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watashijeon · 1 year ago

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Mon Ange. | KTH

listen while reading — Is there someone else The Weeknd

— I made you mine, or so it seemed. I might as well be two feet tall. You never will love me at all. —

You’re calling out for his name, nothing can kill this moment. He feels sweetness and ease.. never has he let himself slip. But tonight is his birthday or so it was hours before.

Nonetheless, nothing could kill the stillness.

"Hm?" he’s mumbling with his speech, nose buried into pretty flushed skin. He feels confused, feeling you still when your words came out so blurred in his mind.

“I have to tell you something.”

Completely lost now where this was going, he stills his touch. Awkward and stiff, you make eye contact for what you are about to say.

He doesn’t understand the build up, he just wish you would say what it was. Maybe you had to take some time away from him due to your work.. he understood, he didn’t mind that.

"I think we should end our arrangement."

Oh. It’s so different from what he had just suspected, why does his heart feel like it just plummeted to another oblivion of nothing?

Taehyung doesn’t care, he’s undisciplined and chaotic with his very few next actions.

You need to leave. Freezing up, ready for his immediate impulse, because you know him like the back of your hand. The man picks you right off from his lap, rather rough and he would have time to regret on the meanness of it later.

He’s quick to pointing his hand open palm stiff and stern to the now sad wrinkled dress on the floor that laid lonely.

“Well, go on then.”

Your eyes looked at him pained, you had not a clue what his reaction really meant but you moved. Wiggling on your dress, back faced to him before looking once more to see his distracted stare. He is so out of it now, he doesn’t know.

“You understand.. right, Tae?” oh why must you speak so sweet to him using his shorten nickname in that especially nauseating sweet voice, even the way you are ending this is a million times nicer than he has ever ended a fling with a person.

“I do, bye.”

He’s being so mean, harsh and rude.

Taehyung hopes you won’t dwell on it or let it hurt your heart like it will to his very own.

But somehow he wants it to pain you, make you feel the same burn and ripping he feels in his chest right now. What did he do wrong?

“Goodbye Taehyung.” and that was it, the door clicked and so did his very front one. Left with the forbidden but likely delicious and perfect red velvet cake you’ve made, and a gift that sat perfectly next to it wrapped in his favorite color for wrapping paper on his kitchen island.

And indeed you had to make his favorite cake flavor, meaning you remembered the stupid detail when he told you on a night together.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

He remembers so clearly on the morning you stayed after for the first time coming over for six months. The two of you had lazed in his bed between tangled limbs and sheets “I will, I will protect you.” your lips dropped into a pout tracing your nimble finger over the man’s jaw.

How could you even say that when you leave him not much later, he doesn’t get it. This isn’t like you at all. Maybe being in pained denial he couldn’t accept the sore fact that someone made the first move on with abandonment.

You weren’t supposed to lie, it’s uncalled for and unacceptable. But even deep down the man knew he was being ignorant, he’s lied to many people to avoid hurt and it was his own field of career to lie if necessary.. that’s all you were trying to do.

The man can’t dare to muster up to think you have a bad bone in your little body that was filled of nothing less of kindness. But right now he won’t be rational with his assumptions.

He’s angry and selfish with dire need for your presence now all over again, no matter the situation that this is. But whatever really, big deal that you are gone. He will find someone else to fuck his life into, you are no different from any other living human with a hole.

…

He pauses.

Never mind that, fuck that. He deserves a good and perfect reason for why you did this.. leaving him in the dark, quite literally. Taehyung can't stand not talking to you even if he never took time to speak so much into your conversations. He still appreciated all of your efforts and presence you put into whatever what you had was, now it’s all fucking gone.

He used to act upon impulse when he would have multiple play things through out the month. But you, you make him stop to think. It makes him wrinkle his nose because he does not have a clue why you turn him to be this way. It’s simply you being you, no spell.. no great manipulation in your words. Just you.

In the beginning of this arrangement he was reluctant given the age gap, especially with the relation that you were a long time family client of his.

Once he became enthralled with someone.. he could say it took a lot to kill it.

You weren’t the only one that had the privilege, he’s turned thirty two this year and definitely doesn’t have enough fingers to count on with how many girls he has used up and nicely dumped off to the side — kindly.

Sparing the honest reason that he needs to focus on his career before weeks later he would latch claws into his new toy, it’s only painstakingly different now.

Much different because he had never held onto a “toy” for over a few months at a time, the man liked variety and trying new things. With you in the picture, it was sickening at the fact that he grew real attachment to every little thing about you. It made him want you more. While he is nothing great of the sort for you, he was only a warm body to give you what was desired. You gave him your body and time, in return he would give you lust driven pleasure.

He was the one who established what you two were from the great beginning, he was not allowed to feel betrayed and cheated. Someone could hate him and he would cackle at that, a girl could scream at the stoic man and he’d chuckle again. Once you lose his interest there is no winning him back, it's as if getting stuck in a never ending pit of quick sand that could swallow you in pitiful eyes. He thinks it’s valid to feel this way, he’s coming to terms with the whole ordeal of what all this was.

Being your damn family lawyer and you had met him when you were the young age of nineteen, a mere baby. It definitely took some time for him to be ok with the fact that he would end up fucking you almost weekly with your given age — he’s not a pervert.. right? But you were a mature girl as you grew up, he liked you for this reason.. different and good for whatever he wanted and still you set healthy boundaries not letting him walk over your toes.

Time will pass nicely, right? He will be fine and move on — find someone even better. A little reflecting won’t hurt his soul.

It has been a little over two months since the grouch for a man has seen you, turning slowly into the twentieth century version for Scrooge.

Promising himself each day he would not give in and call you, you will be the one to run back.

He’s been saying that to himself since the day you up and left.. now his very once high and wild ego was now dwindling day by day and he is pissed beyond belief, because wow, wowww. You really did leave him as if he planned to do the exact for you in the beginning of meeting with you, that was before he caught a liking and it was only for your body, of course.

Yes.. that’s what is was. It was only really your gorgeous body that gave him pleasure to see you again and again, never mind the fact of your amazing personality or one of a kind glowing aura that brought a sweet genuine smile on his usual crest fallen features.

Broken from his reverie he’s receiving a call, he’s been sat still buried in his office since six am. It’s how he gets through his days to not think about you or testing the waters of calling.

The phone clicks and clatters, he needs to get himself a new desk phone or better yet just buy another smartphone. Huffing and puffing, he inhales and exhales seeing the caller id.

“Hello, it’s been awhile sir.”

It’s your father, he has to fake a front for the sake of niceties and also being civil because your very own damn dad has been using the Kim’s for any law or business relations since Taehyung was probably born, he’ll complain and grumble later on to a nice white wall of his.

“Oh yes! Things have been crazed.”

Taehyung really wonders about that, a hotel tycoon can only get so wild and crazed.. right?

“Hmm, I understand. What can I help you with.”

“Ah, Mr Kim. let’s get down to it—“ the grinch for a man licks and licks his lips again out of great big habit, becoming nervous of the lingering for just how long it takes this man to get to a point. Many clicks and clattering over the other line.. the older would continue.

“So, I need to talk through some paperwork with you regarding about merging contracts.”

“Go on, sir.” he can’t be this vague.. come on. Shouldn’t he know better than to speak so small about important shit, god help his ticking time bomb for patience being not a virtue.

Ping

If silence could kill it would be deathly here and now, he receives the paper work faxed over. A skim and scan later — Taehyung feels his heart plummet to places beyond his comprehension.

It’s just so now, he realizes your father has been blabbering about whatever this whole time.

“What is this all for?”

His eyes ogle and ogle for more than a few times he could count, reading the bold letters of “Marital License and Contract Briefing.”

“Well if it wasn’t obvious, our dear y/n is going to get married next month. We have set her up with the perfect man who is a well respected hotelier heir, a perfect match for our family.”

Of course.. of course your father would set you up with a person that is in the same position of business as him, you probably had no word or real say in this. God, why does he feel wrath and anger. He wants to rip his hair out straight.

He should be happy for you, your new husband to be probably feels like home in his arms.

So much that he bets he mends you with warm healing long hugs, and utterly disgusting kind smiles that remind you of honey mixed into sweet vanilla, your very two favorite things.

He continued to offer your father a tight-lipped smile as if he could see him through the phone, briefly looking up from the contracts on his computer screen — faxed papers sitting nice and crisped on his desk. He thinks it’s best he ends this call now before he yells off.

“Ok sir, I’ll look over them and we will discuss the terms and things that will be strewn.”

“Oh that is great to hear! I invite you over tomorrow for tea, we will discuss all of the paperwork then. Yes?”

He won’t allow himself to think about that, he will agree just to get off this damn phone call.

“Yes sir, I’ll see you then, good night.”

Click.

He’s here, he can’t believe he actually came.

Sat in the way too high ceilings for a living area, he will blame it on why he feels this nauseated. God, he knows you live here obviously. It’s been your parents odd and traditional rule until you were ready to move out when they thought it was best, you always said that was why you still stayed with them. What he didn’t know was the bizarre underlying conditions were marriage.

“Ah Kim, here we are.” The meeting begins and ends with the blink of an eye.

It went awful in Taehyung’s eyes, he really didn’t want to hear about you getting married off for a great three hours. It left the man wanting to seethe and bite his mouth off until the older would finally shut up to take a puff or sip of liquor.

Then on he tried to laugh with your father.. even when it felt as if pearly teeth might crack with only how hard his jaw flexed shut.

Your father welcomes the man to stay over for only awhile longer, he won’t accept it, kindly.

He has to get going.. because someone (Taehyung) couldn’t handle on what all just happened. While the hag of your father thought it was a good idea to step out and take a call.

15 minutes before

It’s been minutes now and your father isn’t back, Taehyung decides to dwell around with his eyes to gawk at the various family portraits hung from generations before and other astray framed photographs of little you and family.

He has the urge to trace his finger along the frames but he won’t, definitely not now.

“Tae..?”

Like clockwork, Taehyung’s head cocks in nanoseconds to the spiraled staircase you stood by, gripping on the bar to keep stance.

You look gorgeous right now, still the same as before. He can’t help but let his eyes trail over your legs, he’s no better than any other man. He decides he can’t stare for much longer though, clearing his throat to cock his head off to the side in mimicking a fake neck crack.

“Hello.” he decides on, licking lips for the trillionth time and resting hands into pockets.

Your stare doesn’t stutter elsewhere, you copy him yourself — licking lips except only slower and more tantalizing. Or that’s how he sees it. He hated confrontation, one of his favorite things about you though.. is you’d ask too many questions every time you were around. He’d act like he hated it, but bathed in the attention and attentive wide eyes you once had all for him.

It’s only none of the many questions you’d ask would ever provoke the man to deflect, bother him up the wall and make him drop you soon later in his own sheer annoyance like usual. It’s happened to others, he’s an asshole but he could care less because at least he is honest.

Seeing you now gives him bitter sweetness for deja vu, the memory to when he saw you for the first time when you were eighteen — never having an ounce of interest in you then. You were a pesky teenager though, ogling the man like sweet candy for your taking. Nothing unusual he hadn’t encountered before.. only ever moving forward to do his job and ignore it.

That helped some.

Both of you finally interacted properly then when you were twenty, clear that you had matured fast and you were well with holding good conversation. While.. your dear father ran around with his head cut off like a chicken and leaving a bored lawyer Kim to wait for set business meetings to be done, you were lovely company at least.

Then somehow.. something happened, the day where he took your virginity in your childhood bathroom — it was your 21st birthday after all.

It was almost too universal how the world wanted you two to be alone at this awful time. But the moment happened so fast maybe too fast if he wants to dwell on it now, only once comforting the weeping girl that trembled in his arms to have you seconds under his grasp.

You had to, just had to look down at him with those puppy dog eyes choking a mere sob of “Am I not important.. is that what it is Tae?”

God he hated how you said his name, so sweet and quiet. Full of vulnerability and sadness.

He couldn’t allow a pretty girl like you, sobbing over something so minuscule on her birthday, he had a great plan of course. Comfort? No.

Fuck the sadness out of you, it will do you well.

It’s shameful at how he’s too old for your young sweet heart that still had much to see and live.. he’s nothing but rotten fruit at best.

But why did he want to stay selfishly so.

Your eyes did it in for him, they always did..

Corny and sappy he thinks.

He tries to move on with the passing thoughts of why do you need to be claimed now when he was starting to think he could have tried. He hopes you had at least one passing thought yourself of the what ifs and hows.

Present

All but nothing of silence settles between the two of you, no words are exchanged past that.

Eventually steps dissipate further from him to hear, you leave after the stare off you both shared — thankfully your father interrupts.

It’s been a few hours since you last saw him, you knew way before he was going to dial your phone. Doing exactly this, after your third attempt to ignore the countless calls you press accept to hear the expectant drawl of your name in stupor.

You’re sure he’s grinning dumb and widely boxy, almost as if youth takes over for these very small tipsy minutes. His vulnerability is clearly yours now, it’s so viable at how bad he is vying for attention.

You prepare yourself, clearing your throat and speaking as clear and stern as one could be.

“Hello?”

“Hmmmhmm, hello.”

There’s a pause, awkward, but he’s drunk so he likely doesn’t recognize the rising tension.

“Yes, Taehyung?”

There’s a giggle..? Oh my god he just giddily giggled at your voice. No, no your heart isn’t doing backflips — you’re just concerned.

“At your door, open sesame.” you can hear him try to knock like a madman — even if there’s visibly a buzzer that’s meant to be there so insiders could hear from the size of your parent’s insanely huge home.

Drunk Taehyung doesn’t know that though.

Fuck well, ok you guess. Thank god your father isn’t home for the night — you begin to panic but you can dissolve situations fine, it’s your strong suit or one of the many of them at least.

You practically lunge from your bed to tumble over down the stairs, trying to keep him half entertained while you tunnel yourself to the door before the maids could see the odd sight.

Being quiet as you can be with unlocking the door, Taehyung makes it no issues to pull a dramatic scene. Already seconds in through the door staring you down, like any other would be scared of the predatory stare.

But this is Taehyung, he would never hurt you.

All you can do, Slowly watching him advance at you skittering back until you’re pressed to the wall. He doesn’t touch you, leaned against the victorian wall with each hand on either side trapping you between him.

He won’t stop there yet, drawling your name out in a drunken purr “Aw-huh. Angel, you got yourself stuck..what are we going to do now?" like no moral was ever created — toes curled into wooden floors from the deep baritone voice awakening all of your weaken senses.

You try, trying so damn hard and ignore it.

Staring hard into empty eyes, his bags are awfully visible and you wonder if he’s even slept lately.

You’re so tiny and frazzled by his abrupt actions, feeling him slide a warm hand up to your stomach to trail barely under your tits. The same said empty eyes sharpen at your slip of a pathetic whine, closing you into the wall a tad too close for comfort to make you both bump into each other’s chest.

“Wanna fuck this pretty cunt again.”

His words boom into you everywhere, from head to toe and places you wouldn’t like to acknowledge that throbbed with need. Doomed, definitely, that’s what you are.

You can only exhale feeling a warm shiver travel down your spine from the daring slip of drunken tongue. Able to pull enough strength to squeak a soft response “L-let’s lay down.”

It was your best bet to avoid from ruining your impending future, you won’t allow no more mishaps to happen. It’s all for your father.

He settled off with a hum, you were surprised he’d backed off. Maybe the man recognizing the nervousness in your tone, “Lead the way.”

It’s quiet now, too tense for your liking but you can’t do anything you think to help the off situation. Laid in your bed next to each other with a foot of space between your bodies.

It’s uncanny how alike this situation reminds you of some movie you watched with the man.

You feel like you’re steps away from saying the infamous line of “Lying Is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off.”

You won’t have a second to think longer when the big bear decides to speak up into the unknown of silence that had lasted for a long hour, “I get it.. yeah, you don't love me, big fucking deal.”

Silence, absolutely nothing back.

“I’ll never tell you how I really feel, angel.”

Your breath was being held for seconds until he decides to follow with cockiness, there it is.

Always showing a slip of vulnerability followed with the man being plain rude. It’s the way your eyes roll that cause a gasp to stutter from him, almost like he didn’t expect your attitude nor harsh yet honest reaction.

He won’t comment on it properly, never does.

“Hold me.” he mumbles while simultaneously grumbling, trying his definition in hard to get you closer than whatever.. this is. Your brow ticks at him head shifting to properly face his pouted features from his side profile, feeling up for the need to deny him only a bit.

“What? Stop mumbling.”

He won’t take a pause this time, thankfully.

“Hold me goddammit.” he huffs and puffs out even louder — yet incoherently all in the same breath. Taehyung coughs, trying to clear his throat and mocks you with a roll in his own eyes of annoyance, like you did something.

That time you did “hear” him and you did what was asked by the big grizzly bear, only you turned to him closer now — seeing that wry smile on his cruel but godforsaken pretty face.

The spiral begins, you and him are going to give into this hell of fire.. only letting it grow uncontrollable by the end of night.

Are you going to do well without me?

Are we ever going to be okay?

Will we ever be fine?

You were too good to be forgotten in his heart.

It was too quiet in this room, silent and tense.

Taehyung felt nothing but regret, fucking stupid as he closed his eyes and mumbled these pitiful words.

Stupid, as he continued to speak gibberish into the room. I feel stupid. I am stupid.

You finally give up on the swallowing of the never ending silence and endless mumbling under his breath, tongue dry trying to clear your throat so to maybe finally speak — maybe even summon him back, and he does. It works because he lets his eyes finally open back.

You tug him into your chest wasting no more time when there’s not much, arms wrapped tight around his stiff figure that takes only just a minute to loosen once he realized you weren’t going to push him back anymore.

It’s not much different though, his nails still pierced into his forearm with thin lips folded into teeth to feel anything but what this is right now. You were staring at him, Taehyung, your father’s lawyer, your first crush and realization that you really only like and desire older men.

Now wishing you’d rather have gone to therapy instead of pursue that day in the bathroom.

You don’t mean that actually, you just hate yourself at this very moment and so does he.

But this wasn't the Taehyung you knew, wasn't the same man with styled hair and sultry eyes.. looking now as real life death in your arms.

You weren’t trying to be harsh nor hateful, you were worrying your heart out and confirming all the racing thoughts you have figured to be maybe going on. Only for them to come to life. He looks unreal tonight, almost unnatural from his usual sun kissed skin. No more sharpness to his look, the man looks fucking sick.

You want to coddle him to death, your own heart feels like it’s going to lurch right out from it’s chest by any second now if he keeps looking at you with those sad puppy dog eyes. This was not the look you yearned to see, you hated it all so much.

“Well.” clearing his throat, trying to prove something into air. Maybe it’s a lawyer instinct.

You repeat back to him without a beat to really think, “Well..” you use the same tone of voice but maybe yours wavered more in raw pain. The man wordlessly continued to stare like always, holding your hand tight in his grip in bringing it up to his lips. You should reject his warm touch, leave even, run far.

But why are you still laying here.. melting away.

He was being this gentle and just careful, you would giggle if the situation weren’t tense now.

Long fingers playing with lips, digits ghosting over your cheek with a soft caress. You can’t help but shut your own tired eyes, melting more and more and it was just like that.

His control is gone, so fast and fluidly when your lashes fluttered to cold skin. Whispering his name too sweet and soft almost in prayer.

"We can’t.. it would be wrong.” it’s insane how you knew his intentions from the speed his hands traveled to the material of your night dress.

"So fucking wrong," he becomes almost too ready with heavy pants of hot breath kissing your jaw and neck.

Eager calloused thumbs rubbing circles into your hips that were on the brink of trembling.

You whine at the tone he uses, becoming easy to his invasion "Don't.. don't speak like that." Eyes heavy lidded, lips licking with each breath that exhaled from your stuttering chest.

He wants you dead it seems, feeling up your body more and more by every passing second before easy fingers would get to your chest.

"I'm wrong like that.. you like it," the man preaches with determined digits this time skimming back down onto your hips to hear his favorite strangled whines "you want it.”

"Ah.. T-tae” it’s pathetic.. sounding asthmatic in your own ears from mere fingers grazing you rough.

"Who's married? Certainly not you, yet."

You pause to mull it over, eyes falling into his.

He truly doesn’t care now, past gone. Nothing can stop this — you need him.. your sweet eyes tell almost all too fucking well for him to know.

He's moving on autopilot when he pulls you to him with no awareness of anything around him, the man frenzied with his only living goal to feel you wrapped around him. Whether it be with loose limbs or his all well endowed cock buried deep between warm tightness, he needed to feel you again.

Your gasps fall out too soft to be surprised at the sudden roughness, murmuring whining moans that fell into a mantra of "We can't..” tiny cries that quickly later start falling into hungry kisses while neither of you had an ounce of intention to stop, no matter the end of it.

Lips already collided against each other in a perfect mess of motion, tongues lolled out of your mouthes as the pleasure binds you both.

It’s disgusting now, strings of drool dribbling to your chest from every pause he took to pull and nip. The man grabs your scalp, yanking you head back against his shoulder. Jaw slack open to give him the prettiest mouth for him to gladly spit right down onto your tongue, so pathetic all for his demise.

Doing all the nothing but moaning and swallowing, open mouth with all your might.

Leaving a desperate plea in sparkly eyes while you wait impatient for his next move, you missed him. Eyes yearning and lips quivering, legs shaking so early on and yet.. your spine just might go limp quite soon.

You whine almost instantaneously and nothing less of desperate while the devious man began to nibble harshly down on your neck with small bites of love.

Moving on nothing but anger and bubbled feelings at surface, shoes being removed, with the stubborn zipper of your night dress slipping down from your shoulders as hungry lips explored every inch of skin that became exposed.

So quick, licking a wet stripe down your chest to stomach to feeling you shake with desire and need, tasting the want for you on his tongue.

“Hmm, your poor husband to be.”

He hated that, hated the fact that you were about to belong to someone. He knew he wanted and needed you to feel the burn that he had been feeling for months since then.

"I'm not t-telling," you can barely form a sentence let alone a proper sound that didn’t make you sound out to be like a deprived slut.

The man can’t do much other than scoff, you having the strength to use that reassuring tone— with such a soft tone and bat pretty doll eyes in lost of such easy pleasure given.

Looking this fucking gorgeous and it’s going to be all for someone else, not him ever “I know angel, not with the way i’m about to fuck you.”

Like clockwork you moan like a bitch at that, of course. Feeling him sink razor sharp canines down into the squishy flesh of your stomach.

Uncaring completely for the fresh marks, he would hope in your future meeting with that man.. you wouldn’t become so easy to show yourself off for him. Sliding his fingers from your stomach down over to your cunt, slipping long digits between sopping wetness — sticky as if you already had touched yourself earlier.

He’s growing impatient, on the aspect of stretching you out when he so gladly craves to stuff you four fingers full. But he’s a gentleman at his very best, always calling out for him in non-stop “T-tae..” or better yet “Touch me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good.” without any doubt he would answer “Anything for the angel.”

Your thighs already shake from the burn of /slowly/ fucking yourself on long fingers. Tears streaming, overwhelmed by the burning stretch that comes with each motion, soon quiet sniffles and soft gasps turn into sobbing when the man decides to snake his hand and start to tease and slowly circle your clit.

“So perfect, all for me, hm.”

You nod eager to please, blushing all the way down to your toes. Biting your lip, thoughts not holding very well against the feeling of the eager man’s middle finger now slipping out from you to part your cunt and stroke along the sore slit.

“Patient tonight? You must want it bad.” he sighs almost sounding bored, standing tall over you to undo the belt that once looped through his slacks. Long gone leather abandoned to the floor along with his slacks pooled at his ankles, ready, finally.

“You gotta be nice and quiet for me. Yeah? Can you do that for me?”

You’re way past desperate tonight, choking out a broken “Y-yes, fuck! Please.” wild hips winding up for more of the now lost touch.

The older plays coy, smirking lopsided and lazy, kneeling on the bed to line himself up to the pretty plump cunt. Long digits wrapped around his cock, "Open up for me baby."

She obeys immediately, legs opening wider to shakily wrap themselves around Taehyung’s waist. His hips up to slip his cock into the crease of your folds. Grinding there half tipsy now, leaky tip nudging at your clit.

Not wasting another second, the first push of stretch has you whining his name. Long nails piercing into taut honey skin, cock fucking in ruthless at the long thrusts that heat your core up, forming sweat down his neck and shoulders.

“Goood fucking girl.” He drawls with a husky moan, you want to die at how fucking hot he sounds.

He doesn’t care, going faster to no point of being coherent in your mind. Punishing strokes fucking the life out of you, snapping his cock right into your tight cunt. One hand bruised into your hip while the other slipped easily around your neck just enough to have you alert “Look me in the eyes when I’m fucking you.”

Lashes fluttering half open, looking with a fuzzy minded daze. Knowing you look like a slut, feeling drool drip everywhere along with the slickness between your legs. Coming to the reality you would let him do anything and you’d welcome it.

"Just like that baby, shit, taking my cock so fucking good," he grunts almost feral with every punishing stroke "Y-yes, " tiny voice choking out, slamming into you with hips winding harder if that was even humanely possible "Love it so much, I-love your cock.”

“Who’s a whore, uh? Who’s desperate for cock.”

“Tell me.” he growls slowing the roll of his hips into you to pull a desperate cockslut spill a mess of “Me, me, me.” you’re hyperventilating almost with how good he feels “M-me, I’m sorry!” god, the situation is a mess but he wouldn’t be lying if he wasn’t thinking about filling his load in you and pray to the man above that your birth control didn’t work.

feeling walls grow tighter and tighter, knowing the telltale signs you were about to cum.

“Perfect fucking girl, sucking me so tight.”

“S-stop..” you whine in embarrassment with a broken sob when you feel the devil himself sink deeper, balls deep inside you now.

Back and forth, back and forth.

An addictive dance, once friendly boundaries expanding to something that was speaking what will stay unspoken. Taehyung’s cock sliding so good inside your cunt you were dying with bliss for the night.

He can see you struggle to try and put a hand over your mouth, but the man won’t allow that. Snatching your hand in his grasp “Let her hear," he growls, referring to the maids and starts to fuck the life out of your cunt with no care for how loud you moan or scream.

"Y-your slut," you stutter, feeling him start to raise his hips to meet your weak attempt of grinding back, thrusting upward and matching your sloppy speed. "wanna b-be your slut."

His ego growing higher than before and dick hard as ever, Taehyung taunts, already knowing the answer by your dazed features.

“Oh yeah?” he pants grunting with every roll of his hips, and you can do nothing but give him what he wants. On the brink of tears you whine out broken moans, “So fucking bad, please Tae.”

“Come on." the taller’s strokes turning slow and hard, each one pulling a moan from sweet agape lips. "Cum on my cock.” you’re past coherent, cock drunk with drool slipping down your chin.

The ecstasy bursting through your body at an unimaginable rate,legs feel almost numb, smaller fingers gripping your sheets so hard. Taehyung already knew you would rip them off the corners of your bed, seeing how your own skin burned. Orgasm still sending ripples throughout your tiny body. Shaking as you came down from the high, cock buried deep, cum spilling inside as he keeps your body pressed together, skin to skin. His nose buried in the crook of longer sweaty strands of hair.

You begin to feel the feather kisses he mouthed over the expanse of your neck, his body quivering with the last of his cum filling you up.

“Fuck, yeah, ok.” is all he can do to respond, you can only hum in response as you’re being fucked so mind-numbingly good. Body moving along the bed as you’re fucked open for the year.

Your blissed-out state has the man feeling on top of the world, no case he’s won ever given him this much ecstasy for this feeling of high.

Knowing that the same woman he's been getting off to for months, that was only planned to be handed over to someone else is finally getting fucked. His pretty not so sweet angel drooling all for him, ruined for good by just his cock.

The floaty feeling back to how it was, only stronger than ever, the way Taehyung feels so right up against you.

He comes from his feverish moment of just drilling into you, no awareness for how overwhelming it may be. A smaller hand trying to grab his hand to make him stop, he sees nothing less of rage.

"Move your fucking hand.” he snaps with a hiss, snatching your hand in an iron like grasp.

“only I can touch you like this.” he states, hard and stern as if it’s a plead mixed into question. “Yeah?” of course he has to slap you for you to answer, braindead and cock hungry.

“Yes, all for you!” you squeal, body curling into yourself — he begins to dwell how there is not a real thought behind your eyes but his fingers and cock bearing your only passable thoughts.

He wants to laugh, your poor husband is about to be inadvertently about to be cucked.

You moan at how rough he’s being, every yank, spanking and slap getting you more than riled up. Rambling the typical ‘I love you, I love your cock.’

He’s aggravated, not sure why, deep down knowing. "Look at me and tell me what you want.” no way to receive an answer unless he squeezed a generous hand around your throat.

“Y-you, you, fuck!”

It’s not enough, he wants to laugh at his greediness that will not sate him ever.

Again and again, back and forth. Another slap landed across each apple red cheek, going harder each lashing.

“Again.”

You repeat yourself again, hm, still not enough.

He’s done with himself, frustrated and choosing to vomit his words.

“You’re mine, get that through your fucking head.” his thrusts were past hard and fast, bruising now. He grunted and groaned while you continued to moan and whimper beneath him, going so rough he decided to push your skull deep into the bed. Warm palm covering your face whole, feeling you squeeze involuntarily at being used like an object.

“Atta girl.” He didn't stop, not once. You weren’t asking to anyways just screaming his name for more — no mind here with nodding away into a mess full of bedsheets, trying to wind wobbly hips back on his cock to bounce lewdly.

Taehyung does nothing less but snap sharply against your ass, “So fucking tight, mine."

"C-cum in me tae," you moan, seeing white, reaching down blindly to rub your clit in frantic circles, begging at the idea of the older filling you with his cum. "Fill me up, give-give me a baby."

"Fuuuck," Taehyung growls and groans almost feral "Don't fucking say that shit."

"W-why not?" bratty whines beg “F-fill me up? Don't say that?"

Taehyung grunts, pulling you on him, chest to chest, you clamor to wrap shaky arms around his neck. Fuck, he’s holding you upright, bouncing you straight onto his cock. Falling forward with a squeal, crying in pleasure as the tip of his cock hits your cervix with how deep he is inside.

"Want my cum so fucking bad?" he hums, trying his best to sound unbothered. "I'll fucking give it to you then."

Your legs clamp around his waist as he pounds into you, cock hitting every point inside your body and you’re so close you think you’ll die. You feel Taehyung tense, and then a sudden gush of warmth fill you.

"Fuck me, angel. You feel so good." he gasps through l shut teeth spanking you with every thrust he gave.

At the feeling of him actually listening to what you always wanted, your orgasm blinds you in intensity, the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps. Body seizing, moans loud against his lips, whining a final tired cry to slow down.

The baby clip once stuck to hair now hung loose, the feeling of warm hands kneading hips before he would give harsh slaps to your ass.

"What do you think he would say," he spits out the name with nothing but disgust. “if he saw you like this?" He shifts his hips, "You think he'd ruin your orgasm?" tone patronizingly sympathetic. “Or.. let you cum so prettily, like you always do.”

He tsks at watching how disoriented daze eyes go through the five stages of grief. Writhing in pleasure as eyes fall closed, breath hitched when he finally lays you back down on the bed. Thighs sticky and all, he sighs at the sight.

“Want to show this cunt off to the world."

“Y-you can’t..” you pout, his eyes watching you fall apart all over again at just words being spoken to you.

“Good thing for secrets.” he smirks his mouth almost falling into a snarl, it wasn’t even spoken this would continue. One last time you agreed.. but you want him more than ever even if your situation is doomed.

“Bath?” he mutters with a whisper of soft kisses to your temple, you nod.

He grabs for his cigarettes, you hand him his lighter and wait until the deed was done so you could put them back off to the side again.

It’s been long since you both have took a bath together. He stretches his arms after he successfully calmed his nerves, you light the stick for him, eyes on him as he throws his head back to inhale. Blowing smoke out, body lazing while it filled with nicotine.

You like calm men, men who dont shout or break things when they’re upset. Men who talked to you in a gentle, low voice telling you what made them mad or what you did wrong.

That’s what Taehyung is to you, that’s what made you fall.. hard. You think it over all again in your current predicament, comfortable as ever.

Veiny caramel hands pulling your hips up in the bath for you to be settled nicely. A warm hand fondles your ass lovingly with his other taking puffs of smoke to inhale and exhale lazily, “My pretty girl.” he smiles lopsided before tugging your wobbly hips back down in relief, enjoying the way you whimpered and whined in your own way of retaliation.

Taking mercy before planting a wet kiss on your shoulder to whisper “I love you, Angel.”

Both of you decide on staying silent. Your back rests against his chest, deciding mutually to speak once the cigarette burnt into ashes.

“Does he make you feel safe, like I do?”

You don’t answer.

“I want you, you’re mine no matter what.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

You are married now.. being due with a fast wedding to no love involved, business as the main goal.

The meets with Taehyung continue and you two make time to fuck when you can — poor Namjoon.

It hurts he thinks.. hurts so bad. Because he’ll have to look at you every month when you come over to be fucked into whatever.

While he is out handling business, leaving him in the spot to fuck you hard and good like he can’t, at least he tried to convince himself of that for his own comfort.

You keep up with the old routine of pillow talk, just to feel the same mundanity this once all was. You think, he doesn’t care what you speak of after he only just poured his dull sad soul into fucking you.

Not caring at how you talk so highly of your new husband and how well you both are adapting with each other. Rambling all on about your blossoming relationship with him, hearing you nervously speak of the plans on having kids together.

Of course not nervous on his behalf, no, no.

Because you are deathly nervous about if you will be a good mother or not, he knows you will, even if things are like this. You think it doesn’t hurt him, when you say genuinely on how he’ll be the “Cool friend of Mommy’s” to your children.

It drives a knife deep into my heart on how you speak so highly of this new life, how well you are adapting. When.. we could have had this.

“Tae..? You there?”

He’s not caring to respond to your rhetoric question that was all well laced of genuine care and worry, Taehyung can be an asshole just this once.

“Do you know what you are?”

You think this is a game of teasing now, he can tell with that pretty smirk plastered on your gorgeous face “What am I, sir?”

It’s too bad that he’s being genuinely serious.

“You’re my girl.”

You don’t take a second to pause, you play into the narrative with a grin that quickly warped into an innocent and sweet smile.

“I’m your girl, Taehyung.”

He only knew that you meant the world to him.. and he, adored you in his mind until it hurt.

#bts fan fiction #bts ff #bts smut #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung fic #taehyung smut #taehyung x yn #taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #taehyung ff #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #taehyung pwp #bts angst #kim taehyung angst #bts au #bts aus

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milkteabinniechan · 4 months ago

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HIII i was wondering if you could do a smut with jeongin eating reader out after they get home from a stressful day at work?? thank you<3

♡Taste - Jeongin

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

How's that feel?

Jeongin lifted his head from between your legs, his mouth shining and wet. He loved this part. This perfect middle moment. Your head pressed back into the pillow. Your eyes rolled back and half-lidded. Blissed out. Floating on a high.

You let out a soft whimper followed by a good. Jeongin smiled widely and resumed the position. He let his head sink back down between your legs. He put his tongue again, brushing it lightly, teasingly, against your most sensitive areas. He moved with a precision only present in a man that knew exactly what he was doing. Something about the taste of you mixed with the erotic noises you let out made Jeongin’s mind click into a different mode. Like a switch had been flipped and the sweet, innocent eyes he usually looked at you with were gone. He was a man starving. Lapping and tasting you with a voracious intensity.

Your thighs twitched, squeezing his face periodically. The events of the day swiftly melting away like waves crashing onto the shore. Each new flurry of ecstacy washing away like sand, being pulled into salty ocean water. Working days had become working nights and the tension and stress in your shoulders was becoming apparent and overwhelming. You felt like you couldn't breathe. Like the walls of your once comforting apartment were beginning to close in on you.

Jeongin was like a beacon on a storm. Seeing the stress you carried and was determined to make you feel so good that you had absolutely no choice but to let the pressure and strain of work fade away into oblivion.

“....tastes so good.” Jeongin mumbled into your warm skin.

He moved his tongue a little faster now, eager to pull more sounds from you. His pink tongue flicked and swirled around your clit, inching it further out from between your lips. His lips wrapped around the swollen bundle of nerves as he sucked and pulled with a rhythmical pace that caused your breath to hitch and freeze in your throat.

"I wanna hear you. I know you can be louder than that. Come on..."

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chrollogy · 3 months ago

Text

MY TURN

— hisoka morow x f!reader

syn: Hisoka turns into a complete mess all because of a strap on.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, pegging/use of strap on, anal (m), bottom!hisoka, top!reader, porn without plot, just pure filth im so sorry, hisoka gets his shit rocked, pet name (baby), not beta read.

word count: 1.5k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. im running away . a quick lil smut warm up :3 i actually enjoyed writing this heh (oki see u on november !)

Hot. Damp. Filthy.

Hisoka’s pornographic moans filled the thick atmosphere of the room—they had no restraint whatsoever, ribbons, and ribbons of colourful curses tied with your name slipped past his wet lips; both coherent, and incoherent, each lust-filled noise came out of him with every merciless thrust of your hips. Face down, ass up. That’s the position you currently had Hisoka on, with his back unnaturally arched to take the strap even deeper.

How pathetic. A big strong man capable of killing anyone seemed to lose it at a mere silicone cock.

With Hisoka’s head turned to the side—he figured it’d be such a waste to muffle his melodic moans—he stared straight at you from over his shoulder; light amber gaze coated in pure carnal desire.

It held a hint of amusement deep beneath the brightness of its colour as if to tease you even though he’s the one getting railed into oblivion with a faux cock.

You clicked your tongue.

Even with that expression on his face—brows tightly knitted together, lips unceremoniously parted, and a glob of saliva rolling from the corner of his mouth paired with a deep crimson blush—Hisoka still managed to rouse a sense of superiority with just his eyes.

You gripped his hips, nails digging into the bareness of his pale skin before driving the strap-on cock deeper into his hole. “Mhm—aah! Yeah, that’s it—ngh!” The ivory sheets beneath his sweaty palms crumpled under his touch, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the tip of the faux cock kissed Hisoka’s sweet spot.

An icy shudder kissed up his arched back, leaving trails of goosebumps on his bare skin. Hot tears lined his pretty eyes, you watched as it rolled down his face, and onto the silk pillowcase beneath.

God, the sight before you was absolutely immaculate, downright filthy yet oddly enough, there was something so beautiful about it—the way Hisoka’s expansive back muscles flexed with pure pleasure, veins that decorated his arms bulged from the tightness of his grip on the sheets.

Not to mention how his muscular body jolted back, and forth from each merciless thrust of your hips. Bright red hair that was normally slicked back now fell onto his neck, damp, and stuck to his sweaty skin.

Hisoka looked like an absolute whore beneath you, and you lived for the sight.

If he was being honest, he couldn’t think properly anymore; his mind was nothing but a lust-filled mush, hungry for more, more, more pleasure until it pushed him into the brink of complete insanity. Pure ecstasy engulfed his body from head to toe, causing him to shake from the mind blowing sensation.

Oh, what an amazing feeling it was, if only he could live in this state forever. Sounds of wet squelches mixed with Hisoka’s shameless whimpers, and moans were like music to your ears—a sinful melody reserved for you only.

With your palms flat against his shoulder blades, you shifted your weight to your hands, using his back as a leverage to angle your hips better, and reach deeper inside him. Hisoka panted in unison with every thrust, the weight of your body on top allowed him to enter a blissful haze from the lack of oxygen in his lungs—almost like a drunken state but paired with lust.

His toes curled at the foreign sensation, relishing in the way it made his body feel limp yet stiff at the same time. The familiar feeling deep inside his stomach was slowly rising to the surface—he was near his orgasm, and you knew from the way Hisoka moaned your name like a broken record.

Ah, but you weren’t quite finished with him just yet.

“Turn around for me, will you?” You panted, hastily slipping out of his hole which earned a pathetic whimper from the man before you.

Nonetheless, Hisoka obliged, and swiftly so—as though mere seconds away from pleasure was going to cost him his whole life. He adjusted himself, bare back flushed against the sheets beneath, uncomfortably sticking onto his sweat-covered skin. A bright hue of red surrounded Hisoka’s head like a sinful halo, his hair was splayed onto the pillow which made him look all the more majestic in his raw beauty.

His hard cock slapped against his abdomen, it stood proudly, and leaked of a pearlescent pre-cum which you were tempted to get your tongue on, and relish at the taste of him. You wrapped your fingers around the back of Hisoka’s knees, bending his long legs, and bringing them to his chest before slipping the faux cock back inside his hole, earning a high pitched whimper from your lover, followed by a muttered curse.

Without letting him adjust, you returned to the swift pace you had set mere moments ago, pulling louder moans, and groans from Hisoka. At this point he was long gone, drunk on pure pleasure without an ounce of sobriety left inside him, letting you do as you please with his body as long as the feeling of ecstasy was what he received—a win, win situation.

Light amber eyes slowly dipped beneath his heavy eyelids, his stare held nothing but empty lust. As odd as it was, Hisoka’s fucked out expression allowed pride to bloom across your chest, a feeling of accomplisment that you, too, were able to reduce your lover into nothing but a common whore who eagerly chased after pleasure.

After all, it was always the other way around—Hisoka never shied away from taking you in many sinful positions, rendering you cockdrunk, and unable to form a single coherent thought.

You bent over him, palms placed on either side of his head, a smug smile painted on your sweaty face, “My, my, what a scandalous sight. God, I love that expression you’re making.” You moaned—a fake one to tease him. That was usually Hisoka’s line when he’d fuck you, he always loved to comment on your fucked out expression; per his words, it fuelled his sex drive like gasoline on fire.

Hisoka could only reply with a bite of his lip. Another set of fresh tears rolled down his crimson coloured cheeks as electrifying shocks of pleasure washed over his body. With the harsh jolts of his body, and tears clouding his gaze, he couldn’t even see you properly but that didn’t really matter since he could feel you perfectly fine.

“Fist your cock for me.” You breathed out.

Hisoka snaked a shaky hand down to the apex of his legs where his cock remained untouched, and hard. He wrapped his deft fingers around the shaft, back arched off the mattress at the added pleasure, “Aah! Fuck, that feels so—ngh! So good!” Hisoka’s lips curled into a crazed smile, a breathy chuckle erupted from his throat at the feel of his hole, and cock being simultaneously pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Everything felt too fucking good, he couldn’t help but feel amused.

Completely letting himself go, Hisoka eagerly fisted his cock in time with your thrusts. His body stiffened under the immense pleasure he felt, a series of incoherent sentences flowed out of his mouth as though he spoke another language.

Hisoka was close.

So fucking close to his orgasm as the knot inside his stomach threatened to snap with each passing second—with each thrust of your hips.

The only thing grounding him right now was his free hand curling around the ivory sheets, and if he were to let go, he might actually start floating as though on cloud nine.

“Ah—! Mhm! Yes! That’s it, baby don’t stop!”

And you didn’t, you kept the same merciless pace despite the resistance of his walls making it a little harder to thrust inside. Hisoka panted like a dog, bare, sweaty chest heaving up, and down as if his life depended on it; his precum-covered thumb deftly rubbed at his sensitive slit—up, and down, up, and down, fast, tight circles along the tip of his cock head.

Pleasure gnawed at Hisoka’s very bones, his body trembled with immense pleasure; mind completely blank, and in a lust-filled haze. Every muscle inside his body stiffened as climax neared, all four limbs tingling with a foreign sensation as though a million butterflies kissed his bare skin.

With one last thrust from you, and a few more tight rubs on his tip, Hisoka unceremoniously came with a loud moan of your name while pressing his head further into the pillow beneath.

Ribbons, and ribbons of thick ivory spurted from his hardened cock, and onto his chiselled abdomen—Hisoka’s face contorted in pure pleasure, completely lost in the sinful sensation.

Fuck, it felt like his head was spinning.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, allowing him to bask in the serene aftermath of an earth shattering orgasm, heavy pants from both of you quickly replaced Hisoka’s lewd moans. After a heartbeat, he opened his eyes, and you were met with a cold amber stare, full of predatory intent, and carnal desire,

And with a sinister curl of his lips, Hisoka breathed out, “Now then, it’s my turn.”

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !

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guiltyasreid · 5 months ago

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guilty as sin? l spencer reid x gn!reader

warnings/tags: not really smut, mild cannon violence, theres a make out session ig, bau!reader, guns, word count: 772 a/n: i gen think this is what happens to me when I watch cm, I cannot help thinking about him when I listen to this song. lmk what you think :))

It all happened too fast. The day was going smoothly, usual paper work that made you stare into oblivion and dream of a better life, then you were out on a case. You couldn't remember how you and Spencer were standing in front of the unsub who had his gun trailed on Spencer. He wasn't wearing a vest. You were. Why wasn't he wearing a vest?

His finger twitched at the trigger, you didn't hesitate to step in front of Spencer. You didn't let the next shot fire as you tackled the unsub to the floor, the gun clattering away from them. The struggle was short as the tackle made him hit his head on the steps behind him. He was knocked out cold.

You couldn't breathe, your head was bleeding from knocking it against the wall.

Spencer was apparently calling your name out causing you to blink. You were sat on the back of an ambulance. The unsub had already been taken away, they were just cleaning up the scene now.

He clicked his fingers in front of your face causing you to blink again. "Why did you do that? You could've gotten seriously hurt."

Maybe it was because you had thumped your head, his words weren't registering. You watched his pink lips move, his arms were slightly bulging against his shirt, his long hair was swiped back. He looked as though he'd just fallen out of your deepest fantasies.

He called our your name again. You blinked again. "You weren't wearing a vest." You replied. "If you were shot you could've died, I've only got some bruised ribs."

"A shot from that range could've gone through your vest, it could've been fatal for you. What if the bullet was a little higher?..." He continued speaking, it was drowned out by your thoughts of how would his lips feel pressed upon yours, or his hands touching any part of you. It was like your dreams were coming true when his hands fell on your thighs to lean towards your face.

"You can't do that again..." his voice drowned out again. All you could think of was how his hands were causing your entire body to freeze up.

They covered the entire whith of your thighs, they were calloused, and even though your trousers you could feel the heat emiting from his body. He was nearly inches from your face. You could feel his breath.

Suddenly, he leaned in kissing your lips, humming against them. Your entire body twitched, your hands going up to his hair, his hands slid their way further up your thighs, maneuvering towards your hips.

Your legs opened upcausing him to take a step forward, you moaned as he squeezed your hip. This prompted him to deepen the kiss, a hand going up to the nape of your neck. Holding you as if you were going to stop this moment.

You tugged on his curls causing him to let out a groan, as if he wanted to become one with you, his entire body was pressed up against you, the kiss was passionate and quick, as if you couldn't get enough of eachother.

He moved for your lips, towards your neck, your name slipping out his mouth, a kiss to under your jaw that made you shiver. He spoke your name again this time with more grit. Kissing a trail further down.

Your name was spoken again.

You blinked as Spencer gritted his teeth at your behaviour. His hands were still on your thighs. "Are you listening?"

"I am, sorry." You shook your head trying to get out of your own thoughts. "It won't happen again, I was just trying to protect you." You gave him a breathy chuckle. He patted your knee leaning back and standing up.

"As much as I don't want you to, I would've done the same thing in your position." He gave you a small smile. "Thank you."

"Anytime." You smiled back, he gave you another smile before walking away. You leaned against the ambulance and sighed, watching him talking to Hotch. His ran a hand through his hair. Your eyes softened, running your eyes over his entire figure.

"I'm not sure how pretty boy doesn't notice." Your head snapped towards Derek who was snickering at your love-sick face. You rolled your eyes. "You look at him like you're going to jump his bones."

"I do not." You scoffed back, jumping off the ambulance, handing back the blanket to the EMT.

"I saw your face when he touched yo-" You shoved Derek who just started laughing harder as you walked away.

#spencer reid #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid fluff #Criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #Spencer reid x you #Fluffiest #Spencer reid x y/n #mgg #Spencer reid x fem reader #taylor swift #bau reader #guilty as sin?#derek morgan

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megalony · 16 days ago

Text

You Are Enough

This is a new Tommy Kinard imagine, hopefully to bring a bit of fluff after the last 911 episode.

I hope you will all like it, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10

Tommy Kinard Masterlist

Summary: At a family dinner, (Y/n) and Buck find out a bombshell about their childhood and the reason they were born. Unable to cope, the pair of them drink themselves into oblivion. Tommy gets the drunken phone call afterwards.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A grimace crossed (Y/n)'s face and she hung her head down when she watched her mother walk into the kitchen.

Had it not been clear that (Y/n) had come in here to get away from their family for a few minutes? She hadn't intended to be followed and observed in the kitchen the same as she was at the dining table.

Her finger swirled around the rim of her glass and she arched her lower back out, clicking her spine into place before she held the stem of her glass and downed the remnants of wine left in the glass. She needed another drink. (Y/n) felt like drinking enough glasses until she felt and smelled like a brewery. She needed something to get her through this night with her parents.

"Another one?"

Resentment pooled in (Y/n)'s stomach when she felt her mother's eyes on her as she poured herself a drink.

Was she not entitled to another drink? It wasn't as if (Y/n) had drank a full bottle or more since she'd been here, she was allowed to get drunk if she wanted to.

She didn't bother to give her mother an answer, she simply poured herself a large glass of white wine until the bottle was empty and she could set it down near the sink. No point leaving a drop left in the bottle, not when (Y/n) was more than eager to drink the rest of it up.

"What are you wearing, honey?" Margaret danced her eyes up and down (Y/n)'s frame while (Y/n) slowly straightened up. Her fingers clenched around her glass until her nails were close to leaving splinter marks in the tall glass.

She wondered how long it would be before her mother commented on her attire. (Y/n) saw no need to dress up tonight, not for a family meal round at Maddie and Chimney's apartment. It didn't matter what she wore, her mother always made some sort of remark. She would say dresses didn't suit (Y/n), she was showing too much cleavage or it didn't go down her thighs enough and looked too revealing. Or the material wasn't right and made her look odd.

It seemed to be her mother's favourite game to try and nit-pick until (Y/n)'s temper went bust.

"It's one of Tommy's shirts." She shrugged and took another gulp of her drink but the way her mother narrowed her eyes and looked at her made (Y/n) shiver.

"Maybe you should wear your own clothes, or don't they suit you?"

"Tommy's stuff suits me just fine." The snappy edge to her voice made Margaret's nose scrunch and she looked away from her daughter.

(Y/n) liked wearing her partner's clothes, especially when he wasn't around. His smell stuck to his clothes and it calmed (Y/n) down and made her feel at ease. It made her feel like he was here with her when he was really on shift. Tommy would be finishing his shift in an hour or so if he was on schedule and not held back, and by the time (Y/n) got home tonight she should be able to find her partner curled up in bed.

She wanted to be home right now. She wanted to be home waiting for Tommy to get back.

In an ideal world, Tommy would have been here with them. He had had years of experience with tough parents after dealing with his sadistic father and a depressed mother. He would of been fine with the cold remarks, he would of brushed them off and made light out of the situation and he would of kept (Y/n) calm. But he wasn't here, and her patience was wearing thin.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) turned away and walked back through towards the dining room. But she quickly diverted towards the living room when she realised everyone had filtered through there. Rightfully so, considering dinner had now finished. No point sitting at the table when they could relax on the sofa.

When she spotted Buck sat on the end of the sofa, (Y/n) made a beeline for him and plonked down next to him so she was in the middle of the sofa. If she was going to get through the rest of this night, she had to be close to her twin.

She felt a little more at ease when Maddie sat down next to her so all three siblings were in line on the sofa, and Chimney perched down on the arm rest next to Maddie. It was a bit of a tight fit for them all on the sofa, but they made it work. It was comfortable, cosy.

It meant (Y/n) wasn't directly close to either parent, with Phillip being in the armchair next to Buck and Margaret sat opposite him in the other chair that was nearer to Maddie. (Y/n) felt neutral in the middle, she felt protected and closed off from her parents, exactly how she wanted to be.

(Y/n) let herself slouch down a little more to try and get comfy and her fingers traced over the cold glass she was cradling like it was some sort of sacred object.

"Maddie, we got you a few things. It's not much, just a few bits for the baby."

(Y/n) leaned her head on her brother's shoulder, watching with a slight sense of boredom as their dad got up and set a bag down on the coffee table in front of Maddie.

She couldn't help but wonder that if at some time in the future, she herself got pregnant, would their parents make such a fuss? Would they insist on coming down to see (Y/n) if she were having a baby? Would they get her gifts and pay attention? Would they make more of a deal about Tommy like they were trying to do with Chimney? Would they finally think of Tommy as family?

After all, he and (Y/n) had been dating for a long while now, and they had talked about kids. They were thinking of trying for a baby- not that they would tell anyone that yet, not unless it actually happened.

She caught her sister's eye and both of them shared a smile as Maddie began to look through the gifts, unaware that (Y/n)'s smile was more forced than natural.

It was mainly a few baby grows, ranging from Winnie The Pooh to blushing pink, with a few teddies in the mix. (Y/n) handed a few across to Buck so he could look too once Maddie started handing the stuff to (Y/n) so her siblings could inspect and be nosey.

"These are lovely, thank you." Maddie folded the clothes back up once everyone had had the chance to look at them and she laid them on the table. It wasn't like they were crying out for baby things, the team had already given Maddie and Chimney more than enough items to keep their daughter clothed for the next five years, but it was the thought that counted.

The Buckley siblings didn't see their parents often, and although that was the way they liked it, receiving gifts was a nice offering.

"I can't believe it, our first grandchild." Margaret reached across and ran her hand up and down Maddie's knee, oblivious to the way that (Y/n) looked up to catch her brother's eye.

They both knew if they ever had kids, they wouldn't receive this kind of treatment. They wouldn't be fussed over like Maddie was, they would never be loved or favourtised like their elder sibling, and that was something they had come to terms with years ago.

Tilting her head down, (Y/n) rose her glass and took a large mouthful of wine that suddenly tasted bitter rather than sweet.

She wanted to go home.

She hated herself for feeling jealous and resentful towards Maddie because it wasn't her fault and (Y/n) loved her. She was truly happy that her big sister was finally happy and settling down to have a family of her own rather than parenting her two younger siblings.

But this only proved how left out (Y/n) and Buck were still feeling and they were in their twenties now, not little kids vying for their parent's attention. (Y/n) didn't want to sit here and watch her sister get fussed over and showered with gifts and love while she and her twin just sat there like ornaments.

The twins were here for decoration rather than to be involved, whether that was how the rest of them felt or not.

"What's in that box over there?" Chimney pointed across towards the pale cream box he could see near the window. He had seen Phillip bring it in when they arrived and he had done his best not to be nosey, but he was curious by nature and he wanted to know what else they had brought over.

"Oh," A smile animated Margaret's face and she hurried up to go and retrieve the box in question.

Both (Y/n) and Buck tried to lean over to catch a glimpse and curiosity perked in their eyes when they noticed Maddie was written in cursive writing across the lid in glittered, sparkling letters.

"The baby box I made when we had Maddie, here. I thought you might like it, maybe you could make one for your little girl."

A tremor tore through (Y/n) when she looked at the box and although she wasn't sure why, she felt something clawing at her chest. Like an animal hidden within her ribcage, desperately trying to break free. That box looked like an omen rather than a gift. It looked hazardous. Maybe that was because (Y/n) could see how much effort had been put into that box, and she knew.

She knew there wasn't one like that for her.

(Y/n) shuffled a bit closer to Buck's side and sat up straight with her arms resting on her thighs. She passed her wine glass back and forth between her hands while she arched forward and watched her sister intently. Even though she didn't want to know what little treasures their mum had kept from when Maddie was little.

But when she felt her twin lean over with one hand on her arm and the other rummaging through the box, she knew Buck felt it too. The slight displacement they had suffered through all their lives.

"That's so cool, did you bring ours?"

One little look at her mum was enough to cause a callous smile to cross (Y/n)'s face and she couldn't hide the tears welling up in her eyes. She had been right; there was no such box for the twins.

"We don't have one. Do we?"

Both parents stayed quiet, sharing a few looks with each other while Buck gripped (Y/n)'s arm and leaned closer to her as if to comfort his twin. He could feel her heart breaking and it made his own chest tighten like he was about to have a heart attack.

He rested his temple against the side of (Y/n)'s head and she was sure he tried to whisper something in her ear, probably some words of comfort. But whatever he said fell upon deaf ears when (Y/n) looked at Maddie.

She noticed Maddie trying to scrunch up a picture and slide it beneath her leg, something she always did when she was trying to hide something. Whether it was a bad report card she didn't want their parents seeing or a party invite she was trying to hide from the twins to make a big surprise.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what came over her, but she leaned away from Buck and snatched the picture from beneath Maddie's thigh before her sister could hide it or try and discard it. Whatever it was, Maddie clearly didn't want the twins to see and therefore (Y/n) had to know what it was.

She recognised that red bike.

It was the one they used to have in the garage, the one that presumably had been Maddie's when she was younger because their mother kept it even when Maddie outgrew it. She wouldn't allow the twins to touch it, let alone try and learn how to ride a bike with that red, tattered old thing.

But that wasn't Buck on the bike. (Y/n) knew what her twin looked like as a child, and this wasn't him. And when she turned the picture round and saw the date on the back, she noticed it was over a year before the twins had even been born.

"Who is that?"

Buck leaned over her shoulder to see what the picture was, and his hand clutched at (Y/n)'s arm tighter while his brows knitted together in confusion. He didn't recognise the little boy either.

When he looked between their parents sat either side of the sofa, Buck frowned to see that they had both turned as white as paper. There were tears welling up in their mother's eyes while Phillip was scratching the back of his neck out of nervous habit.

Yet it was the tears in Maddie's eyes that had both twins on edge. Why was she covering her mouth and trying not to cry? Why was she looking at them with such sorrow like that?

"Daniel."

"And who's he?" That name meant nothing to either of them. The twins shared a look but they were both coming up blank for answers.

"We, um… we had him two years after Maddie. He had leukemia, he, he passed when you two were only babies."

Every thought possible swirled round in (Y/n)'s head as she felt both her brother's hands on her shoulders like he didn't believe what he was hearing. This couldn't be possible. Why wouldn't they tell them? Why would they keep such a secret? Why would they keep this all to themselves? Were the twins not worthy of knowing they had a big brother they never got to meet?

"Wh- no. No you never told us- why wouldn't you tell us something like that? Why wouldn't you acknowledge him around us?" Buck's voice grew louder and louder with each word as his head snapped from left to right, trying to look between his parents who he didn't recognise right now.

There was no plausible explanation for hiding something like this. If Buck ever had kids and God forbid he lost one, he wouldn't erase them from existence and pretend they never happened. They had never celebrated Daniel's birthday. They never had pictures of him in the house- there were hardly any pictures of the twins in the house as it was. No one uttered his name or had any memory of him in the house.

"We lost him, Evan. We didn't want to live our lives mourning him-"

"So you chose to forget him?"

"Evan we would never-"

"You had us while he was sick? How long had he been diagnosed?" A frown pulled at (Y/n)'s lips while she set her glass down on the coffee table and clasped her hands together in her lap.

How stressful it must have been to look after twins and Maddie while their other child was dying. Going through a twin pregnancy would have been stressful enough without the added trauma of a sick child. But as (Y/n) thought everything over, she just happened to look up at her mother at the wrong time.

She had a look of sympathy in her eyes. Margaret never held such emotions for the twins like that.

"No, oh no. You… tell me you didn't…" The words wouldn't come out. All (Y/n) could do was let the tears fall from her eyes as she began to shake. Both her hands moved to cup her mouth as her jaw hung loose and her breathing came to an odd pattern.

"What? What, I don't understand." Buck moved both hands to grip (Y/n)'s forearms as he tried to lean in front of her to get her to look at him. Something daunting had crossed her face. Some sense of realisation had hit (Y/n) whereas it hadn't clicked in Buck's brain yet. He didn't understand what she had thought of.

When Maddie tried to take (Y/n)'s hand, the younger girl shook her off and leaned into Buck as if their sister was suddenly contagious.

"You said I wasn't planned, that I- I was the surprise, but Buck wasn't." (Y/n)wiped her eyes but the tears continued to fall. "We were donor babies, weren't we?"

The way Margaret's lower lip wobbled and Phillip refused to look at either of them while he pressed his hands to his mouth secured (Y/n)'s answer.

They were donor babies.

They were designed embryos, made with the exact blood and bone marrow type to match the brother they never knew they had. They were supposed to save him. They weren't wanted, neither of them were born to be wanted or loved or cherished. They were born specifically to save the child their parents wanted and they couldn't even do that right.

Everything seemed to slot into place and the more pieces that fitted together, the more (Y/n) started to feel sick and feel bile rising to the back of her throat.

All those times their parents never made a fuss on their birthdays, all those times they barely heard the words 'I love you' unless it was Maddie telling them. Each time they had to get hurt for attention or run away to cause a panic and be shown that they were valued and cherished. Each time (Y/n) asked about when they were born and their mother refused to answer, this was why.

Their mum always used to say that having twins was a surprise. That (Y/n) wasn't planned, she was a surprise since she was the younger twin by five minutes. This was why. They planned to have one more child to save their son but they ended up with (Y/n) too. Neither of them were truly wanted, they were just needed for a short while and then couldn't be returned after they were no longer of use.

This was why the twins always felt disconnected and why there were barely any photos of them growing up. This was why all of the pictures of (Y/n) and Buck as babies were with no one holding them. (Y/n) had been the sick twin, stuck in the hospital for two weeks before coming home and there was only one photo of her in the hospital when she was born.

Did they even visit her when she was sick? Did they check on her, or did they just take what they needed from her and Evan and stay with Daniel the whole time?

"All these years. All this time, we felt so out of place and alone, and this is why. You never wanted us. Did we remind you of him? Did we fail you every day we woke up and he didn't?"

"Evan please, we tried our best-"

"We just wanted you to love us!"

The sheer outburst and the way that Buck bolted up from the sofa sent everyone reeling.

The artery in his neck was close to bursting, his hand was pointing out at his parents and his jaw was grinding tight and about to dislocate. His body was shaking from adrenaline as he glared at them. His parents had lied to him all his life. His big sister who was the only one who loved him, she never told him why he felt so out of place and unloved and misunderstood. The only person he could rely on was his twin and she felt exactly the same as him.

Maddie was leaning into Chimney who had an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

Margaret was crying into her hands, unable to look away from her son for the first time in a long while, and Phillip was now stood up, running his fingers through his hair as he tried not to breakdown.

And then there was (Y/n). Silently crying, arms bound around her waist as she felt the need to throw up or pass out, possibly both.

"I walk into fire every day of my life because of you. I tried everything to get your approval, to get you to love me, to love us the way you do Maddie, but nothing would ever work. And now I know why, because we failed you."

When Maddie tried again to reach out for her sister, she gasped when (Y/n) all but slapped her touch away.

"You should have t-told us." All those times (Y/n) and Buck asked her why their parents didn't pay them any attention or turn up for school plays or listen to them or even love them. Maddie had the answers and she never said anything. She should have told them the moment the twins moved out. She had years to tell them and she never mentioned it.

Not once.

(Y/n) ran her hands across her face, brushing the tears away before she moved her hands to the sofa and pushed up to unsteady feet.

"Let's get out of here." Her words were clearly directed towards Buck and he seemed relieved to hear them.

Neither of them wanted to stay here. They didn't want to look at their parents, let alone be in the same room as them, and right now, for the first time, that included Maddie as well. She hid this from them, she lied to them and withheld the answers they so desperately searched for. Maddie should have told them once they were old enough, she had the choice and the ability to tell them whether their parents told her to stay quiet or not. She chose to keep this secret too.

"Guys, you don't have to leave." Chimney pushed up from the sofa along with Maddie who tried to reach out for them. But she pushed back into Chimney, smothering a cry when (Y/n) sobbed and jerked away from her. She didn't feel safe here. Maddie lied to her. Their parents lied to them their entire lives and now the twins understood why their parents looked at them the way they did.

"Fuck all of you." (Y/n) made a brisk walk towards the door, grabbing her bag on her way past.

Buck followed swiftly behind her, slinging his jacket over one shoulder but when he felt Maddie grabbing his arm, he glared down at his big sister for the first time in his life.

"Buck, please don't go."

"You made your choice." He tore his arm from her grip, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears before he pushed ahead and followed after his sister. Maddie chose to keep this secret and now she could face the repercussions of that.

The pair of them stormed down the hall, tears drenching their faces and every limb trembling as they walked in tandem but with no destination in sight.

"What a-are we going to do?" (Y/n) didn't want to go home. Tommy probably wouldn't be home yet and even if he was, (Y/n) didn't think she could face him. She didn't want to go back to an empty house. She didn't want to go back to a place full of memories when all she desired was to be far away from anything and everything.

She felt a fire igniting in her chest when Buck slid his hand into hers and tugged her to keep up with his fast pace as he began their descent down the stairs. He knew where they should go. He knew exactly what they needed to do and where to go in order to escape everything that had happened tonight.

"We're gonna get drunk."

***

It had been a good idea.

Going out for drinks, just the two of them where they only needed each other. It had been a good idea at the time.

But now, almost ten shots later, countless rounds of cocktails mixed with vodka martinis and the odd glass of wine, it was all coming back up with vengeance. (Y/n) could feel everything mixing oddly in her stomach and swirling around in her liver and she knew her brother felt the same by the way he kept hiccupping and wobbling on his feet.

She wasn't sure how long it took them to get back to Buck's apartment, but it had taken significantly longer than it would have if they had been sober.

Her head fell onto Buck's arm and her hand clutched his while her other hand reached out for the door frame.

Buck's brows knitted together as he tried to fathom how to get the key into the lock and which way it was supposed to turn. After a minute, he grinned and jingled the keys at his sister to show her which key he had been trying to put in the lock.

The key to the jeep.

Five minutes later and the door was finally open and both twins stumbled through the door.

Buck kicked the door shut behind him while (Y/n) stumbled ahead until she went down on her knees when her feet gave way and her head started to spin. She felt like lying down and going to sleep, but her brain was much to hyperactive for that to happen, and it didn't matter how drunk she was.

Once she was on the floor, she shuffled until she was against the kitchen island and her back was resting up against the counter. Her head tipped back to try and stop herself from being sick and her arms looped around her knees which she brought up to her stomach.

She couldn't stop the tears from streaking down her face, or the sobs that started to bubble past her lips which turned into horrible sobs once she started and couldn't stop.

Her body rocked back and forth and each time her body went back, the back of her head slammed into the counter with enough force to make her whimper and have her sights blurring in front of her.

"Why am I even here?"

"What?" Buck hiccupped again and when he realised his sister was sat on the floor, he frowned for a moment before he let his knees cave and he crashed down beside her.

He shed his jacket like it was a second skin and he sat oddly on one hip with his legs curled beneath him and his hand on (Y/n)'s knee. He winced each time she slammed her head back and after a minute, he pressed his temple against the side of her head to try and get her to stop. She was sending him dizzy and making him want to cry which was also making him feel sick.

"We didn't even save him! Why am I alive? T-they've always looked at us funny, like we're letting them down, and we did. We were born to save him and we failed."

What had they done wrong? There were two of them and even that hadn't been enough to save the brother they never knew they had. Why had two of them not been enough? Why had neither of them been able to donate enough stem cells or blood or whatever Daniel needed? Why did they get to live but he still died even with them here? How was any of this fair?

"M-mum always said we were a surprise… they were expecting one kid, and got two. They didn't want me, I wasn't planned and I- I never saved him. No wonder she never loved us."

A loud wail left (Y/n)'s lips followed by a broken cough when she felt like the vodka they drank was doing a summersault in her stomach.

Her nails began to scratch into her lower legs and she slammed her head back into the counter with enough force to blackout her vision and send her head spinning from left to right. She felt Buck wince beside her and he groaned as he reeled her away from the wall.

She was starting to get self-destructive and Buck didn't want his twin to hurt herself. She didn't need to do that. She didn't deserve that. It was their parents who deserved all this pain they were feeling. Losing a child had been hard enough, but they had treated (Y/n) and Buck like they were unwanted guests they couldn't get rid of. As if they were a hindrance, a parasite and that had been crueller than not telling them about Daniel's existence.

Their parent's didn't want (Y/n).

She was the younger twin, the one who had to stay in hospital in the ICU for longer. She was the surprise. They planned for one more child to try and save Daniel but they ended up with two who couldn't do one job between them. This was why (Y/n) and Evan had been self-destructive all their lives, why they tried to subconsciously save as many people as they could. Because there was one important person they had never been able to save.

When (Y/n) flopped into him with her eyes closed from her vision that was still blurring, Buck wrapped his arms around her.

He let (Y/n) flop onto her side with her knees still curled up into her stomach and her head resting on his lap. He wrapped his arm around her and leaned down to hug her, but he hated the way she started to sob which in turn made him begin to cry.

He fumbled his hand around in his pocket, silently praying that he hadn't lost his phone when they got blackout drunk tonight. The moment he found it, he scrolled through until he found Tommy's contact.

"Buck?"

"Are you s-still at work?" Buck groaned as he began to hiccup again and part of him wished he had face-timed Tommy to make this a bit easier.

A frown appeared on Tommy's face as he pushed up so he was leaning up into the pillows. He blearily blinked through the darkness and pressed his phone tighter to his ear to try and hear Buck a bit better.

He was close to Buck. They were like brothers, given how long Tommy had been dating (Y/n) and how close she was to her twin. Tommy had intergrated into their circle and he went out on nights out with Buck and had reconnected to Chimney because he was with Maddie. Tommy felt like Buck was the brother he'd never had, so he could tell right now that something was off in buck's voice.

"Buck, it's one in the morning, I'm in bed. What's wrong? Didn't you all have your family meal tonight?" Tommy glanced at his phone, reading that it was just after one in the morning.

He had been expecting (Y/n) to come home by now, but Tommy also knew that his girl would be spending the evening with Buck. She already warned him that family meals didn't go down well and she would probably go out somewhere with Buck or head back to his place for a while.

He had waited until midnight to check if (Y/n) called him for a ride home, but he figured she was spending the night at Buck's place.

A shiver crawled down Tommy's spine and he jerked up into a sitting position when a sudden noise caught his attention.

(Y/n).

She was crying. Why was she crying? It was late in the night, had they been involved in some kind of accident? Had someone hurt her? Where were they? What were the pair of them doing?

"Is that (Y/n)? Buck why is she crying, what's happened?" Tommy was already scrambling out of bed and looking for his clothes before he got a response. He set his phone on speaker and turned the lamp on so he could try and get dressed. He had no idea what was going on but he knew he needed to find his girlfriend and one of his best friends and help them.

"Please come over."

"Where are you?"

Buck glanced down at his sister on his lap while he sniffed and rubbed his sleeve beneath his eyes and nose. "Where a-are we?" He frowned before a light went off in his mind and he almost smiled. "Oh, w-we're at my place."

"I'll be ten minutes."

True to his word, Tommy got to Buck's apartment in record time, mainly because it was late at night and there were no cars on the road which meant he hit every green light on the way.

He was utterly relieved when he knocked on the door and tried the handle that they had left the door unlocked. It meant he didn't have to wait for them to come to the door because he guessed by the confusion and the sound of Buck's voice that they were drunk. That wasn't the best start or a great indicator about what had happened tonight.

He hurried inside, darting his head from left to right before a crumpled sight on the floor near the dining table caught his attention.

The twins were curled up together on the floor in front of the kitchen island next to the bar stools. (Y/n) had her head on Buck's knee and she was sobbing freely which broke Tommy's heart. But seeing Buck rocking back and forth, trying to curl around her made Tommy feel even worse.

He bolted over to the pair of them and knelt down just in front of them with rabid, wild eyes and his breaths running away from him.

His hands gently reached out for (Y/n) and the moment his thumb brushed her cheek and his hand cupped the side of her neck, she seemed to come alive. A gasp tumbled past her lips and a floodwave of tears broke down her face as she scrambled to push up off Buck's lap.

Her arms deadlocked around Tommy's neck and she pushed herself into his chest, scrambling across until she was laid on his thighs in an awkward position.

"Okay, okay baby come here."

His hand cupped the back of her neck while his other hand gripped her thigh comfortingly and he firmly pulled (Y/n) up. He lifted her until her face was tucked into his neck and her chest was pressing into his. Her knees pressed into his hips until (Y/n) found the will to move and managed to shakily curl her legs around Tommy's torso so she was sitting on his lap, clinging to him like a baby monkey.

He slowly swayed back and forth, attaching his lips to the side of her head while he watched Buck lean back into the counter and bring his knees up to his stomach. His hands knitted in his hair and he tried to take deep breaths but he felt like he was going insane.

"Can one of you tell me what's happened please?" He peppered a few more kisses against (Y/n)'s temple while his thumb stroked the back of her neck and his fingers wove into her hair.

He could feel the way (Y/n) was gasping into his neck and how badly she was trembling in his arms. He figured she wasn't going to be able to string a sentence together yet or tell him what had happened to them both tonight so his eyes set on Buck.

"We had a brother." Buck started talking, but tears continued to trickle down his face and he was at the point of gasping for air. "He had cancer, t-they had us, as donor kids, but we fucked up. We didn't save him, s-so they never told us about him, or w-why we were born."

Tommy's face dropped and his arms subconsciously tightened around (Y/n) when she whimpered. He pressed his lips down into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck while he tried to wrap his head around this.

He'd heard about this. Donor babies. People having genetically modified embryos to be specific matches for their kids. It was quicker than waiting on the donor list and meant their child would have a full blood match and effectively have a bag of spare parts if their child wasn't well or continued to decline.

But Tommy had never met anyone who had been a donor child before, and he'd never known parents to lie about the existence of another child like this. He couldn't imagine the self-discipline it would take to do that or how broken they must be to erase a child from existence. It was cruel. But not as cruel as what they had done to the twins all these years.

"We failed. He's the reason we're alive… a-and we're the reason he's dead."

A sob tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to burrow herself further into Tommy to hide away.

But a gasp tumbled past her lips when she felt him stiffen and tense in front of her and he leaned back to try and look down at her.

"Hey, look at me." His hand pinched her chin and tilted her head back so their eyes locked. "So maybe you exist because of some brother you never knew, but he's not dead because of you. Your parents knew what they were doing when they had you, they knew they would have to raise two more kids and if they didn't want to do that, then that's on them."

He pressed his lips against (Y/n)'s burning temple before she gently pulled her head out of his grasp and twisted to lay her cheek on his shoulder. Her arms tightened around his neck and she pressed every inch of her chest up against Tommy's broad chest that softened a little when she snuggled into him.

"Neither of you are God, you don't decide who lives or who dies and you don't exist solely to serve one purpose. How many people would be dead without you two on the job as firemen? You've already saved so many lives, but you're not alive to be valued on those lives. You don't need a purpose, okay, both of you are enough."

Buck looked like he was starting to laugh before a small groan left his lips and he tilted his head down to rest his head in his hands.

Moving his hand, Tommy cupped the side of (Y/n)'s face and kissed her temple for a few moments while he sighed into her hair. It was going to be a long night and it was going to take a while for this news to sink in and for the twins to come to terms with this.

"How much have you two had to drink?" When neither of them answered him, he rephrased. "Alright, what have you had to drink?"

"Shots, s-some martinis and- and cocktails…"

"And vodka." (Y/n) chimed in while she closed her eyes when Tommy groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Jesus, alright so you went all-out then. Baby, baby you stay here for me. Buck, you need to go to bed come on."

Tommy was careful when he eased (Y/n) onto the floor so she was no longer clinging to his chest. He lifted her chin so he could press a wet kiss to her lips before he pushed up to his feet and held his hand out in front of Buck. He helped the other man up to his feet and carefully steered him towards the stairs.

It was late and they were both drunk, they needed to sleep this off and they could all talk in the morning. Tommy would help them cure their hangovers in the morning.

It took a while for Tommy to heave Buck up the stairs and get him towards the bed. He took the time to look around the room and move the small bin so it was beside the bed while Buck stripped from his jeans and jumper and clambered up the bed.

He was half asleep by the time he slumped his face into the pillow and Tommy carefully pushed him so he was laying on his side. If he threw up Tommy didn't want him to choke.

"If you need anything, just shout out. You good?"

The lack of response told Tommy that Buck was starting to drift off and he thought it best to leave him to it.

He jogged back down the stairs towards (Y/n) who had flopped onto her side and started to curl up on the floor like she was getting back into the fetal position.

"No, no baby we're not sleeping down here. Come here, gorgeous."

Tommy cupped the side of her neck and lifted her back up into a sitting position so he could loop her arms around his neck. One arm slid around her waist and the other swooped beneath her knees and with very little effort, Tommy lifted her up bridal style and slowly trailed towards the living room that was shrouded in darkness.

He left the lamp on in the kitchen for a source of light and he carefully sat down on the sofa with (Y/n) in his lap. She stayed limp and easily moveable in his arms while he swung his legs around on the sofa and shifted (Y/n) so she was leaning back into his chest.

The sofa was a bit small for Tommy's large frame, his ankles hung off the end of the arm rest but the cushion was comfy behind his head and he was tired. He knew (Y/n) had to be exhausted too.

Her face tucked down into his chest, smothering her lips and nose in his shirt while her hand fisted in his top and she snuggled down. She was laid on her side, her body perfectly slotted between Tommy's thighs leaning back into his chest. And when Tommy grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it across them both, he felt (Y/n) smile and hum lovingly into his chest.

There was no way Tommy was driving (Y/n) home in this state and he didn't want to leave Buck alone. It was safer for them both to stay here with him, then the twins could talk in the morning when they were both sober.

"Okay, baby?" His hand ran up and down her arm while his other arm rested behind his head and he tilted his head down. His lips attached to the top of her head while he observed her for a few moments, making sure she was closing her eyes and trying to sleep and not on the verge of another breakdown.

"Hm."

"You are enough. You'll always be enough." His words mingled into her hair and he closed his eyes, breathing in her scent as tiredness washed over them both.

But his words swirled around in (Y/n)'s mind and made her stomach flutter as she snuggled down deeper against Tommy.

She could feel herself falling asleep with nothing but the thought of Tommy playing on her mind and the notion that he loved her to the end of the Earth.

#imagine #911 imagine #tommy x reader #tommy kinard #tommy kinard imagine #tommy kinard 911 #tommy kinard x reader #evan buckley

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nanamiluvs · 8 months ago

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oh your grace !

pairing : wriothesley x reader

rating : explicit

wc : 1k

tags : reader is afab but no pronouns used, use of “good girl” and "smart girl", wriothesley and reader are married, oh wriothesley loves to call himself the duke, sir kink, dirty talk, power play, begging, fucking in wriothesley’s office what a surprise, handcuffs, oh my god more dirty talk than i planned there to be,

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thinking about wriothesley who likes it when you address him as the authority he is.

wriothesley who likes the way the words “your grace” fall off your lips when you’re joking. that’s what people call him, he’s quite used to it - being the one that is respected. after all, if the duke wants something, he needs no justification. everyone knows that much.

such a man is your husband. he’s the duke, scariest person most have ever witnessed, yet he is just your sweet wriothesley when he rubs his slight stubble in the crook of your neck. he may be a big bad wolf, but he’s a little puppy in your hands.

that’s why you tend to forget just how intimidating of a man he is. i mean, how could you remember how people bow to him in respect when he’s the one kneeling before you?

wriothesley has no problem with this. he feels safe around you and trusts you enough to the extent he’s willing to be vulnerable, he wouldn’t prefer it any other way. that’s why he’s surprised to feel his cock stiffen when you cling onto his arm as he’s working, whining, “please, your grace∿ i’ll do anything.”

you feel the shift in his mood, too. your husband is an easy man to read. his eyes snap at yours, a sign of success on your part, finally getting him to pay attention to you. “is that so?”

wriothesley who leans back in his chair, giving you the access you need to crawl onto his lap. and crawl, you did. his large hands immediately found their place on your hips, holding you. you wanted to kiss that stupid smirk of hiss away.

“i can’t say no to you, can i? not when you’re so polite, so respectful with your grace. what a terrible duke that’d make me.”

wriothesley who makes you take him in your mouth as he continues his work since you’re so eager to please his grace. paying no mind to how your spit runs all over his cock nor the way you struggle and whine, mumbling something about how he’s too big to fit.

“shh. you don’t want to be a hindrance for the duke, do you? keep quiet and take it like a good girl.”

wriothesley who rushes to finish his work as soon as possible because he wants nothing more than to bend you over his desk and slam his hips into yours, fucking you into oblivion. yet he wants to see you beg for him, eyes filled with tears as you need him inside. how shameful of you, he would say, ordering the duke around like that.

wriothesley who finally pets your head after he signs the last of the papers, your eyes lighting up as he looks down at you. “get up,” he says and you do so. he stands up after you, his frame taller and wider and towering over you as he traps you between his desk and himself. “now, how could he ever get his work done if little criminals like you kept bothering the duke?” his dick pressed against you from behind, one hand creeping up to grab your jaw while the other traveled downwards.

you blink as you hear the clinking of metal and feel the cold material around your wrists, accompanied by a click. “w-wriothesley?” you call out, unable to turn your face back to him with the way he holds you.

you can practically feel the shit-eating grin on his lips when he pushed you down on his desk, hands tied behind your back. “that’s not what you’re gonna be calling me tonight.”

“your grace,” you correct.

“smart girl.”

wriothesley who yanks your clothes enough just to have enough space to slide inside you, yet stays still when you expect him to do it. you can feel his heat throb against your ass, accompanied by his palms groping the flesh. “is this what you were trying to get?” he teased, “preventing the duke from doing his job, just to get his dick inside this pretty pussy?” you heard him chuckle when he probed your lips with his fingers, finding it already dripping and ready for him. “so wet, too. is this all for him?”

“yes.” you pant.

“i couldn’t catch that.”

“yes, your grace.”

wriothesley who makes you beg before his fingers find your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bud and laughing as you clench around nothing. he can’t just give you what you want, can he? how could that be fair, treating a cute, pretty criminal like you with kindness? he’s insufferable, mocking your neediness, his hands roaming all over your body. he’s already done as much as to make you cum on his hands twice, and now people are going to call him unjust. b

wriothesley who finally slams inside you, the oversensitivity making you whine and moan as he set a harsh pace thrusting in and out. wriothesley was your sweet husband but oh god was he not a ruthless man.

wriothesley who keeps shaming you and praising you at the same time, telling you how good of a slut you are for your grace. his dick slides in easier with your mixed fluids inside your cunt, a creamy ring formed around his member.

wriothesley who slams inside you one last time before he stills, grunting as he shoots ropes of white cum inside your walls, the way you clench around his cock when you orgasm enough to drive him over the edge.

“but fortunately,” he whispers against your ear, bending down to press his chest against your back, one hand skillfully undoing the locks of the handcuffs and dick still semi-hard. “you are the duke’s favorite.”

#wriothesley smut #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wrio x reader #genshin #wriothesley x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #wriothesley x you #genshin wriothesley x reader #genshin wrio #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut

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thewulf · 11 months ago

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Oh, Honey || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Maybe a Jake x reader where the dagger squad and jake accidentally make her feel insecure? Like Jake and reader have been dating for a couple months so Jake wants to introduce her to them. So Jake throws a little bonfire bbq at his place and the daggers come to meet her... Read Rest Here

A/N: Changed up the ending a smidge. Hope you still love it!! :) My fav trope - angst to fluff, miscommunications galore!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word Count: 2,000k +

Brushing down your dress for probably the fifteenth time you let out a slow sigh while looking over yourself in the mirror. You were nervous, terribly nervous. You’d been dating Jake for four months now. You’d learned all about his friends at work. The people he spent more time with than anybody. The people he’d grown to love and adore after going on life threatening missions. See, they kept the group together as a tactical unit after their surprising success bombing the uranium facility. Even more so of a reason to bond. They were the best of friends now. And you were the girlfriend.

Being so nervous you hadn’t heard Jake walk in and watch you with cautious eyes. He too knew you were nervous. You were gentle. So damn gentle. That’s why he went for you. He was so tired of going after the same type of girl and getting the same results, nothing. He’d tried for years and years without much success. The over bubbly bottle blonde wasn’t what was going to suit his fancy. No. It was you.

He'd run into you in the last of places he really expected at the library. His sister and nephews were in town, and they wanted to go. So, he obliged. And thank goodness he did. He always counted his lucky stars with how fortunate he felt that he’d met you.

“You look beautiful.” He spoke in a softer than usual voice trying not to startle you into oblivion.

You still jumped. A small smile brushed across your lips as you spotted him in the doorway of his bedroom, “You scared me.” You let out a soft laugh not really responding to him.

He walked over to you and brought you in for a warm embrace, “Sorry darlin’.” A light but breathy chuckle came from above you. Closing your eyes, you breathed him in slowly trying to slow you rapidly beating heart, “They’re going to adore you.” He whispered before placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded gently into his chest, “I sure hope so.” Your wanted to curse as you heard your voice waver unfavorably. Surely, that was going to give you away.

He gave you a gentle squeeze, “You have nothing to be worried about darlin’. If you can handle me you can handle them.”

You giggled at his efforts to calm you down, “You’re quite the handful Jake.”

He hummed, “Maybe so.” He had to agree. But before he could really counter he heard the knocks at his front door, “They’re here.” He clicked his tongue gauging your reaction. Had he calmed you down? Were you going to be okay? Was it too soon? He wanted to collapse in on himself. He’d surely has never been so unsure of himself. He knew how much he liked you. Even loved you. He knew he wanted it to be you. He was so sure of that. But he was so unsure of how to make that happen. Love was always so fleeting for him. He wanted to make sure you would stay. You would always want to be around him. He never knew how to act. But he must’ve been doing something right as you stuck right by his side for the better part of the last four months.

“You don’t say.” You grinned up at him as he pulled away.

He rolled his eyes before giving your side a playful pinch, “Smart ass.”

“Come on. Let’s go get your friends.” You nodded towards the door letting him lead the way. You were trying to put on a brave face, but damn were you terribly nervous.

You heard Natasha’s voice from the side of the house, “I’m really surprised you went for her.” Your breath caught in your throat as you failed to listen to the rest of the comment. ‘She’s so sweet and kind!’ But you didn’t hear that as you back up against the door. Well damn. At least you had thought it was going well.

You heard the group laugh and agree in confirmation. Shit. You really had misread the backyard throughout the night. You thought you and Bob were agreeing on so much. You really thought Natasha wanted to go shopping with you after you told her all the good local spots that didn’t include the gross megamall that swam with people you tried to avoid. You and Javier bonded over your love of the San Diego Padres. But maybe you were wrong. Maybe you’d really misread the situation that badly.

“Agreed! She’s not ridiculously tall and blonde and super talkative.” You could’ve sworn that was Bob’s voice speaking up. It seemed out of character for him. But he clearly didn’t like you. You backed yourself right back into the house. You didn’t hear the ‘She’s an actual human being that can have a real conversation. She’s great Jake,’ from him.

Instead, you frantically grabbed your phone from your back pocket. Thinking too fast you shot Jake a text,

Hey, not feeling super great. Crazy nauseous. Think I’m going to head home.

What you weren’t expecting was his insanely fast response. You thought he’d be engrossed in some conversation or agreement about you. Were you really that bad? Was he agreeing with them? It certainly didn’t sound like he was disagreeing with them.

Hold on darlin. Don’t go. I’ll be right in.

Your eyes went wide as you realized you really didn’t have time to slip out the front door like you’d planned. He’d be walking in the side door any second now. Damn you really hadn’t thought this through. You couldn’t lie to the man. No, you were an awful liar. Terrible actually.

You walked away from the door but just a moment later it clicked open. Jake’s big green eyes softening once he spotted you on the other side of the living room looking more frantic than ill. His eyes scanned your figure for any other signs of what was actually going on. He didn’t waste a second once he’d finished his once over. He walked right on up to you.

“What’s the matter love? My cooking isn’t sending you home is it?” He scanned you again with nothing but concern in his eyes. You didn’t really seem sick. You were just skiddish. He was used to this. Earlier on in the relationship he had to dance around you. Let you get used to his presence. He was so careful with you. And you bloomed right under him into something of your own. You got comfortable with him. Opened up like a book to him. Trusted him more than anything in the world.

“I’ve been feeling a little gross all day.” It wasn’t really a lie. You have felt gross all day. You’d been remarkably nervous over the entire thing.

He cocked his head to the side in slight confusion. He read you like a book though, “Honey, they love you!” He gave your arms a squeeze in reassurance. He seemed so adamant. He didn’t seem like he was lying to you. He seemed so confused. Had you missed something?

“It didn’t sound like it.” It slipped so quickly from your mouth you weren’t sure if you said it out loud or in your head. It was a tossup really.

His face dropped immediately, “What’re talking about darlin’?” His face was laced with nothing but confusion. You’d definitely missed something.

You pursed your lips. Oh well, secrets already out, “She said she was surprised you went for somebody like me.” Your eyes dropped in shame. You felt a little guilty for listening In on their conversation meant for their own ears only.

He pulled your eyes up to look at his, “Then what?” He asked.

You shook your head in confusion, “They all agreed.” You sighed. Why was he making you repeat what you heard.

He shook his head slowly, still holding your chin in his hands, “No love. She said you were sweet. That you were kind. She really likes you. Said she can’t wait for you to take her shopping.”

Well shit. How had you missed that? Your stitched your eyebrows together as you looked for any sign that he could’ve been fooling you. You couldn’t find a sign, “But then Bob said I wasn’t a blonde or talkative.” You repeated trying to justify your actions.

“Oh honey.” He laughed at the situation, not at you. He’d never dream about laughing at you, “You don’t know him well enough to know he was being sarcastic. He said that you were so fun to talk to, could hold an actual conversation.” He ran a hand down your arm trying to give you the reassurance you so clearly needed.

Shaking your head, you felt the nerves bubble back up. You definitely missed that, “I must’ve walked back inside.”

He wrapped you in another tight embrace. This one felt more necessary than the rest. He could feel how anxious you were. How saddened you looked at the thought of his friends not liking you. It warmed his heard at how much you wanted to be accepted by them. You knew how much they meant to him.

“Wish you would’ve stuck around.” He mumbled into your hair while rocking you back and forth ever so gently, “Even had Rooster singing your praises.”

You smiled as you finally started to believe him fully. He wouldn’t have lied to you like that, “Really?” You asked softly. You cheek was resting on his chest as he held you in his comfortable embrace.

“Yeah,” He chucked before pulling you closer into him, “I think they may ever like you more than me. I know Bradley does.”

Your heart swelled with all the love you felt for the man. He always knew what to say. He had a way with words that always left you feeling all the love, “Like that’s hard to do.”

He let out a full belly laugh now, “There she is. There’s my smart ass of a girl.”

“You like it.” You countered, pulling away from his strong hold on you.

He nodded, “I love it.”

You couldn’t help but to smile at that comment, “Noted.”

He hummed before dropping his arms from his hold on you, finally letting you squirm away, “Know what else I love?” He asked. He had a mischievous smirk dancing across his face.

Not having a clue what was coming next you innocently answered his question, “What’s that Jake?”

“You.”

A small gasp escaped your throat. Eyes widening and pupils surly dilated, you gave him nothing but a shocked stare, “What?” Finally squeaked out of your mouth after a few long moments.

“I love you.”

You gaped at him. Now of all times? Now?

“Jake! You dropped that bomb right now?” Your head was dizzy with thoughts. How could you face them again after he just did this to you.

He shrugged, “I think I’ve known for a while. They just helped me realize it.” One of the things you loved about him was the complete lack of pressure to respond to it. He didn’t expect it. He knew you took things slow. He was hardly offended. But he knew he loved you and he needed you to know it.

That was when it all clicked for you too. You loved him too. You loved him beyond your wildest measures. You don’t think you’d be able to live a life without him anymore. He’d changed you completely. Changed you whole.

Your eyes found his again. Yours scanned his pretty tanned face. He was smiling. Patient face on as he waited for your response. Your legs felt like jelly when your eyes finally locked with his, “I love you too.”

The smile that lit his face could make you happy for the rest of your life. God, you couldn’t wait to keep making him smile like that. You knew you were in trouble when he picked you right up in his arms kissing any part of you that he could get his mouth on and whispering sweet ‘I love you’s’ in between. The group be dammed.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mamachasesmayhem

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shojizbae · 8 months ago

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Wellness Checks

Spencer Reid x Reader

It was 11:37 when you checked your wristwatch. A knock sounded at your door, and you reached for your glasses on your nightstand blindly. Both your dogs sprang up and barked at the sound of the knocks.

"Nike, Artemis, Heel!" you shush them and rub your eyes to get them to focus. The two fluffy German shepherds follow your calves as you get to the front door, clicking the two deadbolts open. They sit as you open the door and reveal Dr. Reid. Only having been on the team for five months, you view Spencer as not just your senior but your superior. And not just the lanky piece of ass that he is.

"Uh, Spencer!" You attempted to smile, and he greeted you back. "Err, come on in." You stepped out of the way and widened the door. "Is there anything I can do for you?" You led him to the couch, where both your dogs sat and stared at him.

"Can I help you with something? Tea, maybe?" you start to walk away

"You were supposed to be at work almost two hours ago (Y/n)."

"I must have overslept, I'm gonna get some coffee would you like a cup."

"As long as it gets you to stop dodging my questions."

"Yes, Sir. How do two cups of sugar sound?" He's trying to be stern and show how cross he is with you, but it's hard to make a serious face when you're not wearing pants. You strut off the kitchen, and he can hear your faucet as you fill the coffee pot. He takes a moment to take you into your apartment. The walls were an olive shade, and there were giant purple curtains. It looked lived-in.

Organized chaos, as people liked to call this.

Your bag and shoes were tossed into oblivion. Your couch had just about a million throw pillows and a basket of blankets. It was cozy. You returned with two large mismatched mugs, handed one to him, and knelt on the couch. At the touch of your bare legs against each other, you realized that you had forgone pajama bottoms the night before. Instead, you had on an old gray UCLA raglan and some red underwear. Thank God you didn't wear a thong yesterday.

"Uh, I'm so sorry I didn't realize." You begin to stand, but a tentative grip on your wrist pulls you down.

"It's fine. You weren't expecting guests." you laugh but pull a nearby knit blanket over your lap

"Why were you sleeping so late? Normally, you are fifteen minutes early. What happened?" You take a sip from a mug that says '30 and flirty.' "(Y/n)." His voice is back to demanding.

"I'm sorry," you rub your eyes. I stayed in the office late to finish up my reports and help JJ with the debriefing.

"Bullshit, JJ was the second out; she had to get back to her son." He takes a long swig of his coffee and sits it on the table. "I've been profiling for over seven years. You're not going to get past me. Was it something on the trip?"

At the mention, you hang your head and whimper.

Tears pour uncontrollably from your eyes, and you hear them tap against your lenses. His mug clicks against your vinyl coffee table, and he pulls you into his chest by your shoulder.

"Shh sh, it's okay." His other hand rubs at your hair. "I know this job takes it out of you. It's important to focus on the fact that you're inciting real change."

"how could someone do that to a child? To ten children and keep going!" You pull up from your hands and look him deep in his eyes.

"I know it's not right." he holds the back of your neck as your forehead presses into his breast.

"How could- how could you do that to a poor sweet child." you begin to let out a mirage of sobs. Incoherent pleas. He pets your hair as you dampen his nice gray sweater. When you've finally calmed down you sniffle and wipe your eyes.

"You should get some water. Gets up and rummages through your cupboard and fills it with tap water. You throw back the last coffee and pull your knees up to your chest. You look up as he hands you a clear blue plastic cup.

"Thank you." you push your glasses up your nose. "You're free to grab anything in the kitchen. Although my groceries are quite lackluster."

"That's alright. I ate before I got here. I never knew you needed glasses."

"Oh, well, I try not to be public without my contacts. I was called four eyes more than I could count."

"Yeah, middle school is the worst."

"This was actually grad school." Your laugh is finally genuine, but you punctuate it with another sniffle.

"Well, I'm just going to text Hotch that you're going to stay home today." He reaches into his pocket

"No, no, I'll come in today. I just needed to rest a little." You push his phone to his chest and stand up. "I'll be right back."

You are ushered to your bedroom, which is basically a big closet separated from the rest of the space by three wide steps and two industrial barn doors. The two dogs follow you to your room and stand at the doors, scrutinizing Reid. You're halfway through buttoning your pants when you realize you're missing your good bra.

"fuck," you whisper to yourself "Reid!" You yell into your apartment

"Yeah!" As he responds, his voice gets louder

"Uh," you turn around quickly and cross your arms over your bare chest

"Oh, sorry,"

"I'm sorry, but could you get my bra from my purse?"

"Sure thing."

"Sorry, it's probably somewhere near the door." your forehead connects with your dresser briefly until you hear him knock on your door jam.

"Here." He taps your shoulder, and you turn slowly, but he squeezes his eyes shut like a 12-year-old boy.

"Oh, come on, Reid, it's not like you've never seen a topless girl before," You tease and spin around to put on your bra. "I'm decent now." You tap on his shoulder. A new method of communication for the two of you. He opens his eyes but looks away when he sees you're only halfway through buttoning your light blue blouse.

"Seriously? I know you didn't have a chance to have fun in high school, but this is ridiculous."

"Well, this is also unprofessional. You're my colleague." He put his hands in his pockets.

"I'm also ready to go. My shoes are by the door." You point to the exit, gather your belongings, put out food for the dogs, and make sure the dog door is unlocked. Reid insists that you take his car and that he'll drive you home at the end of the day.

His car is nice and clean, with only one of those clip-in air fresheners. He takes some sort of secret route to evade the Virginia traffic. You arrive at Quantico and log in to the relief of your coworkers.

"What took you so long?"

"Reid couldn't find my bra." You snort as you fill up another mug with coffee

"Heyo!" Morgan cheers

"That's not completely true." He interjects

"No, it's not. I was having a rough time processing our Alabama case. I guess I slept through some of the trauma."

"You should have stayed home (L/n)," Hotchner says

"No, I need to do at least three hours of work to feel like I've been productive. I'll be fine if I can stay behind my computer and file reports."

"Ok, but you'll be going home at five at the latest." He orders

"Yes, sir." You type in the government password and tie up some loose ends. Many of your reports were halted, and new cases sprung up. Your computer read 4:57 when your to-do list was empty.

"Hotch?" you knock on his door frame and poke your head around the corner. He politely hangs up the phone and rubs his temples. "I'm gonna head out now?"

"Good. And fantastic job finishing your reports. Go get some rest."

"You too," you meander to Spencer's desk and pat his shoulder. "Can you drive me home now?"

"Of course,"

"Hey, don't get too rowdy lovebirds. We need y'all tomorrow!" Morgn calls from his desk, but you're already speeding for the door when he finishes his sentence. Reid makes a sojourn at a nearby Chinese food place and returns with a doggy bag. He takes you and the food up to your apartment and watches you deadbolt him in with you.

"You understand, right?"

"Of course, I also noticed you don't have a ground or top-floor apartment."

"Yeah," Today, you drop your purse on the bench by your door and line your black heels up nicely on a rack. "Well, ground-floor apartments are easier to break into. And if I'm thrown off my balcony, it's low enough that I probably won't die—unless I land on my neck."

"Lovely."

"Feel free to make yourself at home. I'm going to put on some pj's." you start taking off your blouse as you walk to your bedroom. His worm-like reaction only entices you to embolden yourself. You shed your business attire, toss it in the hamper, and put on the same shirt from earlier and an oversized zip-up sweatshirt.

You grab a pair of grey sweats from your drawer and bring them to Reid. He's pulling small white boxes out of the brown bag. You tap his shoulder to avoid startle. He jumps slightly, though.

"Here, those slacks don't look couch-worthy." You hold them out, and he looks hesitant to. "Please, you're a guest who bought me dinner." He pressed his lips in a thin line. He got up with a sigh and put the pants on in your bedroom.

You flip through the channels until you get to BBC and play Dr Who. Reid joins you, wearing an undershirt and your sweats, and is shocked to see his favorite show on the TV.

"Those fit you better than me. You should keep them."

"You watch Dr. Who?"

"Of course," you open a box of Peking ravioli, "Come, take a seat." you open the blanket on your lap for him. "Oh, actually, I have to feed the dogs." You spring upright when he sits down, so he gets a view of your perky butt as he tries to take in the fictional storyline. You scuttle off while he struggles with chopsticks with some lo mein.

You rejoin him, pull the blanket over your lap, overlapping your legs on his. You laugh along with the absurdity of the episode, and as breakfast at Tiffany's comes on, you tell Reid that you're getting drowsy. It's not much later that your glasses are pinching on his arm, and he can feel your lips distorted against him. He pulls you into his chest.

As your snores overlap the sounds of the movie he slides his arm under your knees and by your neck to carry you off to bed. The dogs immediately start barking and leap toward him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, Artemis Nike Down! Safe." You assure the dogs. Immediately, they lay down and whimper at you. Reid opens your blankets and tucks you in. Before he leaves he places a succulent kiss on your forehead.

"Spence, stay."

"Ok,"

#I'm rewatching criminal minds and awoooga does mathew gray gubler #he feels safe #spencer reid #Spencer Reid x reader #Criminal Minds

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sexlapis · 2 months ago

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nanami reminding you of your manners 💭

ns4w, short one shot, female!reader, overstimulation, vibrator, ropes as restraints, collars, slight breath play, praise (good girl), nanami is a tiny bit mean 🎀

masterlists

vermillion ropes gently restrain you, similar to nanami’s hands, wrapping around you thighs and calves and arms like vines, with your body being the guarded, sacred temple.

and the black collar sits securely around your neck. a firm reminder.

you know you will have marks for days.

the most significant aspect of this, is the erratic wand being held right up against your trembling pearl, playing with and almost tormenting your poor, little nub. but, you blossom like a flower under the vibrations, chest rising to the sky and your mouth agape and awaiting.

and nanami loves to see you bloom.

“look at that, sweetheart,” he says, beckoning down to your ruined cunt, “look at all the mess you’ve made.”

with tear-filled eyes, you look down.

it is messy.

the bedsheet you sit on are puddled with your essence, the hairs around your mound gleam with it too and your inner thighs are damp and sticky.

“oh-oh!” you stammer out to him in acknowledgment.

you feel it coming.

the heat gradually rising from you poor pussy and up to your belly, pooling all around your lower abdomen, swirling all together and all around.

“oh, you’re almost there, aren’t you?” nanami taunts you, so meanly, in his easy tone.

he doesn’t need you to answer that.

he can tell by the tear-streaks on your puffy cheeks, the droplets that bead at your hairline and trickle down the side of your face, the tautness of your pointed nipples, the way your eyes lull into the back of your skull, the tempting twitches, tremors and shakes of your wrecked body.

that’s all the answer he needs.

you gasp.

the vibrations rock through you, slick wetness forming around the wand attached to your pussy.

“i’m gonna-i’m gonna cum. i’m g’nna cum.” you sniffle, a tear rolling down from your eye.

“hm? is that right? what do we say when we wanna cum?”

oh, yes. where are your manners?

you moan loudly. you almost forgot.

“can i…can i cum? please?”

“of course you can, baby.”

the kiss nanami places on your temple is what sets you off.

it pummels right through you, sending your already sensitive body into overdrive. all the pressure curled up in your stomach unfurls rapidly, and bursts out from your cunt, splattering on the soft sheets. the loud, high-pitched cry you let out rings around the room as nanami nibbles and sucks on your jawline.

your quiver. random, whiny sounds pour out of your mouth as you twitch. you hands squeeze into fists, trying to gain control of yourself and your body.

nanami doesn’t stop.

he continues, the wand still on a high setting.

a long whine flows out of you.

“what do we say?”

you blink at him.

you’re so fucked out, your eyes bleary and tender.

you groan softly, confused.

so nanami raised his free hand and holds the end of the collar on your neck, and pulls.

you wheeze, a full body tremble rocks through your body again.

nanami asks again. “what do we say?”

it clicks.

“thank you,” you scrabble out, peering up at him in search of validation, “thank you, thank you, thank you!”

the vibrations destroying your body come to an abrupt end. you let out a large breath, your body sagging and going near limp.

“that’s a good girl.” nanami kisses your cheek, your nose, your eyelids, your lips and all over your hot face while you come down from oblivion.

his hands soothe over your sweaty, convulsing body and he quickly unties the restraints on your body, moving them away from you completely.

with the strength left in your weary body, your curl your arms around his neck, wanting to be close to him so badly.

nanami’s warm chuckle fills your ears and he holds you to him gladly, resting his head on yours.

“god, you’re so good.” he breathes out. “so fucking good for me…”

a/n: uhm ahahaha soooo this isn’t funny anymore i need him…………………………….

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x me #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento smut #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami smut #*edit - changed the divider bc i didn’t like the other one ☝️

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siriuslystyle1989 · 2 months ago

Text

Illicit Affairs

Eris Vanserra x Rhys!sister reader

warnings: Angst, Rhys being annoying :(

masterlist

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"We're all going to Rita's tonight, if you want to join." Mor spoke to her cousin, motioning to the inner circle.

"I would love to, but I'm visiting a friend tonight." Y/n replied her voice laced with false apology that was so convincing it even surprised herself.

"I swear you're always visiting someone Y/n" Cassian spoke, chewing loudly on his toast as Nesta scowled at her mate.

He leant forward and smirked at her knowingly.

"Ew stop." Y/n grimaced "It's nothing like that just a few friends I've got back in contact with recently."

"Hmmmm." Cassian was not convinced.

"Anyway, I've got to go, I'll see you all in a few days."

And with that, Y/n left. Her leather boots clicking on the cobblestone streets as she winnowed away.

............................................................................................................................

The girl arrived in front of the large doors of the forest house, breathing in a sigh of relief at the comforting atmosphere.

She raised her hand to knock but it met nothing as the door swung open to reveal her mate.

Eris Vanserra.

The redheaded male looked down at her with a smirk and spoke, voice smooth and sultry.

"Hello my fawn."

Y/n moved towards Eris, swinging her arms around his middle, snuggling her face into his chest as he kissed her hair.

"I missed you." She murmured, trying to pull him impossibly closer to her.

Eris let out a low chuckle, as he moved them further into the house.

Falling down onto the sofa, Eris dragged Y/n on top of him, resting her head on his chest snuggling down.

Kissing the top of her head, Eris stroked her hair seemingly in a comfortable bliss.

"Eris." Y/n spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yes my love?" He replied, concern lacing his tone.

"I'm afraid my family have become... suspicious of me." She bit her lip and looked up at him with worry.

Eris sighed and continued stroking her hair.

"Whatever you want to do, I will back you. If you want to tell them, tell them, if you don't, don't. The decision is yours sweetheart." He stated.

"I just- I just don't know how much longer I can keep this from them all, especially Rhys." Y/n felt her eyes well up with tears.

Eris' heart broke at the sight as he pulled his mate closer to him, kissing her tears away.

"So there's your answer baby, tell them."

Y/n nodded, anxious thoughts consuming her mind as her head fell into the crook of Eris' neck.

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Leaving Eris was always hard but the pair had to carry on as normal. Eris not wanting his father to know about Y/n and Y/n not particularly wanting her family to know about Eris, it was something they had to get used to.

They found ways of communicating: sending emotions through the bond, meeting up whenever they could, writing letters to each other.

This is how Y/n found herself on a Tuesday morning, reading through the copious amounts of love letters her mate had sent, over a cup of morning tea.

Unfortunately this was short lived as a harsh knock was heard on her door, followed by the sound of it opening.

"It's just me." Her brother's voice bounded off the walls before she even had time to consider hiding the letters.

"Hi Rhys."

"Hey Y/n/n" He spoke with a smile, pulling the girl into a hug.

"I just came to check up on you, I feel like I haven't seen you in-" His words paused and Y/n felt her heart drop into oblivion.

"Who are all these letters from?"

"Rhys, they're- they're private!" She tried to grab the letters as he picked one up.

Clear as day.

'from your mate, Eris.'

"What the fuck Y/n."

"Rhys just- just let me explain- please" She attempted to reason with her brother as anger flamed his eyes.

"What is there to explain Y/n! After what he did to Mor..." He spat, his face laced with disgust.

"You never tried to hear his side of the story Rhysand. Maybe he's not as bad as you think he is-" Y/n spoke, trying to get her brother to look her in the eye.

"Who are you. Genuinely I don't even know you." Rhys muttered looking down to the floor, shaking his head and pulling at his hair.

"Rhys- please- just listen-"

"It's him or us." He finally looked her in the eye.

"W- what?" Y/n replied, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

"It's him or us. Your family or him. Your title or him."

"Rhys, don't make me choose you can't-"

"Oh I can." Rhysand replied, eyes wild with anger.

Y/n looked down, eyes scanning the letters on the table. She couldn't begin to imagine a life without Eris.

"Him."

Shock fell to Rhysand's features

"You are no sister of mine." He muttered as he barged out of her home, leaving the door swinging wide open.

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Eris lay his head back on the sofa, one of his hounds making its way up to put its head on his lap.

KNOCK

The sound made the hound jump up and start whining. Eris looked down concerned and began making his way to the door.

As it opened with a creak, Eris was met with the tear stained face of his mate.

"Y/n/n, my love what happened."

"Rhys knows, he saw the letters." She spoke in between sobs falling into his arms.

"Shhhh" Eris cooed, stroking her back to calm the girl down "Its okay sweetheart, everything will be just fine."

They moved into the house, Y/n letting out a wet laugh as Eris' hounds fussed over her.

"Okay fawn." Eris spoke, sitting her on his lap. "Tell me what happened."

"Rhys came into my house, and saw the letters." Y/n shakily begun as her mate nodded, holding her hand coaxing her to go on.

"And he told me I had to choose you or my family. And when I said I'd choose you, he told me- he told me I was no sister of his." At this she let out a small sob and turned to look Eris in the eye.

"You chose me?" he spoke up.

"Of course I chose you." Y/n laughed through a sob.

"Y/n. I promise this will sort itself out, Rhysand will come around. You're his sister, he just needs time to process it." He kissed her face gently, pulling her closer.

"I love you." She sighed into him, feeling the most at ease she had all day.

"I love you too, whatever happens I swear to you, I'll always be here."

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A/N: I am SO sorry for my absence school is killing me. Anyway SUE ME im obsessed with Eris

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evvyyypeters-fics · 3 months ago

Text

LoveBug

Peter Maximoff x infected!f!reader

Warnings! Pure smut, porn w/ basically no plot, vague sex virus stuff, needy reader, p n v, rough sex, dorky Peter

Literally wrote this in 5 minutes. Been having major Peter brainrot recently and I love super horny crazed reader

“Peter…puhlease..” You whined desperately, swaying your hips tauntingly at him, back arched deep into the bed. You eye him from his stance at his Pac-Man machine, now distracted by your erotic behavior.

“What’s gotten into you today?” He chuckles softly, a hidden amused smirk creeps on his face as he reluctantly walks away and over to you, still mewling against his sheets like a cat in heat.

“Need y’u sho’ bah’…” Your words slurred, your mouth felt numb, slow with words and too filled with lust in your overdriven horny brain to process speaking any coherent sentence.

A red tint instantly begins to creep on his face and he shyly plants himself behind you, massaging your hips testingly with his hands.

“What do you need, baby?” He asks, swallowing thickly as he peers close to your face.

“Need y’oh…need y’uh in me sho’ ba’h” The words sinking into the thick sheets below, hips still swaying. Peter stares into your lust-blown eyes. He knows something else is going on, but he doesn’t bother to ask any further, he knows you would hate it if he did with the predicament you were in.

He frees himself from his pajama pants, then boxers and grabs your hips in a tighter grip, pulling away your panties and positioning himself before sinking into your drenched cunt. Arousal having leaked down your thighs, the sight almost making him shiver.

An unexpected moan slips past your lips and Peter groans as you flutter harder and tighter around him than you usually do, causing him to desperately rut into you. He presses you further into the bed, grabbing the elbows of your arms desperately clinging to the sheets and pulling them back to fuck you into oblivion. Pulling strings of thick, erotic moans to spill from your lips shamelessly. The hot coil in your abdomen winds tighter and tighter, becoming unbearable as your eyes roll back. Orgasm washes over you, but Peter doesn’t stop. Determined to reach his high, he overstimulates you just enough to scratch away that itch only a little, bucking deep against your cervix before releasing a hot load. A loud groan escapes his lips and he falters back. He starts to pull away, but the itching inside of you unsatisfied, you grip his wrist. Pleading eyes boring into him.

“M-more’h..plesuh..” You whimper, thighs trembling with anticipation and a lingering orgasm. Peter is shocked by your needy behavior, but nods and obliges. Shoving himself slowly into you again, his pillowy tip pressing against your cervix, building a crescendo of speed before completely pounding you back into the mattress again. Your final orgasm hits like a brick and your whole body shivers, shaking in his grip as he spills over with you. Filling you more than you’ve ever been with his warm seed.

Peter, worn out, flops down beside you on the bed and places a tender kiss on your forehead. The sound of the TV having been playing in the background the whole time hits his ears.

“..outbreak of sexual virus that infects host with high libido…” Perks him up, and everything clicks. Today was going to be a long day, far from over. That he was sure of.

taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx @alittleobsessedbitch

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librababe99 · 3 months ago

Text

Vigilante's Lullaby |Part Three|

cw: MDNI, 18+, Jason Todd, Gender Neutral Reader, angst, melancholy, light smut, hurt no comfort, slow burn word count: 2.9K

Summary: In the dead of night, Jason slips into your apartment, seeking solace in the only place that gives him peace—your arms. With each visit, the line between passion and desperation blurs, as both of you cling to the fleeting moments where the world and its darkness fade away. How long can love survive when both of you are standing on the edge of oblivion?

A/N: While I love angst and slow burn, I felt that adding a bit of love between the two could brighten things up. Even if it's just temporary...we're only preventing the inevitable. Also feel free to comment, like and reblog!

(Part One) (Part Two) (DC Masterlist) (Part Four)

The first time Jason had slipped into your apartment, it was out of necessity—another injury that needed tending, another mission that had gone sideways. At first, he’d only come for the quiet safety of your place, the familiar comfort of your hands mending him in the dead of night. But that was months ago.

Somewhere along the way, the visits changed. They grew more frequent, and you started noticing he didn’t always arrive with fresh bruises or bandaged cuts. He began to come without a word, slipping in through your window and climbing into your bed as if he belonged there. The injuries weren’t the only wounds he needed healing.

Tonight was no different.

The soft click of the window opening barely registered in your sleep. Jason’s familiar presence melted into the room, his shadow crossing the threshold and approaching the bed with a quiet urgency. The slight creak of the floorboards barely stirred you, but there was no mistaking the tension that came with him—the kind of heaviness that clung to his every movement, even when he was trying to be gentle.

You stirred, opening your eyes to the familiar sight of him standing there, tall and brooding. His gaze met yours in the faint light from the street, his expression dark, unreadable. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

Jason’s eyes flickered, and he crossed the room in a few swift steps, dropping his weight onto the mattress beside you. His shoulders, always tight with barely restrained tension, softened slightly as your body shifted closer to his. Without a word, he slid under the blankets, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him like he was holding on for dear life.

You could feel the tremor in his breath as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. It wasn’t the first time he had sought refuge in your arms, but tonight there was something more—something rawer, more desperate than usual. His fingers dug into your hip, his touch heavier, more insistent than the nights before.

His body heat seeped into you as his lips brushed against your skin, barely a whisper. But even that faint touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting something deep inside you that had been lingering beneath the surface for far too long. The tension between you was always there, simmering just below the surface, waiting to spill over.

And tonight, it felt like that dam was about to break.

“Rough night?” you asked softly, though you already knew the answer. It was always a rough night for Jason.

His only response was a low hum, his breath ghosting over your neck as his hand moved from your waist to your back, tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his fingers pressing into you like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

He didn’t come to talk. He never did, not really. There was a comfort in the silence, in the way he could lose himself in you without having to explain. It was a fragile intimacy, one that both of you clung to in the quiet moments, where the outside world ceased to exist, if only for a few precious hours.

Without a word, you turned in his arms, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. His heart pounded against your touch, a quiet reminder of everything he tried to bury beneath the surface. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the darkness, and the weight of unspoken things hung between you.

You pressed a hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint bruise beneath his eye. “You’re here,” you whispered, a statement more than a question.

Jason’s gaze softened for a brief moment, his hand covering yours as he leaned into your touch. “Yeah,” he rasped, his voice low and rough. “I’m here.”

It was the only reassurance you needed. For tonight, he was with you. For tonight, you could forget about the darkness waiting for him outside those walls.

But it was never enough. Not for Jason.

His lips found yours before you could say another word, the kiss urgent, almost frantic. There was nothing gentle about it—his mouth moved against yours with a raw intensity, like he was trying to pour everything he couldn’t say into that one act. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the desperation in his touch, in the way his fingers dug into your skin as if he was afraid you might slip away from him.

You responded in kind, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him down to you. The kiss deepened, and Jason’s hands were everywhere—roaming over your body with a hunger that left you breathless. His touch was rough, unrestrained, and you could feel the heat radiating from him as his body pressed against yours.

You gasped against his mouth as his lips trailed down your jaw, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you, and his hands slid up your thighs, gripping you firmly as if he was anchoring himself to you. Every touch, every kiss, felt like a lifeline—like he was grounding himself in the feel of your body beneath his.

"Jason," you breathed, your voice catching as his hand slid beneath your shirt, the rough pads of his fingers trailing over your bare skin. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned softly against your neck, his breath hot and heavy as his hand moved higher, his fingers brushing against the curve of your breast. The weight of his body against yours, the feel of his hands exploring every inch of you, made it hard to think, hard to breathe. All you could do was feel.

Jason’s lips returned to yours, his kiss demanding, possessive. His tongue parted your lips, sliding against yours with a kind of hunger that bordered on desperation. You could taste the salt of sweat on his skin, the faint metallic tang of blood, and something deeper—something that was purely Jason. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and you found yourself arching against him, your hands roaming over the broad planes of his chest, feeling the muscle beneath his skin.

He pulled away just long enough to yank your shirt over your head, his breath ragged as he took you in, his gaze dark and burning with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His hands moved to your hips, sliding down to your thighs as he pressed you into the mattress, his body hovering over yours. There was a fire in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before—something raw and untamed.

Without a word, Jason’s lips were on you again, trailing down your chest, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he kissed his way down your stomach. Your breath hitched, your fingers clutching the sheets as his mouth moved lower, the heat of his breath sending shockwaves through your body. Every kiss, every touch, was electric, and you felt yourself losing control, the tension building inside you until it was almost unbearable.

Jason’s hands slid beneath the waistband of your pants, and he tugged them down in one swift motion, his eyes dark and predatory as he looked up at you. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. He wanted you, needed you, and you could feel it in every touch, every kiss. His mouth descended on you again, and you gasped, your body arching as his lips found your most sensitive spot.

The world outside ceased to exist. There was only Jason—his touch, his lips, the feel of him against you, inside you. The rest of the night passed in a blur of tangled sheets and whispered breaths, the two of you losing yourselves in each other over and over again.

And when it was over, when the darkness finally crept back in, Jason held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he could keep the world at bay for just a little longer.

For tonight, he was yours.

But deep down, you both knew that the darkness was waiting. Waiting to pull him away, waiting to swallow him whole.

The silence after felt fragile, as if the peace between you could shatter with the slightest noise. Jason’s arm was draped over you, heavy and protective, as you lay together in the tangled mess of sheets and shared breath. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath your cheek, the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat a soothing reminder that, for now, he was still here—still yours, even if only for this fleeting moment.

You ran your fingers lightly over his chest, tracing the faint scars that marked his skin. Each one told a story—of battles fought, of dangers faced, of a man who carried the weight of too many ghosts on his shoulders. You wanted to ask him about them, to understand the parts of Jason that he kept buried deep within, but you knew better. He rarely spoke about the past, about the things that haunted him. Instead, he carried it with him like a second skin, something you could only glimpse in moments like this, when the walls between you were down.

He shifted slightly, his arm tightening around you as if sensing your thoughts. Jason’s lips brushed against your temple, a soft, almost absent-minded gesture that made your heart ache. There was a tenderness in the way he held you now, a stark contrast to the desperation that had consumed you both earlier.

“I wish I could stay like this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words hung heavy in the air.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, dark and tired, but there was something else there too—something vulnerable that he rarely let anyone see. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, lingering on your cheek as he studied you, as if trying to memorize every detail.

“You don’t have to go,” you whispered, though you knew that wasn’t true. Jason always had to go. The darkness outside was calling him, pulling him back into a world that you couldn’t follow.

He let out a soft, bitter laugh, his hand dropping back to your waist. “You know I can’t stay,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. “I’m not built for this.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, wanting to argue, to tell him that he was wrong—that he deserved this, that he deserved peace, happiness. But the words wouldn’t come. Deep down, you knew he believed that leaving was the only way to protect you. Jason had spent so long living in the shadows, wrapped in violence and vengeance, that he couldn’t imagine a life without it.

You wanted to tell him you didn’t care about the danger, that you were willing to take the risk to be with him. But the truth was, Jason was a storm—wild, uncontrollable, and destined to burn out. And no matter how much you loved him, you couldn’t save him from that.

“Then stay for a little longer,” you whispered, your fingers brushing against his jaw as you leaned in to kiss him. It was soft, tender, a plea disguised as affection. “Just… for tonight.”

Jason closed his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly as he leaned into the kiss. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer as he kissed you deeply, his lips moving against yours with a slowness that broke your heart. This wasn’t the same frantic passion that had consumed you earlier; this was something different—something that felt final, like a goodbye neither of you could bring yourselves to say.

“I don’t deserve you,” Jason whispered against your lips, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand resting on his cheek as your thumb traced the curve of his jaw. “That’s not for you to decide,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart twisted painfully in your chest.

Jason’s eyes opened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, his hands gentle as they cradled your face.

“I’m no good for you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t give you what you need.”

You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. “You don’t have to,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just need you.”

The truth of those words hung between you like a fragile thread, and for a moment, Jason didn’t move. He just held you, his breath shaky, his fingers trembling slightly against your skin. You could feel the war raging inside him, the push and pull between the man he wanted to be and the man he believed he was.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw and vulnerable in a way you had never heard before. “I don’t know how to be with someone like you. Someone good.”

The sadness in his voice broke something inside you, and you reached up, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was soft, slow, and full of all the things you couldn’t say. You kissed him like you could somehow pour all your love, all your hope, into him—like you could show him that he didn’t need to be perfect, that you didn’t care about the scars or the darkness that haunted him.

Jason kissed you back, but there was a hesitance in his touch, a lingering doubt that you couldn’t shake. His hands roamed your body with a tenderness that felt almost foreign, as if he was trying to be gentle with something he didn’t believe he deserved. And it only made your heart ache more.

“I don’t need you to be anything but yourself,” you whispered against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “That’s all I want.”

For a long moment, Jason didn’t respond. He just held you, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged and uneven. You could feel the conflict in him, the part of him that wanted to stay fighting against the part of him that believed he didn’t deserve this—that he didn’t deserve you.

But then, slowly, he nodded, his grip tightening around you as if he had finally made a decision. He kissed you again, deeper this time, and the tension between you seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet sense of understanding.

The rest of the night passed in a haze of whispered words and shared touches. Jason’s hands were softer now, his movements more deliberate, as if he was trying to savor every moment with you. There was a quiet intensity to it, a sense that this was all he could offer you, and that he wanted to make it last.

And you let him.

For hours, the two of you existed in that quiet, intimate space, the world outside forgotten as Jason poured himself into you—body and soul. His kisses were slow, his hands gentle, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid in the way he touched you, in the way he held you close as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

But even as you lost yourselves in each other, you knew the dawn was coming. You knew that eventually, Jason would have to leave—that the world outside would come crashing back in, and the fragile peace between you would shatter.

But for now, for these fleeting moments, you were enough.

As the first light of morning began to filter through the curtains, Jason stirred beside you. His arm tightened around your waist, and he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

“I should go,” he murmured, though he made no move to leave.

You nodded, even though you wanted to beg him to stay. You both knew he couldn’t. But that didn’t make it any easier.

Jason pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. There was something different in his gaze now—something softer, more open. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was close.

“I’ll be back,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the uncertainty that hung between you.

You smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “I’ll be here.”

He kissed you one last time—soft, lingering, and full of promises that neither of you could make. And then, with a reluctant sigh, he slipped out of bed, gathering his clothes in the quiet dawn.

You watched him go, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this wouldn’t last. Jason was a storm, and no matter how much you wanted to be his calm, you couldn’t stop him from being who he was. But you could hold onto these moments, these nights when he let you in, when the darkness was kept at bay for just a little while.

And as he disappeared into the early morning light, you pulled the blankets tighter around you, holding onto the warmth he had left behind.

Because for now, that was enough.

Taglist: @arisa191

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starillusion13 · 10 months ago

Text

119: I like it like that

Pairing: NCT dream x f!reader

Genre: Mature, Smut, Mafia

W/c: 8k

Warnings: mention of drinking, hints of filming, use of sex toys, sex w/o a wrap(don't do it sillies), they all are just horny for each other, mean dom!nctdream, sub!fem, cum eating, hickeys, manhandling, fingering, kissing, crying, orgasm denial, edging,hand job, hints of voyeurism & exhibition, overstimulation, public sex, car sex, comfort, lots of love (let me know what to add more)

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated . Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT UNDER THE POST!

"Don't make a sound and don't even let others know about this. Alright?"

"But-"

"Are you really questioning me now?" he said and raised an eyebrow.

You shook your head and wide eyes staring at him. You didn't still able to place the pieces that he made you wear the panty with the most favorite vibrator of his choice and asked you to go along with him to the business party wearing a revealing slit dress. You always loved these thrilling experiences and for a lot of times, you had raised the topic of being used in front of others but everything should happen oblivion to others.

Your heels clicked on the shining marbled floor and the man standing at a distance watching you hungrily with a very familiar dirty smirk plastered on his face. Oh, he was enjoying it too much!

It was one of the fantasies coming true after all!

As soon as you reached near him, he grabbed your wrist and brought your knuckles to his lips, he inhaled the scent from your wrist and closed his eyes, "sweet as always." His nose brushed against your warm skin, his warm breath alone making you weak and his lips just a thin line away from your skin, "you will be good for us tonight, okay baby?"

He repeated and locked his gaze with yours, "okay? I want answers. And that should be a positive one."

You hesitantly nodded and he chuckled. He placed a soft kiss on your knuckles and entangled his fingers with yours before pulling you towards his side, "you are already being a bad girl, baby. And this has been added to your list. Keep in your mind to use your words to reply or later your every word will be deaf to my ears and I don't know about them."

"Yes, Mark......and where are the rest?" you asked him when he was guiding you towards the car in the garage.

"They have been already at the party, don't want to make them wait more. Right, baby?" he asked you while opening the door to the passenger seat for you.

"No. Let's go there before people start asking them about us." You entered and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head and closed the door.

Your eyes followed his movements how he checked a message in his phone then he looked at you through the glass, standing in front of the car and smirked. With slow steps, he entered the driver's seat and whistled when he set his hairs in the rear mirror.

Your gulped and your throat became dry watching him looking so perfect in black leather jacket and a denim bottom. His black hairs looking exactly the perfect match to the outfit and he seems like the center of attention of the party.

You licked your lips and he noticed it. He chuckled seeing you so horrified with the things that were going to happen.

"Are you scared? Or are you excited?" he asked with locking your eyes in the mirror.

You gulped and replied, "Both."

"That's a good girl. You are looking so expensive today. But I'm really disappointed that you didn't listen to our warnings and rules for the last two months, when we were not here. You hurt my trusts on you. And today you are going to repay it. Are you going to beg for the forgiveness?"

His words making you clench around nothing. You felt a wave of shame all over yourself for his words could have such an impact on you. You licked your lips and nodded before you looked up to him to your side. He was focusing on the position to take a back turn to get on the road.

"but I was missing you all. You all were gone for so long and I couldn't help but-"

"but to use all the toys that Jeno was hiding in his room. You entered all of our rooms and fucked yourself like a Wolfie in heat when we were out there busy and stressed out with our life and business."

He didn't turn towards you but his dark eyes were focusing on the road ahead. You sinked into your seat and looked outside the window. He glanced to your direction and smiled.

"you trust me, y/n? You trust us, right?" he asked you in a low voice.

"Yes. I trust you all more than everything."

Reaching to the grand gate of the 'The Park Hotel', your stomach twisted in the anticipation of the night ahead. You kept staring at the name which was shining in the dark surrounding. Mark opened the door to your side and offered you his hand, "here, my princess. The one who needs to be punished."

Your shaky hands got in contact with his strong grip and both of you walked towards the entrance.

You have been to such places a lot of times. Basically, any sort of meetings with them means to be you all in such a grand and lavish place but this day was different. Lot more exciting and surprising.

"Oh, finally my dear y/n is here." Jaemin's cheerful voice broke your gaze onto Mark's side profile and moved to the man who was approaching towards you. Mark left your hand before placing a kiss to let you hug Jaemin. You gladly accepted the hug and you realized that how much you have misses them.

"I missed you, Jaemin."

"I missed you too, baby. Were you fine by your own? Was everything too much or you were just having fun?"

"I...I felt lonely. Really, without even one of you. It was pretty much too much for me." you pout in the end.

He patted your head and turned towards Mark and signalled something before both of them smirked at you. You whispered to Mark, "does they know about my situation?"

Jaemin chimed in, "what situation?"

You didn't expect him to hear you but you just shook your head when Mark spoke up, "I don't know what she is talking about, Jaemin. As far as I can see she is in good situation."

Jaemin nodded, "you are looking perfect baby. I like it like that." and took a hold of your hand and kissed the exact same spot where still Mark's kiss from earlier was lingering. He guided you to the table where others were and Mark trailed behind you both.

As soon as you reached the table, they stared at you darkly. All their stares which were very unreadable but were filled with hungry intentions. You flashed a smile towards them. Your throat felt too dry to see them all in one place looking extra perfect. You last saw them in sleepy mood when they left for two months in the middle of the night.

Renjun was the first one to break his strong look into a smile, it was more of a smirk and he walked towards your figure wrapped in a red dress. He bent down to peck your lips catching you off guard,

"you know why you are told to wear the red dress?" he asked you.

You glanced towards Jisung and he raised a eyebrow. You turned back to the man in front and shook your head, "No."

You had only been told that the dress was bought by Jisung and you needed to wear it at the party.

"Aw...so sweet. Didn't know you are so naïve...you are looking so beautiful, exactly how we want to show you off to others." His hands took a hold of your hand and his fingers caressed yours. The fingers trailed up to your forearm and continued to caress the exposed collar bone and neck and rested on your cheek. He smirked before pecking you again.

Jisung left his place and stood beside you two, "I knew the dress would look best on her. This dress was really meant to wear by her. I'm impressed. You are looking like a princess." He leaned to whisper into your ears, "The one that needs to be punished soon." Before retreating himself, he planted a kiss on your ear lobe and on your cheek.

Mark and Jaemin already took their place around the table. Renjun also went back to his chair when Jisung pulled him back to the table. You could feel a piercing gaze on you and when you turned towards the direction from where it felt like was coming, you caught Chenle's eyes. He was watching you like a predator. He was having a wine glass in his hand and a cherry in other hand.

He slowly walked towards you and noticed how your eyes locked to the cherry. He stopped in front of you and raised the cherry. He eyed it intensely and looked towards you. You gulped and held his gaze.

"you are like the cherry on top of the party. You deserve this. Open your mouth." His words so sweet but the tone dipped in venom. A perfect sweet venom.

You obeyed his commands and did what he said. He slowly brought the cherry closer to your lips, almost touching your lower lips and asked, "Do you want it?" without wasting your time, you said, "yes."

He smirked and placed the cherry inside and closing your mouth shut with his hand. He sipped to his drink watching you eating the cherry. He waited for you to throw the seed. All their gazes were fixed on you. He offered a napkin to you. You threw the seed and he brought the wine glass from his lips to yours. "Drink."

You raised your hands to hold the glass. "did I say for you to hold it?" he gripped your jaw and made you drink the little bit of it.

He pecked your now sealed lips. He groaned in satisfaction into the kiss, "Perfect."

Jaemin leaned back into his chair, "Wow. Sexy. That was really hot."

Renjun nodded in compliance and Jisung nodded beside him.

Haechan broke the tensed atmosphere with his groan. "now come here baby and sit down. This table was looking so lonely without the cherry."

Jisung snickered hearing the comment.

You nodded but as soon as you took a step. You gasped and turned towards Mark. He was sipping his drink and staring at you. "what?"

"Mark..."

"Are you going to sit down or not?" Jeno's voice was dark and stern.

"yes." Your shaky legs due to the vibrator in your core led you to the seat between Jeno and Haechan.

You sat in your place and flashed smile towards Haechan, who was on your right.

He chuckled before leaning to you to whisper, "I will see how long this smile will last, sweetheart. This dress is really making you everyone's eye candy. But it's not good for you if people stare at you with hungry eyes."

"But that's not my fault. That's the fault of this dress." Your voice was pressed and broken due to the tingling sensation between your legs. You made a fist above your thigh. Your nails digging into the flesh of your palm.

Haechan unfolded your fist and entangled your fingers with his, "mine. I don't want these soft hands to get bruised now. These are so precious for so many things."

You felt a cold hand placed on your left thigh which was bare due to the starting of the slit of the long dress from top of the thigh. You followed the veiny hands of the man with Black leather jacket similar to Mark but a bit of different designs and patterns all over it.

Your eyes locked with the dark ones of Jeno. His stares were enough to make you cum untouched. Without processing your words, your lips parted to flow out some words, "please Jeno." You can't ever resist the urge to beg to this man. He poked the inside of his cheek and glared at you.

"Behave, Y/n. This is the last warning for tonight."

You pressed your lips tight and clutched your hands in Haechan's hold. Breaking the eye contact with Jeno, you looked at Mark with begging eyes.

"What happened?" He asked you with a smile. You gulped and attempted to speak but the vibrator was now set up to next level. The sudden increase in speed and their eyes on you making you clench around that tiny device and your both hands gripping the two man besides you. One who was already enjoying your tight clutches in his hold and another who had his palm above your thigh and your fingers holding his wrist tight for the dear life.

You closed your eyes tight and lowered your head. Feet curling under the table.

"Look at me." You didn't know who said those words rather your mind didn't register if something was said to you. You were focusing on suppressing your needs between your legs.

"Y/n. I said look at me." Renjun's stern voice made you look up to look at the man across from you. He was glaring at you.

"What happened? Why are you looking down? All the people are watching us." He raised his eyebrows and you shook your head in reply. He scoffed, "then try to behave. Don't act like this in the very beginning."

You were trying to overcome the tensed muscled. Your legs pressed tight and hands in contact with the two beside you on each side.

You averted your eyes to the approaching man towards the table when Renjun spoke up again, "did I tell you to look away?"

"But...I was just..."

"What did I say before coming here? Don't make a sound and be a good girl. Where are your manners, y/n?" Mark asked you in a daring way.

You whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Oh isn't this the dream unit. I'm so glad that you all attended the party. Say my greetings to Taeyong." The man in all white suit greeted them but Renjun still kept an eye contact with you.

Mark scoffed, "when the unit leader is here and you haven't greet properly to him. I won't be giving him your greetings."

The man laughed off the awkward moment and looked at you, "oh a beautiful lady with you all. Who is she?"

Jeno's fingers curled into a fist.

He extended his hand to greet you, "nice to meet you. This is Mr. Lee Sooman."

You broke the eye contact with Renjun and turned towards the man and stood up with a smile. Your jaw clenched due to the shift and the movement made the vibrations in a new position. You could feel their stares and when you shook the hand and introduced yourself, the vibrator was set to another level up.

You breathed out a groan and quickly retreated your hand from the man's grip. You fell back into your seat.

The concerned man asked you, "hey miss! Are you okay."

You couldn't hear anything but just looked down to disappear from his eyes.

Haechan faked smiled towards the man and stated, "I will appreciate if you just leave the personal space. She is our concern and you are not invited here to know about it. You can go and entertain your other guests."

The man pressed his lips in a smile and turned towards the another table.

"And y/n. Why are you acting weird? Can't you behave?" "Hae-Haechan...too too much."

"What's too much? Nothing is too much for you. Just know we are not leaving here until dinner. You are free to have your time."

"What!"

"What's wrong with that? Whatever he is telling is right. We are here for a dinner party and how will it seem to leave the party before dinner." Chenle said and sipped his wine.

Jisung added, "we will have more time to play here."

You had again pressed your legs tight and hands clutching your dress above your knees. Haechan smirked and picked up his wine glass and whispered something to Mark. The latter laughed and shook his head.

"Y/n, I don't like to repeat but you have to look up and act normal. I don't know why you are behaving like this." You could hear Renjun's annoyed statement but you didn't look up. you shook your head and sinked into the seat.

"didn't you hear him? Do you want to get punished...more?" Chenle said and smirked similarly like Renjun beside him.

you licked your lips and tried to form some words but only whimpers and low moans escaped your mouth.

"Don't lick your lips so much. Don't want the lipstick to fade. Do we?" he paused and repeated, "Do we?"

"N-no...Jisung."

"that's a good girl there." He smiled.

"M-mark...please...I-I..."

Jeno tapped your thighs and made you look at him. you were avoiding his eyes and focusing on anything other than any of them.he gripped your jaw and placed a cherry in your mouth

the buzzing between your legs, the bundle of nerves coiled inside your lower stomach and their intense gazes on you was making it difficult for you to control. There were other guests who were glancing at you all, whenever your eyes were falling on them, you gave them your professional smile.

"What is it, baby? I can't hear you. do you need something? can I help you?" Mark's concerning voice earned chuckles from others around the table. he was not concerned, he was enjoying and mocking at you.

"C-can I...Can I please-"

"No." Renjun cut you off.

your wide and confused eyes glanced him and back to Mark who was smirking. you attempted to speak but Mark beat you off.

"you heard what he said...be it like that."

"w-what no...please..."

"what are you even begging for, y/n?" Jisung rested his head on his palm, elbow pressed to the table and gazing intently at you.

you stared at Mark and he looked away.

"he is not even talking to you. I'm asking you something so you better reply me before you get on my nerves." Jisung scoffed in the end of his statement.

"I.." you were visibly panting, your knuckles turned white for the pressure you were balling your fist. "I...It's too much...please...please...I can't hold it anymore...please..."

chenle laughed and asked you, "what you can't hold anymore? you are not even holding your wine glass. are you gonna..." he raised his eyebrows and didn't complete the sentence but sipped his drink, holding his gaze with your shaky orbs.

"please...M-Mark...please..."

you were using your whole energy not to come without his permission but he was just reluctantly joking with Chenle and Haechan. you didn't even know from where he was operating his remote. both of his hands were on the table. in one hand, he was checking his phone often and with other hand he was eating the pastries, different fruits or drinking his wine.

where is the remote?

"what are you asking for?" he asked you with amusement filled eyes.

"fuck-"your whispered curse turned into silent whines when suddenly the vibrator got turned off.

Jaemin smiled and brought your attention towards him, "why were you cursing? didn't Mark tell you not to make any sound?"

"please...Jaemin..."

"What? now you are asking me? I can't help you with anything." he smirked and leaned back, placing his hand behind his head.

Jeno grabbed your neck and pulled you towards him with a smile. if anyone watching the scene would find it romantic and think he is teasing you and flirting with you. but in reality, he brought your face closer to his and eyes scanned your face with touch up of glittery eyeshadows and blush but a look of frustration visible on top of it. the frustration of denial.

"pathetic. you never miss a chance to take away my breath." he groaned in the end.

A hand ran down your spines, sending chills to your body and the owner of the hand whispered into your ears, "did you want to come before?"

You hastily turned towards your other side with shocked eyes to see Haechan faking an innocent look towards you. "why?"

"why? I didn't do anything. Do you think I could do such a thing?" he said it out loud so that others could listen to him and then he again leaned to your ears, "I would have done worse."

his hands were still resting on your bare back and and the other man’s hand on your thighs from earlier returned. both of them drawing patterns on your burning skin, making you squirm in your place.

"what happened? are you excited for something?" you shook your head to Chenle's comment.

you took deep breathes but they came out as shaky due to both of them on your either side sliding their hands over your bare skin.

Chenle clanked his glass with a spoon to gain your attention, few people nearby your table turned their heads towards you all and you felt embarrassed but still managed to send a tight smile. few recognized that the dream unit was sitting near them, bowed towards them in greetings. you took a napkin and dabbed it on your face to wipe off the sweat lining and sipped the wine.

"where is the remote?" you asked in a challenging way towards Mark.

"woah...somebody is acting too strong now." Jisung said and laughed.

"and that was not the smart move." Jeno's voice was low and heavy beside you.

the same vibrator turned on again but this time it was already set on a higher level. you groaned and almost moaned out but quickly looked around to see if anyone heard you or not. there was horror in your eyes and you didn't know if you would be allowed to come this time but still there was a desperation in your body. their hot touch, their eyes on you and their teasing voices were not helping you to distract yourself from the wet pool between your legs. similarly, like before you pressed your legs tight and hands balled above your thighs and jaw clenched to restrict any sort of noise to escape your throat.

"let's make it a little bit more fun. what do you say guys?"

"and what you want, Haechan?" Jaemin asked while looking up from the phone. he was recording your expressions when the set up increased by a level. Haechan hummed beside you as if he was in a deep thought but someone's voice made you look at him.

"put your hands on the table." Renjun commanded you but your movements were too slow for the patience of the man beside you. Jeno grabbed your hands and put them on them table, planting a kiss on the fingers and delicately placed them on the table and whispered, "these hands are mine because you are mine."

the dark voice and the authority in his voice pushed you to clench again and the feelings of the coiling of the knots from earlier started to return back. you curled your fingers only to get a light hit from Haechan.

"act normal. don't make a fist......um...drink the wine and also the pastry." Jisung smirked on ending his orders.

"W-what? I c-cant...no no."

"did you just say no to me?" he poked his inner cheek with tongue and placed a toothpick between his teeth.

you took a bite of the pastry. it was your favorite one and most delicious one but this moment you were in nowhere to appreciate the food. your shaky hands raised your glass in your grip and Haechan clanked his glass with yours, sending you a wink before sipping into it.

"she is doing much more than only clenching her fist. open your legs."

you shook your head to Jaemin's command.

"y/n...Open. Your. Legs." Jaemin was having literal fire in his eyes and if he ever acts this way means he was not in the mood of entertaining anything at the moment.

you had to obey his orders. you broke their rules and now you had to face the consequences. you had no other option than to do what he said. you slowly parted your thighs only for the vibrator to get shift a bit and you gasped out loud but thankfully no one noticed it except the boys surrounding you.

"you are looking pathetic at this point but still...I'm addicted seeing you like this."

Haechan will say everything just to push you towards the climax and you were trying your best to act deaf to his words.

"If we didn't have brought you here then think about us, we would have been bored so much. unlike you who would have taken the situation to her advantage." Mark stated and rolled his eyes.

Chenle nodded, "that's true. someone really doesn't care how good I fuck her. how I own her but in the end only disappointing me."

Jeno tsked beside you and added, "I need to get it in her head tonight that who is the one in control. Sometimes she tends to forget everything and I should take the honor to remind her place and who owns her."

He leaned to your ears and his hand on your thigh gripped the flesh tightly, leaving red hand marks and other hand on your bare back, a finger tracing the spinal cord. His breaths hitting your earlobe and the vibration reaching to your core, "close your eyes baby. I said close means you will close it at the instance."

you did as he told you. rest of their eyes following you two. Thankfully, your table was in the end corner and not so crowded there. of course, no one would dare to come across NCT's table. even if they are the dream unit, the two wild brothers of Taeyong are on this table so there was still a fear of the aggressiveness of the gang.

"Imagine you are sitting on my lap on this chair. my hard dick buried deep inside. pumping into you and ripping you into two parts. your teary eyes and bouncy tits." he groaned into your ears and his hand on your thigh trailed upward, near to your vibrating zone, tracing the bikini line over the dress. "think the way i would have fucked you so nice and full unlike this tiny device. you begging me to dont stop-"

"please...dont stop..."

he chuckled and continued, "cut my words again and am going to bend you down over this table and fuck you insane."

the thought of him fucking your brains out made you squirm in your place.

Renjun chuckled, "someone is excited too much."

Jeno hummed into your ears, "are you near? Is that tiny one giving you the pleasure like I give you?"

"n-no"

"Is it filling you full?"

"n-no"

"open your eyes."

you quickly did because you were reaching your climax soon and he was keeping you on the edge. you didnt want to cause anything more trouble to them to deny your orgasm again.

"will you be satisfied with it...in place of me?"

"No!"

your protest was a broken and muffled cry. he placed a small piece of pastry inside your mouth. he wiped the cream from the corner of your mouth and licked his finger. the device was again got turned off by them and you were denied the second orgasm of the night.

you were breathing heavily and panting while gulping the pastry. Jisung offered you a glass of water. "are you okay?"

you shook your head and gulped down the water.

"why? what happened?" Chenle's concerned voice.

your teary eyes locked with his, "please...why...why...I...need to go to washroom."

"do you think we are stupid?" Renjun almost laughed in the end of the statement.

"No...I need to use it....really."

"Okay. I will go with her." Jisung stood up quickly to guide you to the exact direction. you glanced a nervous look towards your table when Jaemin winked at you. He mouthed you to smile and you smiled while making your way away from the table. you both came across a lot of known people and you were happy to meet them after a long time. you mentally thanked that they haven't turned on the device this time and you didn't have to embarrass yourself.

you definitely didn't took much time inside the stall because you didn't have a choice but as soon as you exited it, you came face to face with Jisung leaning against the marble counter and whistling at you.

"isn't this my pretty baby looking so delicious in the red dress."

"Thanks for the dress, Ji."

he nodded and you went beside him to wash your hands. he back hugged you and locked his eyes with yours in the mirror.

"I just want to rip this dress off from you. but I can wait for the night. maybe the dress is expensive enough to tear off but I don't even care about that, " he turned you around and pressed himself closer to you, his fingers traced your face, "but I care to break you down under me. my baby. you are the most expensive thing in my life."

"you hate me?"

he laughed, "why will I hate you? because you broke that rule? Silly, breaking that rule doesn't even matter because in the end I will get you for myself. But we are having a little fun here today. I love you, Y/n. Are you not enjoying?"

"I love you too, Jisung...but this is too much for me...People might be watching us and they might find it weird."

"really doesn't matter. let them think whatever they want to. you only have to focus on us."

"I missed you so much." you said and hugged him.

he returned the hug and patted your back, "me too baby."

you both heard a knock and he groaned. he ignored it and kissed you but it was just a peck, his lips trailed down to your jaw and neck. he inhaled your perfume and groaned in satisfaction, one hand pumped your clothed breast and bit you soft on the soft skin at your sweet spots and you moaned out his name. he smiled and returned back to peck you again.

Hearing some repeating knocks after ignoring some before, he took a hold of your hand and you checked yourself in the mirror for any marks left behind before he unlocked the door.

the woman standing there gave you weird look and Jisung noticed it.

"Listen here 'who-is-giving-looks', before you judge anything about my wife. you need to know who's wife she is and who she is. she is too precious to receive looks from you so take that eyes down or somewhere else. I dont want those dirty eyes on her."

the woman apologized and entered the washroom. you both walked towards the table.

"you didn't have to say her like that."

"she deserved it. why will she give you a disgusting look? you are perfect. she is nowhere like you." Jisung pulled you towards the table.

"took long enough. did you guys have your little fun or what?" Chenle wiggled his brows. Jisung shook his head while taking his seat and you sat in your exact place between the ones, who were too excited to get you back for their torture.

"maybe I could have but the interruption had ruined it all."

"awe poor jisungie."

He glared at Chenle.

"but I can have my own fun later. i want myself to take that dress off from her."

"You looked like the center of the party when you walked across the room just now. I must say the choice for the red dress was perfect." Renjun said and gave you smile.

"Thanks, Renjun."

He nodded and then the servants served you the dinners. you heard the others talking to Jisung that they met some of the guests while you were gone.

there were a lot variety of dinners and you were really not hungry because of the frustration in your stomach. you eyed the foods and Jaemin noticed your disinterested face.

"I don't want to hear that you won't be eating anything. you have a habit of skipping meals often and today you can't do this in front of me atleast."

your protest was shut by his glare.

Jeno placed some foods in your plate as he knows the things you love and not. of course, all of them are aware of this.

"you all are looking handsome." your sudden compliment made them pause. some smirked and some smiled at you.

"I know I'm looking too good because earlier the way you were boring hole to myside while driving. I thought you would launch at me and I will have to fuck you in the way here."

"Yah! Mark. don't say like this when we are eating." he laughed at your whining voice.

Jeno patted your head and urged you to continue eating.

you still had the doubt, 'who has the remote?'

When you all finished the eating, there was an announcement for a thirty minutes late night show. you all chatted for a while at your table and it was just a normal conversation among you all. many other known faces from earlier greeted you all and had conversations with you all.

you were resting your head on Haechan's shoulder and Jeno was playing with your fingers when Haechan whispered, "when the lights will turn off, you will show me the magical work of your hands."

you looked around the table to see no one was paying attention to what he was saying, "what? no Haechan. there people around us. this is not good."

"oh baby! trust me no one will catch us in the dark. if you don't do what i say then you will get more punishments."

you gulped and nodded.

you extended your hand to take the wine glass but it slipped from your hand and you gasped, earning chuckles from around the table. thankfully, the glass didn't have much wine but enough to make a mess around the glass. Jeno quickly wiped the liquid before it could roll to anywhere.

"shit! someone is making a mess." Mark mocked at you. you watched how Jaemin was again recording you in his phone like before.

you pressed Jeno's hand for the vibrator was on the highest level. you didn't think you would last long enough this time. as on the cut, the lights got turned off. everybody cheered and suddenly you felt Jeno's fingers hovering over your heat, just above the vibrator.

"please...please...Jeno...please..."

"I really can't hear you right now, the show will begin just now so focus on it."

"what no- Jeno-"

Haechan held your hand and guided it to just above the tent in his pant.

"you feel this. this is because of you so let the show begin." he quickly opened the button of his jeans and freed his painfully red length. he was in an awkward posture, if the lights suddenly gets turned on, he might could get caught but he really didnt care about that and brought your hands to the tip of it.

"Ah fuck- y/n...your little touch makes me want you so bad. gonna fuck you so bad."

"hae...haechan...I can't do it." you shakily whispered.

"hush love. you can even if your orgasm is keeping you on hook. you need to keep quiet for me and do it." haechan wrapped your fingers around his member and moved it up and down in slow movements. he threw his head back and inhaled sharply.

"keep going."

"but-"

"keep quiet and start moving your hand. make me cum before the show ends."

your stomach twisted, you literally forgot your other hand holding Jeno's wrist. he pressed his palm over the device and pressed it, earning a loud moan from you. the music from the show was loud enough to silent your moans.

"Jeno...no...no...too much."

"is it?" he pressed it more and started circling it around the area. "and now?"

you nodded and your other hand jerking off Haechan's length. he was leaning on your shoulders and cursing in your earss, sending jolt to your core where the other was torturing you. You were about to shout to see Jaemin under the table between your legs and pulling off the table cover, smiling at you but jeno was quick to shut you up.

"hello princess. I am hungry for my dessert after the dinner. you will give me what I want, right?"

you nodded but didn't know what you actually agreed to. The man under the table smirked that his brother was torturing your clit with the pressure and when his gaze followed your hand, he chuckled.

"oh I see, here someone is having their little fun. that's not fair."

haechan rolled his eyes, "you can do ah- whatever you like. I won't complain b-but let me have my fun. fuck- y/n keep going like that."

"oh brother trust me. I am here for it."

Jaemin pushed your dress up, enough to get a free access to your clit and watched the vibrator doing its job. Jeno's hand trailed up to message your breasts and kiss your shoulders and nape. he didn't only kiss but also bit some areas.

"J-jeno"

"Hush...keep quiet..."

Jaemin asked Jeno and Haechan to hold your legs apart and he pushed your panty aside. he took off the vibrator and pressed it on a new place which made you gasped. you locked your eyes with Mark in the dark. he smirked at you before turning away.

Jaemin inserted a finger inside you and you literally cried out. the show would have stopped if Haechan was not quick enough to shut your mouth. you silently cried and sobbed in their hold. Jaemin inserted one more finger and you moaned into the palm placed over your mouth.

"I...am gonna cum...cum...please" your pleads were muffled and you lost the rhythm to Haechan. he gripped your hand tight and guided you. he was near and so were you. he forced your hand to go faster and soon he let out a deep groan into your ears and came undone.

"fuck...that was so good."

And at the same time Jaemin attached his mouth to your core, making you squirm in your place. his tongue was flat to your core at first and then he played with your bud and sucking it off. his fingers, mouth and vibrator was making your mind go blank and you were blabbering nonsense.

Jeno bit on your shoulder and kissed away the pain and then asked you, "are you near? Is Jaemin making you feel good?"

"Yes..yes Jeno...Jaemin is making me feel too good." your hands grip Jaemin's hair and his groan vibrated in your core and tears falling from your eyes. "please...please...let me cum...please..."

Haechan chimed in, "I think the princess needs a reward for keeping quiet enough." he had again tucked his shirt and put on the pant properly.

Jaemin smiled into your core, "Go ahead, princess. give me my sweet delicious dessert." his hands left red marks in your inner thighs and you were sure the other two's hands were also tight enough to leave marks.

as soon as you got the permission, you came. You saw white and threw your head back earning a kiss from Jeno on your head, it felt as if Jaemin sucked out your soul from the core. he licked off all the juices and removed the vibrator. his tongue still on you was overstimulating you and you bit your lips.

you looked down to catch Jaemin's eyes. He smiled at you, "I like it like that."

"My god we are twisted. you don't know what are the things we feel to do with you whenever we see you." Jeno nearly breathed out the words. he was having a tent in his pant and when your hands move to touch him, he held them in place and shook his head.

Jaemin returned to his place and Haechan pulled down your dress and dry off your sweat with tissues.

the light turned on and everybody clapped. you clapped slowly without even knowing what had happened during the show. but as soon as you turned your head, you caught Renjun's dark and sharp eyes.

everybody stood up and he walked towards you, extending his hand to make you stand. you all said your goodbyes and walked over to the cars.

Chenle and Jisung chose Jeno's car and Jaemin tagged along. that's leaving you with Renjun and Haechan to get into Mark's car.

Haechan sat in the passenger seat. he was too excited to get back home and Mark chuckled seeing him while he entered inside the driver's seat.

Renjun sat with you in the backseat.

as soon as the doors were closed and engine started. Renjun pulled you over his lap.

You yelped in surprise and he showed you a very familiar device in his hold. You didn��t expect that the remote was with him all along this time.

"you had fun with those three. now you will give me one right?" Renjun asked you and traced the hickey marks left by Jeno. you previously had covered them with your hairs but this man pushing away the hairs and eyeing those marks. "you are literally marked as ours. my love you drive me crazy."

he pushed your dress up and pulled down your panty. your bare ass visible to the men in front. they both groaned at the scene.

"don't distract me much or I will park the car anywhere to get my turn." the man from driver's seat said and chuckled.

"cry for it, Mark but we are going home. if you park the car, I am leaving you there and will drive off to the house."

"fuck you."

"gladly."

Renjun undid his pants and freed himself. he groaned and pumped his dick with the precums over it. He watched you eyeing his movements and grabbed your neck. "Ride me. okay, y/n?"

you nodded and he guided you to sit on his length. you were already dripping from the release of earlier and the new stretch burnt out the soft flesh of yours. you cried out but he kissed away the tears. you slowly started moving and gripped his shoulders.

"I want to see you but I can't take this dress off because someone else has already claimed it."

he urged you to go faster and you literally started to bounce on his lap. he groaned and moaned out. you could hear groans from the front seat as well. Renjun brought his hand from your neck to the throat and put pressure to the sides of it. you gasped but still continued to bounce.

he increased the pressure and you almost choked but it didn't hurt you much, he was quick to release for you to breathe fore few seconds only to put pressure again. another hand holding your hips in place.

"fuck- ah-"

he was near and you felt yourself near as well.

he pushed himself up inside you and you were crying. you were clenching around him for your release.

"Cum baby. I k-know y-you want to cum."

you came and rested your forehead on his shoulder. he removed his hand from your throat and again held your neck keeping you on his shoulder. His thrust increased its' pace and you whimpered for the overstimulation.

"make those sounds in my ear more. I-I'm not going to stop anytime soon."

"too much..."

"hush last one...take it."

the thrusts were rough and uneven and soon he came inside you and he kissed your shoulder.

"you did well."Renjun said and combed your hairs.

"please I want to sleep. no more today please."

"okay baby. sleep. but remember we are nowhere near the finish line."Renjun chuckled in your ears. he didn't pull out yet but when you whimpered, he detached from you and pulled your dress down. he did his pant again and rested your head on his shoulder.

you closed your eyes but still could hear Haechan's voice.

"oh darling! today night we will have so much more fun. I'm waiting for it."

They all cheered and said, "I like it like that."

but Renjun whispered into your ears, "if you reach your limits you know what to call us."

before dozing off, you mumbled,

"119."

Im planning to do this fic on NCT 127 and WAY-V. So please tell me whether you want this on the other units. Of course the scenario will be a little bit different.

(Do let me know if you liked it or not…this is a kind of fic I wanted to write but didn’t know how to. So here it is. Please give it a reblog in appreciation.)

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @sexygrass @minkyuncutie @loveforred

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highvern · 1 year ago

Text

Heart of the Sea

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: angst, romance, adventure, pirate!au, royalty!au

Content Warnings: weapons, graphic depictions of violence, blood, mentions of drowning, prostitution, depictions of parental abuse, torture, drugging, alcohol, death, eventual smut, unhealthy relationship dynamics/toxicity, they're pirates and not the peter pan silly goofy kind.

reader warnings: reader has breasts, long hair but i try not to describe more than length, she/her pronouns, and referred to as "princess"

Length: ~22k

Note: ITS FINALLY HERE!! longest fic I've ever written. my pride and joy. this is a dark fic and i tried to make the warnings as clear as possible. the romance is a slow burn. please do not interact if you may be triggered! take care of yourself first!

extra warning: MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY! You will be hard blocked!

read more here

Old Friends

Salt water on the stale air caresses your senses awake, rousing you from your deep slumber as the gentle rocking of the tide tempts you to return to its depths. In the belly of the ship, only the gentle flame of an oil lantern hanging from the ceiling illuminates the dark closet you call your room. Just wide enough that your palms lay flat against each wall when your arms are extended, deep enough to hang a hammock for restless dozes through the night.

Something is wrong.

A ship full of thieves, criminals, and other degenerates never quiets to an eerie silence such as this. The lap of the ocean at the wooden sides of the vessel drowns most noise but she seldom comes away with a clean sweep like she does currently.

Something is very very wrong.

Twisting out of the hammock, your feet hit the floor with a slash. The black oily surface of water reflects in the dim light, consuming the entirety of your boots, soaking up to the middle of your shins. A quick survey of your space shows your only possession, a small leather trunk, bobbing in the corner.

The real prizes decorate your figure. Daggers tucked in their sheaths, littering their usual hiding places: one tucked under each cuff of your shirt, the largest one strapped to your thigh, one in the lining of each boot, and several strapped to the leather belt across your chest. Your revolver sits on your hip, golden neck polished, loaded like you left it before dozing off.

The door to this room is one of the few that sits less than an inch off the ground. Meaning the water in here is likely nothing compared to what's beyond the thick piece of wood. You need to get out of here. Out of this room and out to the deck.

Steadying yourself, you plant your feet in a fighting stance, preparing for the force that will race in once the door opens. Barely a turn of the knob, a click of the latch and the door is blown wide; smacking into the wall behind as the sea rushes in, informing you that the water beyond is up to your thigh as it threatens to knock you off your feet.

The worn wood of the threshold threatens to rip your nails as you hold on for dear life. If you fall into the flood, it's over. You won’t be able to get back up, crushed under the weight of the ocean’s will. It's the first thing you learn on a ship: the sea takes and takes and she doesn’t return what she’s claimed no matter how much you plead. And if you do get away, she’ll come to collect eventually.

Arms straining and thighs burning, you force forward against the onslaught. By the time you exit the confines of your room , the water is at your chest. Caressing your collar bones, lapping at your neck like a crude noose. The jostle of your movement claps waves into your face.

I’ve got you now. The sea whispers. Finally ran out of borrowed time, little bird.

Salt water burns your nose with each bob of your head as you work towards the stairs leading up and out. The tang floods your mouth, pooling in the back of your throat; choking you, silencing your scream for help.

Give up. The seductive voice purrs in your ear. Come to me. Let me give you oblivion.

When the ocean finds home in your lungs, you let her take what she’s owed.

A knife to the throat is a less than friendly way to greet your second but Wonwoo should have expected it. His mistake for standing too close to wake his captain.

Wild eyes stare up at him, cataloging his features as the cool metal point pinches his airway. Sharp eyes, firm mouth, scar from temple to chin. He doesn’t flinch as you press a little firmer, forcing the dagger into the pale skin of his neck. Finally, safe triggers in your head.

Still, it takes a few seconds before your muscles relax enough to let you retract the small piece of steel.

“You’re needed on the deck.”

A shuddered breath is all the response he gets before you wave him out.

Wonwoo refuses to move, pointed gaze burning yours.

“Handle it.” You bark.

“Told me not to make deals in your name.”

That peaks your interest.

“Who is it?”

“Stragglers from a sinking ship.” He reports. “Seokmin pulled them from the wreckage.”

“Of course he did.”

If Wonwoo was a stupider man he’d mistake the exasperation in your tone for fondness. But he’s not. If Seokmin was less valuable then his ass would have been at the bottom of the sea months ago. But the strikes against him are stacking higher and higher, and your goodwill is running out.

Today, you’re in one of your better moods. Seokmin will probably end up back in the wreckage with the sorry sailors he saved if none of them prove to be of any use. That is, if you let them take a breath after finding out just who exactly is standing above you.

“What colors?”

Their allegiance. The flag had been long gone by the time the three men were pulled from the chilly depths. But the brands on their necks tell it just the same. A circle with a vertical line through the middle.

“Krakens.”

You're out of your bed and up the stairs before Wonwoo can blink.

Face cold as the winter wind that screams from the north, you hone in on your target the second you're in the daylight. Seokmin doesn’t see it coming as you round on him. The brass knuckles swirling around your fingers rips a sizable gash across his cheek as the crack of your hand rings out, silencing your audience.

He falls to his knees as his own hands move to protect his face, a pained “Fuck!” leaving his lips.

“You’re lucky I don't shoot you!” You spit, lips curled and teeth bared.

Garnet blood dripping from his chin to the wooden planks only furthers your disdain for the man in front of you. The gun on your hip sings like a siren but you have bigger problems to deal with. Seokmin won’t get the bullet with his name engraved on it today but tonight he should pray to whatever powers be that it finds another target first.

Whirling to the three strangers backed against the main mast, you eye them up and down. Wonwoo was right to wake you, because looking you in the eye with a shit eating grin is the demon you’ve been avoiding for years. The reason for your nightmares. The reason for the lump of hardened charcoal where a beating heart should be.

“Miss me?” he smirks.

In a flash, the revolver is in your hand. The shot hits dead center of the scant inches between his feet, smoke rising from the hole embedded in the surface of the deck. Whisps still rise from the muzzle of the gun as you cock the second bullet and raise your arm to aim for his heart.

His cocky facade slips for a fraction of a second, but it pulls the infamous bloodthirsty smile to your lips.

“You’re a dead man, Jeonghan.”

The hesitant rap at the door rips your attention away from the creased parchment sprawled across your desk. Tallies of loots, debts, bribes, and more litter the ledger in tight neat script; providing nothing more than a swelling vein throbbing across your temple.

“Come in.” You beckon, eyes glued to your ledger.

Tracking his movements in your peripheral, Seokmin’s entire presence screams terror. He doesn’t dare look up when he cracks the door to your office open, barely enough for him to slip inside. Even the click of the latch is silent as he shuts it, releasing the twisted knob once it’s back home; attempting to make himself as small as possible, like a mouse trying to escape a snake’s nest. He knows it’s judgment day and he’s been found wanting. The weight of his sentence hangs around his heart where he just might find a bullet in the next few minutes.

“Sit.”

He isn’t a horrible crew member. Bad pirate? Absolutely. But he’s loyal as they come, works hard as anyone else with something to prove to the world.

Seokmin was a farmer's son. One of several and the last in line to inherit any crumb of wealth his family could ever offer. At least that's what he told everyone. On the Hydra, a person’s story was their own. You didn’t care who they were before they inked their loyalty onto the base of their skull, just that no one would come for them with a debt to settle while aboard your ship.

The farm hardened his body but his heart was soft as wax under a flame. In spite of the obvious flaw, it’s why he’s the best at collecting information. Pure face and a familiar warmth, naivety rolling off him in waves. A few cheap secrets swimming out his mouth, misinformed beliefs regarding the way the world worked spoken a little too loud and viola! Some fool would step up to the plate to correct him, spilling their guts on the table just before Seokmin’s knife spilled them on the floor.

Despite what he cost you in sanity, he’d been worth his weight in gold when it came to finding leads on loose lips. Sometimes even loose legs. The women at brothels adamantly refused to take the coin you padded his pocket with. Always sending him back hours later than expected with the familiar jingle of a full purse and an unmistakable swagger in his step. You swear the velvet pocket is sometimes heavier than when it left.

You deliberately drag your gaze up to Seokmin’s face, unhurried in pace, blinking lazily, almost sleepy. Jaw relaxed, and shoulders loose; your entire posture screams threat. Each of your crew needed a different captain when it came to reprimands. Soonyoung, eager to please and prove, suffered most with silent dismissals. Jihoon, the rare times he earned your ire, only responded to direct threats.

Seokmin’s master and executioner was guilt.

“Do you know how Wonwoo got his scar?”

Schooling your face into a neutral expression, you wait for his response. Providing nothing, refusing to allow him comfort in this moment.

Seokmin doesn’t raise his gaze from his worn leather boots as he mumbles, “No.”

“It was my fault.” You share, picking your nails as the weight of your admission settles. “I thought I was helping a kid escape some cons. Told her she could follow us to town but after that, she was on her own. Turns out she was leading us into a deathtrap. One of her little gang took a swing at Wonwoo’s face and almost took his eye with him. Luckily, Wonwoo got him first.”

Apparently, this was one of the rare instances Seokmin had the sense to stay quiet.

“He’d thought it was a bad idea, but I tried to help her anyway. Didn’t listen to his advice that some things need to be left to the fates.”

Standing from your desk, you snag the bottle of whiskey resting on the cluttered bookshelf behind you. One of the few luxuries you afford yourself. Pouring two glasses, you slide one across your desk to the frightened man before continuing.

“I didn’t listen, and he got hurt.” Your tone so sharp it bites with blood stained teeth. “Wonwoo almost lost his eye, Min. Tell me, what kind of shooter would he be with one eye?”

“Not a very useful one?”

“Just about as useful as a spy you’d be without your tongue.”

Seokmin’s pale face balks at the implication. Hands wringing in his lap, you think he might piss himself.

“I’m not in the business of charity so I say this once: pull another stunt like you did today, and I’ll have Shua make you wish I killed you this morning.” Sitting back into the ancient leather chair, you jut your chin hauntingly. “Understand?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Get out.”

The door clicks shut before your next breath.

Your head drops with a heavy thud against the wooden trim of your seat, eyes sliding shut. Holding the stretch of your lungs as you inhale, attempting to do the same to the stiff muscles corded around your shoulders as a squeak alerts you to a new presence.

“That went well.”

You don’t have the patience for Wonwoo's taunting tonight.

Sprawling in the now abandoned chair, he leisurely sips at Seokmin’s untouched glass of amber liquor before speaking again..

“I didn't almost lose my eye.”

“I fail to see how that's of importance.”

“Too many rumors flying around means someone will eventually ask for the truth.”

“Do let me know when they approach you, I’d pay good money to watch you stutter your way through the story.”

In truth, Wonwoo’s trademark scar came as the result of too much lager and a very short pier. You both were still fresh as spring lambs to the cruel world beyond the high walls of the marble palace, but quickly figured that anything you could use to your advantage needed exhaustion. The rumors you’ve stirred up around the jagged silver mark spanning half his face granted him a reputation beyond the edges of the ship, carried further by those who managed to escape your wrath.

Legends across the seas of the Viper’s second painted a terrifying character. Wonwoo’s quiet nature and intimidating features served to fan the flames further. He was mean with a blade, even meaner with a gun. Only those with a deathwish knowingly went toe to toe with him. Those unfortunate enough to cross his mark were dead before they could even hear the cock of the pistol.

When Wonwoo doesn’t answer, you continue. “If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Oh?”

“How many fights have you gotten in since I started telling people your scar was because you made a deal with a daemon?”

“Several.”

“Which is certainly less than otherwise.”

“Certainly.”

“And I don’t even get a thank you.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” He grovels, cocking his head forward.

“I’m not in the mood for your poor humor.”

“You seemed to be generous with Seokmin.”

Knocking back the remnants of your cup before pouring another drink, you respond. “When he fucks up and I let Shua cut him to a million pieces he’ll see generous as I am, I’m good on my threats.”

That’s why they called you the Viper. Lethal. Calculating. Even when things don’t appear to be in your favor, luck seems to find you as a friend. Everything could be a lesson or another method for you to strengthen your alliances.

Even Seokmin’s fatal mistake of pulling Jeonghan on board would serve a purpose.

“Speaking of threats. What are we doing with those Krakens?”

“Eager to take a swing?” You jest, ignoring the sheen clinging to his lips.

“I have no interest in hearing them screaming at all hours for the next week. Kill Jeonghan, dump the other two and let the sharks claim them.”

“But then Jeonghan won’t see how we greet old friends. The other two are insurance.”

There isn’t enough time in the universe for you to deal Jeonghan what you owe him. The hunger to see him suffer would have terrified you in a past life. Even the hit on Seokmin this morning came with a swallowed trickle of sympathy after your rage cooled to a smolder, but no room for regret on the sea. Strike first and strike hard. You’ll pay for it all in the end and guilt wouldn’t spare you.

But what grows in you now isn’t concerned with what you’ll face on the other side of the light. The poison you’ve collected in your veins for years pleads for the chance to fruit in his blood and stop his cold heart.

“You think he cares that much?”

“He’s captain, they’re his crew.”

“So you’d squirm if Seokmin got under the knife?”

“Ask me in a few days.”

Silence finds the space between you like a familiar companion. Wonwoo is the last piece of home you have. You’d grown up together, run away together. Found each other again and again, no matter how long you ended up separated. A friend like him was difficult to come by when everyone had a price. Wonwoo’s turned out to be too high to ever hang you out to dry, and you the same.

“Tell Jihoon I want us at port by midday tomorrow.”

A humorless breath leaves his nose, “Oh, he’ll be thrilled.”

“I don’t pay him to be happy, I pay him to get my ship where I want it to go.”

You’re snappier than usual. The fury you feed in front of the crew protects you from the whispers and speculations. You’d won the vote fair and square when your processor had been ousted, a man nothing more than a relic from the old days, lazy and more than willing to let others do his dirty work while he soaked in riches. You’d sewed patches of discontent after years spent aboard, earning favors and friends along the way, mastering every job to be done on the once dingy ship.

Tentative friendships were easily gained, but respect? Respect was on the bidding block everyday. It wasn’t enough to stain your hands whenever needed; the price for respect was razored words and padded pockets.

Unfortunately, Wonwoo earned his fair share of both.

“When we get to the pier, we’re dropping Chan.”

“What?” Now anger heats his tongue.

“He’s not making progress.”

“Guns take time.”

“I've got enough mediocre gunslingers, I don’t need another.” Your focus is on the parchment again, searching for the cost the youngest member of your crew is having you foot. “He’s wasting ammunition and gunpowder as if it falls from the sky.”

“No.”

Occasionally Wonwoo argued with you, pressed you to see different perspectives but rarely did he disagree completely. Even more rare was flat out refusal.

“Pardon?”

“We’re not dropping Chan. He’s better than Vernon, and better than I was when I’d been doing it as long as he has.”

Your eyes slink to his, slow and purposeful. A lioness toying with her prey, gaze sharp as the knife you raised to his throat earlier that morning. Head tilting to the side, you open your mouth with a venomous smile.

“So when he catches up, I drop you?”

The threat is empty as the decanter perched on your desk, but there is always a sliver of Wonwoo’s heart that freezes at the possibility you’ll make good on it.

“You’ll never drop me.”

“After today, I might.”

The charade drops in an instant. Eyes closing once again, you scrub your face until stars burst against the black backdrop of your lids.

Nights like these rip open the place in your mind that rains endless questions. What if you remained in your little piece of the world? What if you accepted the frilly dress and silly parties? Allowed your father to make your marriage match as he saw fit for his own gains, a marriage to the cold Duke of Nas-Shost’s son or one of the brutish princes of Uspar. Perhaps you’d only be subjected to the violence of one man rather than dozens. Certainly there'd be less blood, fewer scars climbing your body like grotesque ivy. The warm arms of lavish life would embrace you, dull your mind till you were pliant as your peers. Produce babe after babe for whatever loveless man you’d been bound to, allowing nannies and wet nurses to care for your children while you indulged in cards and gossip like your mother.

Destined to be a mirror image of her dreamy smiles and distant eyes. A glance at your mother’s face showed her spirit miles away, blissful nothingness constantly clouded her features. Perhaps it was her own method of surviving your father.

She mindlessly prattled in the few hours you spent with her as a child, typically spewing tattles of the neighbors and other society ladies as if it was of great importance. Laughing at her own quips and snarks that you couldn’t quite grasp the humor of. Only one conversation of substance ever occurred amongst dainty tea cups and porcelain plates of biscuits and cake.

During one of the numerous lessons with your pious governess, Madam Atina, a hunched woman with a face like an old leather satchel; she’d hauntingly informed you everyone was born in the world with a cardinal flaw sealed in their soul. You’d run right to your mother, sharing the new knowledge with electrifying excitement. Her jeweled fingers brushed your hair as you sat in her lap, recalling the seven faults like it was an examination.

Your governess is right. She smiled.

What’s father’s? Pride. And yours? Envy. And me? You, my little bird, were born greedy as they come.

Barely seven at the time, you squealed as her fingers tickled your ribs, joyously unaware she bared your deepest secret so easily. But now, you understood why she always had a heavier hand in your upbringing than she had in your older sisters’.

From the moment you left the womb, you’d wanted. Even with every luxury available, any whim granted, you’d always been greedy for a different sort of satisfaction. A different life. What use was having anything if you needed the approval of another to get it? Even as a child you’d resented the way your father had the final say on your mother’s choices. On your sisters’. On yours.

Imagination taking you to the stables every morning, pulling the shy stable boy from his chores to appease your need for a new identity. Finding freedom in the far edges of the palace gardens, pretending you were soldiers on the front line between roses, using the bushes as cover before shooting make believe pistols at a fictitious enemy. Or two warring monarchs set to duel, branches becoming gilded swords as the day lilies provided their rapt attention. Sometimes you played pirates, forcing each other to walk the plank before breaking into maniacal giggles at the ridiculous accents you donned by the crystal lake.

The garden’s behind the estate remained a stage until your mother had you moved out of the nursery at twelve and into a private room down the hall to prepare you for balls and parties. New lady’s maids combed your hair up and tailored the hem of your dress down to brush the ground, signaling to everyone in court you were now of age. And then you were tasked with mastering a new kind of performance. The type that ends with your hands, neck, and crown covered in diamonds and your name on a contract to the highest bidder.

You and Wonwoo didn’t play anymore after that.

But now, even as misery loomed like a cloud over your head, at least you were alive with the knowledge that you created your own destiny. Now, the entire world is your stage, the gods your audience.

Wonwoo crosses to the door with a few long strides, the shuffle of his feet intentional to alert you to his movement.

“Make sure Hoshi checks on Seokmin. Don’t need his face getting infected.” You mumble into your glass, attention on the flame jumping from the black candle to the left of your desk. “And no food for our guests.”

“How long?”

“Three days, longer if they start fighting. Only enough water for them to stay alive.”

Wonwoo’s exit is silent but his absence prickles the back of your neck, threatening to rip you to shreds. You try to focus on the pop and crack of the fire burning in the hearth across the room. How your throat burns raw with another swig of booze. Even the habitual press of your thumb across the silken abalone handle of your revolver does nothing to numb the world inside your head.

Waves crash below the windows of your office as you cut through the endless sea, pounding surf singing their nightly hymn of the souls you’ve banished from this world. The haunting tune echoes louder with the knowledge that their master is shackled in the belly of your ship. An atonal ballad filled with the ghostly rattle of the chains crossed around his wrists and throat.

Ventparsk

Sunlight glares from the vast waves, the harsh beams attempting to blind you, as an infinite blue sky supplies nary a cloud of reprieve from its brutal warmth. You’d never speak ill of a scarce blessing such as the weather of today. Glittering open sea as far as the eye could see, not a single blip in sight save for the dark mountain rising from the horizon.

Your crew has stripped their torsos down to their scarred and inked skin, only keeping the dignity of pants as they trudge back and forth below your watch from the quarterdeck. Braving the threat of a scarlett backside rather than risk fainting over the sides of the ship and into the depths. The roughspun linen of your undershirt tears across your skin as wind breathes and snaps into the white sails above, propelling the vessel closer to the crowded harbor of Ventparsk.

Weeks at sea had depleted the stock of provisions and riled the crew. Only so much entertainment to be had when surrounded by nothing but endless ocean and air. Even you found the monotony of the days tiresome despite the never ending responsibilities of being captain. Drinking and merriment kept everyone content enough, card games as well before Soonyoung inevitably ran his mouth directly into someone’s fists. He might have maintained a tight ship under your command but when everyone gathered at night to loosen their limbs and cheer their minds, a hit on Soonyoung was fair play. Sometimes encouraged.

But the typical vices were no longer keeping their grumbles quelled. The gash on Seokmin’s cheek only fanned the flames higher. It was understood why you dealt him that hand, but their fondness for the newer member of your crew bred unconscious resentment. You’re not a physician but even you knew if you let the disease of discontent fester, it’ll kill the entire body.

The cure was simple enough. A few days wreaking havoc across dank gambling dens, cramped taverns, and numerous brothels in the great pleasure city would easily alleviate the tension rankling on board. Ventparsk opens its doors like an old friend to anyone with a few coins in their purse and your latest voyage ensured each of your crew would be welcomed like an emperor.

Ventparsk marina is a hodgepodge of every style ship and boat imaginable. Steel military ships from the cold north of Uspar tower above humble longships no doubt belonging to eastern traders of Truyso. Even oared ships from the dark days speckle through the thick rows of docks, Proera’s trademark. Your ship resembles one of the military fleet from Nas-Shost, swift and agile unlike the large square-rigged ships flying the blue and silver of the Islearain navy visible on the opposite end of the marina.

A cacophony of colors sail high above. The privateers and pirates aren’t stupid enough to announce their colors so boldly, but the armies foam at the mouth for a chance to intimidate the easily impressed. Amongst the other sheets flying in the wind, you recognize ally as well as foe. The sullen gray of the Usparian army here, a sheet rich maroon from Proera’s northern waters there. A rare flash of orange announces the Gulls, a band of Shostian mercenaries, are a long way from home. Even the maroon flag of the Seven Sirens flies high. If the Krakens had a ship to sail, the royal purple complete with a white circle and vertical slash would snap in the wind above all others. Cockiness bordering on stupidity, a bold challenge to anyone willing to follow them out of the harbor borders. But that tacky piece of cotton had been returned to the depths of the sea, finally resting where a Leviathan belongs.

The lush green flag with a golden ouroboros is hidden in the navigation room of the Hydra, far away from any prying eyes that may look your way. Men may be eager to have a public pissing contest, but you appreciated the fine art of minding your own business. The element of surprise and stealth could never be undervalued, only underappreciated.

The hodgepodge of pirate crews, merchants, and soldiers neighboring one another along the decrepit docks only exist in the assumed neutrality of the city. If you’re caught fighting in Ventparsk, breaking the delicate truce that exists within its borders, there is no trial. Your entire crew is sentenced to hang as gull food above the gate that separates the docks from the city; staked with an iron rod through one end and out the other. And anyone is willing to sell out those that defy the rules, eager to abide by the code for the guarantee of a good time without the cold sweat of a knife to the back.

After securing the Hydra, a portly man with watery eyes and a thick mustache waddles aboard. The worn olive green of his wrinkled uniform means he’s the customs master of this section of the marina.

He sidles up to Wonwoo, assuming his status of captain based on who can say what. Frustration lights a flame to simmer your blood, but it's better this way. The old men who run the ports won’t respond to a female captain, and if they do they’ll rip you off before finding a reason to banish you back to the open water.

“Cargo?”

“Nothing to sell.”

“Crew?”

“20.”

“Captives?”

“No, sir.”

“What’s the purpose of your visit?”

Wonwoo gives a lazy charming smile, “Just some men looking to enjoy the unique pleasures your lovely city has to offer.”

“Seems like you have something already on board.”

The desire to send a bullet through his skull swells riots but you reign her in. Last thing you need is to get your crew barred from the island city. Wonwoo would kill you himself.

Ignoring his comment, Wonwoo tosses the bag of coins at the officer. The old man fumbles to catch them but his assistant, a nimble tawny skinned boy who can’t be more than eleven, snags the jumbling coins before they hit the deck. In silence, they count and mark the toll in their book before smiling at the crew.

“Welcome to Ventparsk.”

You’ve tasked Wonwoo and his first mate, Seungkwan, with stocking up at the trading post. The younger man could barter with anyone and you only trust Wonwoo with the extra store of coins. It’ll take them the better part of the day to haul the crates down the docks and oversee the other crew organize them in the hold.

The night crew remains on board, dozing in hammocks strung between heavy cannons below deck in the berth to avoid the blaring sun. Jihoon remains on the quarterdeck, straw hat tucked low to cover his eyes; content to stay in his corner of the ship while others explore, never one to be tempted by the pleasure houses or bidding halls. The rest of the crew looks at him with pity for not lacking the desire to hand over his time to the intoxicating pulse of the city, but you know better.

Back home, Jihoon has a lady. He hasn’t seen her in years but sends her a stiff share of his wage at the end of every job. The few letters he’s received during his time on your ship are kept in a wooden cigar box tucked under scrolls of parchment in the navigation room just above your own quarters. You’re only aware because the box was stashed with an abandoned codex you’d needed regarding the islands dappling the eastern waters of Truyso. In haste, the small wooden trunk clunked to the floor, spilling several envelopes stamped with a teal wax seal. Skimming the first few words of swirling script, the woman was rather…descriptive in how much she missed him. Jihoon chose that moment to shuffle into the space, fuming as you gapped over his private collection of personalized smut.

Leaving the treasure of your heart in his capable hands, you stride through the rusted iron gate welcoming you to the much tamer southern district of Ventparsk.

Rickety buildings line the streets, each advertising their services. Thick crowds bubble out of rowdy taverns and into the street, patrons unashamed to imbibe so heavily under the midday sun. The mismatched symphony of music pouring from open windows and crevices in the slats to greet them, seduce them back inside. Scantily clad brothel workers curl around banisters and press out windows, beckoning customers with a curl of a finger and twitch of the lips. The independents work hard to lure those with less pocket change to the shaded alleyways for a quick tryst against the dirty walls. Perched on the corners of cross streets, conmen rob those stupid enough to get tangled in their cheap card tricks.

The kid pressing past you barely makes it a foot before you snatch their wrist in an iron grip. Whipping the little pickpocket back to your person, you twist their arm at an angle that’ll force it to break if they so much as breathe the wrong way. Anyone looking, and no one does, will see a dotting sister ushering their younger sibling through the crush of the crowd.

“Where I’m from, thieves lose their hands.” You snarl down at the grubby face glaring up at you.

“I didn’t take anything!” She cries, voice thick with faux tears under the tattered hood of her cloak.

Your other hand reaches into her pocket to retrieve the polished silver dagger usually kept strapped to your side, flicking it into view between you. The cheap piece of steel was worth next to nothing. Best way to keep your coin is to let a thief think they bested you by giving them an easy target, too hard to resist.

“Liars lose their tongues.”

The fury at being caught brands her features. She’s barely skin and bones, moth eaten velvet cloak weighing more than her but blazing in her eyes is fire. The same fire that burned in your own as you learned the ways of the streets when you’d first left the cushion of your father’s kingdom.

If you rat her out to the city guard she’ll be used as fish food. Or worse, one of the brothels will bid on her bond.

“Next time you wanna lift something, think about why it’s so easy before letting your hands get sticky.”

Retching her hand away, you brush her to the side, refusing to look at her face as you slip back into the crowd. She’ll find the coin you slipped in her pocket quick enough.

Each room of the Lion’s Den is draped in tacky swatches of gold and all variations of red. In this particular keep, a plush mattress is perched in front of the blazing fireplace. The garnet velvet bedspread trimmed with gold tassels clashes with the blush pillow cases, both jarring against the white oak bed frame and sheets of pale silk floating down from the bars. But the design of the room interests Wonwoo far less than the woman who inhabits it.

“How’s our little friend?” Yeseul calls over her shoulder.

She’s perched at her vanity, using the light of an oil lantern to carefully fix the greasy smudges of red staining her lips. Wonwoo isn’t sure why she’s bothering with it. He’s paid for the entire night, she might as well remove wretched stuff. Laying back in the satin sheets of her bed, he lets one arm prop up his head as he watches the woman he’s visited for years tsk over her reflection. The swirl of smokey incense hazing her figure.

Yeseul was a few years older than he, versed in the ways of the world and determined to educate the once bright eyed boy he’d been. She’d imparted him with the knowledge of how to pleasure a woman even though he’d only fallen into bed with one other person. Taught the value of secrets in this world. Most importantly, Yeseul was the one who let Wonwoo know that the desire and devotion he feels towards Y/N was love, not just friendship.

“As pleasant as a spring breeze.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Wonwoo.”

“That gunk doesn’t suit you either but I settle for it.”

“You don’t pay enough for me to remove it.”

“And that’s my fault? You try to send me back with half every time I visit.”

“You’re more of a friend than a customer at this point.”

“You’re growing soft.”

“Mingyu says the same.”

“He wrote you?”

“Bribed a guard to get a letter out. Probably had to bribe him to write it too since he never learned to read.”

Wonwoo doesn’t ask if Mingyu will get out of the Iron Isle. Even with the guarantee of a fair trial, it takes years, sometimes decades. More men die waiting than in the gallows at the base of the prison.

Yeseul isn’t a fool but she is a romantic. Consumed too many novels where ill suited love wins over all and anyone can be together if they just believe it. All wrapped up in a couple hundred pages. Her way of dealing with the ugly truths of the world. Yeseul is chained to the Lion’s Den the same way her lover is chained in prison. The same way Wonwoo’s heart will always be chained to his princess. Useless in hoping to be free.

“But she’s well?”

“A stretch of the word but I guess as content as she can be.”

“So you still haven’t told her.”

“If I was, do you think she’d allow me to run to your bed?”

“With how quiet you were earlier, I assumed it went poorly.”

“It would go poorly. Especially now.”

“Perhaps it's best to give her time.”

Wonwoo knows time isn’t what she needs. The only hope for anything beyond swift rejection would be a miracle performed by the gods themselves. If he were a smarter man, a stronger man, he’d stay away. Wouldn’t submit himself to the torture of her presence, her trust and reliance. But he’s not. Wonwoo is weak in all the ways it matters when it comes to Y/N. Ever since she walked into the stables when they’d both were barely knee high and demanded he submit himself to her friendship. He’s listened to every command since.

Few things in the world were certain but the one constant Wonwoo relied on was the sure way to lose Y/N was giving himself permission to want. Want her the way he has since they were teenagers, running away from curses of her father and his servitude and towards the unknown. Since she’d pulled him down into the hay in that dilapidated barn after too many swigs of the wine swiped from a merchant stall. Wonwoo never saw the smile she’d flashed him that night again. Bright and hopeful, a little shy as he covered her mouth with his own. Now the only stretch of Y/N’s lips carried a coldness, the gleam of teeth sadistic and sinister.

Hope is a fragile thing. Like a blooming spring flower just before the last frost, or a house of cards. Delicate. It has no place in this world he’s landed in. So Wonwoo doesn’t let himself hope for a chance to be free of the love in his heart. Accepts that in this life, there was never a chance for him to have Y/N the way he wants. Because the way he wants her fundamentally opposes who she is.

So Wonwoo allows himself the memories of before. Before they became Serpents, matching stains of ink at the base of their skulls. Before Jeonghan snatched her away; the scars marring her body nothing compared to what he’d done to her mind. Before Y/N found her way back, to him, to the crew, to the world of the living.

Memories of the palace and her uncanny talent for finding him wherever he was on the grounds. The way she snatched him away from whatever task he’d been charged with to play her silly games, allowing him to be a boy instead of an indenture. How she snuck into the servants quarters and into his bed the night Jeonghan finally came to visit the kingdom. When she called him her friend for the first time. When she’d let Wonwoo hold her to his chest, warming them both against the frigid air after laying each other bare.

“Time won’t change anything.”

Wonwoo can never have anything more than what he has now. So he settles his heart at Y/N’s feet, and lets his body find distraction in another.

Always privy to his moods, Yeseul crosses back to where he lies. Perching herself in his lap, her ebony robe splits open to show the creamy skin of her stomach, the soft swell of her breast peeking out from behind honey waves of her hair, long neck split with the ruby choker all girls at this pleasure house wear.

Maybe in another life, Wonwoo would still be a stablehand. In that life, Y/N would have married Jeonghan and the childhood friendship between a stable boy and the youngest princess of Iaslera was nothing but forgotten memories.

Yeseul’s finger traces from his lips to his chin, following the dip of his scar to his ear. It had taken him years to stop flinching when someone touched it, the sting of that rusted blade still haunting him. When her nail scrapes the hollow of his throat, Wonwoo shivers for an entirely new reason.

Flipping her beneath him, Yeseul’s flit of laughter tickles Wonwoo’s lips as he claims her mouth.

“Another.” You beckon the woman behind the mahogany counter, tilting your empty cup her way.

“What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this?” A disconnected voice murmurs too close to your ear, a waft of booze and snuff slipping around your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, the same dagger the orphan girl tried to claim is in your hand and pressed to the soft wood in a second. The presence behind you disappears when it catches the lantern light.

The Twin Star is one of the better taverns in this part of the city. Drinks are cheap enough, other patrons keep their heads down and the barmaids tend to turn a blind eye when one needs to implement less than friendly means to ward off drunkards.

“Keep it up and I’ll have to cut you off.” Inri snarks but fills your cup with brandy all the same.

“You’re a cruel woman.” You mutter, cradling the cool glass to your chest.

“They say the same about you.”

“I’m flattered.” you mumble with a mock salute, loopy smile splitting your mouth.

She leaves you with a sigh. You’ve been here all afternoon, hoping to drown your dread at the bottom of a bottle. So far, you’re failing.

For the first time in years, you have no desire to return to your beloved vessel. The warm fondness for the Hydra replaced with frigid unease. A drunken stupor is the perfect excuse not to go back, at least for the night. Even with the unbending laws of the island, an unaccompanied woman roaming the streets of Ventparsk was unlikely to make ten paces before she ended up pushed into an alley. One under the influence of several hefty pours of whiskey might make five if she’s lucky.

“There’s my favorite captain.”

You’re in no mood for company. Soonyoung must have been born under unlucky stars.

“Can a woman not enjoy a drink in peace?”

He’s in the chair next to you before you can object, signaling Inri to bring him a glass as well.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you this drunk before.”

“What are you doing here, Hosh?”

Soonyoung has the courtesy to look bashful. Just down the street is the theater you know he favors, the Temple, with dark mahogany walls and swaths of dark blue silk curtains hiding what takes place beyond the doors. The shanty building housed dozens of artists, dancers, and singers. Acrobats and fire tamers. Entertainers and actors. He had been one of them before you'd lured him away with promises of adventure and riches unknown to a poor merchant’s son. Everytime you stop at the isle he walks right back home to greet his brothers and sisters.

“In the neighborhood.”

“Your family?”

“My ma is finally speaking to me.” He lights up. “Something about a fortune teller telling her to let go of old grudges or some other nonsense. But my sister is starting to do high ropes without a net! And my younger brother, San, he’s gotten better with the knife throwing and—

Soonyoung continues to ramble as you tuck your smile into your cup. At least one person has a good relationship with their family. If someone asked, you couldn’t confidently say which of your sisters were still breathing; only aware your mother and father were alive from the whispers of Iaslerian merchants complaining about royal levies to pay for the queen’s jewels.

“One of the younger kids showed me some slight of hand with a coin and it looked alot like the ones we lifted from those traders in Uspar.”

Swallowing a mouth full of liquor you stay quiet. The little bastard just had to be one of Soonyoung’s kin because why not? The gods had a strange sense of humor.

“Strange.”

“I thought so too. Probably just a coincidence.”

“Probably.”

“Would my captain do me the honor of escorting her back to the ship?”

Pointedly ignoring the knowing smile Soonyoung flashes, you take the arm he offers.

Nightmares

The three days in Ventparsk pass quickly. More booze, a tumble with a nameless man at the Winter Garden, and enough snuff to kill a horse provides a blissful mindless haze. You even managed a quick scrub down at one of the bath houses. Soaking in the heated tub for hours, muscles loose and pliant from the herbal steam and hot stones. Jeonghan’s rotting body in the moldy damp brig of the Hydra is nearly forgotten.

Nearly.

Dreams always have a way of reminding us of the realities we wish to forget.

“You’re a dead man, Jeonghan.”

The bullet is screaming to make a home in between his ribs. Every muscle in your body pleading for the same. Sink the shot in Jeonghan’s heart and be free from him forever.

“Take them to the brig.” You instruct Jun.

“Never could just get on with it, could you?”

The next sound from Jeonghan’s mouth is a shrill scream as blood gushes from his thigh. It swirls with the sea water still dripping from his soaked clothes, scarlett inking through the growing puddle, opaque tendrils soaking into the wood.

“Shua’s gonna have fun with you.”

Finally skating on the waves of the vast ocean, you descend into hell.

The consuming stench of stagnant water and mold invades your nostrils as you transverse through the cargo hold to reach the brig. A rat squeaks as it scurries past, looking for its next meal no doubt. You loathe this part of the ship. Too deep, not enough exits, no clear path up and out. Just another gift courtesy of Jeonghan.

Three bodies hang from their hands, bound up and over their heads, feet barely brushing the ground as the sway with rhythm of the tide. Burlap bags obscure their faces but you know which lithe form belongs to him.

Shua sits at his desk, a collection of mismatched knives organized in neat lines like soldiers prepared for battle on one side. Jars of different poisons clink against one another in the wooden tray in the middle, the rainbow array of liquids each lapping at the sides of the vial for the chance to escape. On the far corner rests crude torture devices he’s collected over the years. Thorned strips of leather, several cat-o-nine-tails, and a lump of metal looking like a fruit with a knob attached at the narrow end.

The entire aura of Joshua’s corner of the ship screams anguish. A slaughterhouse for those unfortunate enough to stumble his way. It’s why no one visits him of their own volition. Not that he seems to mind, more than content to study the ways of the body than talk to one.

You take a seat across from the man dangling in the center of the room, nodding to Joshua to remove the sack from Jeonghan’s head.

Dark circles shadow his bloodshot eyes, cheeks sullen and pale, chapped lips bleeding. Nearly four days on board without food and possibly longer before they were rescued from the hunk of drift wood they’d been floating on while waiting to die has certainly done a number on him. You’d ordered Shua to provide the barest sips of water, just enough to keep them on this side of consciousness.

A metal goblet brushes against Jeonghan’s lips, urging him to tip his head back and swallow the cool liquid. Gulping down the contents without a thought, Shua refills it as fast as he can from a crystal pitcher. After a few shuddering breaths, another full cup is brought to his mouth and he downs it as well.

Idiot.

When Jeonghan eyes finally adjust to the pale light of the solitary lantern illuminating the cramped space, he sees you. Raising your chin, you know he won’t resist the opportunity to try and knock you down a peg despite his compromised position.

“Just couldn’t stay away.”

Joshua busies himself with arranging the necessary odds and ends on an empty wooden tray. He’s meticulous in his grisly craft, hands sure and perfunctory. The jostle of metal fills the room as he sets down the curated set on a stool next where you sit.

Not deigning to respond, you simply flash a sweet smile. The kind of smile a girl throws a man she wants something from, woefully out of place in the dark room you're standing in. But that’s precisely what throws Jeonghan off.

Standing, you snag one of the smaller double sided blades glimmering like a prized jewel amongst the collection. The ring at the bottom sits loosely around your pointer finger as you spin it round and round. Your steps are slow and calculated as you circle him, surveying his form from head to toe. Jeonghan is smart enough to try and keep his eyes on you but the metal collar around his neck prevents him from turning his head as you round him. Someone had the sense to remove his shirt before tying him up. Even if the shirt he came with was tattered to gossamer shreds, the fabric would find a use somewhere amongst the crew.

A clammy sheen glosses his dull skin, the ring of red around his bound wrists blistered and raw. Curls of dark hair stick to Jeonghan’s forehead and the column of his neck, matted to his scalp with sea water, sweat, and blood. A spray of dark bruises along his ribs are slowly healing, no doubt from whatever destroyed his ship. They labor his breath, his chest barely moving with the shallow swallows of air. The dark stain of blood is dried near black around the hole in his left thigh.

As you stand back in front of him, toe to toe, your gazes meet. Frigid steel tip of the dagger dips into the valley of his throat before you trace it down his sternum to the soft flesh of his belly. Muscles twitch as he clenches away from the sharp bite of the blade, freezing his breath to avoid pressing into it.

Slowly blinking you don’t turn away as you ask, “Shua, how long did you say it takes for the draught to take effect?”

“At least a few minutes, but on an empty stomach much less. He should already be feeling it start to kick in.”

“Do you Jeonghan?” Digging the knife in the soft flesh just above his naval, “Can you feel it?”

Shua had explained the effects when he brought the vial to your office. An oily concentration of some exotic herb from the deepest reaches of the Proera, tasteless with only the faintest smell of damp earth. Typically used as a mild sedative, fond amongst those looking to see beyond the veil of reality and into the curtain between worlds. But a heavy enough dose tortures whoever ingests it with terrifying visions, nightmares come to life. Not fatal in the slightest but after the walls melt and the person in front of you turns into a demon, one might wish it was. Unknowingly, Jeonghan took a large enough dose to incapacitate a third of your crew.

An emotion you never imagined he felt takes root on his face. Eyes wild as he focuses on the copper cup now sitting at the corner of Shua’s desk, before they flash back to yours. You can see his brain turning, attempting to decipher what you’ve slipped him, how long he has before entering the unknown.

Jeonghan’s shuddering breath puffs against your cheeks, a small whiff of the herbaceous tincture carried along it. His feet roughly scrape against the floor as he tries to maintain his footing, chains around his wrist and neck relaxing for a moment before pulling taunt again as his damaged leg buckles under his weight.

Jeonghan quakes with the effort to remain quiet. Even with poison flooding his veins, he clings to years of training to resist succumbing fright. But nothing has prepared him for this.

A crack in the facade spreads soon enough. Broken pleas force past gnarled lips, chest heaving as he struggles to inhale. Soon he’s nothing more than a child lost in a crowd. Frantic, panicked, desperate.

Horror consumes his face, the whites of his eyes visible as his eyebrows arch to his hairline, mouth opening to scream. Air rushes from his lungs as he wails, thrashing in his shackles without concern for the way the bitter metal rips into the flesh of his wrists and neck.

You’ve already pocketed the knife that was pressed into his stomach. No satisfaction in killing him when he’s out of his mind, but watching him descend into madness will bring its own pleasure.

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

Turning to return to your seat, he screams again, “What did you give me?”

Jeonghan’s voice is shredded and raw already.

In the corner, Shua is rapt with macabre attention. Carefully jotting down notes in his journal for later examination. If one person on the crew terrified you it was the fawn eyed man sitting next to you. Being handy with a weapon was nothing when someone knew how to destroy your spirit by barely lifting a finger, dead before you knew what happened.

You observe as Jeonghan’s expression grows distant. Fear festers along the surface, bubbling under his skin. Muscles flex and twitch painfully. Ugly fat beads well in Jeonghan’s eyes to spill down his cheeks, wads of snot dripping from his nose. Splotchy red patches bloom across his pale skin, fevered flesh prickled with goosebumps. The rusted shackles bite into his skin again and again as he attempts to shake free, nearly strangling himself in his effort. Silent pleas for relief, for mercy from whatever phantom of his subconscious haunts him now.

The two other men in the back of the room thrash in their chains as well, bashing their skulls back and forth to cast off the hoods over their heads. Frenzied as their brave captain’s curdled screams pierce their ears.

The nightmares chasing Jeonghan follow you up to your room that night.

“My little bird tried to leave the nest, did she?” Your father snarls.

The piece of cloth tied around your head doesn’t allow you to answer beyond muffled groans as you struggle.

“Perhaps I should teach you what happens when a bird leaves its cage.”

“Captain!”

You wake with a gasp, the sound of gunfire and cannons shaking your core. Jun stands in your doorway, soaked to his skin with soot covering half his face.

“Captain, we’re under attack!”

The deck is a flurry of activity. Bodies running to and fro, some headed below for the gun deck to return fire. Walls of water pour from the sky, obscuring the view beyond the corners of your ship. In the distance, flashes of light from cannons on the ship attacking yours is the only indicator of a presence beyond the moon and tide. They’re running diagonal to your port side, that much is clear. The mainsail is shredded to pieces over head, damp canvas whipping from cruel winds. The Hydra won’t outrun the ship attacking, the only end is to fight.

Scrambling to the quarterdeck, you join Jihoon at the wheel. He does his best to steer clear of enemy range, careful to maintain momentum you can’t afford to lose.

“Cut the wheel!”

“Are you crazy?”

“They’ve got too much speed, they can’t turn. Cut the damn wheel!”

Jihoon launches the wheel clockwise, shifting the rudders to turn starboard. The attacking vessel continues their path straight, unable to correct in time to cut you off as you slip behind them. But a second too late you both realize another ship lies in wait.

The second enemy ship attacks from behind, capitalizing on the attention monopolized by the first ship. The crew launches grappling hooks tangling around the Hydra’s rigging for them to swing aboard. They flood the deck like ants emerging from their hill, easily out numbering your crew.

You pick off two swiftly, bullets wedged deep in their skulls the second their feet land on the quarter deck. Rain stings your eyes, blurring your surroundings. Friend and foe indecipherable as you jump to the fray on the main deck.

Chaos runs free as blows are exchanged back and forth. It’s impossible to tell in the crowd of bodies who has fallen and who remains below deck to continue cannon fire.

Wonwoo and Soonyoung are back to back, facing off against five enemy fighters. Soonyoung nimbly dodges the swords aimed at his throat, returning his own killing blows with incredible fluidity. Charges of gunpowder sting the air as Wonwoo deals his own damage, sinking the shells into hearts and bellies before moving to the next.

Whipping around, you catch sight of Seokmin pinned down against the main mast, a giant of a man exhausting him with a sword. On reflex, you duck under a swinging arm as you charge forward. Sinking your dagger between the oaf’s shoulder blades you drag down with all your strength, ripping through the muscles tethered to his spine. The scorching gush of blood slips between your fingers, freeing the handle from your grip. Kicking out a leg, you land your foot along the back of his knee and bring him down. Over his head your eyes meet Seokmin’s. You barely catch the flash of horror on his face before the crack of a fist lands against your temple.

Blood and rain and sea water soaks the deck, nearly sending Wonwoo to his knees. The wretch of death fills his nose, sulfurous gunpowder and bile sharpening his mind. He’s surrounded on all sides, the glint of steel flashing as lightning splits the sky. The teeth of a sword split his side open from the bottom of his ribs to his navel. Wonwoo can tell the damage won’t kill him but he’ll have a hell of a time recovering. The sting only dulled by the rush of a fight flooding his veins.

Soonyoung is on his left, picking off enemies one by one, dodging the most damning blows and weaponizing their momentum to his benefit. Wonwoo would stop to watch if he wasn’t busy preserving his own life.

Pushing his way to the center of the ship, he spots the door below deck fly open; Jeonghan and the other two prisoners ushered out by a small group armed to their teeth. In the same second, Wonwoo locates Y/N in his periphery; just in time to watch her crumple from a cheap punch to her head.

Rage thunders through Wonwoo’s veins. In a flurry, he cuts his way to the main mast, prepared to kill whoever he needs to. Seokmin rips his knife out of the person who knocked Y/N out but another of the enemy crew manages to drag her body over to the side where their ship is latched to the Hydra. They rush to get her aboard their ship, sensing the change in tide of the fight behind them.

Clearly they’d been hoping to have the entire ordeal dealt with swiftly, not prepared for the force the Serpents are capable of. Minghao is already working to cut the ship away from the Hydra, nimble feet carrying him along the thin bulwark as he slashes the ropes snaring them.

Jeonghan and his cellmates are already securely on the opposite side of the gangplank, but the man holding Y/N’s body hasn’t crossed yet. If Wonwoo can provide enough of a delay, then Jihoon can get the Hydra back to the open sea.

In this moment, Wonwoo decides to commit the most ill-considered act of bravery he’s ever mustered. Launching himself on to the enemy ship, he lands with a thud on their deck, guns blazing. He’s able to pick off one, two, four crew members before they realize what’s happening. Bodies dropping to the floor around him in quick succession.

A final shot rings out before his ammunition runs dry and he switches to his dual swords strapped to his back. Wonwoo swings in wide arches, forcing his opponents back and away from the side of the ship to avoid the tips of his blades. Using the brief reprieve, he turns to kick the plank away, sending it to the crevice between ships just in time for Jihoon to tear free. Leaving his captain and her captor on the Hydra, and Wonwoo marooned with the enemy.

Saying a silent prayer, Wonwoo turns back to the crowd of what are no doubt Krakens, only managing to sink his sword's edge into one more before he’s overwhelmed.

A Tale of Two Ships

The Leviathan

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head. “Always running to save the princess, aren’t you?”

Standing before him, Jeonghan resembles a rotten pile of horse shite. Y/N’s torture strung him out, made him weak and unstable. Wonwoo watched the strain in his muscles, the moisture on his brow, the labor of his breath. Fresh, angry halos circle his neck and wrists, blisters drying and scabbing to an ugly assembly of yellows and browns.

With his hands shackled above his head and his feet chained to the floor, Wonwoo attempts to calm his breathing. Jeonghan wants him worked up, wants him to slip and play right into his hand.

“What she sees in you is beyond me. Bastard stable boy, with nothing to his name except a whore mother and drunk father.”

In four beats, hold four beats, out four beats, hold another four. Repeat.

“She’d sell your soul the second it became advantageous for her. You know that, right?”

In four beats, hold four beats, out four beats, hold another four. Repeat.

Wonwoo desperately tries to zone in on the lantern, to let his mind wander in the vast recesses of emptiness. Anything to spare him from the lies Jeonghan spews.

“I know you love her. Pathetic how obvious it is, Wonwoo. Reminds me of a story actually. Once upon a time, there was a stable boy who fell in love with a princess. Now the princess was clever and made the stable boy believe they were equals, friends even. Can you believe that?”

Jeonghan rounds to face Wonwoo, a sickening smirk spoiling his face.

“She knew the stable boy cared for her and would do whatever he could to protect her. So when it was time for her to stop playing make believe, she let the stable boy take her punishment. She let him die for her and the princess never lost a second to sleep. Because the princess, no matter how she sullied herself, knew he wasn’t worth the dirt under her fingernails.”

In an effort to stay quiet, Wonwoo grinds his teeth so hard they are on the verge of shattering.

The defiant tilt to Wonwoo’s chin sends a flash of fury across the shorter man’s face before a serpentine smile curls on his lips.

“You don’t need to speak, stable boy.” Plucking a knife from his belt, Jeonghan flashes it into Wonwoo’s view. “But you will scream.”

And Wonwoo does.

The Hydra

Crowded around the large oak table of the Hydra’s navigation room, Jihoon, Soonyoung, Jun, and you spread over the atlas of the world. Attempting to decipher what Jeonghan’s plan for Wonwoo proves to be more difficult than anticipated. Even more so when you refuse to provide details on why Jeonghan would stage such an elaborate effort to capture you.

Your crew knows he’s disavowed and wanted by the Atterast, Nas-Shost’s military. They know you’re the reason why but you’d carefully smothered any true details of how you and Wonwoo were involved. Rumors of Jeonghan being a disgruntled lover, while half true, were enough to satiate their curiosity.

“He hates Wonwoo but he hates me more. If his desire is to torture me then he’ll leave Wonwoo alive somewhere I’ll never get him.”

“Iron Isle?”

“Do you think he plans to have himself arrested too?”

“Nas-Shost is unstable. Would he take advantage of that?”

“They’ll kill him before he speaks.”

“He’s in no shape to attempt crossing to Uspar or Truyso.”

“What about Iaslera?”

Iaslera.

Jeonghan isn’t a fool but he is ambitious and vindictive. If your father promised him something in exchange for his original target then Iaslera is a likely place for him to go. And Jeonghan knows you’ll fall right into his hands.

The knife you’ve been spinning into the wood grain digs a fraction deeper.

“How many days till Iaslera?” You ask.

“With the damage…at least five.” Jihoon breaths.

“Five?”

“At least. And that’s assuming it’ll only take us three to patch the hole in the sail and get it rigged again.”

Five days. Wonwoo will be Jeonghan’s captive for five days.

“Set course for Iaslera.” You bark, “And I want every spare hand helping patch that hole!”

The days of skidding across the ocean proved fruitful. If you didn’t keep yourself busy then a rut would wear into the wooden planks of your office from the endless pacing.

If Jeonghan is truly in your father’s court then you owe the crew an explanation of what exactly the Pearl Palace of Iaslera holds. You were no artist, but luck shined on you once again with Minghao. Even the barest memories regarding the servant’s quarters or the stables were included. He sketched every detail, every crevice you could remember with shocking clarity. Reworking sections over and over until the proportions equaled out. Finally, the drawings resembled your home.

Home.

No, not exactly home. Maybe when you’d been a child, when the pearl and silver tiara felt like magic instead of a lead weight; eager to spend days lounging in the library, mind lost to far off lands and tall tales; riding along the familiar beaches, outpacing your chaperone; hiding in the gardens with Wonwoo, playing whatever new game your imagination supplied you two with.

Iaslera was the place you grew up, but the sandy shores and rolling hills only held beauty, not familiarly, the sleek marble walls bearing no warmth or fondness. It wasn’t the place you longed for when out at sea or deep inland.

Home is the worn wood and white sails of the Hydra. Home is your mismatched crew of criminals, ex-soldiers, circus performers, and farmhands. Home is a stable boy who has been by your side since you decided Iasleria was home no longer.

Hours spent in the navigation room, your best fighters and strategists circled on either side of the heavy table, scanning the map detailing each floor of the palace.

“What do you know about the guard rotation?”

“Nothing. Princess, remember?”

“Hard to forget. Can’t believe we didn’t realize before.”

“The way you strut about the deck did always seem particularly royal.” Jun scratches his chin, as if picturing you flouncing about with a tiara on your head.

“Would you like to know what princesses do when they’re angry?”

“Huff their nose in the air?” Soonyoung laughs.

“Maybe if I didn’t have a gun.”

“The guards.” Jihoon reminds.

“I don’t know. My father knows we’re coming and he’s cocky. He’ll probably let us walk right in and assume we’re weak.”

“Sounds like an idiot.”

“So if we walk right in, what do we do?”

“Kill them.” Enea offers from her end of the table.

“If he hasn’t killed Wonwoo already he could have him hidden.”

“If he’s cocky enough to let us walk through the front door, do you really think he’d go through the trouble? He obviously isn’t thinking you have a chance of walking back out.”

“We probably don’t.” You say solemnly.

“What?”

“Best case scenario, my father dies and we walk away wanted by the throne. Most realistic outcome is I’m captured. If that happens, you grab Wonwoo and leave me behind.”

More than a few voices protest as the room descends into yelling.

“I’m your captain and you will listen!” You roar, silencing any objects with a swat of your hand. “Either we all die or I do. I will not pull you into this mess.”

“Not to seem uncaring but do you honestly believe we want to deal with Wonwoo with you not here?”

“He’ll be fine.” You assure.

Wonwoo would have to be whether he liked it or not.

“He won’t.”

“The month the Krakens had you? Wonwoo shot me. Twice.”

“He got into a brawl with Soonyoung.”

“He didn’t talk for two weeks.”

“We leave with both of you. Or we die trying.”

“No one is dying for me! This isn’t some silly brawl in a washed out tavern or a rival crew we’re ambushing. My father is capable of suffering worse than anything you can imagine.” You pause, nearly choking on the horror twisting out of your stomach as you remember the king's most egregious acts. “When I was a child, I spoke out of turn at dinner once. Would you like to know what my punishment was?” Circling your gaze around the room. “He put a poker into the fire until it glowed red—”

“He hit you with it?” Seokmin opens his mouth in horror.

“No,” you swallow, “He couldn’t do anything that might leave a mark in case it made us…undesirable. We had servants assigned to take our beatings while we watched. I was five, and so was she. He hit her across the face with that poker. When I cried, he did it again. When I screamed, he hit her harder. Even if he can’t touch me, he will make sure someone suffers and I watch. I will not damn any of you to the cruelty he’s simmered on in the past ten years. Am I clear?”

The wooden door claps shut as you exit without waiting for their response.

The King of Iaslera

Wonwoo doesn’t remember summers in Iaslera being so cold. Perhaps the bloody purple bruises blooming like a grotesque garden across his flesh have made him susceptible to the biting chill clogging the air. Or maybe the blood coating the inside of his mouth and nose. Or the cold dig of gray stone in his side.

He recognizes the damp dungeons of the king’s palace from the guards uniform, pale blue smocks with a silver lotus blossom embroidered on the back. They haven’t chained him to rings jutting from the floors or walls. Unnecessary given that Wonwoo’s right shoulder is dislocated and his ankle is broken, jutting his foot out at an awkward angle. Even if the planets aligned and the gods blessed an escape, he wouldn’t make it three paces before collapsing onto the ground.

Wonwoo doesn’t have enough knowledge of anatomy to set his shattered bones, likely to do more harm than good if he makes it out of this cell to see another day. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to Shua’s ramblings on the intricacies of the human body when he had the chance.

But he knows his arm can be saved.

The webbed pain coming from his shoulder is familiar enough. When Wonwoo turned thirteen he’d been assigned with helping break a new stallion for the captain of the guards. The stable master only let Wonwoo watch from the fence of the ring, eyes locked on the magnificent midnight steed. Proving to be a fatal mistake when the horse, Balius, charged right at Wonwoo, knocking him off the fence, down to the hard ground below. Once wind returned to his lungs, Wonwoo got a taste for the pain of a dislocated joint for the first time.

It'd happened twice since. Once thanks to the same dock he owed his scar, and another courtesy of the first time Jeonghan tracked Y/N across the waves to Uspar. Wonwoo knows what he has to do, but he craves to postpone the inevitable until the last possible moment.

The guards patrol in front of his cell every time the clock in the palace yard gives a large chime to signal the top of the hour. Shuffling to the bars on his bum, he uses his good foot to push himself across the weathered stone of his cell, before leaning his damaged arm between the thick shafts of iron.

Folding the bottom of his shirt between his teeth, Wonwoo prepares for the sear of pain. Even the faint memory of agony shoots gooseflesh down his spine. No matter how many times he’d done this, tears stung his eyes for hours till the pain sent him into a dark abyss.

Wonwoo knows if he screams, the guards will come running and eagerly dole more damage. A deep breath to corral any rogue shout that may escape his throat, and then he gives a sharp twist at his middle till he hears the sickening pop! A hefty grunt escapes into the fabric as fat pearls well in Wonwoo’s eyes, leaving clean streaks down his filthy face. Vomit rises in his throat as his vision blackens and whisps float through the haze. The surging throb curdles through his blood in time with his pulse as it rushes through his veins to every inch of his body.

The pain eclipses any of the other injuries he’s sustained so far but he tries to count his breaths, sucking in four beats and trembling out another four. His jaw feels as if it might break from how hard his teeth clench, fighting to keep the groans of agony on his tongue at bay.

Folding in on himself, Wonwoo attempts to focus on how he will survive. At least he has the advantage of secrecy on his side. Perhaps he can get in a surprise swing if it comes down to it. Wonwoo won’t die without a fight. He’s come too far.

“I brought you the boy, now give me what you promised.”

“Our deal was for you to bring my disgraceful daughter, not some pathetic peasant.”

“If he is here, she will come.”

“You better pray to the gods she does, boy. Because if she doesn’t, I will show you there are worse punishments than death.”

Two days pass before a soul outside of the guards visits Wonwoo’s cell. A fever claimed him yesterday, sending his body into a fit of chills and muddling his brain. The thin fabric of his bloodied shirt and trousers stick to his clammy figure like a second skin. Wonwoo figures it’s finally gone for the kill when Y/N appears in front of the bars. Back in the finery of court, gown and jewels pristine. Hair tamed on top of her head in a style Wonwoo knows she hated, beautiful face weathered with age.

No it wasn’t Y/N. It was her mother, Queen Demetria.

Wonwoo had no quarrel with the Queen. She’d been as powerless against the king as everyone else. But even in her limited ability, she’d cared for him and his plight. When his parents dumped him at the palace gates as an infant and allowed him to find refuge within its walls. Tasked a maid, Miss Ele, with his care. When he turned five, Wonwoo was brought back in front of the queen. He remembers how the queen asked him his name, told him it was the name of a boy who would grow into a strong man. And she let him stay, working in the stables to earn his keep.

There were worse fates for orphans.

With great effort he tips his head in a bow, nearly toppling over as his balance abandons him. “Your Majesty.”

“Is she alive?”

“I—”

“Please, is she alive?”

“Yes.” Wonwoo breathes. If Y/N was dead he’d like to think he’d feel it somewhere in his gut.

“What is she like?”

Wonwoo isn’t sure what to tell her. Few things are as solid as his loyalty to Y/N. But he owes the Queen his life. If she hadn’t been there, he'd have been dead long before he’d met her daughter.

“She’s,” he pauses, trying to figure what he can say without telling too much. His mind working at half speed under the fever, thick as molasses. “She’s incredible.”

The Queen gives him a watery smile, prodding him to continue.

“She’s brave, and smart. And she looks just like you. She’s a lot like you actually.”

“Really?” She swallows thickly.

“She tries to be like the king, but she… She’s…”

Good? Wonwoo knew the extensive lists of crimes and cruelties Y/N committed, the unknowns easily assumed. Good was a stretch but she wasn’t bad. She fell somewhere in between, beyond an easy answer. It's the only way to describe the princess turned pirate. A low bar to say she hadn’t been as cruel as she could have been but it's true. She’d done horrible things but at her core she was as good as someone in her position could be. Like a flame. Able to burn down villages if left unchecked, but eager to keep a freezing family warm if given the opportunity. Fire burns because that's its nature, but you can’t damn candle for the crimes of the pyre.

“I remember when you were brought here, Wonwoo. Just a baby. I’d still been carrying my daughter at the time. And I knew once Y/N came, she’d find you. A mother just knows.” The clamor of keys tickles his ears. “Your mother asked me to protect you and I promised the gods I would. She risked her life to save her child. She inspires me to do the same.”

The door to his cell swings open, ear splitting as rusted metal scraps against stone.

“I can’t walk,” Wonwoo pants. “they broke my ankle.”

The Queen pauses at the sight of his foot and Wonwoo can’t help but stare at her. The furrow of her eyebrows and twist of her lips remind him of her daughter.

“I have several guards that are loyal to me, not the king. I’ll try to have one fetch you and help you through the tunnels.”

“I don’t know where I’ll go after.”

“Even when she was little my daughter had a talent for finding you. I’m sure she’ll be here to collect you soon enough.”

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you, Wonwoo. You’ve taken care of Y/N all this time.”

“She makes it easy.”

“Love has a peculiar way of doing that, doesn’t it?”

Before he can say anything else, she’s turned to exit down the same hallway she’d come, heels echoing as she goes.

Jeonghan paces in front of the cell like a tiger circles its cage, like he is the one trapped inside and not Wonwoo. His hair is disheveled, eyes wild, tension stringing his muscles tight. Agitation consumes Jeonghan, even Wonwoo’s infection riddled mind can see it.

The sting of vomit and other refuse in the corner of Wonwoo’s accommodations stains the air. This morning, his urine was tinged pink. The sliver of hope of seeing anything beyond these walls ever again left when the Queen turned her back to him yesterday. No guards came to help him. Only ones providing small buckets of water for him to clean himself and drink from.

“She’s going to let you die in here.”

No reply. Not that Wonwoo has the energy to open his mouth, let alone goad the man. Let him drive himself mad for all Wonwoo cares.

“It was supposed to be her!” Jeonghan’s nostrils flare as he presses his face between the bars. His hands shake as they squeeze around the biting steel. “You ruined everything, you stupid piece of filth!”

The pieces of the mysterious puzzle click. Perhaps its infection induced delirium but Wonwoo finally understands why Jeonghan despises him so.

Jeonghan hates Wonwoo because he has what Jeonghan can’t get. No matter which way Jeonghan tried to rub his unworthiness in his face, she didn’t want him. Y/N chose Wonwoo, or that's what Jeonghan believes. A peasant-born bastard beat the son of a Duke. In Jeonghan’s world it was unimaginable.

In Wonwoo’s world, it's unimaginable too.

He can’t help but laugh. Scratchy and unpleasant given his condition but full bellied laughter fills his mouth, splitting the silence of the dungeon.

“You think it’s funny? You’re going to die here and no one is going to care.”

Snorting around caked blood and snot, Wonwoo’s hysteria continues at Jeonghan’s words. Wonwoo is laughing at his own funeral. Wildly inappropriate, but the irony of the gods sends him into a fit.

Jeonghan turns to the guards, furious at Wonwoo’s inability to respond to his attempts to instigate a fight. “Move him to the throne room, the King is waiting.”

The guards manhandling him upright might have hurt if Wonwoo’s body wasn’t begging for death. He’s slipping away into the recesses of his mind, barely able to snag the thread of reality that continues to unravel before him as he giggles manically. The jostle of his ankle sends bile to his mouth, acrid burn flooding his tongue.

Spots paint his vision, the movement fatiguing him quickly. His head lulls to and fro, muscles retired as they carry Wonwoo out of the dungeon and through the palace. Wonwoo’s eyes refuse to open, but he can listen. Every footstep thuds like a pulse, whispered words coming to him as if he’s deep underwater. A sharp gasp greets him when the guards finally pause.

The crack of his skull on marble is the last thing Wonwoo registers before he returns to darkness.

Onyx skies weep as a small dingy enters the harbor of Amesstino, welcoming the long lost princess home after years of separation as angry waves attempt to claim her for the tide.

Disguised as a gang of traders, you and your crew silently dock and flee the tiny craft. Thick sheets of rain provide plenty of cover to sneak to the palace unseen. No one speaks, crashes of thunder shaking the earth and bolts of lightning splitting the sky. Even the wind whips against your body, lashing at your back. The gods are angry.

Your fury is more dangerous.

The King anticipates your arrival, welcoming you with abandoned guard posts and open gates. You walk through the front door with baited breath, not even a servant ghosts through the empty quartz hallways.

Several pairs of eyes take in the finery that is the Iaslerian palace. As if sculpted from a single piece of white marble, smooth ornate columns support the massive structure, free from any blemishes or ware. Pale blue tapestries embroidered with silver lotus blossoms hang from the ceiling in even rows like icicles. Exactly the same as the day you left, frozen in time, eagerly awaiting your return.

Imposing silver doors seal off the throne room, gleaming like two teeth waiting to bite. Their thickness prevents any sound from breaking free, leaving you woefully unprepared for what will greet you on the other side.

A single beat of breath passes before your crew heaves the doors open to meet your maker.

Guns cocked and teeth bare, your eyes quickly scan the throne room. In the center, your father lazes in his throne, eyes alight with cruel mirth. Your mother is poised next to him, mouth wide in shock, face pale as if she’d seen a ghost. Guards line the walls, swords drawn; tense for a fight.

But the heap sprawled to the right of the lotus emblem on the floor stops heart. The familiar mop of hair inkling across the braided silver and blue veins of the seal. His chest doesn’t move, almost unrecognizable through bloody bruises swelling half his face.

Denial shrouds your mind. Wonwoo isn't dead. You’d feel it. In your gut, in your heart. Somewhere, you’d feel his soul leave this world and escape to the next.

“I gave you the princess, now give me back my title!” Jeonghan demands, emerging from the line of guards to the left.

“You’re as much of a fool as your father Jeonghan! Did you truly believe I’d let you roam Iaslera? You ruined any chance to return to civility when you took that brand on your neck!”

“You said—”

“Silence!” Carnos bellows, voice echoing between the walls. “My dear daughter has finally returned.” he smiles, “I wish to welcome her back.”

Your breath stutters in your lungs. You’ve had countless knives to your throat, guns to your back, brawled with the rowdiest of thieves and criminals. But the bravery curling around your edges shrinks back in the face of your father.

Suddenly you're five again watching Dirce cowering on the floor, with a bloody welt across her face. Helpless as your father unleashes the monster that lurks under his skin. It’s all your fault. Your greed. Your pride. Your envy. No one is to blame but yourself.

“You wanted me here.” You manage to steel your voice. “ He’s of no use now. Let him go and I’ll do whatever you want.”

If your father wants your submission, to see you beg, you’ll do it. He can break you if it means your crew will be left whole.

“What I want is for you to finally learn your place. And you will, in due time. But first, you’ll watch your little bastard lose his head.”

“No!”

“Be silent!” He demands, guards taking a threatening step forward. “You insolent little bitch! You thought you could escape me? I am a King! You are nothing. Less than nothing. You couldn’t even escape that pathetic excuse of a pirate on your own! You needed a peasant to—”

A gunshot rings through the room. A hole in the king's chest releases a trickle of blood down his front, staining the creamy linen shirt. King Carnos shakes as he dips his chin, mouth open in shock as he realizes he’s been shot.

The smoking revolver in Jeonghan’s hand quivers, his eyes wide at what he’s done.

An eerie smile creeps across your father’s face, blood staining his teeth. His last words are indecipherable as he chokes on the next rush through his mouth.

Not even a mouse squeaks to break the fragile silence hanging in the air, bodies frozen to the floor as the great King of Iaslera falls.

Then chaos explodes.

Your mother wails as she registers what's happened, guards rushing in an attempt to aid the king.

Every muscle in your body screams to flee but your mind keeps you on your knees. The king is dead. Your father is dead. Mouth slack, you shiver as death brushes past you, her chilled hand resting briefly on your shoulder before she steps forward to claim his soul. The once faint whispers of the sea trickling into your ears again. I’ll collect you eventually, princess. But not tonight. Death will have to wait once more for you to trail behind her.

Soonyoung drags you by your armpits, screaming something in your face that you can’t hear, the ring of the bullet replaying over and over; as if you’re under the waves and life is happening far above on the surface. Wonwoo’s limp body still rests in the corner, face bruised and caked with flaking patches of deep maroon.

Everything rushes you at once.

“Come on Y/N!”

“Wonwoo, get Wonwoo!” You shriek hysterically over Soonyoung’s shoulder as he pushes you out.

“We’ve got to get back to the boat!”

“Please!” You beg, voice horse as tears streak your face.

Hand iron tight around your wrist, Soonyoung doesn’t let you break from his grip. You barely make out Jun and Jihoon carrying a third body before you’re outside and nearly falling down the cliff to the shore.

Seokmin fights to keep his hold on the dingy as it batters against the sand. You and Soonyoung are the first to make it. Minutes pass by as you watch the remaining members of your crew fly down the stairs, slowed with the added weight of another. You can’t breathe.

Jihoon hauls Wonwoo into the ship first, followed by himself and the other men.

Nothing else matters, just the weak rise of his chest. It’s the tether your sanity latches on as you return to the sea.

Dreams

In the liminal space between life and the abyss, Wonwoo dreams.

He dreams, and he remembers.

The first time Wonwoo meets the princess, he discovers she’s insufferable.

The little girl glides his way, the self-righteous air of importance swirling her stiff shoulders. “What is your name?”

Wonwoo just gives her a slow blink, she’s woefully out of place amongst the smells and sounds of the stable.

Turning to the older woman, the snobby girl asks, “Is he simple?”

“I’m not simple!” Wonwoo objects.

“Then what is your name? You have one don’t you? Or do you prefer I call you ‘stable boy’?”

“My name is Wonwoo.”

“Nice to meet you.” She says, nose high in the air as she extends her hand.

Wonwoo hesitates before shaking it like he’s watched the older men do when they settle a deal.

“No!” She objects, snatching her palm away. “You don’t shake a lady’s hand.”

Her scolding confuses him, twisting his face.

“You do know what a lady is?”

“Of course I do!” He stomps. “You’re just a girl!”

“Ladies are girls, you idiot!”

An older woman steps in, “Ma’am, your horse is ready.”

Huffing indignantly, the little girl twirls to flounce to the other side of the stables. She walks as if the ground only exists to rise and meet her foot with each step. The princess is headed where the caramel colored mare that bit Wonwoo two days ago waits. Figures. Crazy horse for a crazy girl.

—

“Would you like to play with me?”

“I have chores.”

“They can wait until after we play.”

“Go on, son.” urges the older groomsman Wonwoo assists. “I’ll take care of your stalls.”

His eyes shift as he stammers for another excuse. Play with the crazy girl? He’d rather shovel the entire stable twice over.

Wonwoo doesn’t get the chance to speak before she snagged his wrist, pulling him towards the wide entrance. “Come on!”

Once tucked away in a secluded corner of the garden, both panting, Wonwoo looks at her. She looks about his age, only an inch shorter than he is at seven years old. Wisps of loose hair float around her face with a few tiny braids and twists pinned here and there. Delicate threads of silver intertwined throughout. Her dress is simple stormy blue but the fabric clearly indicates it isn't a hand me down like all his torn and patched clothes are.

“Do you know how to play soldiers?”

“Yes?”

“Teach me.”

“Huh?”

“My sisters don’t know how and when I ask the boys in court they won’t play with me.”

Wonwoo spends the rest of the afternoon running around the garden with Y/N. She’s decided they’re nations are at war, and this is the final battle.

“Yield!” She cries.

“Never!”

“Your majesty! What are you doing?” The shrill voice of an older maid rings out. “Young ladies do not roll in the dirt with servants! Certainly not princesses!”

The wrinkly woman grabs Y/N’s wrist, shooting a glare at Wonwoo.

“And you! Don’t you have chores that need finishing?” The maid spits before whipping around towards the palace.

The little princess mouths a silent apology over her shoulder, remorseful round eyes only leaving Wonwoo when she’s dragged behind a hedge.

“No way to behave! Your governess will have my head when she sees you…”

—

“Do you like burnt sugar cake?”

Wonwoo continues to ignore any effort for conversation, focusing on raking the new hay he’s laid down in the stall. Now that he’s twelve he’s given more responsibilities than just tossing the soiled hay into a cart.

“How long will you be angry with me?”

More silence. It’s the only thing Wonwoo can control in the unbalanced dynamic between himself and the youngest princess of the court. If she wished, she could command him to do whatever she wanted, the threat of whips at his back. But she allows Wonwoo to be angry. To be silent. She’s sat and mopped for the past two hours, huffing and sighing as Wonwoo refused to acknowledge her bids for attention. He ducks into the next stall and begins the same repetitive steps he has all morning, allowing the sweat on his brow and pull of his body to dull his mind.

What business was it to the princess that he couldn’t read?

When he exits, he finds the piece of confection wrapped in a silk handkerchief on the wall of the stall, Y/N nowhere to be seen.

The stables aren’t warmed with her presence again. Wonwoo never admits to missing it.

—

“I’m going for a ride!”

“My lady, Muriel has oyspox and there is no one else to escort you.” A stammering maid attempts to placate the fuming princess.

“If my mare is not saddled this instant I will take someone’s head!”

“You cannot ride without accompaniment!”

“He will escort me.”

Wonwoo knows she’s referring to him without looking away from the saddle he’s rigging onto one of the guard’s horses. A rambunctious sandy colt named Athos with a penchant to buck at strangers. He’s one of Wonwoo’s favorites.

“Ma’am, he is a stablehand!”

“Which is of no concern to me.” The rich timber of her voice is decidedly royal. “He will be my escort and that is final.”

Handing over the reins of the stallion to another servant, Wonwoo sets towards the tack room for the appropriate gear. The dark leather saddle and matching bridle is in perfect condition despite going years without use. Wonwoo would know, he’s the one charged with oiling them.

The familiar caramel colored mare is clearly excited for a ride, baying over the door to her stall. Wonwoo can’t stop the grin from spreading to his lips. Over the years, Kalsta had become as familiar as the back of his hand, only nipping his shirt when he refuses her a treat.

Once Kalsta and another stone gray mare are prepared, the fuming princess mounts her and dashes from the stable. Her hair blasting behind her as she pushes into a dead sprint across the hills leading to the coastline below the cliff housing the dazzling white palace.

Wonwoo’s eyes roll, but follows nevertheless; careful to remain several paces behind, even when the horses tire to a trot. From this distance, Wonwoo catches a few muttered words about some royal from the next continent over the crashing waves.

“If you were to marry a girl, wouldn’t you care to know more about her than which season she prefers?”

It takes Wonwoo a moment to realize she’s finally addressing him directly. When he does, he fumbles for an appropriate answer.

“I–,” he stammers, “I don’t know. I guess.”

“Then it is of no coincidence if you disagree with her about other more important topics?”

“Such as?”

“Such as�� well I’m not quite sure but certainly there are more important things than my preferences in tea.”

“Surely there is, Your Grace.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“A humble servant would never mock their sovereign.”

“Humility is a virtue you lack in spades, Wonwoo.”

The grin pulling at the corners of his lips wins the tug of war with his mind. “Ahh, so she does remember me.”

Rolling her eyes, the first smile Wonwoo has seen all afternoon blooms on her face. “Of course I remember you. A girl never forgets the first boy she beats up.”

“You didn’t beat me up!”

Her warm chuckle brightens the atmosphere despite the nipping autumn breeze.

“So you’re to be married?”

“If my father has his way, yes.”

“What’s he like?”

“My father?”

“No, the prince you’ve been mumbling about.”

“He’s not a prince, he’s the son of a duke in Nas-Shost.” Y/N picks at the seam of the saddle. “We’ve been engaged since I was twelve, but I’m not sure what he’s like. We’ve only written a few letters.”

“A few letters since you were twelve?”

“Marriage wasn’t as looming when I was a child.”

“And you haven’t learned anything about him in all that time?”

“He tries to charm me but I find it quite dull.”

“Picky princess.”

“Is it so wrong to want a man of some substance?”

“Like what?”

Wonwoo hadn’t thought much about marriage at all. He’d caught a few of the younger maids staring at him when he worked without his shirt on but paid them no mind. No one ever gave him reason enough to think of anything more than some lighthearted touching. He was barely sixteen after all.

“I don’t know. His words tell me nothing about who he is or what he enjoys. Only that he is an incorrigible flirt who takes interest in trivial matters of taste.”

“You don’t want a man who charms you?”

“I want a man who has meaning beyond a made up title.”

“‘Made up title’,” he rolls the words around his mouth. “I believe that borders on treason.”

“Does it count if I’m referring to myself?”

Wonwoo continues to ride with you in silence, this time matching your pace.

—

Wonwoo wakes to whispers of his name, urgent calls for him to break the delicate surface of dreams. He fights a shout when he finds Y/N hovering over him, hand covering his mouth. Brushing it aside, he throws his gaze around the tiny space of his quarters before returning to her.

She’s cloaked in a gauzy dressing gown, the thin cream cotton of her nightgown peeking out between the deep blue lapels where the soft skin of her chest disappears; bedraggled tendrils of hair curled around her shoulder. The gentle flicker of candlelight casts her face in a hazy glow, flame reflecting in the dark center of her eyes. The princess is in his room, perched on the side of his bed, face inches from his own. Wonwoo must still be dreaming.

“He’s here.”

Wonwoo’s brain is thick as cold honey, the day in the stables more grueling with the additional horses the king’s guest brought. “What?”

“Jeonghan. He’s here.”

“And you’ve come to my room to tell me this?” Wonwoo turns his back towards her and closes his eyes.

“He’s horrible.”

Her admission gives Wonwoo pause. Glancing over his shoulder, he catches a wet trail of tears glossing Y/N’s face, chin tucking to her chest to hide her visage amongst her hair. Pitiful whimpers spill from her lips. Wonwoo nearly chokes when she throws herself into his chest, hot beads streaming onto his bare skin as the walls of control crumble.

“He’s awful, Woo.”

Wonwoo has never navigated such an emotional response from Y/N, from any woman really. When they’d been children, she’d stomp her foot and storm away when upset. Or sometimes tackle him to the dirt and pin him under her till he apologized and begged for mercy. He’s completely out of his depth..

Remembering how his mother would comfort him, Wonwoo lifts a hand to stroke the top of her head. A fresh round of tears erupt, shaking her against him. A loud bawl escapes Y/N, freezing Wonwoo’s blood. He cannot get caught with the princess in his bed. Not in this state; thin cover pooling around his waist, his chest bare and her’s barely covered by thin scraps of fabric. Both states of dress were courtesy of Iaslera’s brutal summers. But a coincidence wouldn’t save his sorry hide if another servant walked in.

“Y/N,” Wonwoo whispers gently. “It will be okay.”

The lie does nothing to stifle her sobs.

Trying again, “It will be fine, I promise.”

Wonwoo has never been a master of words.

“It won’t!” She shudders. “He’s awful, and rude. And he looks at me like nothing more than some prized horse.”

“They’ve only arrived today. Surely he cannot be that bad already.”

“He’s exactly like my father.”

Y/N’s father. Less of a man and more of a waking nightmare. Wonwoo barely interacted with him but the King’s reputation was well known across the kingdom.

Any words of comfort die in his chest. There’s nothing Wonwoo can do. That anyone can do.

“I wish I’d never been born.”

If Wonwoo had been born in her position, he’d wish the same thing.

“You’ve always wanted to see Nas-Shost.”

“How wonderful it will be from the confines of a palace.”

“Perhaps he’ll allow you to travel. You said the King hardly visits the Queen since you came about.”

“So I’m to pray he takes up a mistress after he’s had his fill of me?”

Telltale signs of her fury take root. Huffed breath and shaking hands, a husky scoff punctuating each sentence. Perhaps anger is better than sorrow. Wonwoo has placated her many times when the princesses' temper emerged. This would be no different.

“I’d pray he takes up several, then he’d be too busy to bother you, and let you do as you please.”

“I’d do as I please anyway. He’s barely a duke and I’m a princess.”

“Yes, as you’ve reminded everyone with every breath you take.”

“Jeonghan is the one who acts like his title is of importance! ‘Future Duke’ this and ‘when I am Duke’ that. He squawks like a bird.”

“You’re not quite dazzling to be around either so he might bore quickly.”

“I could have you arrested for speaking ill of the royal family.”

“And what do you plan to tell the guards, your highness?” Wonwoo smirks. “That you forced yourself into my chambers past midnight for some gossip and found yourself offended?”

Wide eyes glace down to his naked chest, jumping to her own as she pulls her dressing gown around herself tighter. The apples of her cheeks warm enticingly as she realizes the precarious position she’s arranged them in, still half in Wonwoo’s lap, perched between his legs.

As if burned, you jump away from his bed to the wall only a foot away. “I—. I didn’t, it isn’t.”

“Isn’t what, princess?”

A pause before indignation takes flight. “You truly are insufferable!” She quietly shouts. Spinning to exit his room with a dramatic sigh.

—

“I wish for a ride.”

“I’m occupied, ma’am.”

“Well make yourself un-occupied.”

“Her Majesty wishes it, so it will be.”

“How I hate when you call me that.”

“What would Her Royal Highness prefer?”

“For you to shut your trap!”

“Such foul words from a lady.”

“I have several more for you if my horse isn’t ready soon.”

“Your Highness, would you mind if I accompany you for your ride?

“I prefer to go alone.”

“You’re going with the stable hand.”

“It’s required that I have a chaperone. Since he’s a servant, he doesn’t count as company.”

Wonwoo tries not to take offense to the subtle insult to his station. He knows she doesn’t mean what she says but the words resemble the same ones he’s heard from other, less friendly, lips many times before.

“I see. Well, I hope to speak with you when you return.”

“Of course, Jeonghan.”

—

“You want to what?”

“Leave. Go somewhere else. Anywhere else.”

“And just how do you expect to do that? You’ve never left these grounds.”

“That’s a lie! I visited Anlehm when I was thirteen!”

“With a royal escort! A girl on the road by herself is completely different.”

“I won’t be alone.”

“And who will join you?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Please keep up Wonwoo, we don’t have much time to discuss.”

“Why me?”

“You are the only person in the world I trust.”

She speaks as if the admission is little more than declaring the day's weather, but the weight rests heavy on his shoulders. The only person the princess of Iaslera trusts is a bastard stable boy with nothing to his name.

“And as such, I will need your assistance.”

“I’ve never left the palace.”

“But you understand peasant things like money.”

It’s not a slight, simply the truth.

“So I am nothing more than a guard for you?”

“Of course not, you’re my friend.”

Friend. Friends with the princess. Gods help him.

“A friend would tell you your plan is madness.”

“And you?”

“You’ll do it anyway.”

“You know me well.”

“If we’re caught, I’ll hang.”

“Then we won’t get caught.”

“Because it is as easy as that.”

“‘If her majesty wishes, so it will be.’ Remember?”

“So it will be.”

—

“What do you know about sex?”

Wonwoo chokes on the large bite of apple he’d been munching on. “Pardon?”

Rolling to her side next to him under the shade of the lush fruit tree, Y/N starts again. “Sex. What do you know about it?”

“I— This isn’t an appropriate conversation for a lady.”

“Well I’m no longer a lady, considering I’ve run away with a servant. I’m thoroughly disavowed from the crown. No need to worry about corrupting me.”

Corrupting her. Him corrupting Y/N.

Oh.

The thoughts were already there, smothered by his own guilt of imaging his friend in that way. Wonwoo suddenly pictures the first time Y/N wore trousers, the roughspun fabric hugging her rolling hips as she glided by. Worse, she didn’t even realize what she was doing, having his tongue nearly hung out of his mouth like a panting dog. And now she’s asking him about sex? Perhaps leaving the palace was a bad idea.

“It's something people do to pass the time.”

“I know what it is, Wonwoo. What is it like?”

“I don’t know. Probably like kissing I suppose.”

“And what's that like?”

“You’ve never?”

“Princess, remember?”

“Well it’s…sort of wet? And feels nice. It’s hard to explain.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me what kissing is like.”

—

“Wonwoo.”

“Yes?”

“You’re really quite handsome. Do you know that?”

The burn of whiskey on an empty stomach loosens even the lips of royalty, it seems.

“High compliment coming from a princess.”

“I’m not a princess.”

Y/N huffs, stumbling back into the mound of hay Wonwoo collected for sleeping. Fall looms on the horizon and the chill of the evening air requires sharing the ratty blanket. Wonwoo would happily sleep in his own pile but her disposition after a cold night left much to be desired.

“You’ll always be a princess. You still walk like a princess, talk like one, even order me about like we never left the palace.”

“I do not order you around!”

Shrilling his voice in mockery, he does his best impression of what he dubs her ‘princess voice.’ “Wonwoo, fetch us breakfast. Wonwoo, teach me to fish. Wonwoo, show me how to use a knife.”

“Well you listen so well it’d be a shame to waste a talent.”

A pause.

“I like when you order me about.”

Perhaps he’s indulged too much as well.

“Wonwoo.”

“Yes?”

“Will you teach me about kissing now?

That night, Wonwoo teaches you everything he knows. He also learns sex is much more than passing time.

The Edge

Dark. Wonwoo registers darkness and warmth first. As his soul slowly returns to his body he realizes he’s laying down in a cot, the unmistakable sway of the sea rocks him to consciousness. And then, Wonwoo realizes he hurts.

A sharp pounding echoes through his bones in time with his weak pulse. Each breath stretching his lungs to the point they feel as if they’ll shred. One of his eyes is swollen shut and the other waters uncontrollably under the pain.

A squeeze around his hand anchors his attention. Using whatever reserve of strength he has left, he tries to squeeze back.

“Wonwoo?”

The voice is familiar, buttery smoothness pleasant to his ears. Wonwoo hopes the Voice will continue saying his name. Maybe it will lull him back to sleep and away from his torment.

“Wonwoo?”

How lovely the Voice is. Perhaps he is still dreaming, the smooth slide of a warm palm against his forehead comforts him before the roughness of a damp cloth wipes at his brow.

A pause before the Voice removes what Wonwoo assumes is her hand. He calls on the reserve of strength again to protest, coughing a weak groan into the space above him.

“You’re awake!” She says, as if it's some marvel.

When she dives into his chest, Wonwoo nearly screams. His ribs protest her weight, his lungs on the verge of collapse. But on his skin he feels her hot wet tears, her nose digging into his breastbone. Even her lips brush against the sensitive flesh as she cries his name over and over. The desire to wrap his arms around her is quelled by protesting muscles. It feels as if he’s wading through wet sand.

She must sense his pain because she removes herself from his person and coos for him to sleep, raking her fingers across his scalp gently as something foul and oily slips between his lips. Sleep, what a wonderful idea.

The shallow rise and fall of Wonwoo’s chest has been the subject of your attention for three days. A part of you fears that the moment you look away it will stop.

He’d woken for the first time in the early hours of the morning a few days ago, the sun barely rising from his bed beneath the horizon as Wonwoo breached consciousness. Shua lectured on and on regarding the significance of rest to healing. Better for Wonwoo to sleep fitfully than wake in agony. But the more frequent he broke the surface of slumber the more anxious you became.

A brief shift of your focus to the vial of murky sedative Shua left for you to administer gives Wonwoo enough time to wake with a heart wrenching groan.

“Shhh,” you coo, settling the cool cloth back on his forehead. “You’re alright.”

“Y/N?” Wonwoo mumbles, eyes firmly shut but his eyes moving rapidly behind his lids.

“I’m here.”

You move your free hand to his own on the side of the bed, thumb stroking the backs of his fingers in an attempt to sooth him.

“Princess.” he slurs.

The pained sobs you’ve released quietly over the past few days return, watering your entangled hands as you rest your forehead against them.

Even in death, your father still torments you.

Wonwoo becomes fully sentient after a week. Weak from hunger and dehydration, but alive. Shua fusses over him at all hours like a mother hen, mixing vials and brewing all types of teas to speed his recovery along. Luckily, with all of the commotion from the crew to see Wonwoo with their own eyes, you’ve been able to fade to the shadows.

Taking the wheel yourself gives Jihoon a chance to descend below deck. Or offering Soonyoung the opportunity to share a meal with Wonwoo as you man the rigging. Anything to stay away from the room next to your own.

Somehow Wonwoo awake and aware is worse.

But only so many distractions exist in such a small space as your ship. The crew begins to brush aside your offers of assistance, urging you to have time with Wonwoo now that he’s healing. You’re at the end of your rope when Seungkwan informs you of Wonwoo’s request to see you.

You can feel Wonwoo’s eyes watching you in the corner of his room, your own tracing the whorls in the wood grain of the floors, walls, and ceiling.

You break the silence first, “Are you angry with me?”

“When have I ever been angry with you?”

“I’m angry with myself.”

“That’s why you’re you and I’m me. I chose to go on his ship.”

“It’s my fault he was here in the first place!”

“Do you think I’m incapable of making my own choices?”

“I’ve never,”

“If given the same chance, I’d do it again. I don’t regret it.”

“I—”

Wonwoo cuts you off before you can protest. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

This is the start of the conversation you’ve been running from.

“I haven’t.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He’s right. And rather than continue to lie, your feet carry you out the door and back in the safety of your office.

Two more days pass before you gather enough courage to brave him again. You’ve never been afraid of Wonwoo; never shied away from his presence. Even after tense moments, having him around was a comfort and he indulged your desire to ignore whatever bubbled between you two. But not anymore. Wonwoo is demanding answers you don’t have to questions you're terrified of asking.

He sleeps thanks to the sedative Shua slipped in his tea before re-sewing some of the garish stitches along his ribs.

Resting in the chair next to the top of his bed, your eyes catalog his features. Even through the swelling and bruises, Wonwoo’s still handsome. From the sharp tilt of his jaw to the gentle pout of his lips, even his scar warms your heart as he dozes. It's hard to settle the panic hanging over your shoulder, a swirling mass of fear and dread.

So lost in your own mind, you don’t realize his good eye is open and glaring straight at you.

“You’re back.”

Jumping at the rasp of his voice, you launch to your feet. “I was just leaving.”

“Of course you were.” He scoffs.

The venom in his tone freezes you as your fist clenches around the doorknob.

He continues, “I asked Jihoon to take us to Ventparsk. I’m going to find a new crew.”

“What?” You’re trembling.

“You don’t want me here.”

“I never said that!”

“You don’t have to! You can’t even look at me without running in the other direction!”

Wonwoo just stares. He’s patient in the worst ways and the injuries littered across his face obscure any emotions he may be experiencing himself.

“I don’t know how to do this, Woo.”

“You’re too scared to try.”

“Maybe I am! But if I’m a coward, what does that make you?”

“A fool.” he spits. “I can’t pretend to not feel for you. Not anymore. If you truly do not want me then I’ll make it easier for the both of us and allow you freedom from any guilt.”

What can you say? The man you’ve bound yourself to in mind, body, and spirit, who has risked his life for you more times than you can count, is willing to walk away for your comfort; unconsciously taking half your heart with him. The idea saps the oxygen out of your lungs. You without Wonwoo. Like a flower without the sun. The sky without stars. Ocean without a tide.

Wonwoo has never asked, only allowed you to take endlessly. Perhaps it’s time you give something to him.

Tears are welling in your eyes before you can speak. “I don’t want you to go.” Shaking your head, your voice breaks as you cry like the little girl you were so long ago. “Don’t go.” Quivering like a leaf in a storm you beg. “Please.”

Through the blur of tears you can make out Wonwoo attempting to rise out of his cot. The extensive wounds and injuries make it a Herculean effort, causing him to nearly topple to the floor before you approach him. Strong arms tangle around you as you bury your face into his neck, pleading for him to stay.

“I don’t know what else to do.” He whispers into your hair.

You continue to bawl, plagued by images of your lonely figure, missing the better half of your soul. The only steady presence in your life, the one person who played witness to your weakest moments. Months of separation at the hands of fate were child’s play considering the bleak future Wonwoo suggested. Nothing sacrificed or gained would be worth the pain if he isn’t there to share it with you.

“Please.”

“You’re being selfish.”

“If this makes me selfish then yes I’m selfish! I’m selfish and I’m cruel because I can’t imagine a world where we separate. Please!”

“You’ll make do.”

“No I won’t.”

“So you ask me to stay by your side, knowing how I feel, and do what? Ignore it? Pretend it doesn’t exist?”

“When have I ever asked you not to feel?”

“When have I asked you for anything? Any wish or whim in my power I do. Why can’t you try?”

“I do not know how.”

“That’s a lie.”

“What do you want me to say?” Your voice cuts like glass, tears of sadness transforming into tears of frustration.

“I want you to tell me the truth!”

“I am! I have no idea what any of this means!” Your back up and pacing, hands nearly ripping your hair out in an attempt to ground yourself. “I thought you were dead Wonwoo. I thought my father killed you! And for a moment it felt like I died too.”

“And you don’t think that means something?”

“My apologies that I’m not able to write sonnets about feelings I don’t understand!”

“You refuse to even try. I nearly died and you can’t even stand to be in the same room as me!”

“Because it’s my fault! I decided to leave the palace! I decided to pull you into my mess! How can you even look at me?”

“Because I love you.” His eyes burn. “For years, I’ve loved you and I tried not to but—” Wonwoo swallows roughly. “It’s become something I live with.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Because telling you served what purpose? You had one of the crew tortured and tossed overboard because he guessed we rolled around in some hay when we were children. Didn’t inspire confidence you’d be receptive to the idea!”

“So you decided for me?”

“Impossible as it might be, please attempt to consider how I felt.”

“And now I’m selfish? You decide to keep secrets and it’s somehow my fault?”

“Then it's my fault for not being brave enough to face your rejection?”

“I wouldn’t—. I haven’t rejected you.” You blink. “It’s terrifying. Want you the way I do. I can’t think, I couldn’t breathe until you woke up. What happens to me if I let myself have you, and you disappear?”

“I would nev—“

“What if someone comes for you again and this time they do kill you? When I saw your face at the palace, I felt…” Another hot wave of tears emerges. “I couldn’t do anything. All I saw was you. I begged my father to kill me so I wouldn’t have to live without you.”

Silence.

“Did it feel like no matter how many breaths you took there wasn’t enough air? Like you were drowning on dry land?”

“Yes—“

“Like the sun fell out of the sky and the tides stopped? Because that’s how I felt. When Jeonghan took you. My body was here but my soul was with you.”

Of course the one person who understands you is Wonwoo. He sees and he knows. And for all his claims that words aren’t his strength, he gives you courage.

“I wasn’t raised to understand this. My mother told me the most I could hope for with a man was friendship, maybe fondness. Love isn’t a privilege I’d learned to understand.”

A pregnant pause passes.

“Then we learn together.”

Sitting back on the cot, you allow the warmth of Wonwoo’s calloused palm resting on the knobs of your spine to calm you. Sniffling pathetically, you listen to his heart drum in his chest. It reminds you all the times you pressed against him for warmth when you first ran away. The beat of his heart lulling you to rest better than any lullaby your nanny sang in the nursery.

Wonwoo breaks the delicate silence shrouding his room.

“A liar and a coward. What a pair we make.” He chuckles, humor in the irony.

Releasing your own puff of air, you hesitate before asking.

“What do we do about it?”

“About what?”

“These… feelings.”

“I don’t know.”

From all the stories you read as a child, confessions of love and wanting meant joy and happiness. But in its stead is something like sorrow, a firm pain of a crossroads without a clue where either path led.

“Wonwoo?”

He hums.

“What do you want to do about it?”

Wonwoo is silent as he ponders.

“Right now, I want to hold you.”

Moments pass as you trace shapes along his chest, careful to avoid the bandages crossing over his shoulder. The pressure of his lips against the crown of your skull turns your head up.

Wonwoo’s face is soft, staring at you with undeserved fondness. The same way he did that night in the barn, the same way he has always done in private when he thinks you aren’t looking. If Wonwoo is brave enough to tell you, then you owe him the same.

Tracing his features with your fingers, you carefully avoid the wounds still dappling his face. Starting at the temple where his scar begins, you follow it to the plush of his lips, the skin chap under your touch. Before following the loop of his nose and the curve of his brow.

“I love you.”

Your whispered admission floats in the air above your heads.

Wonwoo shuts his eyes and lets you do as you please, leaving a gentle kiss to the pad of your pointer finger as it returns to his mouth.

The smooth slide leaves you craving the contact across your own mouth. Rising up, you gently brush your lips across his. Barely a ghost of flesh but Wonwoo chases the contact. Lips slip against one another, soft passes filled with tender longing.

One the next stroke, you suck his lower lip between your teeth and allow the tip of your tongue to trace it. You faintly register the copper taste of blood and the salt of the sea. The drag must ignite something in his blood because Wonwoo attempts to twist you underneath him before he yelps in pain.

“Stop! You’ll tear your stitches!”

“Damn the stitches,” he grits, claiming your mouth again.

Carefully maneuvering out of his reach, you break the kiss as you rise from his cot. A genuine smile of joy returning to your face after years of drought.

“When you’re better,” you whisper.

“You’d have us wait?”

“I’d rather have you when your face no longer resembles the wrong side of a horse.”

He fails to make a grab for your sleeve, huffing as he rests back into the mattress. “I thought I charmed you with more than my looks.”

“Unfortunately, I’m quite shallow.”

“There should be an old scarf in my desk drawer, perhaps that can be of use?”

“Woo,” you gently coo. “You can’t even sit up straight.”

“I believe that’s a matter of opinion.”

You chuckle. “When you’re well enough, I’ll lock us in here for as long as you wish.”

The simmering displeasure is clear on his face. Wonwoo isn’t angry with you. He’s angry with his injuries. With Jeonghan and your dead father. With the fates.

“As long as I wish?”

Humming in agreement as you rest one knee onto the bed, you lean over his form before whispering.

“You should try and listen to Shua so I don’t have to wait much longer.”

“Fine.”

“It’s a deal.”

Three months.

Three months of silently mourning the death of your father in the dead of night, when you’re safe from prying eyes and your mind wanders free. You hardly knew him, he was as much of a stranger as a merchant you stumbled passed in a busy market. Guilt whispered across your mind as each tear slipped down your face. Mourning the man who terrorized a nation and his family, who paid for your execution, who tortured Wonwoo.

Three months of Wonwoo downing every greasy concoction and bitter remedy Shua prescribes. One month for the bruises to yellow and fade into memory, for his cuts to scab and scar. Two months for his shoulder to cease its insistent throb. Two months of keeping his body firmly planted in his cot until he’s cleared to rise with the assistance of a mahogany cane courtesy of Jihoon. Another month of hobbling along the deck, relearning his center of gravity under the threat of toppling into the sea.

Ninety two days of heated gazes and longing brushes of hands in passing, conversations littered with double entendres verging on obscenity. More whispered confessions and declarations. Twenty four nights of you visiting his room under the cover of the moon, sitting by his side, clasping his hand while he slept fitfully, administering more oily sedative when the nightmares chase him awake and one night he pulls you down beside him. Then seventy two mornings blinking wake, curled against one another under the thin sheets like you had all those years ago, whispering promises in the gentle dawn.

The first night Wonwoo shuffles across the deck without the assistance of the familiar piece of wood, you nearly take him against the main mast. Instead, you settle for pulling him to your cabin as the oil lantern begins to burn low, when the eyelids of the crew droop from exhaustion and their heads turn away in consideration.

A choked groan leaves your throat as his hips settle between your thighs, molding together so tightly there’s no deciphering where you end and Wonwoo begins. Mouths refuse to separate as you roll against one another, a cacophony of breathless whimpers and husky moans blending between lips.

Your bodies burn with the inferno of a pyre, every hair stands on edge like lightning is about to strike a hair width away. There’s no air to breath, but the space you’ve descended into thankfully requires none. Only you and Wonwoo exist, not time or the sea or the stars.

“Say it again,” he whispers into your mouth.

“I love you!” You gasp back, eager to seal the words with another suck of his tongue.

Calloused hands palm your chest, breasts heavy and full, nipples growing to stiff peaks as deft fingers brush and pluck. Wonwoo laps at the smooth dip between before latching onto one, nipping and sucking as you writhe in the sheets, thrashing wildly against him. Your own hands make busy twisting and pulling his hair, nails scraping against the dip of his neck and across his broad shoulders.

“Again.” Wonwoo bites into your skin, punctuated with another harsh curl of his hips into yours, so deep he’s in your lungs.

Sobbing your reply, eyes closing as your forehead presses to his, you nearly choke on air as he drives into you again and again.

“I love you.”

“Again.” He pants desperately.

“Wonu!” You keen, back of your head pressing into the pillows as your chest collapses from his precarious rhythm. Streams of light rupture across your vision, tension swelling in your veins and ripping you apart.

“Love you, I love you,” He mutters like a prayer into the crease of your shoulder, face buried in your neck as he snatches your wrist, twining your fingers with his next to your head, grip so tight nails sting into the back of each other's hand.

Another prayer of his name rips from your throat, cannoning Wonwoo into a frenzy. He pummels into you with such force the crown of your skull knocks into the headboard. His hips stutter as he finds his release, filling you with his seed as he cries your own name into your lips.

Stuttered breaths settle for a moment.

“Again, Woo.”

He eagerly follows your orders, just as he’s always done.

Epilogue

Once upon a time, an unlikely friendship between a princess and a stable boy bloomed in the gardens of a king’s palace. The stable boy followed the princess wherever she decided to go, and the princess knew that if she ever needed to turn back, the stable boy would welcome her with open arms. Even when age led her to the other side of this life like an old friend, the stable boy couldn’t help but follow. Though he was eager to return to her side once more, the princess had remained behind to welcome him with a smile when he walked over the hill.

Some say that when the moon dips below the horizon of the sea each day, it's the princess returning to the warmth of her lover's embrace. Always destined to find one another in each life, never to be kept apart, no matter what came between.

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