.

He should've known when you said you were heading out alone that day with a sorry expression. You never did end up reaching Bofurin’s building, and he had failed to ensure your safety as a result of his own stupidity.

He could barely stand to know the cause of your injuries, because, in his mind, every one of them was his fault.

Each wound, each bruise, was a direct consequence of his failures to protect you—and his carelessness and his failure to shield you from the visible marks he left behind. The burden of his failure to be there for you when you needed him most was an ever-present reminder of the crushing shame he felt.

People have always called him a smart cookie. Someone who could easily solve any problem with that sharp mind of his. But what use was that when he couldn’t even see through the facade you were wearing that day…?

His hand found the way to where his heart was positioned. He scratched at his chest and pounded at his ribcage. He wanted to find his heart. Scratch his heart out so he could also feel the pain that he unknowingly inflicted on you.

But you knew he wasn't honest with you, and for that, he only had himself to blame. Suo always appeared calm, happy, and seemingly pleasant... Because if he showed you the turmoil and anxiety he had hidden within him, what would happen to you?

But in his pursuit to protect you, all he did was hurt you beyond repair.

Suo was a person who kept everything to himself, and from that, he unintentionally distanced himself from everyone who called him a “friend.” And that included you as well. The times when he would listen to your ramblings and stories about your daily life, all while keeping his own behind closed doors.

Whether, in that equation, you held a higher standard didn’t matter anymore, because it wasn’t him that was in the hospital, fighting for their lives, but you.

“I’m sorry…” you told him through the phone.

Those couldn’t be your final words to him… No, they can’t be. He refused to accept it. Not through the cold, mechanical sounds of a device, from your own mouth and voice.

But perhaps he may never hear it again.

And he only had himself to blame.

©hxnbi. comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated ♡

banner creds go to @faintrustle

when i was getting down to writing a request the other day, i was, for some reason, super angst inspired and drafted up an entirely new prompt just for the hell of it. also wanted to ty out a new format for this one, so lmk what you think :)

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mcondance · 1 year ago

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he loves me (lyzel in e flat) — tim laflour

tim x fem!reader, reader is referred to as a girl, general discussion of tim sex wise, missionary, dirty talk, praise-ish, he says he loves you uh that's it, it’s a lot of elaboration abt how much he loves sex with you LMAO, title from this song (i love you jill scott <3)

tim likes sex, to get that out of the way. on the outside and to people who don’t know him, he’s a little dumb, a little odd and he seems like he’d fumble around these types of things, but he does not.

tim likes sex with you, way more than he should.

he likes digging in your guts, bumping your body up the bed every time his hips kiss the back of your legs, sticky and slippery from the mix of fluids flowing from you two.

with deep purrs pushed hard from his chest, the sounds of a man who’s in love with what he’s doing, he splits you open so good, ripping pathetic, guttural cries out of you, whiny moans that make fucking you so alluring. your arms clasp tight around his neck and you’re trying to ground yourself, and it’s always in vain, fingers gripping your own arms so tight the skin caves.

“belong here, baby, belong inside you, so so deep in you, go crazy when i don’t get to feel you,” he coos, almost singing it, his naturally ditzy tone laying an innocently genuine feel over his obsessed words. it's ridiculously pathetic, his admission of devotion to your cunt, to the clenches and drooling and soaking that your pussy delivers to him. velvety and gripping, he's a fool for it.

he’s telling the truth though, and you know it. you’ve seen what happens to him when he goes too long without bullying your pussy, fucking you like he hates you, like you owe him something. he gets all aggy, eyes all glossy and spaced out and he’s ticked off by the smallest things.

he needs to get his dick wet, needs you to get it wet, to let him fuck your body into the mattress and listen to your moans that have turned into pathetic little cries, spewing from your mouth with every jerk of his hips against you. hot skin hitting against yours, unforgiving thrusts sending shockwaves through your whole body, it's by pure luck that you and tim met, that you get to be pounded into his bed every time he gets the chance.

your pussy sings to him with every move he makes, honeyed melodies ringing out through the room, and it’s idyllic, perfect and so far from beautiful yet right there.

he fucks you like both need it, hard and messy like he loves what he’s doing to you.

he does love what he’s doing to you.

turning his head to the side so he knows you can hear him even over your enraptured keens, he lets his mouth loose again— "i love you, y'know, love you and your pussy so much, 's my favorite thing in the whole world, always so wet and tight and ready for me, always excited that i get to fuck you." he's elated, sure in the fact that you belong to him, that you are his to stretch and pound and fuck.

his lip ring is cold against your face and it doesn’t do much to help; it makes it worse, makes you really compute again that you’re being fucked dumb by a pretty punk who’s obsessed with fucking you.

it all sends another wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you're grasping tighter over his back, hands raking down the muscle. you almost growl, so keyed up and overwhelmed with feeling, good fucking feeling, rocking up the bed with every roll of his hips. tim's love for sex has opened you up, allowed you to partake in it at your most vulnerable level, unashamed and liberated in your euphoria.

he likes the way you take his dick, how you spread your legs and make space for him between them, how you let him fuck you to his heart's content, let him express his need inside you.

his big blues have drifted to something much darker, blue-black windows looking down at one of the best parts of it all, to where ropes of your cream span from your slick lips to his wild hair.

he huffs out a laugh, breathing "yeah, look at that,” dark eyes hazy and gleaming.

he knows you're being fucked too good to even give a fuck about what it looks like, but he's a talker, and he’s having so much fun, and the sight is just so fucking disgusting that he has to say something; something else that feels like a reward, like a deity has blessed him with it, the gift of sex that he so confidently uses, whenever he wants.

tim loves fucking you, loves dwarfing your body with his intimidating size, loves the sounds you make, loves the sounds your bodies make as they meet again and again, as he nestles his cock right where you both know it belongs.

devoted is what he is, a regular fiend, only made worse by the way you fit so tight around him. every push into you is so good to him, brain taken over by how it feels to be deep inside your welcoming pussy.

every little jerk and jump, every melodic whine, every word your slur into his neck, it’s everything to him.

#tim laflour smut #tim laflour x reader #tim laflour x you #tim laflour imagine #senseless 1998 #senseless #well…..#matthew lillard x reader

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ladyempty · 7 months ago

Note

What do you think it would be like? Steffon Baratheon's second child and only daughter. She inherited all of her great-mother's Targaryen genes. How far will Yandere Rhaegar go to marry reader?

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. ° | pairing: Rhaegar Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader ° | English is not my first language

Foi uma surpresa para todos quando a segunda filha de Lorde Steffon nasceu. Uma menina saudável, ela nasceu gritando e chutando com força digna de um Baratheon, mas sua aparência era menos condizente com os outros membros da casa. Ao contrário de seu irmão mais velho, a menina nasceu com uma cabeleira loira platinada e grandes olhos roxos brilhantes.

An appearance so different that it made the midwives' eyebrows raise slightly and they looked at each other in obvious confusion. But everything was partially forgotten when Lord Steffon held his daughter in his arms and proclaimed loudly:

"A delight for the eyes like my Lady mother.”

Rhaegar's obsession would not take long to arrive, he was truly curious about the rumors spreading so quickly and was truly happy when his father demanded the presence of the Baratheon family to present the girl to the court.

For young five-year-old Rhaegar, the moment was as magical as the stories his mother told him and songs the bards sang. An overwhelming feeling that hit him like an arrow shot quickly and aimed at his heart.

Estamos falando de Rhaegar, limites são algo que ele não conhece. Ele tentará ser o mais sutil possível, mas falhará tão miseravelmente que pode ser engraçado. Quando ele quer algo, ele tem que ter.

As they grow up, the prince will try to win your heart at any cost, using his natural charm that made so many other ladies swoon, singing to you and playing beautiful and melancholic melodies on the harp. Countless gifts would be delivered to you in abundance, especially books that Rhaegar loved.

He has a lot of patience and will wait for his love, but if you are being too difficult... We know he will resort to kidnapping. Or if it is Aenys who refuses to cooperate... Then the king appears mysteriously dead a few days later.He simply had no limits when it came to the prophecy and you...

You would be his and he would be yours... a dragon had to have three heads, and only a dragon could love other dragons.

#yandere x reader #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere rhaegar targaryen x reader #yandere rhaegar targaryen #rhaegar targaryen x reader

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marooningmirrorball · 4 days ago

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Splattered Coffee and Spare Blouses

A/n: hello lovelies! this is my first ever fanfic so please be kind to me when you read this 🫣 any sort of feedback will be appreciated🤞also there is no physical description of reader, that picture was just the first cute white blouse that i saw on pinterest. i hope you like it!

content: coworker!rafe x coworker!reader

content warnings: complete ooc rafe, like not even a little bit canon. jealous rafe. desperate reader and rafe. idiots in love fr. coworkers/office au (?)

word count: 1.2k words

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ₊˚༺☆༻

Rafe is too busy drinking in the sweet melody of your voice to catch the actual content of your conversation with Matt. Or is it Mark? Mason? It doesn’t matter what his name is, the only relevant thing about the guy is that he delivers the paper to the office, and Rafe knows they’re getting a paper restock when he hears the tee-heeing of your giggle aimed at something supposedly funny that Miles joked about as he stacks the reams of paper on the tall shelves behind your desk.

You don’t actually ‘tee-hee’, it’s more of a soft chortle. Rafe likes to think he knows the difference, he tries to bypass these dreary office hours by studying each laughter.

First he takes in the sound and how much it made his heart clench, then he looks at your expression; happy, shy, nervous, anxious (he’s even found the difference between those two!), angry. Lastly he takes in the context of the laugh.

It’s definitely a titter when your boss is reprimanding your newest co-worker with the frosted tips, it’s a hodgepodge of a shy-nervous giggle when your boss is reprimanding you, and it’s absolutely a guffaw when Rafe delivers a joke he’d been meticulously planning before he presents it to you.

It usually doesn’t matter what type of laugh it is, the soundwaves from it wrap his heart up and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, until Rafe forces himself to leave the room, because it can’t be normal to feel this way about a girl you've only been working with for the last three months.

But this isn’t all those other times, it's that unusual time of the month. What could a man who delivers paper to a pool coverings company possibly say to make you let out that joyous sound? What does a pool company even need paper for? Rafe, running his pointer finger along the rim of his coffee mug, comes up blank when he starts to really think about the former rhetorical question, he’s not too sure he ever wants to interact with Mike that will allow him to find out.

Too late. The kerfuffle Rafe accidently caused due to clumsy hands and an even clumsier brain leaves his (luckily) empty mug toppled, but Rafe’s not so blessed when his fallen over mug lands on his pen, triggering it to leap from his desk and splatter into your (unluckily) full mug.

You spin around in your chair at the commotion of Rafe’s, “Shit!”.

Rafe thinks being shot in the big toe would be less painful than this. It’s a Grade A Disaster. All he can see is the deep brown liquid dispersed in sporadic splats all over your previously white blouse.

“Holy shit, are you alright?”, Marcus is pulling out his handkerchief, of course Paper guy carries a handkerchief, in record time, dabbing away at the marks that have the clear intention to find a permanent home on your work top.

Rafe isn’t given a chance to play hero, before Milo is badgering, “Man, why are you doing trick shots right now? Aren’t you a sales guy?”, Rafe; however, is too mortified to think about a snarky comeback as he instead spews out a stumbled apology.

“Y/N, I-I am so so sorry– tha-that really wasn’t on purpose! I-I can–I will replace your shirt after work, I’m so sorry!”, it all comes out jumbled and untidy. A red-faced Rafe runs a hand down his face in exasperation before he’s suddenly up and grabbing at the fallen dishware, “Let me just-let me go get you some paper tow-”

You put an end to his unnecessary apologies with a gentle touch to his right hand that possesses the culprit. Rafe thinks his heart actually stopped.

The grin you bless him with manages to calm him down, “Rafe, you're okay! Don’t stress about it–really. It’s an old blouse anyway.”

And…what?

Rafe just managed to completely demolish your clothes, yet it’s you who is showing him kindness in this weak moment, “Look, if you’re really bummed out about it and want to reimburse me, I do need to go to the mall after this so…”, you drag out and let him fill in the blanks.

So did the mug actually fall onto Rafe’s head? Did he fall into a state of unconsciousness and wake up in a dream land? This can’t be real.

The scoff and retreat of Marcello’s boots snap him out of his thoughts, this is his life. This is his life and he has been staring at you in disbelief for too many silent seconds because you quickly begin to slip the offer out of his hands, “Uhh–well you don’t really have to join me to shop, I just thought since-”, now you're interrupted by Rafe’s reassurances,

“No! Wait–I mean yes! Erm I don’t actually know what I’m meaning to say”, you think the blush sporting his face has got to be the cutest thing you’ve possibly ever seen as he carries on, “I would love to come with you, please!” Jesus, he thinks, try sounding more desperate, he quickly corrects himself.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be cool if I join along. I-If you don’t mind obviously…” he trails off, unsure and not wanting to impose, despite you literally just inviting him.

The shyness is evident in your voice when you softly say, “No, it would absolutely be fun if you came with”, God, you think, why did I add absolutely in there, he’s gonna think I’m desperate.

“Okay cool.”

“Cool.”

Henry, your coworker with the frosted tips, stands at the corner of Rafe’s desk with his arms crossed, “Can I get some paper or do I need to wait another five minutes until your flirting is done?”

The both of you cower slightly in embarrassment at his teasing, but don’t let it dim the bright smiles adorning your faces. Rafe is sure that there’s nothing in this moment that could, he just scored a hang out with the female coworker that he’s been crushing on for weeks now! Not even the sight of smug Martin could kick him off this high right now.

Your too-old desk chair groans as you stand from it, and suddenly Rafe’s worried that Henry’s comment may have bothered you, “Where are you going?”, his rushed tone causes a giggle to escape you,

“My top is still soaked Rafe”, you gesture to the stained garment with a laugh, “I’m just gonna fetch the spare in my car. What? Do you want to walk with me there too?” Rafe misses the joking lilt of your voice because he’s up and walking towards the reception before you can stop him.

When the two of you return from your car, you with a clean (albeit slightly wrinkled from sitting in your ‘just in case’ bag) blouse on and Rafe with a bashful expression, Henry wiggles his eyebrows at the pair of you, implying something out of nothing. You both ignore it and get back to your work, not without the two of you sneaking glances at each other when you know the other isn’t looking.

Long forgotten are Max’s bad jokes and flirting, Henry’s annoying teasing, and this afternoon’s coffee disaster as you and Rafe walk side by side in the mall, he doesn’t think life can get better than this.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊ ₊˚༺☆༻

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #outerbanks fanfiction #obx #rafe outerbanks #rafe cameron fanfic

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angelicyoongie · 1 year ago

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The Obsidian Pearl (II)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 8.1k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence, explicit sexual content! dub-con touching/oral sex (f. receiving) - the smut is marked with * if you want to skip it — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

Part 01 - 02

It's almost night when the siren, Seokjin, visits you again.

Enough time has passed for the air to turn chilly, carrying small gusts of wind that pass right through your clothes. The sunshine that warmed you only hours ago feels like it might never return, not when your surroundings are so terribly dark. You can feel the chill deep in your bones, fear nipping at your skin, clinging to you like frost on a dark winter night.

You're huddled as deep in the cave as you can go, hugging your knees to your chest. You're exhausted, eyes as dry as sand, but you know you can't rest. Call it instinct after being on the sea for so many years – of constantly being trapped on a vessel with people who might turn on you at any second – you tend to develop a hunch of when bad things are going to happen.

You can feel it in your body now, the low buzz that keeps you alert, reminding you that you are not safe no matter how tired you may be.

The reason for it comes only a few minutes later, a terrible scraping sound reverberating through the silence as something heavy is pushed up on the ledge of the stone dock. You free your stiff limbs, wincing as you whip around to face the source of it. It looks to be some sort of chest, the short distance and the faint moonlight not doing much for your vision.

As the item is pushed forward with another forceful shove, your heart jumps to your throat. You've seen this chest before – the iron insignia on the top is all too familiar to you. It belongs, no, belonged, to your captain. You don't dare to move closer though, not when there's only one creature who could've brought it to you.

Seokjin emerges from the water just seconds later, heaving himself up on the rock. He looks like something out of your worst nightmare, long hair covering his face as he claws his way forward. The shadows make him look all the more terrifying, the dark night blending together with his tail and hair like the perfect camouflage. If it wasn't for his strikingly pale skin, you never would've been able to make him out at all.

He settles back against the same rock as he did before, parting his hair to expose his face. Shivers run down your spine as Seokjin's black eyes find yours through the darkness. They strike just as much fear into you as they did last night, this morning, the emptiness just another reminder of how unearthly he really is.

It was foolish perhaps, but you had found yourself hoping that Seokjin had forgotten about you. That he had come across another ship to terrorize and another human to keep for his little experiments. You wouldn't have minded rotting away in the cave alone if it meant you never had to look upon him again.

The siren clicks his tongue. "I bring you a gift and you dare to look disappointed? This won't do. Come closer, little human."

You don't move, self-preservation rooting you to the ground.

"You humans freeze to death if you get too cold, do you not? Your skin is quite thin, fragile." Seokjin delivers his point by parting his mouth more than necessary, those horrible teeth coming to view behind his plush lips. "Your brain might be too small to remember but the water I dragged you out of was ice cold, pet. The air will only grow colder the longer you wait."

Seokjin doesn't have to use his thrall to make you understand that you have no choice in the matter. If you don't come forward willingly, he'll will either drag you there himself or let the elements do you in. The part of your brain that fears the unknown more than the creature in front of you, urges you to move.

You don't even have it in you to feel humiliated as you crawl forward, terror and cold stiff limbs making it impossible to walk. Seokjin's stare hangs over you like a heavy cloud, slowing you down even further.

He's close, way too close, as you kneel in front of the chest. You would be able to touch his stomach, feel where his skin transforms into scales if you just stretch your arm out.

Seokjin huffs as you linger, the sound making you jump as he impatiently says, "Go on."

You reach for the iron key that's miraculously still in the lock, your busted shoulder aching with pain as you have to twist it with more force than usual. A small stream of water is forced out, running down the side of the chest as you slowly open the lid with shaking hands. You've never held much gratitude for your captain, but for once, you can't be more thankful for his arrogance. He always left the key in the lock and never worried about a greedy crew, because, as he would always say; who in their right mind would dare to steal from a Captain?

You release a shuddering breath as you push it open, the iron hinges voicing their displeasure with a long squeak as the contents are revealed to you. The fur-lined coat your captain bought in the East lays on top of an array of shirts and pants, the fabric hardly even damp as you pick it up. You had assumed everything to be drenched, but it seems the carpenter your captain had been boasting about was the real deal after all.

You pull the coat into your lap, warmth immediately swaddling your legs.

A gift, Seokjin had called it, but you doubt the siren is simply that generous.

"How did you get this?" You quietly ask, voice trembling.

You know the stories of how the ships make it out unscathed, of how it's only the crews that go missing. But unless Seokjin can sprout legs, there's no way he was able to grab it on his own. The siren has a tail and a heavy one at that. As unearthly as he is, you doubt he's strong enough to drag himself all the way up the ship and into your captain's quarters. Never mind that he would do all of that for a chest he didn't even know existed.

"I sank the ship," Seokjin sounds like he's rolling his eyes, although you're not too sure he's even capable of doing so. "It took you too long to wake from your slumber and I was bored. I have not explored a wooden vessel in many moons and this chest looked interesting. I was foolishly hoping for treasure, not silly human clothes."

The siren smacks his tail against the water, irritated.

Even though the chances of getting out of here were slim, you were holding out hope that if you only got to the other side of the mountain, you might be able to use the ship to get away. It would be near impossible to do with only one person and not the whole crew it actually needs, but when something as ludicrous as a siren exists, manning one ship by yourself doesn't sound all that far-fetched in comparison.

You release a shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that gather. With that escape route gone, the ship now resting on the bottom of the sea with the remains of your crewmates, you are truly helpless.

Trapped.

You hope the darkness hides the way your face crumples. Lip wobbling, you try to focus on the chest in front of you, not wanting to give into panic with Seokjin so close. You have to save the freakout and the despair for when you're alone. It wouldn't surprise you if the siren can smell your fear.

Leaning forward, you notice what looks like a thick scarf, the material soft enough that it might serve as a decent pillow. You're not sure if Seokjin is planning on leaving the chest or taking it with him, so this might be your only chance at grabbing items you'll need to survive.

Just as your fingers close around the scarf, picking it up, you feel something sharp poke into your cheek.

Your whole body goes rigid at the touch, your muscles locking up as you realize that one of Seokjin's claws is currently digging into your skin. You hold your breath as he slowly trails it down your throat, the sharp nail leaving a sting in its wake. You don't have to touch it to know that it's a deep scratch, blood rushing to the surface to clot the damage.

"Look at me."

You don't. You can't. You don't want to know what will happen when you do.

"Look at me," Seokjin repeats, more force in his voice.

It makes something in the back of your mind tickle.

You clutch the coat in your lap tighter, focusing on the soft fur between your fingers as the siren's voice grows in annoyance.

You're not sure how many times he repeats his command but between one blink and the next, you suddenly find yourself staring right at him. Your mind feels hazy like it's been stuffed with cotton and shaken around, turning everything upside down.

The hard set of Seokjin's mouth disappears as you finally meet his gaze. The siren hums under his breath as he moves his hand to your face, cupping your jaw. It's like being a spectator in your own body, your eyes refusing to waver no matter how much you want them to. You can feel the ghost of his claws on your skin, not quite digging in but present enough that you know it's a threat. That he can mess you up beyond repair if he feels like it.

Seokjin leans in, watching you curiously as your throat bobs, lips struggling to part.

Your tongue feels like lead, awkward and too heavy, but you use all of your willpower to open your mouth, slurring as you ask, "What did you do?"

Seokjin breaks into a grin, a forked tongue peeking out to lick his terrible teeth. You can feel his breath wash over your face as he speaks, the stench of decay and death making your stomach roll. "You're quite the strong one, pet, I'm glad I brought you here. I think you'll prove to be very entertaining."

The siren gives you one last look, his cold fingers leaving your face as he leans back. You feel some of the thrall leave you as Seokjin turns and slowly sinks back down into the dark water, the small distance making it a little easier to think. You still can't look away from him, eyes tracking his movements even as he submerges himself completely under the surface. He's only gone for a moment before he returns, one of his pale hands coming into view above the water just before something wet splatters at your feet.

"Eat."

Seokjin doesn't wait for an answer. The thrall snaps the moment he's gone, his strong fin carrying him away in seconds.

You gasp, hand shooting up to feel your throat. The scratch he left behind aches and your head is beginning to throb from whatever he did to it. You tear your eyes away from the lake, glancing down at the thing that Seokjin left you with.

The moment you manage to make out what it is, you flinch back, jerking your body away from the mangled fish at your feet. The blood pooling beneath it has already soaked the hem of your trousers, staining it dark.

The sight disgusts you but you can't ignore the hunger gnawing at your stomach. The water in the lake felt fresh enough to drink, but it's been almost two days without any food and you're starving.

There's not a bone in your body that trusts Seokjin but you can't turn away a free meal. You have no guarantee that he'll bring you something again and you'll have no chance of escaping if you're too weak to move.

You poke at the fish, shuddering as its half-torn body twitches.

If only you still had your knife. At least then one of you could be shown some mercy.

You wake with a gasp, chest heaving with panicked breaths as the fog lifts. It's like someone snaps their finger right next to your ear, violently jerking you out of a slumber you weren't even aware you had fallen into. Your awareness always comes back to your first, keeping your mind awake and trapped while the rest of your body slowly shakes off the thrall you've been under.

You're near the edge of the dock again, kneeling in front of Seokjin. The siren has his head tucked against your neck, his long tongue dragging over your skin, licking off the sweat that rolls down your throat. Every part of you feels sticky and damp, the top of your head burning from the blazing sun. You have no way of knowing how long you've been sitting here but judging by the way your brain is practically mush from the prolonged exposure, it must've been a while.

You shudder at the next flick of his tongue, nausea swirling in your stomach. The days have been passing much in the same manner, every new turn of the moon leading you closer and closer to Seokjin. This isn't the first time you've felt his cold skin against yours, you've woken up to your hands and face being touched many times, but it's never been this intimate before. Never this dangerous, with his sharp teeth so close to your delicate skin.

Seokjin pauses, his tongue pulling away from your skin as he muses, "That lasted shorter than expected, little human."

There's no emotion in the siren's voice, nothing that gives you an indication of whether he's happy or angry. He's simply just... observing. Treating you like the experiment he's decided you are. The siren seems fascinated with your ability to somewhat resist his thrall and he has made it his mission to test out how well your resilience works. That seems to be the only reason he's keeping you here.

You can't quite tell how long he's been at it, though. Time feels wonky when you don't know how much of it has passed. The only thing you can be certain of is that it's already been well over a week, maybe even two since Seokjin trapped you here.

"Please stop," You whimper, voice shaking as you feel his hot breath against your throat, teeth skimming lightly over your skin.

To your surprise, Seokjin listens. The siren pulls back, the corner of his lip curled into a displeased snarl. He looks nothing short of irked that his fun was cut short, a series of clicking noises gurgling in his throat as he gives your shoulder a shove, breaking the last of his thrall.

You scramble backward the second your limbs feel like they're once again attached to your body, dragging yourself into the safety and shade of the cave. Nothing is stopping Seokjin from following after you, he's strong enough to pull himself into your makeshift shelter, but he seems content to stay on the edge of the stone dock - always resting against the same flat rock.

You sprawl out on the ground, panting from the heat. The cool stone seeps slowly through your clothes, bringing your temperature down to something that feels less like you're boiling alive in your own skin. But even as the heat begins to recede, you still feel terrible. The thrall always leaves you nauseous and the shock of snapping out of it in such close proximity to a dangerous predator doesn't exactly help. You're constantly on edge, heart locked in such a rapid beat that you're worried it's shaving years off your life.

Biting back a groan, you sit up, using your captain's chest for support. It wasn't easy moving it into the cave, not with a shoulder that ached with every push. The fear that Seokjin might take it back if you left it was the only thing that kept you going, the clothes inside were far too precious for you to take that risk.

The siren hasn't mentioned the chest since the night he left it but it's impossible to tell if your actions bothered him. He's too good at masking his emotions, his face a blank canvas. Some nights, you do admit that you wonder if he even has them – if he can feel the same things that you do.

You're not quite sure which answer scares you the most.

One thing you do know though, is that you need to learn more about him. You're not one to be a sitting duck and this is driving you insane. Seokjin must have some weakness, something you can use against him or that might aid you in your escape. Perhaps he hibernates in the colder months or he needs to swim for a set amount of hours for his body to function. You refuse to believe he's invincible.

"So," You swallow thickly as Seokjin turns his lifeless eyes to you, "You mentioned that you have brothers?"

Your voice is barely audible enough to carry over to Seokjin but it sounds much too loud within the walls of the cave. You ball your hands in your lap, hoping your expression doesn't show just how terrified you are of willingly calling upon his attention.

"Indeed, pet."

"How many do you have?"

The siren raises one hand to the sky, inspecting his sharp claws. "Enough."

He obviously doesn't want to answer that topic – move on.

"Y-you said something about a sea witch. How did you find them?"

"Now why would you want to find a sea witch, little human? Unless you want to get turned into a fish, they are of no use to you."

"Right, o-of course," You exhale, biting back the urge to throw some colourful language his way.

You try a few more, but there are only so many meaningless questions you can ask before you give up, tired of the aloof answers you get in return. It's like he knows exactly what you're trying to do. Considering Seokjin isn't willing to disclose any type of information, even knowledge that is worthless to you, it's pretty clear that you can't bait him into revealing anything useful.

He's too smart.

Seokjin stretches his arms above his head, showing off his lean muscles as his back pops. The crunches sound terribly loud, like he's trying to crack open every vertebra in his spine.

He lets out a satisfied sound, head tipped back to soak up the sun as he says, "Now that I have answered all of your questions, little human, you should give me something in return. Tell me something interesting about yourself, pet, something that you deem worthy of a meal. It is horribly tiresome to fetch your food at the time."

You suppose it was absurd to think that the siren would continue to feed you without demanding something in return. Perhaps he's already starting to tire of his little experiments.

You pick at your nails, the splintered edges uncomfortable and raw.

There's only one story a creature like him will find interesting – one you swore you would never tell anyone that wasn't there to witness it when it happened. But, as twisted as it is, the siren might be the only one who won't judge you.

The faded scar on your throat burns as you swallow, the phantom pain of a knife digging into your skin flaring up as you say, "I killed someone."

Glancing up, you find Seokjin staring straight at you, his dark eyes glittering under the sun. His tail does a small wiggle, fin smacking the water in what you can only assume to be intrigue.

"Tell me more, pet."

"He was sick," Your hand flies to cover your mouth as your lips move without your permission. You didn't even feel the thrall this time, no push or tug to indicate that Seokjin was in your head. There's only a small tickle at the back of your brain, like you need to scratch your scalp.

Seokjin has never used the thrall on you twice in one day before now. It must be that you're already tired from earlier that he can affect you so easily, that he can slither his way back in without you even noticing he's trying.

Seokjin grins, lips stretched into a terrible smile as he says, "Go on."

"W-we had been out on the sea for many months, five full moons, and we still had a few to go before we would reach the nearest port," You say, taking a measured breath.

"One of our cooks starting acting strangely – he was suddenly anxious and angry, exploding at any minor inconvenience. He started picking fights with the crew, causing too much tension. It was cabin fever, we all had it, but for him, it was worse. It made him sick."

You let your hands fall to your side, fingers uselessly grasping for the knife that isn't there anymore.

"He attacked one of the cabin boys in the kitchen, sliced two of his fingers clean off as he delivered him a freshly caught fish. He followed the poor lad up on deck when he ran, waving his knife around and screaming at anyone that tried to calm him down. The sea... she can be brutal, too big. Staring at the same unchanging horizon every day had chipped away at his sanity, left him with nothing but fear and anger at being trapped by the same water day in and day out."

Seokjin says nothing, his black eyes staring you down as he waits for you to continue.

"He tackled me to the ground before I even knew what was going on. When I looked him in the eyes, I knew he wasn't there anymore. There was no recognition, no emotion. Just survival. He managed to give me this while I was trying to fight him off," You lightly touch the scar on your neck, tracing it from the bottom of your jaw down to your collarbone.

"The others couldn't pull him away either, he was like a beast. I am, was, vice-captain of the ship. It was my duty to protect my crew. I couldn't let him hurt anyone else," Your voice falters as you stare at the monster in front of you, at the creature you couldn't protect your crew from. The cook was a weak mouse in comparison.

"So, I... I killed him. He wouldn't have made it even if we had locked him up, he was simply too far gone. It was more merciful to let him die."

The siren is silent for a beat, his eyes roaming over your face before he tips his head forward and laughs. At least, that's what you think he does, the series of weird clicking noises that gurgle in his throat sounding oddly joyful despite how grating the sound is.

"You truly are fascinating, pet. I made a good choice letting you live."

The hand by your hip clenches, your heart beating painfully in your chest. You wish you still had your knife, that you had something you could drive into Seokjin's throat to hear him choke on his last breaths. You weren't expecting sympathy, but you also didn't think he would find your story entertaining – funny, even. He truly is terrible.

You say nothing in return, your anger making it hard to think; to feel anything but the hatred stirring in your heart.

Seokjin, seemingly pleased with what he heard and not at all bothered by your silence, does what he always does and leaves the moment he gets what he wants.

You stare at the empty spot he left, the wet imprint of his long body the only thing left behind.

You're not sure how long you sit there, caught up in old memories and emotions you've tried to ignore for so long, but the sun has started its descent by the time the siren makes his presence known again.

This time, you watch as Seokjin leaves you not one, but five fish, all half mangled and twitching as the life drains out of them. He flings a few pieces of driftwood up on the dock, staring at your curled-up form for a minute before he swims away.

It's only when your stomach starts to rumble that you force yourself to rise to your feet, walking slowly over to the haul the siren brought you. The wood is wet and soggy, but a few days out in the sun should hopefully dry it enough that it might be used to start a fire.

You let out a humorless chuckle as you drag your hands across your face. You truly are little more than a mutt, waiting for your master to reward you when you do something he finds amusing. How embarrassing. How weak.

No matter how rabid you feel, you know that biting the hand that feeds you will do you no good here. If you want to survive, to live, perhaps it's time to roll over and accept your fate.

You're not sure if you're getting better at resisting the thrall or if Seokjin just isn't bothering to use it at full force anymore, but you no longer blackout when he comes to visit you. It feels like you're in a dream, vision spotty as you watch yourself move forward on unsteady feet, falling right into Seokjin's waiting arms. The siren holds you close to his chest, arms squeezing you so hard the pain registers even through the haze.

Weeks have passed since the day you told Seokjin your story, since you slowly began to surrender to your situation. The siren still follows the same routine but he seems to have sensed your compliance – your defeat. Your mind is still blocked off, barred from taking control of your body, but now you're able to feel everything that was only a dull memory before. Perhaps the darkness, the blissful ignorance, was a small mercy compared to this.

Seokjin lets out a guttural sound as he pushes his face into your neck, his sharp claws slicing through your shirt. His tongue drags over your skin with a desperation you haven't felt before, teeth nicking your skin.

As terrible as it is, you've grown used to Seokjin's touches, his presence. On lonely nights, you find that you almost wish to see him, just so that you don't have to face the darkness all alone.

You have come to know what to expect from Seokjin but this is new, dangerous, a far cry from the stoic and in-control creature you've been around for the past months.

The siren's hold on you is crushing, your bones aching under the strong pressure. He skims his nose along your skin, huffing as he breathes in your scent. There's a pause, a stretch of heavy silence, and then blinding pain as sharp teeth sink into your already injured shoulder.

Your vision whites out, ears ringing as the thrall suddenly snaps and everything comes rushing in at once. Your shoulder is spasming, muscles jerking with agony as Seokjin digs his teeth in deeper, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as he draws blood.

It hurts. Gods, it hurts.

A wounded scream rips from your throat as you attempt to claw at his face, desperate to get his teeth out of your shoulder. Seokjin growls as you deliver a deep scratch on his cheek, pulling back just a smidge to create the sound. Seeing an opening, you tangle your hand in his long hair, jerking it back with all your might. You're lucky Seokjin doesn't tear a chunk of your shoulder out as his head snaps back, surprise making his tight grip around you lessen. It's just enough for you to fight your way out of his embrace, body shaking with fear and adrenaline as you roll onto the stone.

Grabbing your shoulder, you try to scoot backward on the slick ground, your own blood making it hard to get enough friction.

Your legs falter as Seokjin turns in your direction, the siren looking like he crawled right out of hell. His expression is crazed, hungry, blood dripping from his unhinged jaw. You can see straight down his throat from how open his mouth is, his stained teeth and black eyes creating the perfect picture of a demon.

Seokjin hisses as you attempt to move, a horrible sound that makes every strand of hair on your body stand straight. He digs his claws into the rock in front of him, using his strong arms to drag himself forward.

"Come here, pet," Seokjin gurgles, his voice hardly even human.

"No no, please don't," You whimper, a newfound urgency propelling you back.

Something in the siren's expression flickers at your broken pleading, like he can't decide if his hunger or entertainment is more important. The confusion, the small sliver of hope it gives you, only lasts for a few seconds before he shakes himself out of it, Seokjin's clawed hand reaching out for your ankle.

Just as he's about to wrap his hand around your foot, your feeble kicks doing little to deter him, you both hear the distant sound of people.

It must be another crew daring to brave the mountains, their rambunctious singing and laughter so terribly out of place. They're either obvious to the stories haunting the pass or trying to compensate for the oppressive silence they no doubt felt the moment the ship entered it. Your heart flutters with longing at the sound of humans singing and laughing, your chest constricting with a yearning you thought died weeks ago. They sound happy and lively – everything the siren is not.

You watch as the same realization hits Seokjin, as he registers the sound of food entering his territory. The siren's jaw pops back to normal as he licks his lips, his empty eyes flickering up to the darkening sun as he says, "The ocean appears to be smiling kindly on you tonight, little human."

Frozen to the spot, you feel your heart drop to your stomach as the siren twists around and dives back into the water with an urgency you haven't seen from him before.

The moment he's out of sight you let out an ugly sob, hope draining out of you alongside the blood that runs down your arm. You tear at the sliced fabric that's barely holding on to your body, wrapping it around your wound with shaking fingers. It's a poor excuse for a bandage, the material soaked through in seconds, but you still tighten it as much as you can, hoping it'll be enough to stop the bleeding. Only left with your undershirt, you can feel the shivers begin to set in, your adrenaline crashing.

You had given up hope on being rescued a long time ago but to have it this close, just on the other side of the mountain, is torture. You can't even alert the unsuspecting crew of what's coming, of the deadly creature that's lurking below their ship.

Scream, scare them off.

Just as the futile thought strikes you, you hear it – him. The gentle hums that cause a hush to fall over the ship.

You cover your ears, not wanting to hear what comes next. You don't know if Seokjin's thrall can still affect you here but you'd rather not take the chance and risk waking up at the bottom of the lake. Closing your eyes, you try to pretend that none of this is real, that all of this is just a terrible, terrible dream.

You let out a weak sob as the first scream pierces the air. Their terrified yells echo between the mountains as they're forced to jump one by one, their final moments brutal and panicked. There's no gentleness in Seokjin's song this time, only urgency as he compels them to their deaths.

He was starving.

For some unfathomable reason, the siren must have been starving himself to the point of breaking, trying to withhold from killing you. It all adds up to why he was acting so out of character over the past few days, his behavior more erratic than normal. He had been trying to fight off the urge to eat you.

If the ship hadn't arrived when it did, if it had only been one second too late, you would've been dead by now.

You curl up into a small ball, body cold and numb to the pain as your shield your ears, wrapping your arms securely around your head. "Thank you," You whisper to the faint moon, guilt twisting your stomach into knots.

Tears drip down your face as the screams continue to reverberate into the night, choked apologies passing through your lips until you feel them going slack. You don't fight the darkness that pulls you under, your soul begging for rest, for a place the screams of Seokjin's massacre can't reach you.

You jolt as a cold hand wraps around your shin.

Eyes flying open, you manage to push yourself up on your elbows before your shoulder gives out, the movement sending a sharp pain all the way down to your fingers. You grit your teeth, breathing through your nose to steady yourself as you glance up at Seokjin.

The siren wraps his hand tighter around your leg, using it for leverage as he drags himself up on the rock. You were close to the mouth of the cave when you passed out but now you're almost at the edge of the dock, feet only a few steps away from the still water below. Seokjin's thrall must've been too strong, urging you to come closer even when you were unconscious.

Perhaps you have truly lost your mind or maybe the night is playing tricks on you, but for once, there's actual emotion on Seokjin's face. The siren grins, his black eyes ablaze with something as he pushes forward. He tugs your legs apart, fitting his body between them. His hands rest on either side of your ribcage, his face so close that you can practically taste the stench of death that washes over your lips with every breath. The water cascading from his skin makes you shiver as it hits your own, the droplets soaking through your undershirt in seconds.

"Pet," Seokjin purrs, inching his face closer.

You hold your breath, limbs frozen with fear, as the small distance between you disappears.

You can only watch and you're horrified to find that the first thought that strikes you is how mesmerizing the siren looks. The moon shines brightly behind him, giving the scales climbing up his stomach and the small patches on his arms an iridescent shine. It's no wonder sirens have been described as beautiful creatures, not with how Seokjin's pale skin is illuminated, practically glowing, under the night sky.

You see his head tilt down, his dark eyes roaming over your bandaged shoulder. The wound only seems to ache more under the pressure of his gaze.

"Good work, little human," Seokjin comments, pleased, "You patched yourself up just to stay with me longer. I am not cruel, I will reward you for this."

What a good dog you are, licking your wounds for your master just so that he can tear them open again.

Your legs twitch on each side of Seokjin's body, resisting the urge to kick at his tail. Angering him will do you no good and you're ashamed to admit that the spark of excitement in his features leaves you curious – makes you want to know just what a siren considers a reward.

Seokjin ducks his head lower, pressing his nose right against your throat. The sharp bite you're expecting never comes – instead, there's only the soft press of his lips roaming over your skin, hurried kisses scattered across your neck. He lowers himself to get more access, nudging your head back as he settles more of his weight on your body. It leaves your hips completely immobile, your arms trembling with the effort it takes to keep yourself raised off the ground.

You hold your breath, scared to move as much as a muscle.

The siren's tongue flicks out to taste your skin with every kiss, leaving a trail of saliva covering your neck. The cold air only heightens the contrast between his warm lips and the slick skin he leaves behind. You're caught off guard when he suddenly attaches his lips to the underside of your jaw and sucks, pulling the sensitive skin there between his lips.

You let out a startled gasp at the sensation, small shudders traveling down your spine as your reaction only seems to spur Seokjin on, the siren quickly finding more spots to mark up.

Your whimper, surprised, as he uses a claw to slice through the bottom of your undershirt, exposing your waist and stomach. His cold hand finds the exposed area immediately, rubbing and squeezing at your skin as he drags his hand up and down your waist. He somehow manages to keep his claws off your skin, only digging them in faintly whenever you grow too quiet. He seems to enjoy the involuntary sounds you make, his actions only growing more and more frenzied as he tries to pull more of them from you.

"Touch me," Seokjin growls against your throat, his voice half strangled as he pushes you down to lie flat on the ground.

Mindful of your aching shoulder, you raise a tentative, shaking hand up towards his arm, grasping his toned bicep. You can feel the power thrumming under his skin, how strong he is from that simple touch alone.

Seokjin is quiet as you slowly glide your fingers up his arm and over his shoulder, feeling how the texture keeps switching between soft skin and hard scales whenever you encounter a small gathering of them. It's a curious feeling, one your brain struggles to fully comprehend.

You continue your touch down his back, careful to steer clear of the fin that protrudes along his spine. He lets out a harsh breath, low clicks gurgling in his throat as you let your hand fall away, not daring to go further than his waist.

You glance up as he pulls back, breath stuttering in your chest as you take in how wild he looks. Seokjin's expression is hungry, but it's nothing like the empty, ravenous stare you saw before he tried to take a chunk out of your shoulder. No, this one is pure desire – lust.

Your stomach flips with disgust as you realize that the hunt, that killing that innocent crew, actually turned him on.

Seokjin pushes himself back, emerging his lower body in the lake before he wraps his arms around your knees and pulls. You slide across the rock, thighs meeting Seokjin's torso as your legs fall over the edge of the dock, the water hitting just above your ankles.

You cry out from the harsh yank, pain flaring up in your shoulder as the still-open wounds are dragged across the uneven surface. The bandage does little to lessen the burn of it, your vision growing spotty as you struggle to breathe.

"You humans are so weak," Seokjin scoffs, his voice swimming in your ears. *

The siren tugs at your trousers, annoyed at how the fabric doesn't budge. He uses his claws, meeting no resistance as he slices right through them the moment it takes a little too long to get them off.

You jerk as Seokjin settles his hands on your exposed thighs, mapping out your skin.

Your vision begins to clear as you get your breathing under control, heat creeping up the back of your neck as you register just what the siren is looking at. Seokjin's torso is blocking you from closing your legs, exposing everything to him.

His dark eyes never waver from your cunt, in fact, you're not so sure he even blinks as he watches you squirm.

"Be still, pet," Seokjin says, the points of his claws pricking into your delicate flesh to get his warning across. He squeezes your thighs, his forked tongue swiping across his lips, "I was right. Your thighs do look delectable."

Horrified, you feel your hole pulse with arousal at Seokjin's words, wetness slicking up your folds.

The siren makes a curious sound at the sight, one hand drifting closer to your cunt as he lowers his head. You tense up, muscles locked tight, as Seokjin runs his finger over your clit. A choked moan makes it past your lips as he begins to rub at it, eyes bright as he lightly pinches your nub.

Receiving pleasure from the creature that has trapped and hurt you is the last thing that you want, but it's been so long since you've been intimate with someone like this. Your body gives in easier than your mind, eager to feel any touch as long as it'll make you feel good.

It's a reward, just take it. Who knows if you'll ever get to feel like this again.

"You're so wet, little human," Seokjin comments as he drags a finger up and down your folds, spreading your arousal around.

"You can't– no, no claws," You hurriedly say as you feel his knuckle graze your hole, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. "We-we're fragile, remember?"

The siren purses his lips, contemplating the information as he moves his hand back to your thigh. Arms curl under your knees before you can even breathe a sigh of relief, the air being punched right out of you as Seokjin dips his head down to lick a stripe between your folds.

"Oh Gods," You gasp, fingers clawing at the stone below you as the siren's forked tongue flicks over your clit with every pass, making your clenching hole gush with slickness.

You let out a broken moan as Seokjin prods his tongue at your entrance, black eyes flickering up to meet yours just as he pushes it inside.

Seokjin has lowered his body even more into the water, leaving him at the perfect height to feast on your cunt. His tongue worms his way into your hole, the wet muscle reaching deeper than what should be possible. Your veins feel like they're on fire, your body burning up with arousal as Seokjin licks and sucks at your folds, nose bumping against your clit. You can't stop yourself from grinding against his face, hips twitching with the little leeway he gives you.

"Seok-seokjin," Your hand flies down to his head at a particularly harsh suck, his teeth skimming over your delicate heat. The mixture of fear and pleasure leaves you lightheaded, your heart beating erratically in your chest.

The siren growls as your fingers curl into his long hair, the sound vibrating against your skin as you tug at his locks. You can't tell if you're trying to pull him away or press him closer, but either way, Seokjin doesn't listen.

You keen as his movements only seem to grow more frenzied, the siren drunk on your taste as he continues to lap up your slick. His grip around your legs is bruising, locking you in place to let him use you as he pleases. You continue to whimper out his name, your little cries only spurring him on further.

The white-hot pleasure in your stomach only continues to build the longer Seokjin eats you out, the pleasure mounting so quickly you don't know what to do with yourself.

You don't want this but you also do – and those conflicting emotions only intensify every suck and lick from Seokjin.

"Good pet," The siren groans, his warm breath fanning across your folds.

You finally erupt as he attaches his lips to your clit and sucks, your orgasm ripping through you so violently you almost feel like you're going to pass out. Your back bows off the ground as you let out a loud moan, your knuckles white from the tight grip you have on Seokjin's hair. You ride out the waves of pleasure that seem to hit you over and over, the siren lapping up your essence like a starving man – like he's never tasted anything as good before.

Your legs are trembling with oversensitivity once you come back to yourself, your cunt clenching helplessly around Seokjin's tongue as he keeps trying to lick up more of your slick. You hastily remove your fingers from his hair, weakly pushing at his head to make him back away.

"Stop, it's too much," You whimper.

Seokjin makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat, tongue dragging through your folds one last time before he pulls back. There's something in the siren's gaze that looks even more predatory than it's ever done before, his plush lips slick with your wetness. *

"You did well, little human. It was about time you gave yourself to me," Seokjin says as he brings his hands to your hips, the corner of his mouth quirked.

"What do you mean?" You say, voice faltering, "You told me to touch you, you made me touch you – made me enjoy this."

The siren tsks, shaking his head as he pushes you down on the stone dock, fingers gliding over your stomach. "Did you feel me using my thrall, little human? You touched me because you wanted to, you gave in because you wanted to feel good. This was all you, pet."

"No, that's not..." You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek. You didn't feel the ticklish sensation that usually comes with Seokjin's thrall when he asked you to touch him. You don't feel sick now, not like you always do whenever you snap out of it.

You... You did all of this on your own volition.

Seokjin sees as the realization dawns on your face, the blooming devastation making his fin hit the surface with excitement.

"That's right," He murmurs silkily, "Accept the fate that the sea has bestowed on you, pet. You were made to be my little plaything."

You feel Seokjin move away as you stare mindlessly up at the twinkling stars. You pull your aching legs together the moment he's gone, bringing them up to your chest. Without the siren's body shielding you from the frigid night air, you just feel cold. So awfully cold.

Just accept your fate.

You hear the water move as the siren ducks under the surface. The lake ripples as he swims, only a few flaps of his tail bringing him up on the side of the dock, where your head has turned. His dark eyes burn holes into your face as he drops something on the stone in front of you, the metal clinking as it bounces off the surface.

Heart stuttering in your chest, you reach out and snatch up your old knife, your shoulder burning as you put pressure on it. Your eyes grow wet as you turn it around in your hand, the familiar weight and polished grain of the wooden handle the closest thing you have to anything that feels like home.

You thought you had lost your knife forever when you jumped off the ship, that it was sacrificed to the sea together with your crew and vessel.

The siren's face is unreadable as you glance up at him, expression flat as always. One thing is for sure though – there's no part of Seokjin that views you as a threat, that's concerned you'll use your knife against him.

It breaks your heart to know that he's right. Even if you kill him, you have no way to get out of here.

Seokjin's pale hand emerges from the water to place something delicately on the edge of the dock. You let out a small gasp as he removes his fingers, the round sphere beautiful as it reflects the stars shining above. It looks to be a massive pearl made out of obsidian, the surface glossy and smooth.

You lay your knife down, meeting Seokjin's burning stare as you bring your trembling fingers forward to pick it up. The pearl is heavy in your palm, your hand barely even managing to close around the size of it.

The moment you pick it up, Seokjin lets out a pleased chitter, his mouth showing off that terrible smile again as he says, "You've proven to be a fascinating pet, I don't think I'll tire of you just yet."

"You're mine now, little human."

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed the final chapter of TOP! writing mer!seokjin was a nice break from my usual stories and it was fun to revisit the tcs-universe. i would love to hear what you think about the chapter – comments and reblogs make my day!! 🥺💖

if you enjoyed the story and would like to support me, you can do so here! 💖

#yandere au #yandere bts #yandere seokjin #mermaid bts #mermaid seokjin #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #yandere x reader #bts smut

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