#sweet scandal return

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 07:55 A.M 」

a little drabble based on this outrageous ask :)) and half-inspired by some lines from the broken ring: this marriage will fail anyway—that's my new roman empire everyone ehe🥹 and who can resist domestic husband!gojo?😋

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re cheating on me.”

morning breakfast. satoru stopped chewing his toast at your wild accusation, his baby blue eyes blinking rapidly as he processed your words before turning to you and bursting out—

“huh?!”

“last night,” you charged, eyes narrowing in distaste. “i can’t believe you.”

“whaaa?” he tensed up, racking his brain for any indicators that he might have wronged you in any way, until he came across an irrefutable truth—

“wait no, last night, you almost made me lose it in my pants!” even satoru’s face reddened slightly while recounting your nightly tales. “before i busted it inside you. how is it possible that i’m committing adultery?!”

you huffed, looking away from him righteously. “in my last night’s dream, you did.”

. . .

“eh...” satoru blinked again, fully absorbing your words, before stupidly smiling. “what? you dream about me?”

you scowled, picking at your omelette. “yes. about you running away with five bimbos, banging them in a cottage in the middle of the woods, and leaving me here waiting for you like an idiot.”

he burst into uproarious laughter, so loud and crisp it made him wheeze. “what? seriously? you— ahahahaha!”

you threw him an unamused look, mildly irked.

“hey, wifey,” satoru nudged you, his grin stretching wide in sheer delight. “no one else can make my body react the way it does around you, you know~”

“…”

“this here,” your husband then shamelessly gestured towards his crotch. “—is broken already. my happy friend here can’t get up anymore if it’s not you.”

“…”

“i mean it! you’re the only one who can give me an erection!”

you whipped your head around him, scandalized. “ew! satoru, you—!”

“well, that’s the fact! nothing too embarrassing— we’re married!” he shrugged as you bulged a vein. “besides, shouldn’t you be proud? you've truly got me wrapped around your pinky~”

seeing how you were cutely pouting throughout breakfast, still all giggly, satoru led you back to bedroom to cuddle you.

“there, there, sweets... happy now?” satoru pulled you closer and pat your back, his body still slightly shaking with suppressed laughter.

“hmph.” you put your hands around his torso with pursed lips, squeezing him in return.

“look at this, it’s only when she’s spooked that the wife shows me any affection,” satoru exclaimed with a dramatic sigh. “so, what else did the dream version of me do to you, huh?”

“you bend each bimbo on every surface, lied to me that you’re on a long mission,” you huffed, grimacing as you recalled your dream vision. “you’re the worst.”

satoru still had that dopey grin on this face, and right this second, he thought you were the absolute cutest, because how could you think that he is capable of looking at anyone else the way he looks at you?

you have his heart, body and soul already. hasn't he told you that?

“is that so, poor you,” he retorted with mock sympathy. “but since you’re so worried...”

and suddenly, he rose from the bed with his arm around your back and another under your knees, cradling you in a princess carry. and with the smuggest smirk he whispered—

“...well, i have to make it up somehow. how about i bend you on your vanity desk now, hmm?”

[shrimpybbq]

Gwayne Hightower and his Targaryen niece return to Kings Landing!

Gwayne bringing his sweet niece back to the Red Keep, only now she holds the title of his wife - of the Lady of Oldtown. Whispers and murmurs follow the couple as they walk through the keep, all aware of the more than scandalous marriage that had taken place.

He feels a warm feeling settle across his chest as his niece clings to him, her frame pressed into his side. Gwayne is more than happy to play the protector.

The Royal Family watching the couple walk into the throne room, only to be stunned at the sight of a small bundle being cradled in the young princess’s arms. They had received no word of the birth of the next Lord of Oldtown, and yet, here he was.

Gwayne proudly presenting his little son to the room, the tufts of red hair atop his head a clear indication of his lineage.

Alicent looking on at her daughter in shock and sorrow, her heart breaking as both of her daughters have now truly left her. She didn’t even get to attend this daughter’s wedding, and now her grandchild’s birth had been taken from her too.

Aegon is so pleased to see his younger sister again and doesn’t hold back on teasing her and her new husband. Aegon dislikes his own family greatly and he feels some relief in knowing his kindhearted younger sister has been spared from the worst of their infighting.

Otto is disgruntled by the babe and disapproves of his son’s actions, though there is nothing he can do. Gwayne takes great pleasure in knowing he has out-manoeuvred his father for once, leaving him no way to alter the situation.

Gwayne and his niece taking their son to sit in the gardens, relaxing under the trees as the babe cuddles up to his mother. He can’t help but feel contented with his little family, his own wife and a son who he can raise better than he was himself. As he watches his niece coo at their son, the knight resolves then and there to give her as many red-headed babes as she desires.

[ghostfacd]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

PART TWO

summary: you were the epitome of sunshine, and coriolanus? he was like the storm, the rain, and the everything in between.

warnings: SPOILERS from the movie & book, SMUT (protected cause we wrap it before we tap it! p in v), losing virginities to each other, snow (cause he himself needs a warning), toxic relationship, coriolanus is only in it for himself, mentions of losing virginity, you practically giving everything to snow and getting zero in return

author’s note: erm this is kinda long idek where tf i was going with this, first time writing smut on this account LOL so it might be bad. also this isn’t proofread so there might be mistakes, just ignore! as always, reblogs and comments are so greatly appreciated, enjoy reading + kisses 💓

You were the epitome of the sun itself, the sparkle, the light, and most importantly, the brightness. Despite being filthy rich, you were still that sweet sunshine Y/N everyone grown to love, the heir to the Cicero family.

Coriolanus Snow hated that about you. Not only were you everything he was not, but you lived such a lavish and easy lifestyle that it made him sick. Why was he stuck eating cabbage while you were off eating the finest thin slices of meat in the Capitol made by your chefs? It wasn’t fair, it just simply wasn’t.

“Well, Coryo!” Your sickeningly sweet voice fills his ears like a mantra.

He turns around, a smirk plays on his face. “My Y/N.”

Hearing him call you his made your heart flutter. You loop your arm through his, passing through the other academy students who were engrossed in their conversations

“Finally the star pupil.” Arachne Crane says, a glass of posca in her hand. “Lovely shirt you’ve got there. What are these cunning buttons? Tesserae?”

He looked at the shirt, shrugging. “Hm? Are they? Must’ve why they reminded me of the maid’s bathroom.”

You held his hands in yours. You knew of Coriolanus’s home life, how he wasn’t so lucky like you to have a gigantic home filled with lovable parents. His mom had died during childbirth, Coryo mentioning to you once how he was supposed to have a little sister. His father—died in the hands of rebels.

“Have you tried this lamb? It's scandalous.” Felix suddenly spoke up, taking a bite of the food that was currently on his plate.

“Didn’t daddy teach you table manners?.” Festus sneered, watching the other boy in disgust.

“Maybe he would have if he wasn’t so busy running the country.” Felix snapped back

Coriolanus took a deep breath in, already feeling overwhelmed by his classmates arguing.

After the announcement of the assigning of mentor to tributes, you could tell Coriolanus was upset. Although he wouldn’t let anyone see, he was visibly anxious and quite frankly, annoyed.

“I mean, cmon, how could it that I got the worst district?” Coriolanus says, head in his hands. “He hates me. He really does.”

“Who hates you Coryo?”

“Dean Highbottom! Isn’t it obvious?” He cries out, hands flinging into the air. You slightly flinch back, never seeing your boyfriend in such state. “He hates me Y/N. He adores you.”

“He doesn’t adore me,” you say, feeling like you were stepping around eggshells talking to Coriolanus.

“He does!” Coriolanus screams in anger, getting up in a hurry.

“Wait, no Coryo, I’m sorry.”

But your words aren’t enough, they’ll never be for Coriolanus Snow, so he walks out without a second thought.

- - -

The next day, Coriolanus apologizes. It’s a breathy, quick 5 second apology, but you being so you—accepted it without a second thought.

You loved Coriolanus, so it didn’t matter how much he hurt you.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You felt quite excited, you and your boyfriend hadn’t exactly gotten to that stage in your relationship, so thinking about sharing an intimate moment with him filled you with giddiness.

His tip had entered carefully through your folds, making you slightly wince as it bullied its way to your walls.

“Coryo..” you breathe out hazily, doe eyes coming to meet his. He sucked in his breath at the sight, never has he felt anything as good as this.

He tries so hard convincing himself he doesn’t love you. That this—it meant nothing to him. He was just here for your money, your possessions as the only daughter of Cryon and Hermione Cicero. But as he felt your nails claw its way into his back, he lets out a slip, a tiny whimper that makes your head foggy.

He spilled into the condom, pulling out with a hiss. Although you told him you were clean, and it was fine if he didn’t wear one, he simply couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t going to accidentally bring in a child into the world, having no intentions of taking care of anyone besides himself—maybe Tigris, and his Grandma’am.

“I love you,” you say quietly as you sat up, watching him discard the plastic into your trash bin.

“I’m hungry, aren’t you?” He says, putting his shirt on. It kinds of pains you at his total ignorance of the intimate words you just shared, but you nod your head.

“I could use some food,” is all you say, putting on your pajamas from earlier. “What’re hungry for Coryo? I’ll ask the chef.”

- - -

Dr. Gaul and Dean Highbottom had allowed all the mentors and their tributes roam the arena for about 15 minutes, letting them think of ways to win the game.

You were talking to Bobbin, a boy from District 7 whom you’ve had become closer with these past few days.

Suddenly, the loud scream of Felix catches your attention and before you knew it, loud bombs filled the air as tall lights fell to the ground near you.

“CORYO!” You scream, coughing loudly at the dust filling your lungs.

“Quick Y/N, we don’t have time!” Sejanus screams, grabbing ahold of your hand.

“But Coryo—”

Meanwhile, a tall pole had crushed Coriolanus’s arms.

Well, he thought, this was it.

This was how he was going to die. His girlfriend and best friend hand in hand as they ran out of the arena, the sickening feeling of betrayal filled his guts.

“What’re you doing?!” One of the tributes screamed at Lucy Gray, who was struggling to get the giant metal off Coriolanus’s arm. “Run while you can you idiot!”

But she doesn’t bother, only focusing on getting Coriolanus out. And she does, successfully, before all went black.

- - -

“Coryo? Oh Coryo!” You say, hugging him softly to ensure you weren’t hurting him.

You had felt so guilty after everything had happened. You should’ve never ran off with Sejanus, Coriolanus was your boyfriend, you should’ve saved him.

“Is Lucy Gray okay?” Is the first thing he croaks out, which makes your heart slightly crack.

“She’s—she’s okay Coryo.” You say, brushing a few blonde curls out of his eyes.

“And where were you?” He says, gaze slowly turning into anger. “I was going to die, Y/N.”

“I know! I was going to—”

He cut you off. “But you didn’t, now did you?”

His bitterness towards you makes you want to cry, tears already forming at your lash line.

“Oh now you’re crying?” It seemed like everything you did seemed of inconvenience to Coriolanus, but he opens his arms, letting you reside in them as you let out a few tears. “Always the crybaby, Y/N.” He says, hand holding your head as you buried your face into his chest.

- - -

Coriolanus Snow never believed in love. Not when he used to look at his mother and father when they were still alive, and not when he found himself a girlfriend, you.

Your relationship was merely another step stone towards success, Coriolanus viewed it. You were the heir of your family, you had countless amounts of money, and you were easily fooled by his advances. To Coriolanus, he had hit the jackpot, regardless of loving you or not.

So why did he feel so weird watching you interact with Sejanus? Sure, he considered the former district 2 boy his best friend, but it was only because Clemensia had been spending time at the hospital. The flu, Dr. Gaul described it; but Snow knew better. He was there when she had gotten bit by the snakes, and to be completely honest, if she hadn’t, he’d probably have dated her instead of you.

Clemensia Dovecote was way more smart, and he knew he wouldn’t fall inlove because they were both after the same thing. Power.

But with you, you were head over heels for Coriolanus. It almost made him sick, if it weren’t for your family name.

He clenched his jaw as he saw you throw your head back, hitting Sejanus’s shoulder as you hysterically laughed at something he had said.

What was so funny? Nothing was funny in the Capitol, not now. Maybe he was bitter, he should’ve never cheated in the games. It was stupid, and now he was getting the punishment of getting sent to 12 as a peacekeeper for 20 years.

Fuck, he really shouldn’t have cheated. And now he couldn’t even use his girlfriend’s family name as a way out.

He really should’ve known better. He knew you loved him, but he didn’t think you’d love him so much so that you begged your father to let you stay in 12 for a while to be with Coriolanus.

If there’s one thing about you—it’s that you’re a Daddy’s girl by heart, and of course, your father had once again served your request with a silver spoon. He hated that about you. He hated it. You got things too damn easily.

“Hi Coryo!” You say, making your way to him. Your beautiful sundress made him gulp, and he wanted nothing more but to snatch you away, pulling it off so he could get inside of you. But he couldn’t—he was in 12, much to his dismay.

“Y/N,” he says, placing his peacekeeper gun to the back. “Talking to the scums?”

“They’re just people from the district,” you say, frowning at his rudeness. “They’re nice, Coryo. Real nice, you’d like some of them.”

Coriolanus scoffs at that. How oblivious and stupid you were. Him, Coriolanus Snow, liking some of the district 12 citizens? What a fucking joke.

“Go along now Y/N, I’ll see you later.”

You nod, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before you left, leaving the other peacekeepers to whistle at Coriolanus who only responds with an eye roll.

When later eventually comes, he was packing away the Jabberjays in their metal cages, Sejanus being right next to him.

“I saw you earlier,” Coriolanus says nonchalantly, “talking to that woman in the window. What are you playing at Sejanus?”

Sejanus scoffs, shaking his head. “They’re gonna escape Corio. Leave the districts. And I’ll be helping them.”

Coriolanus sucks in a breath, “is Y/N all in this too?”

God, he hoped Sejanus said no. But then again, it’d give him an advantage if he had said yes.

“She is,” Sejanus says, continuing to tell Coriolanus of the plan.

Without Sejanus knowing, Coriolanus had tuned the jabberjay so it could record back the whole conversation. When Sejanus finally leaves, Coriolanus sneaks to where the train bringing the birds back to the Capitol stood, placing the jabberjay in it to send it to Dr. Gaul.

If anything, Sejanus was a blocking point in Coriolanus’s way, and getting rid of him and you were like killing two birds with one stone.

- - -

The next day came and you were peacefully talking to one of the younger girls in the district when you’re suddenly pulled away along with Sejanus.

“Hey! What the hell!” You scream, thrashing in the unfamiliar peacekeeper’s hold. “Get off me!”

You and Sejanus struggle, and Coriolanus almost wants to step in and get you out of his fellow peacekeeper’s arms. Almost.

“Coryo! Tell them they’ve been mistaken!” You cry out, locking eyes with your so called lover.

“You two have been charged with treason towards the Capitol.” The peacekeeper says, his cold gaze and strong hold on you makes you let out a whimper.

“Treason?” You say, “there has to be a mistake! Call my father! Call my father!”

“I’m afraid your father can’t get you out of this one, Miss. Cicero.”

He drags you and Sejanus up the main stage of the district. “Everyone! Pay attention! This is what will happen if you are disloyal to the Capitol!”

Another peacekeeper points a gun behind Sejanus’s back as the peacekeeper who was holding you earlier pokes your back with the cold metal. You felt terrified gazes of the citizens of District 12, including Lucy Gray, stare at you.

“CORYO! TELL THEM!” You scream, begging with your eyes. “Coryo, please. Please.”

But Coriolanus Snow stands still in his spot, not budging a thing.

You thought he had loved you—or at least, cared for you. You gave him shelter when he was at his worst, you gave him your virginity, you held him when he cried about how unfair Dean Highbottom was, you let him into your home, and you always were there for him. You practically did everything for Coriolanus Snow. And what did you get? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Your Coryo won’t save you.” The peacekeeper snarls, before firing the gun.

Two gunshots go off, and the body of yours and Sejanus fall to the ground in an instant.

Coriolanus Snow almost wants to barf, his eyes closed for a minute before reopening them again.

Had it really been worth it? Ratting you and Sejanus out so he could get home to the Capitol faster?

He thinks so when your family and the Plinths give him their fortune as a thank you for being such a good boyfriend and friend towards their son and daughter.

If only they knew, though. But Coriolanus would never let that happen, because no matter what, Snow lands on top.

And this? It was just the beginning.

[jarofstyles]

Cabernet

This can be read as a standalone I think, but! Here is a second part of Merlot! It's spicy and sweet so I hope you guys like it. Unsure if there will be any more parts (I’m open if you guys have more ideas!) but I do love a good dilfrry.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings!

WC- 4.1k

Warnings- smut, age gap relationship, anal (for those who asked ur welcome!), unprotected sex, cumplay, Dom/sub elements

-------

Harry was by far the best man she had ever dated. 

Their age gap was evident at times, but not in a bad way. It was rather cute when he had been confused about videos she sent or his own excitement to show her the movies or books he was referencing. The added element of their dynamic was learning from one another. Harry had been teaching her about publishing and helping her flesh out the first draft of her book while she sat in his office some days, helping him out in return by getting him coffee or lunch or an occasional shoulder massage when he got particularly stressed. An unofficial assistant of sorts. 

“I feel like if I have to write the word ‘said’ one more time, my brain is going to explode.” She grumbled, pushing her laptop across the couch and leaning back on it. The leather seat in his office was by far the most comfortable one she had sat on and he happily invited her to come into the office to see him as often as she wanted. It was both practical and selfish on both ends.It was easier to work in a space like this and with the understanding that Harry really did have work he was doing, she focused on her own stuff. A quiet pair of people working in each other’s company. 

Add in the fact that he was the boss man, it made it much easier for her to come and go as she pleased. 

“Mm, sometimes authors get stuck with words in their novels. They’ll have phrases they repeat a few too many times, usually gets called out in editing and fixed. It’s not a bad thing. But with words that are action words like that, there are options. Y’know, depending on the scene and tone. Murmured, muttered, peeped, whispered, whined, moaned, huffed, grumbled. Those sorts of words.” He tapped his pen against the desk as he lifted his eyes to her. 

It didn’t get old. Seeing her pretty face sitting in his office looking the way she did, much more comfortable than the night they’d first met, but still appropriate for an office setting.

Sometimes he did let his mind wander into the roleplay aspect, wondering if she had been his real assistant if he would have made a move. If Y/N was the Y/N he knew now? Probably. Scandalous. 

Today she wore a pair of black flowy pants and a matching turtleneck, but on top she had a chunky knit cardigan that was utterly adorable. It had yellow moons and stars, a deep purple color with sleeves she had to push up so they didn’t hide her hands. His girl leaned into the office aesthetic when she came in so she didn’t stick out too much but with him or when they were at his place or out together, he loved seeing her dressed in her normal clothing. She looked soft, whimsical almost. Like a little fairy. 

“Hm. Good point. I need to write down all the synonyms in my notes app and defer to that because if I’m getting tired of writing it, I know whoever ends up reading it will get tired of seeing it too.” Her lips puffed to blow a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun, brows furrowed as she failed and made her hand ready up to tuck it behind her ear instead. 

Again, cute.

“Not necessarily.” He replied, leaning back in his chair. “We’re our own harshest critics. I doubt they’re paying that much attention to that. The majority of people will be paying attention to world building, character development, plot, sex scenes, all that fun stuff. The exact wording isn’t always the most important thing. But it shows that you care about quality.” He shot her a grin. “So you will be successful.”

“Mmm… and not because I’m fucking the publishing head?” She grinned as she stood up, stretching her arms out. 

“Well. That helps.” He wouldn’t deny it. She had a leg up, but he wouldn’t publish just anything. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t publish shit work. It isn’t worth the reputation of my company. Your writing is genuinely good, my sweet.” He knew the drill by now. Her heeled boots were kicked off by the couch and she made her way over to him, the tiredness starting to hit her as she happily perched herself on his lap. 

“Good to know.” She snorted before pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. The facial hair had grown but he was shaping it currently. She promised she’d be okay with whatever he did to it but didn’t want anything to happen to the mustache. That wasn’t allowed to go. “What are you working on? Anything fun?” 

“No, nothing incredibly interesting I’m afraid.” His hand squeezed her hip underneath the cardigan. “I was working on some contracts earlier but every so often I pick up some submissions and read through them myself. This one is very bland, unfortunately. There’s potential, absolutely. Their writing style is lovely, but the plot falls flat and the characters are one dimensional. S’like they chose a specific stereotype and did nothing to differentiate them.” It was unfortunate.” It was a shame he came across all too often.

“It’s obvious this person is trying but they’ve never observed or met someone with these traits. I don’t think you absolutely have to follow the rule ‘write what you know’, but I think a lot of the best works come from drawing from our own experiences. Romance, for them, doesn’t seem to be a passion. They’d do better with mystery with their writing style as it is, but they have to improve on other aspects first.” 

“Is it hard for you to see stuff like that?” She asked curiously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I can tell you’re a little disappointed with it, so I have to wonder if it happens a lot.”

“It does. And it is hard when you see someone with potential not living up to it but I have faith that if we send them some constructive criticism notes that maybe they won’t see it as an attack but as a place of genuine care. I’m going to have someone meet with them I think, give them my notes and have them explain it in nicer terms than the plain ones I used. Maybe they can work on it again and add more and we’d have a best seller.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can see they care about it in the way they put details in, but it needs more.”

There was something incredibly attractive about listening to him talk about it. It was always attractive to see someone care and talk about their passions; but Harry was on another level. She could see it on his face that he was disappointed and knew the person could do better. While it made it all the more nerve wracking for her own novel, she had him working with her along the way.

He never told her where to go with her story in terms of ideas, but how to improve the mechanics. Reading over bits and telling her to take away a certain detail and add more in other places, or giving suggestions about how things could flow smoother. He’d listened to her storyboard, after showing her the author equivalent of it, and gave his honest feedback from a publisher's point of view and then from a boyfriend’s point of view.

Sometimes it was more obvious that he was the one with miles more life experience in these instances but she couldn’t be upset about it when it only aided in strengthening their relationship. 

“I see.” She looked at the manuscript on the desk with the red pen of doom. “Oof. The red pen is out… and you’ve used it a lot.” 

“Well, there are errors.” He chuffed, kissing her cheek in return. “Did you get enough done?” The word count goal had been 3,000 for today, but he didn’t make it for her. It was all on her. He simply helped keep her accountable.

“I did more. I think… 4.5?” She tilted her head trying to remember. “Now my head feels like soup.” It did feel like mush right now. That was why the laptop was closed and abandoned and she was finding comfort in the man. It was like a reward. 

“That’s ace, my dove. Amazing.” He praised. The pride he felt for her was earned fair and square. She had been applying herself more now than ever. Since their first night together they hadn’t really separated, seeing each other at least a few times a week. Her work ethic was there as she had zeroed in on what she wanted. “Why don’t we finish this up and go back to mine, mm?” 

Harry had been holding off all week. He’d gone a bit rough one night and even though she said she was fine, he wanted to give her body time to relax. As much as he loved sex, he had wanted her body to enjoy it more than anything else. Not be overly swollen and sore the next day. 

Today was going to be the day to break that. A full week of nothing but heated kisses, and she was as needy as needy could get. He felt her perk up at the mention, sitting up straighter in his lap. 

“Please! Let’s go. We can get food on the way home but I think we have some pressing matters to attend to.” She sniffed, standing from him and offering a hand to help him up. “Chop chop. Get a move on, mister.”

——-

Two rounds in and he knew she could take it. Her poor cunt was a mess and he knew that as pretty as it was all drippy and swollen, she had been aching for him to get a try into her other hole. They’d had a proper discussion about it, and he had effectively been edging her the entire night. Fair? No, but she knew how he rolled. The promised pleasure first, experiments after. Just in case she wanted to stop, she got something out of the night. 

She’d been warming his cock for a bit as he held her in his arms, cooing soft praises about how good of a girl she was, how brave she had been to ask for something new tonight when he felt her get impatient. She didn’t need to say it. He knew her well enough now to understand what she wanted. Pulling his cock out and rubbing the tip against her asshole, pressing against it and spreading the sticky cum over the rim.  “Want me t’fuck this tight little ass too?  Fill you from both ends."

“Wanna try.” She nodded, panting as her cunt contracted and his cum dribbled out of her pussy. “You’re so big I… I dunno if I can take it. Go slow.” Y/N knew she was slightly cock drunk but she also trusted him. He’d made her feel good already, took his time with everything else why wouldn’t she want to test this with him?

“Okay, my sweet. Just relax.” Harry wasn’t nervous, but he was cautious. His girl was precious cargo, and he wanted to make sure it felt as good as it could. He’d done the work of stretching her with his fingers, but it was going to be a challenge to get him in there regardless. He slowly pushed his thick head past the tight rim of her back hole. Watching her face intently, his own contorted with pleasure. "You're doing so good, doll," he encouraged softly. "Just relax and let me in. You can take it."

The pressure was intense, and she hissed out a breath as he slowly pushed more and more of himself into her. His thick head stretched her wide, and he paused, letting her adjust to the new sensation. "Breathe." The reminder was whispered as he realized she was holding her breath, his hand carding through her hair tenderly.

"That's it, baby. You're taking it so well. Always do so good f’me." He praised, his voice low and soothing. He slowly pushed more of himself into her, inch by inch, his thick prick spreading her wide. She could feel every vein, every ridge, as he slowly filled her up.

As he slid deeper, Harry could feel the intense pressure and stretch around his girth. Her tight little hole was gripped tightly around his shaft, the muscles fluttering and contracting as he pushed his way inside. She felt like she was being split in two, her body struggling to accommodate his bigger size- but she was. Slowly but surely, he sunk into her fully.

She had done it. 

“Fuck.” She sobbed out, clinging to him as he got down to the base. Never in her life had she felt so full that way, so stretched. Only Harry could make her feel this way. It wasn’t just the physical feeling, but the emotional one too. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else. His guidance was priceless.

"You're doing so good, You’ve got it all in. Jus’ gotta let it adjust." he soothed, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. Giving her a moment to adjust, his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks, his thumb brushing away her tears. "You feel so hot around me, doll. So tight. Knew y’would be."

“I wanna be… I want you to feel good.” She whispered, looking at him with wet eyes. “It���s just so big. I’m tryin’ to take it.” It surely wasn't a beginner cock but she wasn’t known for taking the easy way.

"You're doing so well, baby," he reassured her, his hands never leaving her. He slowly pulled out halfway before sinking in again, a little faster this time. "That's it... take me all the way in."

It was the fourth time he did it that she felt the pleasure. Both from the action and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against her swollen clit, making her gasp. Her eyes fell shut as she leaned her head back, slowly relaxing into the bed.

He watched her face contorted in pleasure, his heart swelling with pride. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. As she opened her eyes, he began to pick up the pace, his hips pressing against hers. "M’so proud of you. Look at you, taking every bit of me.”

Y/N sent him a blissed out smile as her hand slipped between them, rubbing her own clit slowly as he fucked into her ass. There was nothing rushed about it, nothing frantic, and it felt good just to be. Her muscles relaxed, making it feel even better as his cock filled her hole. Soft moans left her mouth as she curled her other hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so he was close. “Are they the best holes you’ve had?”

Harry’s face was lax in his own pleasure as he felt her tight ass clench around his cock. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against her lips. “They are. So fucking tight, so perfect. Can’t compare them t’anything else.” He kept up his steady rhythm, loving how her body moved with his. “You feel so good. Can never get enough of you.” He whispered, brushing a stray hair out of her face before stroking her puffy lip. They were so pretty. Kissing wasn’t something he’d thought much of before, but he hadn’t kissed Y/N. She had changed everything for him. 

“Better than that silly ex wife?” She prodded, watching with a little smirk as she watched him think it over. Y/N had a feeling she was by the way be was acting,  but she wanted to hear it.

"Way better." he grunted, his hips snapping forward. "Little minx, y’just need to ask that, hm? No need to be jealous. She never gets t’have me again. Only y-you." He stuttered as her hand moved around his neck and she squeezed down hard on him. "Her holes were nothing compared to yours, doll. Nothing."

Y/N giggled as she choked him a little bit, watching his eyes widen before pulling. It was obvious that while he was the big man in charge- she could have fun too. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll tell you a secret, Harry.” Her lips brushed his as she kept the grip on his throat. Her lips were swollen and sensitive, the coarse facial hair brushing it and making her want to moan. “None of the boys my age have ever made me cum. They never fucked my ass. Never fucked me raw. And you did it all.”

"And I'm gonna keep doing it," he rumbled, eyes burning with lust as she kissed him. His hand tightened in her hair, tugging gently and pulling her deeper into the kiss. “You’ve got a man now, no need to think of those boys.You want me t’keep being nice to you? Keep making you cum?”

“If you keep fucking me like this, I do. Want my man to be so, so nice to me.” She gasped as he pushed all the way in, balls rested snug against her ass as he slowly humped into her, the comfort of the fullness making her fingers work harder on her clit. “Gotta- Gotta prove you can keep up with me, old man. That you c-can live up to the hype. I like the bit of silver at your temples but…” Her moan was broken as he pulled out and pushed back in, jostling her. “Gotta prove why older guys are b-better for pretty little things like me.”

"Oh, I'll prove it to you," he growled, picking up pace as he pounded into her tight ass. She had no idea just how badly he’d needed her to walk into his life. Thank god she had. This was everything he had ever wanted. "And right now, you need me to wreck this little hole until you can't walk straight. You need me to show you how a real man handles his woman. I'll give you everything you crave, everything you need. You just have to let go and trust me.” The man had every intention of proving how much better he could be for her than she could ever imagine.

"Fuck, look at this cunt." He muttered, reaching down to spread her dripping pussy apart. "It's absolutely soaked, just dripping down. Love it, hm?” The smugness in his tone would usually make her scowl but there was no denying it. The proof was right there. It was undeniable. “You're so turned on, baby. It's making it easier for me to fuck this tight little ass of yours." The glossy, hard flesh glistened with slick, dripping down onto the bed beneath her. His own cum intermingled with her own, making his movements smoother as he pushed in and out of her, coating her holes with their combined essence.

Her face was a mask of pure ecstasy, her eyes rolled back in her head as she whimpered in pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Her asshole clenching and unclenching around his thick cock with each thrust, trying to milk him for all he was worth. Her body was feeling tingly, her legs trembling as he fucking into her ass, the sound of her arousal and his hips hitting her skin filling the room. She was completely lost in the pleasure, her mind clouded by the overwhelming sensation of being thoroughly fucked.

As she reached the peak of her orgasm, he took over and began rubbing her clit with his own thumb, the sensation sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body. She cried out, her pussy gushing as she came harder than she would have imagined being fucked like this. She was so overwhelmed that she could only hold limply onto his arms as he continued to pound into her, his thick cock stretching her hole as it thrust through the waves of her intense orgasm.

His face contorted, vein bulging in his neck as he struggled to hold back. "You feel too good, baby. I can't... I can't hold back any longer." His heavy balls drew up close to his body, ready to unleash another load inside of her. The feeling of her taut muscles milking him, the way she clung to him with every fiber of her being, it was too much. He was sensitive himself, but he wanted to deliver everything she wanted.

"Please, Harry...Please,come inside me... I wanna feel you fill me up. Want it everywhere." She panted, her voice desperate with need. Half of the fun of sex was seeing him lose that control he so easily held in all other scenarios. She wanted to make him feel just as good as he made her feel. He deserved it.

His restraint shattered at her words.  "Fuck, you're gonna get what you asked for."

With a guttural groan, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go, his hot load pulsing into her hole in thick ropes. She felt each ribbon scalding her , marking her as his. "That's it, take it all... That’s m’girl.” He kept cumming, his cock twitching as he filled her. Ribbon after ribbon filled her up until she was overflowing with his load, almost overwhelmingly so. He finally slowed, his chest heaving, before gently pulling out of her ass, his cock glistening with the evidence of their fuck.

With a sense of possessive pride, he watched as his cum began to leak out of her stretched hole, dripping down her thighs. It was satisfying in the filthiest way. Primal and caveman in every sense of the word, he loved knowing that he had done it. He’d taken every one of her holes and made her his in the dirtiest type of way. He gently spread her cheeks apart, admiring the sight of his mark leaking from her. "Look at that... You're so full of me, S’that what you wanted?”

“Mhm.” She smiled, slightly drunk on the orgasm and the fact that he had pushed her further than anyone else had before. it was a good feeling in her body, the beginnings of soreness and the calming heat of his hands as he caressed her the way he wanted. “Exactly what I wanted. Think M’gonna have to keep you around so we can do that again.”

“I’d hope so.” He laughed tiredly, pushing back down to take her mouth for another kiss. “I’m far from finished with you, sweet little thing. But I think I’ve ravaged your body enough. Think you need a bath and some tea, get you ready to sleep.” 

Aftercare wasn’t something she’d experienced in any other relationship either, but she realized now it was probably a Harry exclusive thing. He was phenomenal at it. A lot of things, honestly. He experimented with her responsibly, took care of her after every round of sex, checked in on her, made sure she was eating proper meals, and helped her with her career. She’d lucked out with him. Whatever his ex wife was thinking, she had no clue- but she wasn’t about to waste a single bit of him.

“Do you have chamomile?” She asked softly, pecking his lips in return. 

“What do you take me for? Course I’ve got it.” He scoffed, pinching her chin. “But if I didn’t, I’d find some for you. Know it’s your favorite. Added it to the grocery list, along with your cereal, your rancid battery acid energy drinks, and the sweet and salty popcorn.” 

“It’s good battery acid, I’ll have you know.” She giggled, carding her fingers through his hair. He did have a bit of gray going on the temples but it was sexy. Just hearing how much he cared and put effort into the tiny things made her giddy. 

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about your poison in the morning. It’s time to get clean and go t’sleep. Tomorrow may be the day you write five thousand words. You never know.”

[koenigami]

➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : sometimes all it takes is a little push from a little melusine wc : 1,3k tags : fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader and wrio had an argument

“He’s in a bad mood.” “Did something happen?” “Was it an inmate?” “She left the fortress in a haste.” “Someone heard them arguing. She looked hysterical.” “Oh-oh. A fight?” “Shit, not again.”

The respect that Wriothesley earns himself stems from different kinds of people and different kinds of emotions. Some of them look up to him and his generosity while others are easily intimidated solely by his presence. Usually, the latter ones simply have not had the chance yet to get to know the Duke better. Otherwise they would realise that behind that cool and brutish exterior lies just a guy who likes order and tea. 

However, there is one specific circumstance that will have even Sigewinne lower her head when passing by his Grace’s office. 

“Do you know what they were arguing about?” The little Melusine has been asking around for a while now, looking for eyewitnesses, and writing down every piece of information as if she was solving a scandalous case. She knows very well that as rough as he may seem, Wriothesley is only human. A human madly, truly in love with none other than Fontaine’s top attorney with whom the Fortress of Meropide is in constant correspondence due to work related matters. 

Sigewinne nervously bites the top of her pen as she returns to her infirmary. The taste of plastic makes her grimace in disgust and look at the writing utensil with annoyance as if it had insulted her. She sighs.

It’s been a week since you hurried out of Wriothesley’s office, furiously stomping towards the elevator and staring down everyone and anyone who dared to cross your path. One week worth of missing documents that have not been sent in by you. One week worth of paperwork that has yet to be completed by Wriothesley. (Which is oddly ironic since that man has not left his office ever since your argument.)

Love will make the sanest person go mad, whether it’s in a good or a bad way. And so all Sigewinne can do right now is think about a way to make the both of you come back to your senses. But how? It’s not like either you or Wriothesley are at her beck and call, and will simply meet up just because she asked you so. Despite the emotional agony that you’re going through right now, you’re both way too stubborn for that.

Agony.

Unless…

~

“Where is he?!” Your voice echoes through the hall as you rush into Sigewinne’s infirmary. That was fast, she thinks. 

She almost feels a little bad when she notices the glimmer in your eyes and your laboured breathing. It’s for everyone’s sake, she reminds herself. 

“He should get here soon.” 

“B-But Neuvilette told me-” A poisoned tea. Those were the news that the Iudex had apparently received from one of the Melusines, and forwarded them to you. You don’t know all the details. You left your office as soon as you got to know that Wriothesley was currently unconscious due to a prisoner who had spiked his afternoon tea. 

Now you’re here, but he’s not and it’s making you even more agitated. “Sigewinne, where is he? Is he alright? Are you hiding something from me?”

“Y/n?” At first you feel his hands all over you before you even get to see him. Wriothesley delicately holds your head, turning it left and right before his hands move to your arms and then lower to your own hands. They’re shaking the slightest bit as he holds them up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses along your fingertips. His blood boils and he clenches his jaw at the simple thought of some low lives being the cause of your current state. 

It’s your turn to inspect him from head to toe now. His hair is a mess, all dishevelled while his pale skin makes you fear that he might just topple over any second. Your body moves before you know it, as you push him towards one of the few beds in the infirmary. “Wriothesley, shouldn’t you be in bed? When did you even wake up?” 

Wake… up? 

“Do you know if the potion will have any long term effects on you?” Despite having him right in front of you, obviously well and not on his deathbed, your heart still feels like it is about to burst from your ribcage. As soon as the news had reached you, you dropped everything. Any documents that you had to write and read through, any meetings with clients and other employees of the Palais Mermonia- 

None of them mattered anymore. All of a sudden, everything seemed so insignificant when there was the uncertainty if you’d ever be able to hear Wriothesley’s voice. Hear him sigh in tiredness before humming with the delight at the taste of his freshly brewed tea.

The simple thought of the possibility of him never waking up again, depriving you from the chance to get another glimpse of his breathtaking eyes. It was enough to get your tear ducts working and your eyes pricking as you hurried to see him as soon as possible.

“Archons, you should really lie down. You don’t look-”

Your mouth falls silent, because you can almost hear the screeching sound of the turning clockworks inside Wriothesley’s brain. It ends up worrying you even more. 

He scrutinises you, lets his gaze travel around the room only to notice that you’re alone now. Only you two. No Sigewinne. 

Sigewinne…

“You have not been attacked today, have you?” Deep blue eyes inspect your body again. Just to make sure, even though he more or less knows that all of this has to be a scheme. 

“No one robbed you? No treasure hoarders, right?” 

He watches your eyes widen, brows furrow before you shake your head. Of course. 

Why else would you believe that he’s comatose? Why else would he believe that you’ve been beaten to a pulp, and robbed off your most precious belongings? Why if not because of Sigewinne? 

“What’s wrong?” You ask cautiously, and you notice now too that one person is missing. 

And it’s only when Wriothesley explains to you that, in fact, there has never been tea nor poison, or at least not any kind of combination of those two. He has never been unconscious, and neither have you been hurt. But what did happen was that the both of you have been led on. Deceived.

And that by none other than the head nurse herself. 

“I can’t believe she pulled off something like that. You looked so awful, I actually thought you were sick.”

“Love, that’s because I was worried sick!” Wriothesley exclaims and exhales a huge breath when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms open and instinctively wrap around you, fingers digging into your hips. And it feels good. So, so good because it’s been way too many days since you’ve held each other like this. 

And, god damn, did he miss it. 

A thought crosses his mind. How your last interaction had been a silly argument. Petty remarks and poisonous words spewed at each other, induced by nothing else but your egos. 

All of it is so insignificant now that you both are in each other’s embrace, and that you’re both fine and unharmed. 

So Wriothesley promises himself to apologise to you later, inhale your scent, brush his fingers through your hair all while showing you how much the few days that you have been apart affected him. Because none of those things should be taken for granted. Because another day with you is not promised but his love for you is.

But first. You both have a bone to pick with a certain Melusine. 

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader New

Synopsis: Everything between you and Ser Aemond was now new, but always natural. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess Secret Relationship, Fluff PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART

You tasted like the berries you had during tea time. So sweet. Aemond never cared for sweets; he found them too addicting, so he had managed to control himself when consuming them. However, with you, gods— he didn’t think he could ever have enough. Was it too soon to say he was addicted? By just one taste of you, he was certain he could never live without it. Now that his lips had known the pressure of yours— now that he had known your taste; he could never go back to simply wondering and dreaming about it. With just one taste, you had made him a man obsessed. 

Aemond ignored all his sensibilities and cupped your cheek, deepening your kiss— pulling you impossibly closer to him and seemingly never wanting to let you go; how could he? When he felt your soft, plush lips stagger, Aemond knew he must part for you to catch your breath, controlling himself even though he wanted to keep your lips against his. He opened his eye, the image of your parted, swollen lips— your flushed face and wide eyes forever engraved in his memory. You were not his first kiss, and he cursed himself as to why he had sullied his lips with others when, all the while, yours were waiting for him. 

“Oh gods…” you said in shock as to what you had done. You could not even look into Ser Aemond’s eye— too scared of what his reaction would be. Indeed, he was scandalized— perplexed at what you had done. You had crossed all boundaries— you had passed the point of no return, and though you yourself had no wish to go back— there was no regret; you knew your knight, who would forever hold himself in his duty would not take your actions well. “I…I’m sorry,” You say,  discombobulated; you did not even wait for his reply, for you quickly ran away, leaving your knight confused and flushed.

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,” You muttered as you entered your chambers, humiliated and ashamed for what you had done. You covered your face with your hands, the feel and taste of your knight still prominent on your lips. He tasted like mint and a bitterness you did not mind. You breathed heavily as you heard the clank of his armor from the other side of the door. You bit your lip, already deciding in yourself that you would hide in your chambers once more, unwilling to face the consequences of your actions. 

Aemond stood at his post, knees weak as his mind recalled your kiss. He turned towards the door, having the urge to enter your chambers and confront you. How could you just kiss him and run? Had he done something wrong? Perhaps you did not enjoy it as much as he did, or maybe he accidentally bit your lip? He did not know anymore. All he knew was this was the first time his body had reacted to such a kiss, and he could only hope that you felt the same. 

When night came, you had not left your chambers. Aemond could barely hear you. Usually, he would hear you speaking to yourself or Theodore, but not once had he heard a word leave your lips; the only indication that you were still there were your quiet footsteps as you paced around your chambers. 

As Aemond thought about your actions once more, he began to wonder what had led you to do such a thing. Why would you kiss him? What was the reason for you to bestow upon him your first kiss? There was just one apparent reason he could think of. You kissed him because you wanted to. You kissed him because you wanted him. Aemond was left overwhelmed with such a line of reasoning. Had you fallen for him as he had fallen for you? Did you truly want him as much as he wanted you? Aemond sighed heavily, his mind running and jumping to conclusions that had no concrete explanation— but he convinced himself that your kiss was a reason enough for him to believe— to hope that you held affection for him as well.

You paced in your room, your fingers playing with your bottom lip as you tried to think of a way to proceed. Surely, Ser Aemond would want to be removed from his station— that he cannot be your sworn protector after you had shown such actions that crossed all boundaries. You paled at the thought. You did not think of the consequences! You have no wish for Ser Aemond to leave your side, but what else could he do after you had kissed him? You had placed his station at peril, and you had laid yourself to scandal. When a knock sounded out, you paled as the knock was the familiar pattern of your knight’s. You stayed silent and held your breath, hoping he would think you were already abed.

“I can see your shadow by the door, princess,” You hear his muffled voice declare, and you quietly groan as you have no escape. You breathed in heavy breaths as you gathered all your courage to speak, “C… co— come in,” You squeaked, and Ser Aemond slowly entered your chambers. There was a tense moment of silence that was then broken by your rambling and profusely apologizing for your actions. “I’m sorry! I…I think I was going crazy— and… and I had no intention of offending you an—“ Aemond pursed his lips, a wide smile wanting to escape as you went on and on with your apologies, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as your hands moved with each of the multitude words that left your lips. 

“I’m sorry! I— please, you don’t have to leave your station… no one needs to know what had happened. And I swear it would never happe—“ Aemond shook his head and captured your lips before you could finish your sentence because he would never forgive himself if you made such promises. You were taken by shock for a moment as you felt his thin lips against yours again, but as he cupped your cheek, you turned lax and let out a sigh as your eyes fluttered to a close. Was it too soon that you were already addicted to his lips? You always thought that your favorite thing would be tasting the sugar on your lips each time you had your little sweet treats, but by just the second taste of Ser Aemond, you knew it had been dethroned— nothing could compare to him. 

When your lips parted, you looked upon him in shock and confusion, your mind trying to find an answer as to why he would kiss you, and there was only one answer you could think of. You breathed in a shallow breath, “Do you… do you like me as well?” You questioned, fearing the answer as there was a possibility he could say no. 

Aemond smiled and tucked in a loose lock of your hair, letting his fingers brush your soft, warm cheek. “It’s impossible not to,” he whispered softly, watching as the scarlet on your cheeks turned maroon. “Really?” You asked in disbelief as you still thought your affections for him were unrequited. “Why?” You could not help but ask— still finding it hard to believe that he would be attracted to you as well, especially as he had seen you in all of your states. “Why?” Aemond breathed out a laugh as his other hand cupped your cheek as well. “Oh, princess… because you are kind and genuine— you are selfless and caring— because… you are you— that is reason enough for me.” You bit the insides of your cheeks as you had no words— your insides were overwhelmed with further affection for Ser Aemond that all you could do was kiss again.

“You know, I really tried not to like you— but it truly is impossible,” He added as your lips parted, a smile on his lips as you circled your arms around his neck. Your lips agape at his confession. “Was that why you were so mean to me before?!” You gasped as you had thought it was your fault— that you had done something that made your knight hold such bitterness. Aemond only shrugged, “Now I’m starting to wonder why I like you,” you muttered in tease, and Aemond chuckled, pinching your side in tease as well. You laughed and pressed yourself further upon his frame, his hold on your cheeks lowering to your waist. “What now?” You asked after a short moment of silence, savoring the way he held you. “Nothing— we just stay as we are, by each other’s side,” He said and placed a kiss on the top of your head as you let him hold you for a few moments more. 

You breathed in deeply. You have always wondered about this day— when you would finally find someone you would want. You imagined that there would be great anticipation— fireworks accompanied by the loudness of the world, the erratic beating of your heart— and your nerves consuming you. You thought you would finally get that confession during a rainstorm or a heated argument; nothing about how this had all transpired. Everything was calm with Ser Aemond— almost anti-climactic, and you knew you would prefer stillness more than uproar. His love was silent, and you would gladly listen for it. 

“What did you do last night?” You almost choked on your tea as your brother asked the question. You blinked for a moment, resisting to look upon your knight whose lips had met yours countless times last night. “Uh… I was tired. I went straight to bed,” You lied, feeling an inkling of guilt as you were not accustomed to offering your brother full lies— you’d often fib but never lie. “Oh, well, you do look rested— though a bit flushed,” Your brother shrugged and went on with his meal. You sat quietly, trying to reign in the blush on your cheeks and the smile that wanted to slip your lips as your mind kept replaying the scenes with Aemond (He insisted you called him without titles when it was only the two of you.) holding you and kissing your lips. 

“When did you realize you liked me?” You suddenly questioned when it was only you and Aemond in the gardens. You hear him cough, seemingly caught off guard by your question. You smiled widely as you turned to face him, a pinkness in the tip of his ears that you would consider his version of a blush. “Uh…I don’t— I’m not quite certain,” He said, genuinely uncertain. He could recall the exact moment when he realized he had fallen for you but not the moment you questioned, which led him to think, when did he exactly start to like you? He could recall his first days, trying impeccably hard to dislike you, to hold animosity that was not backed by any support to dislike you— but he could not remember the exact moment when he finally started to let go of that forced animosity. 

You hummed and nodded, no longer prying and forcing him to think about your question. “And you? When did you realize that you were harboring feelings for your knight?” He returned the question, biting the insides of his cheek at how quickly a blush came to your face. He moved from his station behind you and stood to where you looked ahead, enjoying further the image of you sitting on your chair in the gardens, the flowers that surround you making you look more ethereal in his eyes.

“Your night off,” You answered, watching as Aemond frowned in confusion. You’ve always liked— you’ve liked him for the longest time, but not until recently did you realize that you loved him, an emotion so great that you could not yet share with him. “What?” Aemond questioned, surprised as you knew the exact moment. You shrugged, “I uh… I know I said I sneaked off into the city to watch a show— and that is true, yes, but… I was hoping to run into you, in which I did.” You smiled as the pinkness on the tips of his ears furthered. Aemond bit his lip and looked around the gardens, his heartbeat spreading throughout his whole body at your confession. “So you have been pinning for me this whole time?” He asked quietly, a further feeling of affection for you surging through him. “As if you haven’t,” You retaliated, twiddling with your fingers as you felt your stomach flip when Aemond breathed out a laugh and nodded slowly. 

You parted your lips to ask another question, enamored with the idea that both you and Aemond had been longing and yearning for each other but had stayed silent until either of you could deny your attraction, but the sound of a cat’s whine caught your attention. You frowned as you thought it was Theodore, but you had left him sleeping in your chambers. You sat straighter and saw a ball of white fur by the foot of your knight, the feline nuzzling its face on your knight's leg as it purred. “Look! A kitten! Pick it up,” You said to Ser Aemond as you as well stood in excitement. Aemond looked upon it warily, not certain how to react as he was accustomed to Theodore’s animosity and indifference towards him. Aemond slowly did as you told, and you huddled by his side to have a clearer view of the cat with white fur and sapphire-like eyes. You gently petted its head and assessed it for its gender whilst in the stiff arms of Aemond. 

“Aww… she likes you! I feared that cats are indifferent to you, seeing how you interact with Theodore,” You mumbled and scratched the head of the feline that just appeared. “We should keep her,” You said as Aemond’s arms were growing tired at how he held the cat an arm’s length away from him. “We should?” He questioned as the cat stared at him. “Yes! She clearly likes you!” You said, and the feline only meowed as you took her in your arms as you sensed Aemond was growing uncomfortable. “What should we name her?” You questioned and returned to your seat and set the cat on the table, offering her some berries in your hands that she readily nibbled upon. 

“I… I don’t know,” He muttered, mesmerized by you, who petted the feline with so much love and adoration, though you had only met it. “Surely you have a name that you like! Come now, name her!” You urged and turned to Aemond, who could only stare. He was drawing a blank— the only name he truly liked was yours and perhaps Seraphina, the name you planned to give your future daughter, but other than that, he could not think of anything. “I’m not good with naming, princess,” He said quietly as passersby started to appear. You pouted and continued to pet the cat, thinking of a name that would match Theodore’s. “Hm… what about Sapphira? Her eyes look like sapphires, do they not?” You asked, hoping your knight would agree. Aemond felt a small smile twitch on his lips as you looked upon him expectantly, “Then Sapphira it is,” He agreed, grateful to witness as a wide smile come to your face. 

“Go on, play with her,” You urged Theodore as you returned to your chambers to have the two cats acquainted. Aemond stood by the door and observed you earnestly try to make both of the cats play with one another. However, Theodore only rested on your lap, staring at Sapphira, who played with a ball of yarn with indifference. “Theo, come now, we got you a playmate!” You say, talking to the cat as if it were an actual human being. You turned to Ser Aemond, and at the mention of him, Theodore suddenly hissed, surprising you. “That’s quite rude,” You chastised your cat but still soothingly brushed his fur. “I still do not know why Theodore does not like you, but Sapphira was quickly taken by you,” You say, and Aemond tensed, the memory of what he did for Theodore to dislike him replaying in his mind. 

Aemond stared down as Sapphira came to him, urging him to join you in the sitting area where you sat. You smiled as Aemond threaded closer to you, moving from where you sat to make room for Ser Aemond. You smiled as Theodore was in your lap, and Sapphira jumped onto Aemond’s. You glanced about the room and saw the reflection of the two of you in a mirror. Sat next to each other with cats on your laps, the damned gap between dissolved, and you hoped you would never appear again. 

“Aemond,” you called as he cautiously petted the fur of Sapphira. “Yes, princess?” He asked, turning to you. “I uh… I really like you,” You confessed the obvious. A blush once again creeps up to your cheeks. Aemond bit his lip, feeling like a boy again, which was odd because he didn’t think he ever felt like a boy, but you had that effect on him. “Good. But you must know that I like you more,” He stated, and your smile only widened, and you could not help but kiss him once again. It was a rather odd feeling— kissing someone. You never thought about how it would feel or how you would react when doing it, but though the sensation felt new, it felt natural— too natural, if you’re being honest. Kissing him felt so easy as if you were just breathing. It was exciting, yes, but most importantly, it felt pure— instinctive, as if you were born to kiss his lips. And perhaps you were. 

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION… PT.1 ]

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[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT AGE GAP ] + [ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ] + [ BREEDING KINK ] - ( there’s a lot to unpack in this one, I know, but you’ll enjoy it.. also pls kindly lmk the artist for the fanart I used so I can tag them thx! )

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxx

Alastor Hartifelt was a fantastic husband.

No one could deny that.

Especially not his darling wife of one year and counting.

You, his sole companion during childhood, dawning from a rich family that occupied an estate near his family’s plot of farming land, and exceptionally infatuated with him early into your friendship.

From the very first time you met him out in the sprawling green meadows of Louisiana’s swamped countryside you found comfort in each other even amidst being ignored or teased by other children.

Their shared hatred and resentment towards you and the older boy cultivated an odd but strong bond between you two, and soon your strife to fit in seemed less appealing than being his truest friend.

Alastor immediately became protective of you, finding your shy nature welcoming like his own mothers, but also irritated by those who wished you harm for the simple fact that your family was better off than their own.

If anyone dared to pick a fight, tease, or berate you Alastor was right there to come to your aid. You’d tell him time and time again that fighting for you wasn’t worth it, that seeing him hurt wounded you more than their words, but for some baffling reason he’d never head your pleas.

Why?…

In retrospect Alastor wasn’t sure of the reason himself but he was certain it had something to do with the way you returned the favor by protecting him in your own subtle ways.

Your arms remained wide open when he needed an embrace, voice full of tender understanding when the two of you held quiet conversations late into the evening, and generally being his safe place when the rest of the world refused to be.

You were his darling from the very beginning…

His everything…

Yet, Alastor wouldn’t dare say it aloud..,

The two of you couldn’t be more different to those who observed your relationship from the outside. Alastor held an air of confidence wherever he went, suave, and well mannered. He could be cunning when provoked, dangerously charming to get his way, and refreshingly decisive under any amount of pressure.

A man every woman in New Orleans wanted, craved even, but it was well known the famous radio host had you at his side.

You, the city’s undisputed princess, daughter of a wealthy businessman, but regarded as the furthest thing from a ‘spoiled brat’. It was expected for those in higher circles to have sour and condescending attitudes but you proved to be different. Soft spoken, interested in the arts more than being out on the town, and some might’ve considered you ‘sheltered’ in terms of upbringing.

The contrast between Alastor and yourself brought about many whispered rumors and questions.

“How’d a sweet little thing like her end up with him?”

“Doesn’t he want someone better suited? Whats so special about her?”

“I hear, he married her for the fathers money. Don’t blame him for it either…she’s a real peach…”

“A little young for him don’t you think? She’s a lovely broad though…”

You’d heard it all. Every sort of rumor or piece of gossip people had to offer you’d picked up on rather quickly and at first it bothered you, but overtime seeing Alastor act indifferent to the scandalous comments made you less weary of them.

He’d never entertain the scrutiny, choosing to remind you his decision to marry wasn’t fueled by any ill will and as his wife you’d never need to worry about him caring for you.

Alastor’s always had, even when he’d left New Orleans to build his career he still thought of you from time to time, but that’s all he’d ever done.

Cared for you…

Love seemed to allude his spectrum of emotions and vocabulary. Yes, he shows you affection, buying expensive gifts, making sure you never lifted a finger for anything other than cleaning or cooking when needed, and proudly showing you off on his arm at parties and social events he attended.

Yes, he strived to hide his murderous tendencies, taking extra lengths to shield you from his ‘hunting’ escapades by planning them weeks before, and then going as far as discreetly cleaning his bloody clothes and weapons the night he returns while you slept soundly in your shared bed.

Alastor took great care in showing you he cared but defining his love for you was never addressed.

Not even on your wedding day.

It was as if he’d scripted his vows to say nothing of the emotion and even avoided saying “I love you” back when you’d accidentally let it slip out during your own speech for him.

You hadn’t pressed the issue at all, knowing Alastor struggled with concepts of intimacy and devotion since childhood, but the lmawing teeth of doubt pricked your skin harder with each passing day of your marriage.

Had you made a mistake agreeing to marry him?

Was he seeing someone else?

Someone knowledgeable of the world, maybe more experienced in life than you were, or more attentive?

Was she prettier?

Were you not his kind of woman?

Where did he go so late at night, at random times of the month, with a leather bag in his hand and a wide smile on his face?…

Had Alastor been seeing another woman for a whole year and you were just too oblivious or infatuated to notice?

Did he even like you anymore? Could he ever love you…?

Were you not enough for him?

Thoughts plagued your mind constantly, causing you to be quieter than usual, and less receptive to Alsstors lingering presence.

Your back was to him, giving a good veiw of your small frame as you cooked in the large kitchen. The familiar sight brought a smile to Alastor’s face. You were so focused, hair tied back by a white silk bow, and a sheer floor length robe to match.

He’d bough both for you only a week prior, claiming he couldn’t just let the items sit in the display window when you’d been staring at with such bright stars in your eyes, but in truth Alastor had imagined you wearing it just as you were now and couldn’t resist buying it on the spot.

Your husband remained silent as he watched you waltz around the kitchen, chocolate brown eyes peering over the top of his glasses as he did, but his smile faltering seeing the distress in your delicate features.

You weren’t the type to frown often, always emitting warmth and sweetness, so the rare appearance of anguish in your expression perplexed Alastor.

What had upset his darling wife?

Who would he have to kill?….

Asking what was troubling you would surely give him answers to both questions.

He stepped forward, coming from round the corner to enter the kitchen fully before striding over to stand by your side as you began to mix what he assumed was dessert in a bowl.

Albeit, he was probably right knowing you had a vicious sweet tooth.

“Strawberry cake I presume?” Alastor finally speaks, making his presence known with a cheeky remark, and you nearly jump out of your skin hearing his silky voice resonate around the room.

Your head snaps up to look at him, eyes wide with slight surprise, but they quickly soften as he smiles. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as he steps closer, initiating his usual habit of brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before kissing your temple gently, and only pulling away when you squeak out a greeting back to him.

“H-hi Al…you’re home a bit earlier than I expected…” you swallow thickly, staring at him adoringly for a moment before lowering your gaze as tinges of guilt build in you. “I’m sorry dinner isn’t quite ready yet…” you whisper, feeling shameful, and more agitated with yourself than before. Alastor had and would never berate you, unlike most men of the time he saw no benefit in treating his wife like a slave, and made an effort to remind you not everything had to be perfect.

“It’ s alright, darling. You needn’t rush yourself,” his voice is low, simmering with reassurance as he lifts your chin with his thumb and pointer finger. You smile nervously as your eyes meet his again, his touch firm and electrifying all at once, and your tummy doing several flips when he smiles back at you.

Alastor studies your face, attempting to pinpoint the source of your masked sadness, “You seem…troubled, sweetheart. Is there something wrong?” His genuine question brings a shock to your heart, tongue going numb as you race to think of a believable reason for your dampened mood, “I…I just had a little mishap with this cake batter is all!..”

You step away from him, turning to face the semi clean counter with a false air of cheeriness surrounding you. The fear of sounding needy and demanding while telling Alastor the truth keeps you from being honest with him outright.

Fake it.

I shouldn’t worry him with my insecurities or doubts…

It might push him further away…

The whisk in your hand spins in tight circles as you focus on mixing the overdone batter, beginning to thicken itself more than necessary as you kept going, using the task as a distraction from Alastor’s keen observance.

Something was wrong.

He was sure of it now.

His eyes narrowed behind the circular glasses, hands finding your waist as he came to stand behind you, allowing his chest to press against your back, and his head lowering to tuck into the crook of your neck.

A shiver racked your body as he exhaled a long, steady breath onto your skin. Your hands faltered, flurried movements becoming lax as you froze in his embrace, “When’d you start lying to me, ma chère…” Alastor mumbled into your ear. Every nerve in your body was on alert, shocked that he’d went much further than his usual bounds of physical affection, but pleasantly delighted he’d given it to you.

“M’ not lying,..”you try to uphold your lie through rising pants, tempted to moan quietly feeling his lips graze behind your ear, neck, and bare shoulder while your robe shifted lower. You weren’t certain if Alastor was inching it down by his own accord or your subtle squirming against him was to blame.

The ending result was the same either way. Your upper body gradually becoming exposed to his leering gaze and the cool air. Alastor hummed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest and flooding your mind repeatedly as he placed chaste kisses on your neck.

“I wish I could believe you, darling…” he chuckled lowly, hands inching towards the lace ribbon keeping your gown tied shut, and with one gentle tug he rendered the fabric useless. “Al..” you whined in slight surprise as he snatched the ribbon off, letting it unravel into a small pile on the tile floor before sliding his cold hands up the expanse of your heated torso.

Nothing.

You were wearing absolutely nothing underneath the thin robe and Alastor audibly groaned when he realized it.

Had you planned on this?

Were you just waiting for him to venture further with you?

All this time he’d watched you frolic and pace around your shared home, wondering what was hidden under you seemingly modest clothing….just to find you wore nothing at all…

Oh, what a rare occurrence it was for him to be such a blind fool.

Your hands flew to grasp Alastor’s wrists as he held you tighter, kneading your soft flesh lovingly, and taking his time to admire every dip and curve you had to offer him.

“Al…please..” you begged, visibly shuddering as he nipped at your neck and played with your breasts. “I won’t go any further until I hear the truth from that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart…”

Damn it….you cursed yourself, slowly losing the will to think as his lips found the most sensitive area on your neck, bruising it with his tongue teeth until you whimpered and rushed out a jumbled explanation for your heavy mood.

“I…Imscaredyoudomtlovseme…th-that you d-don’t want me- Ahm…” you soft voice reached a new octave as your husband slid his free hand between your thighs to cup your mound, gingerly kicking your legs apart with a nudge of his foot against your own, and you tensed all over as he did so.

Fuck, he could definitely feel how desperate you were now, essentially a mess already without Alastor doing much of anything, and embarrassingly unable to control your arousal.

“Love, hm? That’s what’s troubling your precious mind?…” Alastor mulls over your confession, able to maintain his composure despite heat rushing straight through him to the head of his cock as he slid two fingers into your dripping cunt. You jolted from the sudden intrusion, head lulling back to rest on his shoulder as he pumped them in and out of you at a leisurely pace, curling his deft digits fowvard every so often to make you shiver.

His thumb found your clit, pressing defined circles into it as he began to ease your worries, “Love, ma chère, isn’t what I feel for you..” Alastor lets out a soft laugh, trying to calm his own mind before clarifying his vague statement all while pushing you near the edge of your first high.

“No….I feel much more than love for you, my dear. Devotion is a better term…obsession at times…” he admits the darker side of his affection through heavy breaths, cock twitching in his dress pants when you mewl in understanding. Your warm cunt suffocates his fingers for a moment, walls fluttering as the knot in your core threatens to undo itself, causing Alastor to sharply exhale from the inviting fluctuations.

Your lips parted to warm him of your impending orgasm but only a strained moan tumbled off your tongue. Alastor needed no other sign to tell if you were close, inwardly prideful he could make you come with ease.

“Go on, come undone for me , darling,” he insists in a hushed groan, his fingers stretching your walls in a fluid rhythm to drag your climax out, and you could’ve tumbled to the floor from the sheer intensity of the knot inside you snapping on his command.

Thankfully his taller frame kept you securely trapped between him and the counter that you soon found yourself sitting on the edge of after Alastor slipped his hand away from your throbbing cunt.

You watched with a dazed eyes as the older man licked a stripe of your cum off his fingers, brown eyes sliding shut as he let out a satisfied grunt before staring at your willing form perched on the counters edge.

The sight drew a his hidden hunger closer to the surface, toying with his self control as he took it in, and urging him to act on a primal instinct he’d only ever describe as “intense affection”.

Was that a flash of red in his eyes just now?

No , it couldn’t be…

You weren’t left much time to decipher the hungry glint in his eyes before Alastor reclaimed his position near you. His slender waist slotted perfectly between your thighs, the robe now draped off your back, and your hair gradually falling loose from its simple updo as his hands traced your sides.

“Love, sweet girl, is for lonesome fools…” Alastor pressed his forehead to yours, letting you chase his lips for one heated kiss after the next, and only denying you another to whisper against your soft and slightly swollen lips.

“Neither of us are alone or fools, correct?” He huffs as you nod slowly, bringing your hands up to undo his tie, and then proceeding to expertly unbutton his vest and dress shirt.

The general charm that Alastor maintained completely dissolved into pining under your gentle fingertips, an almost desperate shot of adrenaline consuming him as you peppered kisses along his jaw and neck.

If what he said was truly how he felt about you…it was enough to stamp out your doubts, allowing the adoring side of you he’d grown familiar with to resurface, “No…we aren’t,” you respond with a small smile.

He tips your chin up, placing a deep kiss on your lips as he shrugs his shirt and vest off, setting his glasses to the side as well before reaching for the leather belt on his waist.

You paid his actions no mind, busy with fighting his tongue for dominance, but admitted defeat quite fast as his wandered your mouth in expert fashion.

Your soft hands passed over his chest, moving up to tangle in his soft curls, gently tugging the strands to earn a groan from him. Alastor pulled back, a single line of spit connecting you two as he did so, and his hair falling in front of his eyes as he stared down into your tear glossed gaze, “You’re mine, ma chère. Til death and beyond…”

You nod, halfway coherent, but mustering the will to answer him with a content smile.

“Til death…” you repeat the phrase, mind reeling further from logical thinking as Alastor hummed hearing your dazed response, head nestled in your neck once more before he trailed open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your trembling frame. He brought himself as close as possible to you, smiling on your skin as you gasp quietly feeling his clothed erection press flush against your bare stomach, leaning further back in his hold embrace him better. You feared making a mess of the counter but as Alastor trailed his lips down your body and kneeled between your legs he gave one swift snap of his fingers to eliminate the obstacle entirely.

What?….How in the world did he do that?…

Your curiosity would’ve prompted you to ask him about the absurd occurrence if it weren’t for the anticipation rushing your blood as he came face to face with your cunt. “Alastor?…” you squeaked his name softly, attempting to close your legs when he sighed out a warm breath on your glistening folds, but he held them open using one hand with ease. The other resting steady on your waist, guiding you to lay back onto the cold marble countertop, and lingering there as you obeyed his wordless command.

“Good girl…” he praised, tone deepening as you whined quietly, the sound morphing into a loud moan as he lazily flicked his tongue over your slit once…twice…and a third time.

“More…” you pant in the midst of moaning, head craning to the side while your back arched and the urge to scream built in your chest as Alastor obliged your request with vigorous intent. He hummed melodically as your taste seeped onto his tongue, walls ever so sensitive as he explored them tirelessly, and a smirk playing on his lips as you writhed in pleasure.

Your face was soon flushed completely, eyes watering as they rolled slightly with each pass of his tongue over your cunt, and your small hands returning to tug at his soft brown hair. Another coil spiraled in your stomach hearing him groan in response, seeming to enjoy how roughly you pulled his hair, and his gaze drifting up for a split second to get a good view of your satiated state.

Seven hells….she looks even lovelier like this…

Alastor unconsciously drags you closer to his face, not caring at all when you lock your legs around his head and cry out from the borderline bruising hold he has on you now. “Oh god!…” you yelp, throwing him a bewildered glance before tossing your head back as he lapped at your clit like he’d starve to death without it, and the relentless attention to your bundle of nerves was the last thing you could comprehend before the knot unwinded itself.

Your vision blurred over, everything starting to spin as your cum gushed into his mouth, and the tears you were fighting to hide slid freely down your face as he downed every single drop your body offered.

It was all too much, the hunger in his eyes, his hold on you, and your high that never seemed to subside even as he broke away from your cunt with a satisfied smile on his face.

It was all too much at once….

Your head buzzed with euphoric afterthoughts, incoherency daring to cloud your senses entirely, but the sound of Alastor’s voice near your ear successfully halted the sensations long enough for you to comprehend what he was saying.

“You taste divine, ma chère…” his musing flusters you, a light shade of pink coating your cheeks as he dips his head to steal a kiss from you, “Al…” you sigh into his mouth, biting back a keen smile, and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him near.

He chuckles hearing the unsteady tremor in your tone, adding onto his compliment after capturing your parted lips in another deep kiss, “I presume you’ll feel just as wonderful with me inside you, sweetheart…”

His assumption proved true. So much so that the moment his cock passed through your slippery folds a heavy groan of your name was the first and only thing he could manage to say. “Y/n….mon amor…” Alastor held you underneath him, not daring to move without completely relishing in the way your cunt wrapped around him first, and your broken moans dizzying the last bit of self control he was clinging onto.

You tried not to seem overwhelmed, with your legs wrapped around his waist, and your hands cupping his face to keep him as close as possible while your body adjusted to his size. With furrowed brows and a soft smile you praised your husbands well endowed length as he finally drew his hips back, leaving nothing but the head his cock resting in you.

“You…feel…s’good….” You whisper, breathless as he slams back in, swallowing your pleased cries with one tender kiss after the next. He tasted like you, hints of bourbon lingering on his tongue from the drink he’d poured himself before leaving the station, but your essence more prominent than ever.

All that he was, all that he did, and would ever do revolved around you.

His darling wife…

His one and only….

It showed through the sweet phrases he muttered against your lips as he took his time to please you, pace slow and deliberate, but the execution precise and cutthroat.

You weren’t sure when you’d raised your voice, crying out louder as he abused your sweetest spot continuously, and only going silent when a inaudible scream begged to leap from your chest while his cock bullied into cervix. Stars collected in your vision, hands clawing at Alastor’s back as you tried to hang onto reality for dear life, but failing miserably when he sped up his thrusts.

A subtle laugh passed his lips, eyes glinting with greedy lust as your head flew back, exposing all the love bites he’d left on your delicate skin, and the sight caused his cock to twitch inside you.

“F-fuck….Al!” Your eyes watered once more, sliding shut as a familiar pressure built in your core, rapidly gaining density the longer Alastor fucked into you.

He groaned at the sound of you shouting his name in such a twisted mix of ecstasy and anguish. Your soft voice becoming tainted with an edge he’d never imagined it could have. “Close already, my dear?..” he teased you, smile as smug as ever as he stood up straight, hands gripping either side of your hips, and his gaze lowering to where you two connected.

“Look…at…that…” he mused, suddenly slowing his thrusts to a painfully harsh pace, fixated on the way your cunt continuously creamed on his length. Alastor bit his tongue to keep from growling at the view, barely registering your whines and pleads for him to go faster.

“Al…Alastor…please..m’ begging you…please…” you felt your thighs shake as he continued his lazy strokes, clearly wanting to drag the ordeal out for his personal entertainment, and his lack of sympathy for your plight in that moment edged you even closer to cumming.

He knew it too…

That infamous grin on his face as he watched you resort to quiet sobs and desperate moans was a sure sign of the fact…

Alastor knew you needed him, loved him, lived for him..

“Please what, mon chere?” He bit his lip, unhooking your legs from around his waist to push them to your chest, giving his cock a new angle to stretch your cunt with.

You felt like passing out then, all strength evaporating from your body as he reached places inside you that surely didn’t exist before. His taunting didn’t make your dazed state any better, “Please, ruin you? Please, love you?… Let me hear you loud and clear, darling..”

Before you could register the words they flew from you mouth in a hushed flurry of need.

“Please…love me…fuck me like you love me…use me…I don’t care anymore…”

Alastor immediately rewarded your answer, wasting no time as his hips snapped into yours feverishly, flooding the kitchen with the sound of skin against skin.

“Lovely…” he cooed, voice thick with tension as he stared down at your overstimulated form, and within seconds of the praise slipping off his tongue you came undone. He followed shortly after, not caring to ask where you wanted his release, and you made no protest as the warm white liquid spilled inside you.

All you could do was stare, mouth falling open as he fucked his cum deeper, “It’s high time you became a mother, mon chere. You’d like that wouldn’t you?..” Alastor rambled, hardly coherent as his high coursed through him, but his statement crystal clear to you.

“Yes…” you whimper in response, walls clenching his cock as the thought of carrying his child sprung into your mind. “I’d love it…Al.”

His heart nearly stops as a genuine closed eye smile graces your face, a light blush painting your cheeks as he kisses them gently while gingerly slipping his softened cock out of your leaking heat. Alastor then lets your legs fall, lifting you to sit up straight on the counter again before wrapping his arms around your waist.

You hang onto him for balance, feeling entirely small in his grasp, and finding comfort in the embrace as exhaustion trickles in.

Alastor breathed in your sweet scent, beginning to pull your robe back on your tired form before reaching for his dress shirt. He was careful not to stir you away from his chest as he shrugged the clothing back on

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…” he nonchalantly mumbles, kissing the top of your head, and chuckling when your tied eyes go wide with undeniable hope.

“More than anything?…”

“Anything, my dear…” he repeats himself with a soft smile, bringing a hand up to push fallen strands of hair from your face.

That was when it occurred to you…

Alastor Hartiflet could love…

He’d always been able to….

And he loved you enough to share it with another…

How surreal….

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This entire 1st part was brought to you by the Great Gatsby movie soundtrack…❤️ you’re welcome… ;)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Actually it MIGHT BE 12 inches if we are being honest… ❤️ credits to creator.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Pickup Truck

summary: frankie hates your boyfriend. in fact, everybody does. but he’s willing to give him a chance. you’re his best friend, after all. until frankie discovers something he can never forgive.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+. MDNI. this fic contains allusions to, but no descriptions of, domestic abuse. please do not proceed if you know this will upset you.

frankie's pov. no lady and no baby for our boy. drinking, violence (against pos bf), angst, lots of hurt, allusions to dv. comfort, fluff. frankie to the rescue. unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!). oral, f receiving. creampie. bad spanish (again). kings of leon references. happy ending, of course.

wc: 9.8k

an: whew, this was an emotional one to write. but i hope a good love comes to all of you in time, no matter where you are at the moment. and if you already have it, may it always keep you safe. lovely divider from @saradika.

Frankie really doesn’t like your boyfriend.

Scratch that. Nobody does.

Nobody really knows where you found him, either. A sweet, smart girl like you, moved back to your small town from your big city life, and it looks like you picked up the very first guy who sidled up to you in a grimy bar.

Which, if you’re really honest, is exactly what happened. Because he was nice at first. Real nice. He was charming and sweet and interested - he bought you drinks all night and didn’t push to come in when he walked you home. You went for dinner a few times, and sure, he could be a little rude to the waitstaff, but it was only because he was so focused on you. He bought you flowers and took you for rides, and sure, sometimes he’d come home far too drunk after seeing his friends and get a little too close, a little too loud, but he always apologised.

And sure, he sometimes made you cry, but he always made it up to you. Sweet promises, small gifts. And he'd never laid a finger on you.

Not until last week, anyway.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know who to turn to. The thought of it makes you so sick you have to lock yourself in the bathroom at work. How did this happen? How did it turn so sour?

And how do you get out?

Walk you home to see

Where you're livin' around

And I know this place

Frankie walks you home from the bonfire. He always does.

It’s his favourite moment of the night.

He gets to have you all to himself. Gets to watch your cheeks cool in the night air, watch as the blush from the heat of the fire subsides. Your giddy, wide eyes, your tipsy babbling about stories which had been swapped over the flames, picking out particularly scandalous details for you two to giggle about before doubling over into breathless laughter over something Benny had said. 

He likes to hold your elbow, your hand, as you catch him in your amusement, gripping onto his bicep. He loves to lose himself in this little pocket of time with you.

He loves the sparkle of the stars, the glow of the streetlights as they light your features.

Frankie loves you.

And he’s so glad you’ve moved back from your life in the big city to come and be around your real friends again. So glad that you’ve all found your way back to each other. Tonight has left him with such a mellow tingle in his bones that he finds he can’t stop smiling at you, looking at you, on your walk home.

Bonfire nights have always been your monthly hangout, a time when you can be sure you’ll get the whole gang together. There used to be more of you through highschool, and still a fair few during college. It dipped when the boys joined the forces, when people moved further east and further north. But eventually Frankie, Benny, Santi, and Will had come back. Jessa, your other best friend, had returned too. A few others coming and going - Lily, Marcus, Maggie - also back and forth from their new homes to their old ones. And then eventually folk had just… settled. 

Frankie felt like he was one of the last, like he was maybe the one finding it the hardest, retired to a life of civvy duties. Unable to hold down a girlfriend, struggling to stick at a job, sofa surfing around friends’ places. He was still flying whenever he could, but then this coke allegation happened, and it was like the world was finally swept from under him. 

You were the first person he had called, the first person to talk him down from his panic, that debilitating squeeze around his heart when he thought about the future. The first person who made him feel like it would be okay.

So of course his joy when you had come back had been immeasurable. Maybe this time, he’d thought.

And then you’d met Tanner.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you drag your hand out of his, skipping a little further up the dark street until you reach a corner. Frankie watches as you spin on the spot in the quiet neighbourhood, gesturing down the pathway before you. 

‘This is me.’ You say.

But you don’t turn to keep walking. You watch him, a small, excited smile on your lips. Like you’re waiting for him to work it out. 

Frankie drags his eyes from you, away from thoughts of your new boyfriend, to look up and down the street you’ve led him to, and for a second he is pulled beneath the ebbing flow of memory, towed with the riptide of things forgotten. 

This is his grandmother’s street. Was his grandmother’s street.

The cracked concrete, the peeling paint of the porches. The weeds, the flowers, the smell.

He breathes your name like you’re the only thing tethering him to the now.

Breathes your name through the bright, sunny flashes of his childhood. His mama bringing him here with his brother, his papa swinging him by his legs in the flower-riddled front garden. Cartoons in the ripe heat of the afternoons, him and his cousins stuffing their faces with Guagitas and Frugele until they’d made themselves sick while the younger siblings napped in the sunbeams of the bedroom next door. Cycling over on his bike after school to sit at her kitchen table to do his homework, letting her fuss over him - his height, his friends, his grades, girls -

A skinnier, younger Frankie stopping by his abuela’s house with you to pick up her up for his nineteenth birthday party, along with her homemade tamales, her chiles rellenos, and specially made pumpkin sopaipillas for later on. The way you had chatted to her, natural, easy going, how you had made her laugh, her eyes sparkle. How, when you had taken some of the plates to the car, his abuela had pinched his cheek. I like her, she’d said, Será tuya algún día, mm, mijo? And Frankie had flushed bright red, batting her arms away as she chuckled at him. He had hidden in the back bedroom when you came in from outside, and listened a little longer to your conversation as he waited for the heat of his face to die down. When he reemerged, you had helped his grandmother into her shoes, her cardigan, and kept ahold of her arm until she got into Frankie’s beat up old car. At the end of the night, his abuela had kissed both your cheeks several times, rocked you back and forth in a hug, and clapped her hands as she said how she looked forward to seeing you again.

When you came home from college every summer, you’d have tea with her in her garden. She always asked Frankie about you, about how you are doing. When he told her you were coming home, she’d been so excited. Quizás este sea el momento? She’d said to him, squeezing his hand. He’d smiled, his heart quietly full of hope. Tal vez, abuela, he’d said.

When he called you two weeks later, his voice weak from crying, to tell you that she’d passed, you had been heartbroken. And it seemed like her wish, the red thread she’d seen between the two of you, had been snipped, too.

Pour yourself on me

And you know I'm the one

That you won't forget

Frankie likes to listen to you talk, because he’s never much been one for talking. 

He supposes you just bring it out of him, though. Because here on this street, in the moonlight, he tells you more about his grandmother. You spend hours walking up and down the pavement as he recounts every story he can remember; him and his brother, his parents, aunts and uncles, cousins. Birthdays, weddings, funerals. The street comes alive with the ghosts of people, the spectres of feelings. You and Frankie talk of growing up. Of falling in love. Of each other. 

Your small, well-loved house is half way down the street, four up from his abuela’s. It does something strange to his heart to have two of his favourite people, who loved each other in their own ways, so close but so far away. 

Your fingers hold his wrist as he shows you a scar on his palm from eating shit on his bike when he was eight, and when he looks up, your eyes are shining under the streetlights. There is a glint of moon in your teeth, and a shocking want so clear on your face, but when he meets your eye there is suddenly hesitation, a realisation, a shuttering. Frankie stops his story. There is a moment, and then it slips away like sand.

You shiver, chilled all of a sudden, and wrap your arms around yourself. Frankie tries not to look too hard at the goose bumps blossoming on your bare skin, tries to fight off the urge to kiss the little raises until you’re warm again under his touch.

‘Cold?’ he asks, and you smile back up at him. God, his heart.

‘As a hole,’ you giggle, and he feels himself smile goofily back at you. ‘We gotta warm up.’ You say, and then freeze.

It takes Frankie a little while longer to hear the inadvertent invitation in your words.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

You both stand on the porch, frozen, like some great frost has swept over the land. If Frankie squints, he can imagine the glitter of your eyeshadow, now fallen, dusted on your cheeks, is a collective of tiny constellations of ice. 

Your body is wracked with a shiver again, but when Frankie looks you in the eye, you’re burning up from the inside. He swallows.

If he could only make the steps towards you. If he could only will his heavy feet to move, if he could summon his nerves to do exactly what his brain says, he would already be in front of you. He would have your face in his hands, be able to look into your eyes to see that deep, hidden want again, and kiss you. Again and again and again, and he wouldn’t stop, because things like that shitty boyfriend of yours wouldn’t matter anymore.

No. The whole world would be glitter and stars and constellations of ice crystals.

And then you blink, smile softly, and wish him a goodnight.

When he can finally lift his foot to move, your door is already closed.

And in your denim eyes

I see that something's awry

And I see you’re weak

You don’t see Frankie for a while after that, always finding a way to brush off his attempts to hang out. 

At first he doesn’t worry too much about it. You’ve just moved back - you have a new job, a new place, new friends to get to know. Tanner. 

Frankie finds other things to do. He gets business cards made up for the flying school he’ll be setting up next month. He pilots people across the state, sometimes across the country. He sees the boys for drinks, even sees Jessa for a coffee. He starts to worry when they say their texts have gone mostly unanswered, and they haven’t seen you either.

It must be why he turns up on your front step one day, a six pack in hand. 

You open the door on the second ring of the doorbell, and Frankie finds himself rendered speechless. You look… different.

Tired and wary, a little thinner. And when he gets you chatting, you say you haven’t really been anywhere, done anything. You’ve been settling in, getting used to it. You have two beers each, but you seem on edge, like you’re waiting for a knock on the door. And then Frankie asks about Tanner, and your eyes linger on the entryway a little longer.

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘He’s okay.’

Frankie’s jaw twitches, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

‘Just okay?’ He asks. 

Because you should be excited. You should be gushing and giddy and falling in love. But you’re not.

‘Yeah,’ you shrug. ‘He’s good.’

There’s something in your eyes. Something which shrinks away, skitters back. Something drained, something sapped of life, of energy. Hurt, maybe. Fear, perhaps.

When Frankie thinks back now, he knows he should have pressed you harder. Maybe should have taken you to his, made you talk a little more for a little longer. Away from Tanner, the threat of his presence. But he didn’t. He didn’t.

And he hates himself for it.

When he comes around

I see you're fixin' to shine

And my face won't speak

When Frankie next sees you, you’ve had a hair cut, and there are deep, dark bags under your eyes. Both of these things worry him equally. 

Your beautiful hair that you’d been growing out since you were young, hair that you swore you’d never cut shorter than it was in seventh grade, when your mum had to chop it into a bob after you got gum caught in it. And here it is now, much shorter. 

Jessa says she likes it, and you give her a watery smile, a weak thank you. She asks where you had it done, when. She asks if you like it, and you shrug. You say you’re trying something new. You say Tanner likes it.

Over your shoulder, Frankie exchanges a look with Santi.

You’re quiet the whole time you're at the bar. Far too quiet, so far from the bubbly conversation you usually hold, your loud cackle, your bent-double amusement. Your affection for your friends - the hands on knees, arms around shoulders, kisses pressed to cheeks. It’s hardly there. 

Frankie offers to walk you home, but you wave him off kindly. Tanner’s picking me up, you say, he’s probably outside. Jessa frowns at you.

‘Are you sure, babe?’ She says. ‘It’s not even late yet.’

You smile and nod at her, gather your stuff to go. Jessa catches your arm.

‘We’re still on to go shopping Saturday, though - right?’ 

You smile at her, the first warm one you’ve mustered all night.

‘Of course,’ you say, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’ 

When you stand to leave, you hug everybody goodbye. Tightly, for longer than usual. Frankie doesn’t give you an option when he walks you out to Tanner’s car. The smug prick is hanging out the driver’s seat window. He watches Frankie as you walk up, hostile, threatening, arrogant, and somehow still ridiculous. And, Frankie thinks cruelly - ugly.

Frankie pulls you into his arms a few steps away from your boyfriend. He kisses your hair, and you sigh.

‘Have a good time on Saturday,’ he says softly. You twitch a smile at him. 

‘Thank you, Frankie.’ You say before stepping back and walking to open the passenger door. As you climb in, Tanner winks at him. 

‘Gettin’ a new one tomorrow,’ he says, stupid fucking grin on his face. ‘New car. Exciting stuff. Anyway, better get this one back,’ he says, squeezing your knee a little too hard. You don’t look at Frankie, something like humiliation colouring your cheeks. ‘See you around, Frank.’ Tanner says.

Frankie steps back from the car as it glides forwards, and he watches it disappear up the street. 

Deep anger burns in him. And a kind of fear. It crawls over his skin, cooling the sides of his neck. His heart churns uncomfortably in his chest.

He tells your friends about it when he returns to the table. And they form a plan. Jessa texts you a time she’ll pick you up on Saturday. You say you’re excited again, you need some new clothes.

But Frankie knows Jessa won’t take you shopping. 

No, she brings you here, to the beach, to the bonfire. To him, to Santi and Benny and Will. Because they’re worried.

So worried, they tell you.

They sit you down in one of the chairs around the fire, and they explain why they’re worried. They tell you they love you - so much - and they just need to know if you’re okay. Because they can help. They want to help, want you out of this, because he’s not good for you. The silence, the hair, the clothes you were going to buy. They tell you they hate the way he doesn’t let you speak, how he speaks to you. And you are so quiet through all of it, Frankie begins to get more worried. He speaks to you gently over the fire, but you can’t meet his eye. He tells you his worries, their love for you again. He swallows down his own confession, anything to make you see. How they don’t want you pushed closer to him, want you to be pulled closer to them instead.

But your eyes are so vacant, so far away, that Jessa leaves her deckchair next to you to sit on the burned up log closer to you on your other side. She takes your hands, and you finally, finally look at her. You open your mouth, and you say so quietly -

‘You’re right. You’re right.’ 

It feels like the biggest gulp of oxygen Frankie has ever taken. He feels lightheaded from the relief, from the knowledge. They were right, they were right, which is a terrible, terrible thing.

Will clears his throat, and Frankie looks at him to see similar thoughts flicking over his face like film reel. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, and -

Hate to be so emotional

I didn't aim to get physical

But when he pulled in and revved it up

I said, ‘You call that a pickup truck?’

And in the moonlight I throwed him down

Kickin', screamin' and rollin' around

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

Whatever Will is about to say is cut short by the sweep of headlights over the brush near the dunes. 

A beat up old pickup truck bumps up the track and pulls up alongside Will’s Ranger. The driver’s side window slides down, and Tanner’s face emerges from the gloom. He revs the engine loudly, making you and Jessa jump. A sick feeling curls in Frankie’s stomach as he watches him, this piece of shit who’s been so busy crushing you down. 

Tanner leaps out of the truck, and slams the door. Frankie looks over at you, visibly panicked on the other side of the fire. How the fuck did he find you?

‘Hey baby,’ Tanner says, sickly sweet as he strolls towards you, ducking to press a kiss to your unresponsive mouth. He turns to the rest of the group, eyes skating over Will and Ben until they land on Frankie. Tanner steps towards him, offers his hand.

‘Good to see you again, Frank,’ he says, ‘Told you I’d be getting a new ride.’ 

Frankie stares at his hand. He takes a deep swig of his beer, breathing deeply before looking Tanner in the eye, refusing to shake it.

‘I’m surprised to see you.’ He says to the dirty-haired man.

Tanner tries his best to appear unfazed, but there’s a glimmer of something hot behind his eyes.

‘’Course man, wanted to show off the new pickup.’ He says, grinning broadly. He looks around again, eyes falling hungrily on Jessa. She shifts uncomfortably on the log, rearranging her body so there’s less for him to look at. A deep heat begins to rise in Frankie’s chest.

He glances again at the ancient car that Tanner’s driven up in. The front bumper almost hanging off, the red paint aged and scratched, bumps caved in all up the sides, the roof sagging. 

‘You call that a pickup truck?’ Frankie says lightly. Tanner narrows his eyes at him, angry, before he catches the sound of Santi’s laugh.

He whirls around to the other man and spits -

‘Who the fuck are you?’

Frankie almost laughs, too. Almost.

Pope spreads his hands. He looks up at him through his brows, a glint in his eyes that Frankie is violently familiar with. You must notice it, too, because you clear your throat and say -

‘Santi’s one of my friends.’

Tanner doesn’t even look at you. Just keeps staring at Pope. 

The moment seems to last an eternity. Frankie feels like he’s watching everything through sludge, like he’s in someone else’s dream. His whole body is on edge, vibrating, ready to lunge - he’s just not sure at who. He looks between the two men before he catches your eye through the flames. The adrenaline in Frankie’s heart gutters at the look of panic in your eyes.

Please don’t let them do this. Please help me stop it.

Frankie glances back to Pope, and says, so softly only he can hear it -

‘Pope.’ 

And Santi immediately looks away, taking a swig of his beer.

Tanner stands there still, clearly baffled at Santi’s sudden lack of interest. Then he turns to the rest of the group like a petulant child, a toddler who has been ostensibly robbed of its favourite toy.

‘It’s a good truck,’ he says, before turning to you. ‘Ain’t it, baby?’

You hum your agreement as Tanner scoops a beer from the pile by Will’s chair, shucking off the top with his teeth. Jessa looks away, disgusted. He settles himself in the deckchair at your side.

‘Y’aint allowed to touch it, of course, sugar,’ he says to you, before laughing into his bottle. ‘Ruin everything you come into, anyway. Root of all my problems, ain’t ya?’ Tanner takes a pull of his beer. The group is silent around him. Around you. Tanner notices.

‘Boy, fun bunch you are.’ 

You look at him through your eyelashes.

‘Baby, that’s enough.’ You say as softly as possible, and Frankie cringes at the pet name. 

Tanner looks at you sharply. Dark, furious. It’s in the pinch of his jaw, the anger at what you’ve said so obviously rolling around in his skull.

Frankie hates him for it. And he hates that he hates him for it. There are already so many things he hates him for, but he’s so fucking stupid it’s almost funny. Not your equal in any way. In kindness, in conversation or in intellect. And not even willing to try. To learn. For you. Just trying to dumb you down instead, squash you into smaller, more digestible bites to chew on. 

When it comes down to it, Tanner has nothing smart to say back. He just pushes a short breath from his nostrils and mutters out a little -

‘Well, well, well.’

Then he flexes his fingers against the chair, and you flinch. 

You flinch hard, your brows coming together, chin scrunching, waiting for the blow to land. And when it doesn’t, your eyes flicker open slowly. Hollow, bereft, drained and dim. 

Tanner hasn’t noticed, but everyone else has.

The awful unveiling of your last secret.

Frankie forces the bile down his throat. His head swings forward to the ground of its own accord, a faint, resonant ringing in his ears. When he looks at his hands, they aren’t his own. In fact, he recognises no part of his body as the ringing gets louder, as he gently places his beer bottle on the floor. When his eyes leave the dirt, the mix of faces around the fire are all mirror reflections of each other. Horror, disgust, grief. Grief that this is what you hid from them, this is what they have taken too long to pull you from. The burning building splintering around you, your shell of a body immovable in the middle. 

You won’t meet his eye. You won’t meet anyone’s eye as your hand shakes around your bottle. Jessa notices. She stares at your trembling fingers for too long, but she can hardly say anything. None of them can. Her eyes shine like beacons from her seat, wet with tears. Frankie sees her bottom lip quiver, her chin dimple. And then she swallows, swallows again, and reaches for your hand.

You flinch again, softer this time, and Frankie is sure everyone around the fire - everyone in the town, the world, must hear his heart crack. Because he feels it so keenly, so deeply, that it takes the air from his lungs. His breath is caught in his throat, and no matter how hard he tries to draw it, it seems impossible to claw it down. He’s drowning. He’s drowning right here in front of everybody, and it makes it all the worse to know that this is how you must feel. Every damn day.

Come on, he hears Jessa say, Let’s go and get another drink. And through the dark swirling of his mind he watches the two of you stand slowly and disappear towards the back of Frankie’s truck. He waits until Jessa has you hidden from view, her arms around your hunched back as you bring your hands to your face - crying - and that’s when the thread snaps.

Frankie gets to his feet, slowly.

Pope and Will watch him. Benny is still staring at Tanner.

Tanner looks up at him, chin jutted out, smirking as Frankie approaches. 

He’s challenging him. He’s waiting for a war of words, for the shouting to begin, for the insults, the observations to fly.

He expected the wrong war from a soldier.

The first punch sprawls him out of his seat. It makes a satisfying cracking sound, and the first trickle of blood starts to bleed from behind his lip.

Then Frankie kicks him. He kicks him hard in the ribs, making sure he doesn’t have enough time to recover from the punch to deflect Frankie’s boot. 

Tanner clutches at his abdomen, wheezing, gazing up at Frankie with bewildered eyes. Fucking coward.

Frankie grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulls him upwards. He has nothing to say to him, but the fury he feels, this deep, endless, swirling pit of rage, he lets him see. He lets it fill him from the soles of his feet all the way up through his eyes, and he lets it bleed out. He lets the blackness flood the ground. He lets Tanner watch it, lets it petrify him, and then Frankie swings again. Tanner takes it on his chin this time, his jaw snapping closed, and when it goes lax, a couple jagged bits of tooth fall out. Frankie grunts in satisfaction and swings again, again, until blood spouts from Tanner’s eyebrow and his cheek begins to bruise and swell. Frankie breathes deeply, in rhythm, doesn’t even feel it when Tanner manages to land a lucky punch to his eye socket. He plants a knee into the other man’s crotch, lands him an elbow to the back of his head when he keels over, and then shoves him to the ground. Frankie gets on the floor with him, raining blows down on Tanner’s body, his face. He’s methodical about it, a punch to each eye, the crack of the cunt’s nose, one to either side of his mouth, then bloodying up his jaw. He’s aware, somewhere, that Tanner is screaming. Strangled, gargling sounds trying to claw up his throat. And then he’s aware of two pairs of hands around each armpit, dragging him away, pulling him up. Will is saying something in his ear, that’s enough, Frankie, alright now, and Benny is speaking, too, panicked - you’ll kill him, Fish, come on man.

Frankie blinks, really looks at Tanner where he lays bleeding on the dirt. His eyes already swelling, a couple more teeth scattered on the ground next to him. His face different shades of red and purple, a mess of a man, and Frankie is pleased. He could keep going. He wants to see him bleed much, much more. Will and Benny keep their grip on him.

‘Leave,’ Frankie growls, low, without a quiver in his voice. ‘And don’t you ever come back. You ever look at her again, I’ll gouge out your fuckin’ eyes. You ever touch her again, I’ll break every bone in your body. I’ll make sure they don’t find anything left of you.’

Tanner doesn’t say anything, which must be the only smart thing he’s ever done in his life. But he still doesn’t move.

The four men watch him for a moment, the silence heavy, broken only by the crackle of wood and Tanner’s heavy, wet breaths.

Then Benny lets Frankie go, steps forward and picks the man up by his collar, swinging him around to the direction of his truck. He throws him down on the dirt.

‘Move,’ he spits. ‘Get out of here. And if you have the courage on the way, wrap your fucking truck around a telephone pole.’

Tanner finally has the good sense to crawl over to the vehicle. He hauls himself up the scarred body work before creaking open the driver’s door and slipping inside. The truck sputters to life, yellow bulbs flooding the bonfire site again before it quickly backs away, turns, and drives off. Frankie watches its blinking red brake lights until he’s sure the cunt is gone, and then he turns around.

You’re stood with Santi’s arms wrapped around you, back from the fire where Tanner’s blood is drying. Pope strokes your hair, squeezes you tightly as your body shudders. And Frankie can only stare. 

Minutes might have passed. Hours. And Frankie is terrified. Terrified that he’s scared you, broken you, pushed you away. And then you turn your face on Pope’s chest, moving your head from shoulder to shoulder, and you’re looking at him. Eyes red-rimmed and raw, face flushed and damp, and it’s like Frankie’s trance breaks.

Frightened, he takes a step forward. He breathes your name.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you shake your head. Fuck. What has he done? What has he allowed himself to do? ‘I’m sorry, querida, please - I know, I know -’ but what does he know? He looks to Santi, pleading for help, and the man offers him a small smile as you step out of his arms. 

Through a fog, you come towards him. Your chin wobbles. Your eyes swim. You’re a little wide-eyed, a little shocked. And something else, something beyond his reach. 

You get to him, and your arms make their silken way around his middle as you begin to cry. Hot tears stain the front of his shirt, and he cradles you to him, holding your skull gently, enveloping your abdomen. A loud sob looses from your ribs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ You wrap your arms around him tighter, press your nose into his sternum.

‘I’m not scared of you, Frankie,’ you sob into his chest. He clutches at the back of your head, holds you even closer, strokes your hair. When you speak again your voice is higher, strained with your tears. ‘I could never be scared of you.’

The sting in Frankie’s throat becomes hot, burning. He doesn’t know whether to pull you impossibly closer or to push you away, to run as far as he can from your broken, heaving body in his arms. Because what he’s done should scare you. It should. He’d lost all control. The only thing he’d been able to see, to feel was his all-consuming, depthless fury. And Tanner’s face as it splintered, bloodied, swelled. And he’d wanted to keep going, until there was just pulp. No nerve endings, no teeth, no eyes, no mouth, no body that he could ever hurt you with again. He doesn’t want you to hurt any more.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers into your hair.

Trembling misery

And as cold as a hole

I hug your bones and skin

Frankie holds your hand the whole way home, the drive passing in a dazed silence.

You still don’t talk when you get to his place, when he unlocks the door, lets you in, and locks it behind him. You take his hand in the quiet cool of the house, lead him upstairs. He follows, slowly, sore, exhausted. Trying to process it all.

When you reach the landing, you turn on the bathroom light, and he trails behind you. He stands propped against the sink as you dig around in his medicine cabinet, finding wipes and bandages and anything else you think might be useful. You take Frankie’s hand again, examine his bruised, bleeding and swollen knuckles with solemn eyes. You are so gentle, twisting his hand in the light, inspecting. You look over it for a while, and Frankie watches you. When you reach for an antiseptic wipe, your hand is shaking.

Frankie winces silently when you start to dab at the blood on his knuckles, cleaning it away with minute swipes. You chase the dried rivulets of blood down his fingers, over his palm. The scar there from when he ate shit riding his bike.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. You ignore him, breathing shallowly as you inspect his hand, holding his wrist, cleaning blood which is no longer there.

‘Might be a hairline fracture or two,’ you say, distant. ‘I won’t bandage it, gonna let it dry out first. But you’ll need to rest it. And we’ll need to ice your eye.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, into your hair. You shake your head, and the light catches the different colours in every strand. Frankie’s throat tightens.

‘Please stop apologising.’ You whisper.

A shaky breath pushes itself from between Frankie’s lips.

‘No, querida,’ he says softly, ‘It wasn’t right. Shouldn’t have done it. And I shouldn’t have let you see -’ he swallows thickly, throat bobbing. He looks over your head at the white tiles behind you as your grip on his wrist tightens. You still don't look up at him. ‘But it’s not how you treat someone you love. Not how it should be. Should be protecting them, treating them right, loving them the way you love -’ him. He cuts himself off, because he realises as he says it he’s wrong. So wrong.

Right to be like you in your gentleness. In your care, your touch, your tenderness, your loving. But Tanner deserved none of those things. He didn’t deserve your faith, didn’t deserve your protection or your silence either. None of it. 

He closes his eyes.

An image of you flickers through Frankie’s mind. Your fingers on his wrist as they are now, your eyes shining under the streetlights. The glint of your teeth, and the want so clear on your face, then the hesitation, the fear, the shuttering - 

And if only he had kissed you then. If only you had taken him inside. He could have shown you what it was supposed to feel like. He could have saved you from the hurt, the fear which lay ahead.

There’s a splash of warmth on the pale skin of the underside of his forearm, and he opens his eyes again. You’re still hunched over his hand, but your movements have stilled. Frankie waits, confused, before another warm drop lands on his arm and you hiccup a sob out. He whispers out your name, and you turn your face up to him, devastated.

Frankie’s face crumples, and your grip on his wrist loosens enough for him to lift his hands to your face and cup your cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I wasn’t thinking -’

‘You think I love him?’ You croak.

Frankie’s jaw works around his next sentence, his next thoughts. He tries to process what this means. That look in your eyes, your tears, your implication. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

‘I don’t love him, Frankie,’ you choke, ‘I don’t. Christ - I don’t think I ever did, I never could -’ you suck in a deep, stuttered breath. ‘I’ve never - never hated anyone more. I couldn’t stand him, couldn’t have him near me, couldn’t have him touch me -’ Frankie flinches at your words. ‘But I was so scared. And embarrassed. I didn’t know how to leave - I didn’t know how to tell anybody about what was going on. I was terrified of what he’d do. To me, to you guys, if he found out I’d spoken about it. And he made it so hard for me to see you, so hard for me to get away.’ You sob now, panic and relief forcing out your words. ‘I thought - wherever I go, he’ll find me. He’ll track me down, and he’ll bring me back - and somehow - somehow that was worse than if he tracked me down and - and - I don’t know, killed me or something -’

Frankie’s eyes shutter. He can’t even follow your thought, so awful is the image, the gaping emptiness. He pulls you close, he lets you cry. Curled into his chest, your body wracking with tears, shaking, tense and uncontrollable, the sounds you make rooting in his brain. They file themselves away in a box where very few things go. Deployment. Tom. The darkness after his investigation. You break and break in his arms, and it’s all he can do to hold the pieces of you together. To press kisses to your head, breathe in the smell of your hair, rub his hands over your back, cradle you like a child. 

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there for. He waits until you stop sobbing, stop crying softly, stop hiccuping, stop sniffing. He waits for a few more minutes in the silence, too. And when he pulls away, he presses a long, sweet kiss to your forehead. 

You blink up at him through red, swollen eyes.

‘You’re safe here.’ He says, and you nod.

‘I know. Thank you. For - everything.’ You say thickly. Frankie swallows, nods. You know it all anyway. Any time, for however long you need.

He pads downstairs to get you a glass of water, and while he’s pouring it, he can hear you blow your nose, wash your face. Somehow, they are the most perfect sounds in the world.

Crackling wood’s gone white

And my eye swole up now

I can see the light

Frankie gives you one of his sleep-stretched t-shirts and an old pair of shorts for you to wear to bed. 

The clothes dwarf you a little, and he can’t wipe the small, thrilled smile from his face, even when he looks away. You look fucking adorable. 

You giggle at him every time you see it, your little what? only making him smile harder. It stretches his mouth until it hurts and his cheeks start to cramp up, squishing his swollen eye. Stop he tries to say, but it comes out as an equally breathless huff of laughter - and that only makes you giggle more. So much so that he sweeps you up into his arms to stash you under the covers, and you laugh even harder as he tucks the sheets in tight around you, just like his mama used to do when she wanted him to stay put. 

He looks down at you from the side of the bed, hands on his hips, and you laugh back at him - eyes shining, mouth open in wide hoots of delight, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to contain yourself. He points a finger at you.

‘You need to calm down,’ he says, voice tight with bridled amusement. ‘It’s bedtime.’

But you cackle back at him, this glorious puddle of sunshine in his bed, only howls of laughter for a response. Unable to help himself, he returns your joy, turning off the bedside lamps to slip in beside you.

In the darkness, your snorts subside into ragged breaths, and you turn on your side to look at him. You study him as though you never want to forget a single line on his face; such warmth, such affection in your eyes that Frankie’s whole body swells and lifts.

You take his hand beneath the sheets and hold it between your faces, smiling softly at him.

The first and only girl he’s really ever loved. This brilliant, fierce, bright, intelligent woman damped down by the waste of fucking space who had bled by the fire. At the thought of it, Frankie feels his heart fall out of his chest, down through the floorboards, and plummet towards the middle of the earth.

And finally, he begins to cry.

He tries to stop it, he really does. It’s selfish, he thinks, so awful and selfish to cry in front of you when it’s you who should be wrapped in his arms, swept away by emotion again if you needed to be, safe and warm and unworried, never having to fret about anything again.

But he can’t stop it. It comes out in great shuddering breaths - pained, wracked sounds slipping past his lips, and he can’t help it. He tries to gather them in his hands to shove them back in his mouth, tries to scoop them in his arms and press them back into the caving ache of his chest, but he can’t.

When Frankie was a child, he saw his dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after his father’s brother was killed in a car accident. He had seen it through a crack in his parents’ bedroom door, and it had hurt him. It had wounded him, as a child, to see his father break with such grief, such pain, such emptiness, and to know there was nothing he could do about it. And now, he is split into those two people - younger self, older self - as he thinks of you lying next to him on the bed. This person who he loves so much, who is now so full of the knowledge of the worst parts of living, wound up so tight within you that you let it settle, let it unfurl around your bones. He sees your hurt, your grief, your pain refracted around him tenfold, and he hurts with you. He sees you as the boy he once was, this poor creature looking in at a heart breaking, as he has unknowingly watched yours break for months.

And he’s so sorry, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop saying it.

But here you are, still, performing the ultimate act of kindness. Comfort.

He feels the mattress move as you slide closer to him, and then your hand is on his back, swooping in gentle movements. He feels the scrabble of your fingers under the ribs he has pressed into the bed, the pressure of your arm moving under him so you can hold him properly. Frankie sobs harder, but he opens his body to you. You press closer to him, burying your face in his neck, and he breathes you in as he cries. Your scent is here, you are here. And like you heard him, you whisper -

‘It’s okay, Frankie. It’s okay. ’M here. I’m safe.’ And this realisation allows a little more air, but it doesn’t make Frankie’s guilt, his shame any better. But you’re right, he knows it. And somewhere in his crying, this turns his gasps to tears of relief. Softly, you retract your arms from around him.

You take his hands away from his face, and kiss the palms. You kiss each fingertip, each bruised and cracked knuckle. You lean forward and press a kiss to each tear, each trail of saltwater on his face. And you are so beautiful in the moonlight. Soft and wide eyed. Safe. Kind, always kind, and full of understanding. Frankie sees now that you have been crying against him, too, your eyelashes cloyed with tears. Sees his thoughts in your eyes as though you have had each of them zip to you through the air. When you were a child, you saw your dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after…

A smile breaks through your eyes, chasing away the remnants of tears, glazing down, softening your lips. 

And Frankie doesn’t think this time. His feet don’t fail him. He doesn’t think of stars or glitter or constellations of ice crystals. He just kisses you. And kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. And he doesn’t stop, because nothing else matters anymore.

You’re safe. You’re warm. You’re in his bed. 

You’re here.

You tip your head back, deepening the kiss, licking into Frankie’s mouth. He gives in so easily to you he’s almost ashamed. But then your fingers clutch at him, ball at the bottom of his shirt, tangle in the thick of his hair, and all his thoughts are forgotten. He feels you slip a soft, strong leg over his, pulling him forward. You groan against him, and Frankie’s cock twitches. You feel it, you must do, as you pull your body closer to him, tight against him. Frankie is so lightheaded he doesn’t know where his hands are, what they’re doing - and when he concentrates, he finds them skating over your back, squeezing the tension out of the back of your neck, gripping your hip.

He moans against you as you rock your hips over his thigh, as he feels the heat of your sex against his skin. He feels like he’s on fire.

You slip a hand under his sleep shorts and palm him, brushing his silken length with two fingers, feeling him grow harder, thicker against you. You take him in your hand, pump him once, twice with the perfect grip, the perfect speed, like you were made for him. He’s gasping against you, panting as you suck his lower lip into your mouth.

‘Baby,’ he groans, breathless, ‘We don’t have to. We really don’t -’

You look up at him through gorgeous, glazed eyes.

‘I want to,’ you say, ‘Do you?’

Dangerous, dangerous question. 

Frankie tries to shake his head, look away, think of anything but the tight fist of your fingers around his cock.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘I do. But I don’t think - this is the right thing -’

You loosen your grip, draw away from him. His body aches with a shudder.

His eyes flick back to yours again - confused, hurt - fuck, he can’t do that to you, ever -

‘I - I don’t want to take advantage of it - of you,’ he says. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks as you look down the sheets towards your toes. His jaw tightens. ‘And - and I don’t want this to mean - different things for us. I don’t want it to ruin what we have.’ Frankie breathes out heavily through his nose. He has to tell you now. He has to. ‘I don’t want it to mean different things, because I love you. I always have. And if we do this, if I have you even just for a night, I - I’ll never recover from it.’ Tears spike in his eyes again. He tries to smile. ‘You’d ruin me. And I don’t think I’d ever forgive you for it.’

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Frankie watches as your eyes flit back up to his. They search his face, the dribble of his barely-shed tears, the slope of his sad smile. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scraps of beard. He closes his eyes.

‘What you said earlier,’ you begin. Frankie swallows. He waits for the blow of rejection. ‘About me - about me loving him.’ He opens his eyes slowly to find yours, bright and clear. Something begs to bubble over in them. Something golden and warm. ‘You were wrong - obviously. And I couldn’t tell you truly why, because I was afraid. So afraid of pushing you away, even though I think that’s all I’ve ever done. I’ve never thought I was worth it, Frankie. I don’t deserve you. And I am terrified of how much I love you.’ You beam at him, eyes bubbling over with that thing - love - ‘I love you,’ you say simply, like it’s not the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. 

A stunned little laugh ripples up his throat, and you copy it. He grips your face in his hands, and kisses you again, again, again.

‘I love you,’ he says.

‘I love you, too,’ you giggle.

‘And you are,’ he presses to your lips, ‘You are absolutely worth it.’

He rolls over on top of you, and begins to kiss your jaw, nipping at the skin there, before moving down your throat. He kisses you with a hot, open mouth, sucking marks into the sensitive skin at your pulse point. Mine, he groans, and you whimper against him, rubbing your thighs together.

Frankie pushes your shirt up - his shirt - so he can bite at your chest, press kisses to every bit of exposed skin. Every single part of you that deserves to be loved, every single place which has so far been unknown to him. He sucks each nipple into his mouth, delighted when you keen beneath him, panting, please, please Frankie, before he sinks lower down, peeling his shorts away from you to expose your glistening cunt. 

He groans, unable to take his eyes away from it as he leans forward, pressing his body into the mattress to lick a stripe from your asshole to your clit.

‘Frankie -’ you groan down at him as he begins to work at you, sucking and licking, nipping at your thigh before slipping his tongue into your hole, swiping and tasting everything you’re giving to him. He grinds himself into the mattress, hissing at the relief, the uncomfortable weight of his cock dragging below him.

‘Taste so good, baby,’ he tells you, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to taste, wants to smell anything else ever again. All he can do is eat at you, breathe you in, until you’re begging him -

‘Frankie, your fingers - please -’ And he flexes his hand at your hip before brushing a fingertip against your entrance and gasping at the pain. 

You try to bear down towards him, but he rips his hand away, lifting his head towards you.

‘Can’t,’ he gasps, and you mewl, bucking your hips up to his face, desperate. ‘Hand’s fucked,’ he says, and you still your movements before beginning to laugh again. It’s loud and from your belly, and it's bizarre. But Frankie gets it. He gets it, and he giggles too. He doesn’t try to fuck his broken knuckles into you, but he does try to continue lathing you with his tongue. You’re making it pretty fucking difficult, though.

‘Stop laughing,’ he huffs against your clit, ‘I’m trying to make you come.’

‘Okay,’ you say, gasping for air, ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. You’re doing really well, by the way.’ But this only makes him laugh. He groans, leaning his forehead against your inner thigh. ‘This is impossible.’ He pouts.

‘Nooo,’ you cry, leaning up on your elbows to pout down at him. ‘Please, baby. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I won’t laugh anymore.’

‘Promise?’ He says. You hold out your pinky to him.

‘Pinky promise.’ You say.

Frankie stretches his hand out to you and tries to extend his pinky. He winces at the sharp pain which shoots from the movement, and grunts at you, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘You bastard,’ he says, trying and failing to hold his smile, ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to do that.’

‘Just keeping you on your toes,’ you grin, and then before you can make any more smart remarks, Frankie resumes his ministrations, lapping and tonguing at your clit, your hole, mouthing hot, wet kisses to your pussy. He shakes his head from side to side, running your bud in tight, hard little circles until you’re a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him. Your hips buck unconsciously, and Frankie hooks both his arms around your thighs to hold you down, flattening his hands against your belly to keep you firmly in place. He reaches up to twist at your nipples and you gasp. 

‘God, Frankie, tongue feels so fucking good -’ 

He can feel you begin to pulse against his chin as your whines get higher in pitch, and he groans as you twist handfuls of his hair.

‘Come on, baby,’ he says, ‘Give it to me. Wanna see you come, querida. Wanna taste it. Come on my face.’

And you do, the sensation of it arching your back tight like a bow, a strangled moan cutting off into the ceiling.

‘Fuck, Frankie, fuck -’ as he drives you through it, nodding and murmuring against you as you try to wriggle free, squealing in protest until you manage to twist a leg and set a foot against his chest, pushing him off. 

‘Fucking - hell -’ You pant, and Frankie grins down at you, smug.

‘Good?’ He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Oh, fuck you, Morales.’ You laugh, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Your tongue explores every part of his mouth, every crevice behind every tooth, like you can’t get enough of him. Like there'll never be enough of him. ‘Now fuck me.’ You whisper.

And Frankie does not need to be told twice.

He rips his shirt up and off his back, shucks his shorts down his legs, and squeezes himself tight as he can in his left hand. He ruts into his palm, thumb swiping to slick his heavy beads of precum down his length.

‘Ready?’ he asks, looking down to find you staring wide-eyed at his cock. It twitches under your gaze.

‘What?’ He says, and you shake your head in quiet disbelief and amusement. You lift your eyes back to his face, and they are so dark with arousal he almost melts into the mattress.

‘Nothing,’ you shrug. ‘Just somehow never believed Pope and the boys when they said it was like two coke cans put together.’ 

‘Jesus Christ.’ Frankie laughs, his face pulling tight with a grin as he lines himself up at your entrance, swilling the head in your arousal.

‘I mean, what if it doesn’t fit?’ You babble, and he shakes his head.

‘It’ll fit, baby,’ he says. ‘We’ll make it fit.’ Then he sinks the first inch in, and just waits. He waits and watches you, watches as your mouth falls slack, all the smart things coming out your mouth grinding to a halt. He throbs at how tight you are around him, at how you clench already, trying to suck him in further. And fuck, you are so wet.

‘You okay, querida?’ He asks through gritted teeth.

You manage a nod, a broken whine escaping you.

‘Move Frankie, please baby -’ you beg, and he groans as he pushes further inside you, watching the obscene stretch of your pussy around him, the way it pulses, the way it gets wetter and warmer and tighter around him. When he bottoms out, he feels the hot rush of his orgasm leap towards him a little too quickly.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he breathes, closing his eyes just to make sure he doesn’t come right away. You squirm beneath him, canting your hips up, trying to fuck yourself. Frankie grips you, gritting his teeth. ‘Stay still,’ he hisses, flushing a little. ‘God, fuck, please - just for a minute.’ He opens his eyes to find you watching him, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. His eyes glaze down your body - his t-shirt bunched up around your chest, perfect tits, perfect belly, and your sweet, sopping cunt split open on his cock. 

He groans again, slipping out, watching as he retreats, soaked by you, before pushing back in. A high pitched whine leaves your lips, and you twitch your hands up to play with your tits. Frankie doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more sexy in his life.

‘That’s right,’ he says, ‘Keep playing with yourself like that, gorgeous. Look at you.’

So you do, looking up at him with doe-eyes as he fucks into you, soft at first, letting you adjust before quickening his pace, readjusting his angle, feeling you leak around him. His balls slap against your ass loudly, and you keen up at him, eyes wide, begging for something as you tighten like a coil around him, something you can’t quite voice. But Frankie knows.

He swipes his thumb against your clit, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching again. He groans at the sight, and works the bundle of nerve endings in tight circles, faster and harder, harder and faster, until you’re gripping him so tight he thinks you might push him out.

‘Come baby, come,’ he pants, ‘Please, querida, need to feel you - need to feel you soak me. Need you to come for me, come on this cock, baby, please -’

And he groans, long and loud as you clench and pulse around him, milking him, pulling him impossible deeper - fuck, Frankie, oh my god, feels so fucking good - the delicious pressure at the base of his spine at breaking point as he fucks you through it, as he pants and gasps -

‘Come, Frankie,’ you plead, ‘Please - want you, need you -’ and he spills himself deep inside you, hips stuttering, eyes clamping shut, overwhelmed and short circuited. He’s never known it could feel like this - good to the end of every synapse - and he’s fucking it in with three long thrusts, pulling out slowly just to watch it dribble out of you as he twitches against his thigh. He thumbs your clit just to watch you seize and sigh against him, then sits back on his knees to look at you.

‘You are something else,’ he says in disbelief.

You smile lazily at him.

‘Ain’t so bad yourself, Morales,’ and he laughs, throwing himself down next to you, kissing anywhere he can. I love you, I love you, I love you. Safe.

You lay there for a while afterwards, just feeling each other, calming your ragged breathing. Eventually, Frankie rises from the bed to grab a washcloth, coming back and swiping between your legs tenderly, gently, before collapsing back into bed and pulling you into his chest.

He feels like he’s in space, and he tells you as much. He spills secrets like a child at a sleepover. He tells you about the glitter and the stars and the constellations of ice crystals. You match him with a galaxy of feeling spanning the time he’s known you. And he feels that this is a dream, this love which floats like a nebula within the bed. He tries to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, even as you sleep. And even when he does drift off, he dreams of you. He dreams of you sparkling with stardust, waiting for him with your arms open.

When he wakes the next morning, you’re still there. Safe, soft and warm against him, furled into his ribcage, heart beating against the hand that’s pressed against your chest.

Everything’s okay. That red thread still intact, after all.

When the sun rises, bloody and mild, it’s never been so sweet.

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

[heich0e]

emperor au with sukuna, who rules his land fiercely and is renowned for his might, who is so taken with you—an entertainer brought along to the court by a visiting dignitary—that he doesn't allow you to leave.

to the scandal of the court, you're assigned the title of noble guest, an honour unbefitting of your lowly status. you're housed in lush private quarters, staffed with attendants who see to your care, but it's little more than a gilded cage. your voice extends only so far as it pleases him. your worth is in your song, but not your words. any pleas you make fall upon deaf ears, as though you never spoke them at all.

the emperor's concubines resent you, the servants whisper as they pass your quarters, no one meets your eye.

the only friends you have are the bird who visits the tree branch outside your window each morning, and yuuji: the little crown prince and sole son of the emperor, born to him by a concubine who died in the trials of childbirth. he's curious and friendly, sneaking in to see you when he can, bringing you flowers from the main gardens or telling you what sweets his staff served him that day. he's so different from the man who he so much resembles—warm and soft and kind in spite of the blood that made him.

sukuna comes to your quarters each night.

it's no surprise the concubines seethe when they catch sight of you. no surprise you feel the prick of their hatred even from their own distant courts. he eschews them in favour of you. leaves their beds cold and their prides bruised.

it's inevitable that the rumours spread, like the bird outside your window who takes flight when it's startled.

but the emperor doesn't enter your bed when he visits you.

you know he wants to. know he expects it. but when he calls upon you in the evenings, the two of you sit silently over tea or wine. you don't speak. each night, he greets you with the same request.

"will you sing for me?"

and each night you refuse him with your answering silence.

eventually he retires for the evening with the promise that he will return again. not a request. a reminder.

it's not patience that keeps the emperor's hands off you. not kindness that keeps your head upon your shoulders, when so many have met the opposite fate for lesser insolence.

no, it's something else. something crueller.

like the emperor enjoys the game the two of you are playing, because he knows—you both know—who ultimately will be the victor.

[goddessofvalyria]

My sweet sister | Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: After the battle at Rook's Rest Aemond came home to his pregnant wife. Aegon is injured, and Aemond is now the prince regent. His sister-wife needs him but he's concentrate about the war. She feels unwanted so one night she decides to seduce him.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, SMUT, She/Her pronouns, pregnant sister-wife, face sitting, oral (f), fingering, sex.

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 2,7K

The night is still and quiet in King's Landing, but inside the Red Keep, tensions run as high as they ever have.

The aftermath of the battle at Rook's Rest has left the realm in disarray, the death of Rhaenys Targaryen echoing through the halls of the capital. Aegon lies grievously injured, barely clinging to life, leaving Aemond to take up the mantle of prince regent.

For days now, Aemond has been consumed by matters of war - the constant strategy meetings, messengers flooding in with reports, and the looming threat of more rebellion. His mind is singularly focused on the task of holding the Seven Kingdoms together. Though he returns to his chambers every night, he seems distant, emotionally unavailable, his sharp focus entirely elsewhere.

His sister-wife watches him from across their shared chambers, her delicate hand resting on her swollen belly. She is with child, yet her husband's thoughts remain miles away. She feels neglected, forgotten, as if the man who once cherished her has faded into nothing but a ghost. He barely touches her now, speaks to her only in curt tones about the war or their children, the cold mask of duty draped over him like a shroud.

Aemond sits near the fire, pouring over maps with a furrowed brow, his long silver hair falling into his face.

The firelight flickers, casting shadows across the sharp planes of his features, making him look even more unapproachable.

"Aemond" she begins softly, but he doesn't raise his head. She bites her lip, summoning her courage. Her voice trembles as she speaks again, louder this time.

"Aemond."

He finally looks up, his single violet eye flicking toward her. "What is it, my love? Is something wrong?" His tone is cool, though not unkind. It's simply detached, distant.

She hesitates for a moment, then shakes her head, her silvery blonde curls catching the light. "No, nothing's wrong" she says, though the knot of loneliness inside her tightens. She takes a step closer to him, her bare feet soundless on the cold stone floor.

Aemond sighs, his eye drifting back to his maps.

"Good. There is much to discuss, and I cannot afford any distractions."

The word cuts deeper than he realizes. She clenches her fists at her sides, feeling the sting of rejection. She knows he is under immense pressure, but his indifference toward her is unbearable. She is his wife — his sister, his lover, the mother of his children. Yet, he treats her as though she is no more than another obligation.

The princess makes a decision then, one that feels reckless, even scandalous. But she cannot bear this icy distance any longer. She needs her husband back, needs to remind him of what they once shared. Slowly, she begins to undo the ties of her gown, the pale green fabric slipping from her shoulders. Aemond doesn't notice at first, still focused on the maps, the war, the chaos that surrounds them.

When she lets the gown pool at her feet, leaving her in nothing but the thin shift beneath, she takes a breath, her heart racing. Her hands move to untie the last layer, and she steps closer to him.

"Aemond" she whispers, her voice husky with something unfamiliar to even herself.

He glances up again, his expression unreadable. His eye briefly flickers down to her form, though it seems to take him a moment to register what she's doing.

When it finally does, his brows furrow in confusion.

""My love...?" His voice trails off as she takes another step forward, the shift sliding from her body.

The firelight dances over her skin, casting a golden glow across her soft curves. She stands before him now, completely bare, unashamed, though her heart thunders in her chest. Aemond stares at her, his usual control faltering for the first time in days.

"What are you doing?" His voice is low, but there's a note of tension beneath it, a crack in his stoic demeanor.

She moves closer, her hips swaying with a deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving his. "I've missed you" she murmurs, her hands reaching out to touch his shoulder, to feel the warmth of him beneath her fingertips. "You've been away, even when you're here. I need you, Aemond. I need my husband."

He inhales sharply as her hands glide over his chest, her touch light yet insistent. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, he truly sees her not as the pregnant sister-wife waiting patiently in the shadows, but as the woman he once desired fiercely, the woman he loved.

His eye darkens with something more primal as she slides onto his lap, straddling him, her hands moving to cradle his face. "I know you've been consumed by war" she whispers, her lips brushing against his ear. "But I'm still here. I need you, and I think you need me too."

He exhales a ragged breath, his hand coming up to grip her waist almost unconsciously. The maps scatter to the floor as she presses closer, her body warm and inviting against his. His restraint, the careful mask he wears so well, begins to crumble as he feels her softness against him.

"My love, my sweet sister..." His voice is strained, thick with the battle between duty and desire. "This isn't... you shouldn't..."

She silences him with a kiss, her lips soft but insistent against his. It's not a timid kiss; it's full of yearning, of need, of everything she's kept bottled up for weeks.

Aemond groans against her mouth, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily forgotten as he pulls her closer, his hands roaming over her back, her hips.

When they finally break apart, both of them are breathless. Aemond's eye searches hers, as though trying to find his bearings.

"You're right" he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

"I've been away for too long." He tightens his grip on her, his fingers digging into her skin. "But not tonight."

She smiles, her eyes shining with triumph and affection. She leans in to kiss him again, and this time, there is no hesitation from him. Aemond surrenders completely, his war forgotten for the night. He's no longer a prince regent or a soldier in the endless battle for the throne. For this moment, he is simply a man, lost in the arms of the woman he loves.

Aemond's eye darkens with raw desire as he pulls her closer, his lips brushing against hers, yet his control, once unshakable, has utterly crumbled in the face of her need and his own long-repressed hunger. He leans back, his hands gripping her hips firmly, guiding her as she straddles him. Their kiss deepens, his fingers moving over her skin with a new urgency, tracing the curve of her spine and thighs.

Aemond’s hand slides down between her thighs, finding her soaked pussy. "You're wet, sweet sister" he whispers, kissing her neck as she wrestles with his clothes and tears his shirt off. "Shh" Aemond whispers calmly, sliding two fingers into her soaking slit.

She begins to ride his fingers, her juices dripping from her pussy, wetting his pants and forming a stain on them. She clings to him, moving her hips eager for his fingers, but Aemond has other plans for her.

When she pulls back to catch her breath, he's already leaning forward again, trailing kisses down her neck, murmuring against her skin, "I've missed this... missed you."

Her breathing quickens as his lips move lower, his hands now exploring her body with purpose. He gently pushes her back onto the bed, his violet eye burning with something untamed, his restraint lost entirely to the desire that has simmered beneath the surface for far too long. His gaze rakes over her, admiring her, but it's more than that. It's worship.

"You've been so patient with me" Aemond murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "But tonight, it's only us. I want to make you feel... everything."

His sister-wife's breath catches as his words sink in, and she feels a shiver of anticipation course through her. She's never seen him like this, so unguarded, so intent on her pleasure. When he presses a kiss just below her navel, she gasps, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging slightly as his lips continue their descendant.

"Aemond..." she whispers, her voice trembling with need.

He looks up at her, his eye locking onto hers with a predatory glint. "I want you to sit on my face" he says quietly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

She hesitates for only a second, unsure of what he means, but then his hands are guiding her, urging her gently to straddle his face. Her heart races at the unspoken promise in his gaze, and she lets herself give in, positioning herself above him.

Aemond's hands grip her hips, steadying her as he looks up at her, his expression fierce with desire. "Let go, my sweet sister" he whispers, and then his mouth is on her, his tongue moving with practiced precision against her most sensitive spot.

She cries out, her hands clutching the bed sheets as a wave of pleasure crashes over her. Aemond's tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing and tasting, drawing out every moan, every gasp, his grip tightening on her hips as he pulls her closer. Helena feels her thighs trembling, her whole body alight with sensation, her head spinning as he lavishes attention on her.

"Oh, gods" she moans, her voice a breathless whimper, barely able to form coherent words. Her hips begin to move of their own accord, grinding against his mouth, and Aemond groans in response, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through her.

He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, his tongue moving faster now, more insistent, as one of his hands slides up her thigh. She gasps again when she feels his fingers slide inside her, slow at first, then curling upward, finding the perfect rhythm with his tongue. The combination of his mouth, his nose pressing on her clit and his fingers overwhelms her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"Aemond-" Her voice is breathless, trembling, and she can't hold on any longer. She feels the tension in her core snap, her body trembling as she comes undone above him, her cries echoing through the chamber.

Aemond doesn't let up, continuing his ministrations until her body is spent, shaking in the aftermath of her release.

He gently lowers her back onto the bed, his lips glistening, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches her try to catch her breath.

"Was that good, my love?" he asks, his voice a deep, satisfied rumble.

Sh still reeling from the intensity of what just happened, nods weakly, her body still trembling.

"Gods, Aemond... yes."

But he isn't done yet.

He moves over her again, his hands sliding up her body as he kisses her deeply, and she tastes herself on his lips. There's an urgency in his kiss now, his need for her as strong as ever. His hard length presses against her thigh, and she feels a new wave of heat build within  her.

"Aemond, please" she breathes against his lips, her voice heavy with longing. "I need you."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Aemond slips off his trousers and pants, leaving him naked with a throbbing, wet, long, painful erection between his legs.

He positions himself between her legs, his eye locking onto hers as he slowly pushes into her. The feeling of him inside her, stretching her sweet, wet and soaked pussy, filling her, draws a soft moan from her lips. He moves slowly at first, letting her adjust to the feeling, but soon his pace quickens, his need for her overtaking him.

She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her fingers digging into his back as their bodies move together. Each thrust sends a surge of pleasure through her, and she feels herself spiraling toward the edge once again.

"Look at me" Aemond growls, his voice thick with lust.

His gaze burns into hers, intense, unrelenting. "I want to see you when you fall apart."

She holds his gaze, her breath coming in short gasps as she feels the pressure building again, higher and higher, until it finally shatters. She cries out his name as she tumbles over the edge, her body clenching around him, pulling him even deeper.

Aemond groans loudly, his pace faltering as he finds his own release, spilling into her with one final thrust.

He collapses onto her, his forehead resting against hers as they both struggle to catch their breath. 

For a long moment, there's only the sound of their breathing, their bodies still entangled. Aemond presses a soft kiss to her lips, his earlier intensity replaced by something gentler, more tender.

"I've missed you" he murmurs, his voice low but filled with affection.

She smiles, her hand sliding into his hair. "I've missed you too." She pauses, then adds softly,

"Promise me you won't leave me again."

Aemond looks down at her, his expression serious. "I swear it," he says, his hand cupping her face. "No more distance. I'll be here. Always."

Aemond lies beside her sister-wife, his body still pressed close to hers, both of them basking in the quiet aftersex of their reunion. Their breathing has slowed, the firelight casting a soft glow over the room, but the air between them now feels different - warmer, intimate in a way it hasn't been for months.

His hand moves tenderly to her belly, gently resting on the curve where their child grows, and for a moment, he is no longer the prince regent, no longer the warrior consumed by war and bloodshed. Here, he is only a husband and a father. He leans down slowly, his lips brushing the soft skin of her belly. The gesture is tender, reverent, as though he's touching something sacred. She watches him with a soft smile, her fingers running through his silver hair, and she feels her heart swell with affection for this man - the man who, despite everything, is hers.

Aemond kisses her belly again, more firmly this time, his eye softening as he presses his lips against the place where their child stirs within her. He lingers there, his breath warm against her skin, before speaking in a low, gentle voice, a voice he uses with no one else but her.

"My little dragon" he murmurs softly, his hand caressing her rounded stomach. "Your father is here, and I will protect you... both of you."

Her violet eyes glisten as she watches him, her heart full. There's a vulnerability in him now, something he doesn't show to anyone else, but with her, he lets the mask fall. He presses another kiss to her belly, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles.

"You will be strong" he continues, his voice filled with quiet determination. "Born into a world of fire and blood, but you will never want for love." He looks up at her sweet sister-wife, his gaze soft but unwavering. "I will make sure of it."

She smiles, her hand still cradling his head, her thumb brushing over his cheek. "Our little dragon is lucky to have you" she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

Aemond closes his eye for a moment, letting himself feel the warmth of her words. Then, he kisses her belly once more, lingering there as if speaking directly to the life growing within her.

Her heart swells as she watches him, her hand still resting on his head, feeling the weight of his love for both her and their unborn child. For a brief moment, the chaos of the world outside fades away, leaving only the three of them - their small family, bound together in love and shared destiny.

Aemond looks up at her again, his expression softened by the love he can never fully express with words alone.

"'ll protect you both," he vows once more, his voice firm yet tender. "No matter what."

[aliesbienish]

A pleasant surprise

Summary: Colin returns from his travels with more than just teas and stories.

Paring: Colin ‘my wife’ Bridgerton x Female Reader

—————-

Saying you were nervous was an absolute understatement. In fact the honest truth is that you were on the verge of a panic attack. You knew this meeting was inevitable, had known really ever since you laid eyes on him. But the prospect of shocking, nay disappointing, his entire family made you feel nauseous.

Colin’s hand gently gripping your thigh, stopping your legs nervous bounce, was the only thing keeping you grounded. You could see the grand houses of the ton out the carriage, feel it coming to a halt. It was time, you wanted to run. However the man beside you was enough reason to stay. Colin was the love of your life, and you his. Hopefully his family could see that.

The valet opened the carriage door and you took a deep breath. Colin alighted first, then giving you his hand to help you out. Bridgerton house was stunning, flowers drooping from vines that ran up the brick walls. The sweet smell of the flowering wisterias engulfing you. You gripped Colin’s hand as he led you straight in, not bothering to wait at the front door.

The grand entrance opened in front of you, and you could see it was just as beautiful as the exterior. The walls, painted a lovely shade of baby blue, hung portraits showcasing the happy family. You let go of Colin to examine a painting of him in his youth but was interrupted by a shriek.

“Colin, your home!” A young girl screamed with delight as she ran and wrapped him in a hug. ‘This must be Hycainth’ you thought smiling. The commotion caused a flurry of footsteps and soon a mass of people were descending into the foyer from all directions. Each gave Colin a spirited greeting ranging from tight hugs to affectionate forehead kisses. Last to arrive was a beautiful women who had to be Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, taking him in her arms and whispering how happy she was he was home. The closeness of the family brought a grin to your face.

And then suddenly you were spotted Hycainth and with a shout of “Who’s this?” all attention was directed to you.

“Family, I have an announcement.” Colin began, grabbing your hand in his. “This is my wife,” he declared introducing you by name.

“Your what?” One of the brothers, Anthony you presumed, muttered; the first to recovered from the shock.

“We met in Madrid while I was travelling”

“Madrid as in Spain? Does she even speak English. She probably just tricked you to marry into English money,” Anthony proclaimed, earning an elbow from his wife in the process.

Colin went to reply, but you gave him a gentle shake of your head.

“Viscount Bridgerton, what a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You are just like Colin describe,” you smirked, your polite words not matching with your tone of voice. “As you can see I do speak English, in fact I am from this country. Just outside of Bath to be exact. I too was doing some travelling when I met your brother in Madrid. My father, a Duke, was there on business and he asked me to accompany him. Colin and I met studying Spanish in a local language school, I wanted to understand the language so I could help my father negotiate his deals.”

“My apologies for my son, I believe he sometimes forgets he is not the only member of the family with some sense,” Violet said, a gentle smile gracing her face. “But may I asked what brought on marriage,”

“I knew Colin was feeling homesick, wanting to be nearer to his dear family yet my fathers business in Spain was not due to end for many months. We couldn’t bear the thought of being apart, and I didn’t want to be the reason Colin stayed away from his family.”

“She made the sacrifice to leave her family so I could be with mine,” Colin confirmed, pulling you in to his embrace. “I knew we were going to have to marry so we could travel together without scandal, and in all honesty I could not wait to call her my wife,”

“Oh sweethearts, congratulations” Violet muttered pulling you both into a hug. “But don’t think you’ll get out of having a celebration, there will be a ball thrown in your honour!”

One by one each family member came to greet you and give their congratulations.

Benedict gave you a giant hug followed by angrily whispering to his brother ‘How dare you leave me to face the ton’s mamas on my own, we had a pact’.

Eloise gave you a half smile, ‘I can’t say I see why you chose to marry my brother, clearly the imbecile is lacking in the upstairs department. However it would be nice to have another intelligent woman in the house, How would you feel about teaching me Spanish?’ You readily agreed.

Hycainth and Gregory both wanted to know if Colin and yourself had brought them anything from abroad, in which you winked conspiratorially as an answer.

Daphne and Kate both gave you warm hugs, and promised to get to know you more over tea once you settled.

Anthony was the final one to approach. He gave you an apologetic smile before muttering ‘I would be grateful if you could come help me with some documents in my study sometime. We have business in Spain and I admit that I know nothing of the language. Your insight would be a major asset to the family.

————-

Hope you all enjoyed! Honestly I just see this on brand for Colin. As if he didn’t fall in love with every female he crossed paths with. Basically I just picture him as young Bill in Mamma Mia

P.S. no surprise who greeted Colin with a forehead kiss xx

[starshipsofstarlord]

“I don’ have the patience ter remove yer clothes righ’ now.”

pairing. daryl dixon x fem!reader

summary. daryl returns from a hunt, but he doesn’t care for what he caught; he’d rather catch you beneath him

warnings. smut, unprotected sex, creampie, kitchen sex, horny!daryl

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

Although Daryl had been out hunting god knows what creatures that lurked outside the walls, he still looked at you as though you were his prey. His muddy boots left footprints in their walk as he stalked with an animalistic purpose towards you, a hungry glare encapsulating his eyes.

“Need ya righ’ now sweetness.” It wasn’t necessary for him to speak twice, an excited warmth circulated within your body, and from the famished desperation which he displayed as he posed a strong grip around your waist and littered rushed and open mouth kisses across the curve of your shoulder, it was obvious that no foreplay would be involved in your sensual activity.

Your hands drifted to the bottom seam of your ratty shirt that laid a small distance below your abdomen, however Daryl swatted them away from the fabric, blindly walking your bodies backwards until you were trapped between hun and the clear dining table.

“I don’ have the patience ter remove yer clothes righ’ now.” He muttered across your mouth, which left you enthralled. It felt almost scandalous despite being in your own home, endorphins were swimming in your bloodstream as you felt your centre become slick with the arousal that your archer had caused.

A gasp was quick to slip from your lips as Daryl pressed down on your sternum with his large palm, forcing your back to lay across the table, he licked at his lips as he cherished the sight of you in front of him, before he began sliding your faded jeans down your legs until they were balled up in a bunch at your calves.

“Need you inside of me D.” The words escaped you in the form of a whine, and that seemed to spur Daryl back into action. He fumbled in a messy fight against his belt, until the buckle was finally free, and then he proceeded to release his throbbing cock that was leaking with precum at the thought of being sheathed deep inside of you.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day.” He huskily confessed, grasping his hard length with his dominant hand, standing between your legs as he rolled his flush red tip around your clit for a few seconds which had you wantonly yearning for more, before he angled his cock at your entrance.

He wasted no more time as he slowly pushed into your pulsating walls, the echo of various curses filling the room until your bodies were close together. One of his hands supported his weight atop of you beside your head on the table, as the other pivoted your right leg loosely over his hip.

He rolled his hips, which had your hands pressing into the blades of his scarred shoulders, but he cared not for their placement as he pulled back and plunged eight back into your heat. The archer built up a rhythm as your eyes crossed paths of contact his brunette locks fell around his face like a halo.

Your breaths intermingled, causing a dew to dawn on both of your faces, the grips you had on each others skin growing rougher. “Daryl…” His name came out as a whisper from the tip of your tongue, and the reply that you got was a few grunts and groans of endearing acknowledgment.

Your brows furrowed together as you felt the pit of your stomach broaden, warning your mind of an impending orgasm. “D-dar, I-I’m c-close.” Each syllable was drawled out and the pitch of your voice became higher and Daryl kept going strong with his erotic administrations, pressing his cock into you in a way that hit the sweet hidden spot that caused your high to prevail and snap.

He felt your release surround his cock, and with a few more ravenous plunges, he emptied his cum into your contracting walls, painting you from the inside out. Daryl remained in the same position that he had abjured atop of you for a few loving moments, placing a supple kiss upon your lips before removing himself.

A breathy laugh mindlessly fluttered from your mouth which caused Daryl to squint questionably at you and your amused, post orgasm haze. “It would’ve only taken a few seconds for us to get completely naked.” To prove your point, you kicked your boots off your feet, and allowed your jeans to peel all the way off your legs. Daryl rolled his eyes, silently finding amusement in your retort.

“Shuddup woman, needed ya.” He had been craving you, and as he allowed his eyes to run up your body, he felt the desire creep up on him again. It was a cruel world, but at least he had you; the woman he had survived through it all with. He’d never let you go anywhere, however the bedroom was sounding pretty exciting now.

[shariasweet]

die for me. ᡣ𐭩°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

lee heeseung x fem reader — actress!reader. smut [18+]. pet names. fingering [f]. kissing. unprotected sex [wrap it up!]. public or leaked sex [tape or video].

sharia note — I dunno :( I got bored and this is let of rambley 💔 i really like that new chase atlantic song and I felt a little inspired so !!!

you clenched your jaw — fingers digging into you scalp as you let out an aggrieved sigh. ‘how’re you going to solve this , y/n?’ your managers voice blared through your phone’s speaker as you anxiously paced your condo floor. 

‘im not sure…’ your teeth sunk into your bottom lip , and you let your fingers trail down to your temples — soothing the oncoming headache. ‘at this point , you two’d be better off bringing your relationship to the public. I mean , your fans may not get along but it’s better than dealing with the media snooping around.’ 

you and your boyfriend had just been caught — the news made headlines: reports from entertainment tonight and koreaboo with titles such as ‘actress y/n l/n & singer lee heeseung caught in a dating scandal.’ — ‘lee heeseung and y/n l/n caught in a scandal: sex tape leaked.’ fled your timeline.

‘would it?’ you pursed your lips , throwing yourself onto your bed. you’d told him to be more careful — heeseung had a bad habit of being careless when he gets needy. his head gets clouded by his own desires , and he loses himself in you. 

‘not here!’ you breathlessly whined into your boyfriends ear as he cornered you on the set. ‘why not , pretty girl..?’ he chuckled , hands cupping your cheeks as he smiled against your lips. ‘there are cameras , hee… we’re on set…’ you quickly pecked his lips , returning the embrace with your arms snaked around his neck.

however , he was quicker — capturing you in a deep passionate kiss. you moaned into his mouth upon feeling his knee come up to grind against your core. ‘ah… fuck!’ you gasped , allowing him to slip his tongue into the gaping warmth of your mouth.

heeseung’s hands desperately fought against the buttons and clasps of your outfit , ‘so many damn zippers… ‘need to feel you.’ he groaned , large hands coming up to knead your breasts. ‘you looked so beautiful all day… ‘couldn’t even focus between scenes — want to get this stupid shoot over with. ‘been waiting all day to touch you…’ 

finally , his fingers tangled between your shirts buttons — undoing them leaving your chest bare. it wasn’t long before his hands slipped under your skirt too — he quickly disregarded it , swiftly unzipping it all while trailing hot kisses down your chest.

‘such a pretty girl… my , pretty girl. ‘want to tell the whole world your mine — makes me sick thinking there’re guys seeing you how I do.’ heeseung sighed against your skin , softly rutting his nose into your collarbones to inhale your scent.

‘hah… how do you see me , baby?’ teasingly , you brought a hand to tangle into his hair as he continued revashing your neck and chest. the vibrations of his deep laughter spread across your skin and you could feel the feather light touches of heeseung’s fingers reaching for the band of your panties. ‘most beautiful girl in the world.’ pop! he snapped the band against your waist.

‘mmm!’ you squirmed. this tips of his fingers caressed your clit through the thin cotton material — occasionally , pinching the soft bundle of nerves as he continued complimenting you. ‘I just want to be with you all the time… I’d live under you if I could… so fucking pretty for me — sweet too. you’re such a good girl , letting me play with you in the studio too.’ 

his free hand massaged your boobs — tugging at your bra to roll your nipples between his rough fingers.

‘ah! shit… hee touch me more… please , give me more.’ heeseung’s fingers began to pull your panties to the side — carefully , dipping two of his fingers into the drooling heat of your sticky cunt — leaking all onto his fingers. as he curled his two fingers inside of you his thumb gently circled your clit. ‘mmm!!! feels so good..!’ 

‘I know princess… I know.’ he continued to thrust his fingers upward inside of you , in a  scissoring motion. your hands came down to his fly — fidgeting with the zipper of his pants. ‘eager already?’ your boyfriend grinned , cheekily. ‘just take them off… ‘want it now…’ 

‘not here hee!’ he mimicked your earlier pleas. ‘please…’ you sighed — gummy walls clamping down onto his fingers as they roughly kissed the spongy spot buried between them. ‘you sure , pretty girl..?’ he teased you some more. 

feverishly , you nodded. his free hand left the hardened nubs of your nipples to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. leaving him clad in his boxers before you , as he ripped his fingers from your sopping cunt.

you whined feeling empty. ‘unhhh… hee hurry!’ 

you didn’t have to ask twice before your boyfriend was yanking down his boxers to free his leaking cock — standing straight up as the angry pink mushroom tip stared back at you. you could feel your mouth watering , however , any fantasy you’d conjured up had been interrupted by heeseung abruptly grabbing both of your thighs , lifting you up and positioning himself at your entrance.

he slammed you down onto his cock as you let out a loud mewl. he’d bottomed out in no time , easily assisted by your oozing , slimy slick. ‘shittt! ah ah ahn hee! so fucking full…’ you murmured , arms flying to hold onto his back.  ‘mmm… my pretty baby’s always so tight.’ he threw his head back. ‘s a good thing you get so wet though.’ he grinned diving into your lips hungrily , before thrusting up into you.

he wildly snapped his hips as you let soft vulgarities and outlandish moans rip past your throat. ‘fuck , more!’ 

‘m-more..? god , y/n you want me dead , huh?’ obliging , your boyfriend pistoned his cock further between your silken walls. ‘promise im close! promise!!!’ a ring of white cream and arousal pooled around the base of his cock as he continued to deliciously thrust into your cunt. ‘you know I love hearing you whine , sweetheart! j-just hold on… ‘m close too!’

the knot in your stomach finally snapped as he made one final thrust — leaving you shaking and you rode out your high calling out his name.

everyone had seen it — obviously… if not you wouldn’t be in your current situation: stressing over the phone with your manager lecturing you — heeseung lying in your bed with a sly grin on his face. ‘would it?’ you repeated , glancing at your boyfriend who simply shrugged mouthing the words ‘I couldn’t help it.’ as you rolled your eyes and  fell back into his arms. 

‘it’s worth a shot… I’ll send a message over to his team. just lay low for now y/n and pray they’ll be on board.’ they huffed , ending the call. 

‘well… on the bright side , told you I wanted to tell the whole world you were mine.’ he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. ‘oh whatever , hee! we’re in deep shit.’

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

hantengu (+plus all of his clones) reaction to their wife giving them their first ever kiss on the lips. This would probably take place like at the beginning of their marriage. Also if you don’t feel comfortable with making wife reader kiss Zohakuten on the lips, you could do like his nose or the area above his lips. Thank you! :))

𝓐 𝓚𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓴.

Hantengu x Fem!Reader Kissing HCs

Synopsis: The Upper Rank 4's now wife couldn't resist kissing her sweet husband just to see his reaction, or in her case, her sweet husbands.

Warnings: A bit of NSFW elements on Sekido's, Karaku's and Urogi's parts, otherwise it's just a whole lot of sweetness \(>v<)/

Divider credits:

Saradika's roses, golden railing and that weird green thing

Purples sparkles and paint roll splodge thing

Water like waves

Note: OMG THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA!!! I LOVE IT!!!! ALL OF YOU HAVE THE BEST IDEAS!! (I wrote this really quickly cuz the smut is taking WAY too long for even me so have at it in the meantime, anyways, enjoy the food ^3^) + please forgive me if this isn't too great, this is my first time doing HCs. I couldn't really picture a full on one-shot with this so I turned them to HCs, it's also a great way for me to try it out for the first time (° 3 °) + did not proofread (I never do)

The mere fact that the Upper Moon Four out of all the six (eight) upper moons actually got married, much less got into a relationship and somehow managed to keep it is a shock in itself for not only the other moons but for Muzan himself. If anything, he thought it'd all end in just a few days, but no, his fourth strongest demon is married now. Oh well, he could care less for any of his employees. As long as they did as they were told, they were free to do as they wish.

As for the newlyweds, they were perfect and happy. The wife's family was very happy for the pair, though, they had been under the impression that it was just one man and not a demon that could split into younger versions of himself. That would've been quite the scandal. Now, the day – or in this case, night – after the wedding, they are all simply relaxing in their shared home after having returned from a mission.

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮

— The first thing this little demon does is rush to his wife, sobbing and bawling his eyes out about the fact that demon slayers tried to kill him, claiming that he "can do no wrong" or that he's being "wrongly accused of crimes". It's the same old thing and even then, she listens to every word he has to say as he shivers in her palm.

— Is quite surprised to say the least. He didn't expect the soft lips of his perfect wife to press against his small head but that doesn't mean it wasn't welcomed, if anything he cried more, though this time, not about the fact that he was hunted by demon slayers. Well, maybe that too, but that was only so his wife could pity him more and give him more kisses.

"T-They were all s-so awful! Their b-blades against my n-n-neck was so a-agonising!! It scared me!" He sobbed while hugging her thumb, wiping his tears and snot on the sleeve of his kimono as he continued his complaints. "Oh, my poor husband. Maybe some kisses will make you feel better." She said as she places a multitude of soft pecks on not only his head but also his small body. The small demon could not resist the feeling of his wife's lips against him and thus moved closer so more of his body could gain the sensation of her lips pressing against it.

— Is far too shy (scared) to ask for kisses. Instead, he uses his manipulation tactics to get her to pity him and so she could kiss him. A little bit of guilt here and there but it is all worth it for a few of his wife's kisses.

— Is the one who enjoys getting kissed by his wife the most after Aizetsu and surprisingly enough is very greedy for them to the point where he forgets being shy and simply begs for her to kiss him.

"P-Please kiss me again, d-dear! Just o-one more time!" He pleaded, almost on the verge of crying again at the thought of his wife's show of affection stopping. She chuckles softly at his desperacy for her kisses and is even a little bit surprised at how much he craves them. Usually he's busy cowering in a corner or something. "Of course, my love. I'll give you all the kisses you want." She cooed before her lips pressed themselves against his cheeks.

— Gets extremely flustered if it's on the lips. He'll begin to stutter and perhaps even forget how to speak as his face flushes a bright red despite his still heart not really giving a proper blood flow.

— Must always kiss him whenever he leaves for a mission or in general, or if you go to bed or anywhere else really and it must be on the lips, he will settle for nothing less. And I mean nothing less.

— Will kiss you softly in your sleep if he returns from a mission and you're already lights out before cuddling up beside you.

— Favourite places to kiss you are your lips, forehead and cheeks, how cute.

𝐒𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐨

— Sekido is probably at the patio rubbing his temples, trying to get a moment of silence and peace all to himself after having dealt with his annoying younger selves. Their tomfoolery and clown-like behaviour makes him want to absorb them so they shut up, especially Karaku who doesn't know when to keep his trap shut.

— The tension in his head is instantly relieved at the mere sound of his wife. He had heard her approaching from a few rooms away and is pleased with her presence before standing up to give her a firm hug and sighing heavily to begin his complaining about the other clones.

— Completely caught off guard and stunned to silence when he suddenly feels his wife's lips against his face, only blinking in pleasant surprise as his crimson eyes stare into hers. He never knew how much he liked her kisses until now.

"They are such a pain to manage and it makes want to rip them all to shreds so they could shut their traps for once!" He spat angrily while shaking his head in annoyance. The urge to punch something grew ever so stronger as he then got up to grab and throw something before he was interrupted by the feeling of soft lips on his jawline. "Don't break stuff, Sekido, those are expensive." Her soothing voice rang out in the large space, the soft sound waves of her voice reaching his hypersensitive pointed ears and instantly calming his extreme rage.

— Will immediately ask for more kisses and is not ashamed about it, though that won't encourage him to openly ask infront of the others, especially not Karaku.

— Surprisingly enough, he gets a bit hot and bothered at just your kisses alone and even moreso when on the lips. Poor clone is constantly stressed out that any outlet of relief already gets him so worked up. Doesn't mean it's unattractive, if you know what I mean 👀

"Again." He huffs softly, rough hands grabbing onto her waist and pulling her to his frame before his lips connect to hers. Immediately, his tongue fights its way through her mouth, intertwining with hers and venturing as deep as it could. His hands hold onto her waist firmly before one of his them slips just below her buttock and groped it firmly, the other slipping upwards and cupping her breast.

— He was beginning to enjoy himself before his advances were stopped by you with the excuse that the others would hear and would also want to join, much to his disappointment and irritation.

— Nevertheless, he's well-aware that you're right. While he doesn't mind sharing you with the others in the slightest, he'd like to have you alone for a little while due to how worked up he is.

— Will give you kisses should you go anywhere that's not near them and may even follow you just ensure your safety and expect the same when he's going on missions.

— Favourite places to kiss are neck, lips and jawline.

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮

— At this point, she's had the idea to go around and kiss the other clones to see how they'd react and she had a fair idea of what Karaku's reaction would be. Karaku, who was in the kitchen doing God knows what, was surprised when his wife suddenly approached him and kissed him on the lips.

— I mean, who said he's complaining? If anything, he can put aside time he had made to play fight with Urogi for a few kisses and perhaps more from his wife (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

"Am I that irresistible to you, sweet thing?" He purred teasingly, face leaning in far beyond her personal space (not that she minds). "Perhaps." She teased back before backing away her head. "Oh no, no, stay a little. I'd like to have some more little kisses from my little wife!" Karaku wasn't going to let her get away that easily, no way. The demon grabbed her hips and pulled her closer before kissing her neck and jawline, slowly trailing his lips upwards towards her lips.

— Instantly got handsy with you (no surprise there), hands busy down there groping your asscheeks as if they were some stress toys while he's busy making out with you. Almost seemed like he wanted to lift you up...

— His mouth was definitely everywhere, especially near your cleavage. The guy has a weird obsession with your boobs and not just in the horny way.

— Was definitely disappointed when you pulled away and said you still have the other clones to attend to but didn't fuss about it. He's just happy he got to get a few grabs on his wife here and there and managed to get a make out session with her, even if short.

"Alright, alright, fine. But were definitely continuing this when you're done." Karaku says before giving her rear a slap and disappearing into the living room as she stood there chuckling at his behaviour. She expected nothing less from the pleasure demon.

— Will often try to engage a make out session with you whether or not the others are present and not giving a rat's ass about what they may think, do, or say as long as he got to taste your lips.

— Favourite places to kiss are definitely cleavage/boobs and neck. He's that guy.

𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮

— Shocked but gladly welcomed it as his face gained a light red colour before he kissed back harder. Instantly went soft and (politely) asked for more kisses, also wanting to feel his head be held in her delicate hands.

— Immediately begins to complain about Sekido having yelled at him too much and that he was following orders. Out of each clone so far, Aizetsu appeared the most stressed and frustrated and the only way he could out that was through crying since he didn't really possess any other emotional receptors other than sorrow.

"He always yells so much, it hurts my ears and head... Even when I do what I'm told he still yells." The now crying demon sniffles softly into the crook of her neck. She pat his back softly as she listened to him vent while also scolding Sekido in her head at his brash behaviour. "Please kiss me, darling... Your love always makes me feel better." Even if he couldn't feel the emotion love itself, he loved it when his wife would express her love for him no matter what way that may be (pause).

— The longer this goes on, the sappier he gets as he constantly asks for words of affirmation and kisses while snuggling you more. While he prefers kisses on his forehead and cheek, he isn't too shy to kiss back on the lips and they're not just the soft once you see in those love story movies.

— The man (demon) can kiss just as well as the others, I mean for goodness' sake, they're the same person but at different ages of their shared life (even though that's barely noticeable). Aizetsu can start a whole make out session if he so wished with the way his tongue was dancing with yours right now, but all he wants right now is comfort from the frustration his second oldest counterpart had caused (Urami is the oldest, dumb dumb excluding Hantengu).

— Like Hantengu, he's a sucker for kisses. Please kiss this man anywhere (pause) because he loves it. He'll kiss you too in return, can't only take without giving something in return for his lovely wife, now can he?

— He comes to you when he's sadder than usual for kisses and snuggles so he can calm down or in case the others are too loud.

— Favourite places to kiss are corner of your lip, nose and temple

𝐔𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐢

— Oh boy, this one is already so hyperactive and it only gets worse when he gets attention from his wife, so imagine how giggly and jumpy he was when he suddenly felt her lips connect to his. He could almost ascend to the heavens even though that's not where he's ever going.

— Will demand for more because it makes him happy and according to him, he gets "a pleasant feeling" in his chest that he can't get enough of.

— Will instantly grab hold of her to deepen the kiss, so much so that he forgets she needs to breathe (oopsie). He does apologise for forgetting so there's a plus.

"You taste exquisite, songbird. I could kiss those lips forever and not get tired from it." Said the lively harpy clone before once again going in for a deep and passionate kiss while being mindful of his talons and wrapping his wings around her.

— Guaranteed privacy screen with his wings when your kissing him. It reminds him of how you belong to nobody else but him, that you love only him (and the clones) and have eyes for nobody else. It's also a way of asserting his dominance.

— Absolutely LOVES it when you put your hands on his chest, it fuels his already inflated ego since he's the clone who shows off the most ("How do you like my talons?" ahh). Not only does he like to gloat about his talons and their strength, but he also LOVES to show off his body to you and boast about how good he looks (for you).

— Can't have Urogi headcanons without mentioning his wings now, can I? Since – according to actual research – caressing a bird's wings can get them aroused/sexually frustrated (if you don't do anything else), Urogi loves it when you place small kisses on his wings. It makes him feel oh so good. Sometimes he forgets he can't just grab you randomly and make love to you right then and there. Oh well, a kiss will do for now.

"Kiss my wings, it feels good." Urogi commands rather bluntly as he flared his wings out for her, caressing her face gently to coax her into kissing them. She chuckled softly before doing what was requested from her. She was quite surprised to hear a soft, barely audible moan from Urogi before realising why he wanted her to kiss his wings. That gives her ideas for... future playtime.

— Gets embarrassed when you hear him moan and uses the excuse that you must've heard wrong or teases you about wanting him (I sure do 😝). He will never admit that his wings do more than just get him to moan.

— Favourite places to kiss are ears, collarbone, forehead and lips.

𝐙𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧

Now, hear me out. While I among many other people see Zohakuten as a child, I've got a more complicated view on it. I see Zohakuten as an adult child if that makes sense. I am comfortable with writing him being married to an adult woman because essentially, he is still an adult, like he has the mental age of an 87 year old man. I can write stuff like kissing and even minor spicy stuff for him but that extends only so far (i.e: him purposely shoving his face into Y/N's breasts like Karaku just to get attention or just very slight groping). I will not go any further than that point. No exceptions. He still physically appears as a child.

— Now, this is a little different. After everyone had calmed down and the wife was wandering elsewhere, they all had gotten the sudden strong urge to fuse. They all realised that Zohakuten wants to have a turn and who could blame him? They just got married and not to mention he rarely ever reveals himself.

— Imagine her surprise when she hears a deep voice – somewhere in the range of Sekido's voice – calling out to her "Woman." and turning around to see a the youngest clone standing there with his arms behind his back.

— Of course, like a good husband, he asked how she fared while he was out on a mission and the usual before respectfully asking for a kiss, however, there was a very faint hint of envy present. She knew he was a tad bit envious of his older counterparts being able to gain her affection at any time of the day or night while he couldn't so of course she couldn't resist him.

"I've missed you..." He mumbles softly before wrapping his arms around his precious wife, reveling the feeling of getting to hold her in his arms even if only for a moment. "I've missed you more, my darling." She coos in return before cupping his small face and placing a soft kiss on his lips. Zohakuten in turn intensified the kiss, his fangs grazing her lower lip as he did so and arms tightening around her waist.

— Believe it or not, this little fella is a certified gentleman. Ignoring what he said to the Love Hashira (💀), this boy is the most gentlemanly after Urami. He's the type to hold your hand like those princes with their princesses to assist you when walking down the stairs.

— I mean, everytime he reveals himself, he greets you with a small bow and a kiss to the back of your palm, idk what more you could want from this little cutie.

— Although, he can be quite vulgar, he tones it down a massive amount when he's around you and is less scornful thanks to the calming effect your presence has on him.

— Do not he surprised when he's simply staring at you with a harsh look as if you've just murdered his main body, that's just him suppressing the urge to kiss you.

"Uhm, d-dear?" The wife calls softly to Zohakuten who's been doing nothing but stare at her with the harshest glare she's ever seen him stare at her with. Zohakuten snaps out of his daze as his expression softens before he hums inquistively. "You've been staring at me like I've just sided with the demon slayers. Is everything, okay?" His eyes then widen slightly before he sighs and shakes his head. "Oh... no. I just simply wish to kiss you, that is all." Her cheeks gained a red tint after that surprisingly blunt and honest confession as she then smiles. "Oh, well... Who am I to say no?"

— Is very honest about what he wants if he's caught. Unlike the other clones – excluding Urami – and the main body, who try to hide what they want, Zohakuten is not shy to admit that he wants your lips against his and he will say that with the straightest face.

— Loves it when you kiss his forehead, it makes him feel all soft inside and he doesn't know why or how.

— Favourite places to kiss are hands, temple and lips.

𝐔𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢

— His presence alone surprised her even more than Zohakuten, especially when he walked out of the room that Hantengu was in. Urami reveals himself every once in a blue moon due to the fact that he simply wishes not to deal with his younger selves' bickering and monkey business. However, seeing as all the others gained a bit of affection from their wife and that they're newlyweds, he too wished to spend some time with his wife.

— Much like Zohakuten, he's very gentlemanly when it comes to asking for affection from his wife. He respectfully asked if he could hold her and lift her up to his level so he could kiss her properly.

— Hear me out. The best kisser after Karaku. I don't know, he just looks like he has so much experience with women (which he kinda does 😒), like look how massive he is 😳.

She was surprised when a rather large hand gently grabbed her waist to turn her around. "Oh! Hello you!" She greeted happily as she looked up at her massive husband before hugging his legs. He was surprised but allowed it and even picked her up into his arms before kissing her temple. "Yes. I figured why not also be present when the others are gaining your addicting love?" Quite a flirt.

— Urami is surprisingly chill when it comes to kissing yet also really passionate. Like think of just wanting a quick kiss from big ass hubby over there and he picks you up only to give the most leg-shaking casual kiss ever 😫.

— He's quite a flirt. You could almost say he's near Karaku's level just minus to pervert stares, touches and so on. Like, he's the type of "Formal old man dilf" type of flirt and knows how to use his words, he just doesn't do it often due to how rarely he's present and even if he is, he's just mostly quiet (most sane clone).

— Should he ever engage in flirting with you, be prepared to have a face painted red and him drinking blood as if it were tea as he sits there with his most neutral expression.

— I swear, his kisses make you think you're a virgin again with how well he does it. Like, he even uses his fangs to graze your lips and even your tongue softly while also (respectfully) touching you to the point where your legs aren't even jelly, they're straight up water (😏).

Urami felt the familiar grip of his wife's hands on his kimono and knew that he was once again doing a flawless job at making her melt like ice in his arms and he couldn't be more satisfied at that fact as his fangs gently graze her tongue that was being twirled with his as if it were a sort of waltz. "You're doing it again." The tall clone teased before resuming their kiss.

— Holds your face or hands when he's kissing you cuz he's just that guy.

— Favourite places to kiss are hands, neck and forehead.

[thinemoonshine]

༄LECHE OF THE SIRENS.ೃ࿔*

corrupt!enhypen ot7 x siren!reader warning(s): those stated in the first chapter, enhypen are all insane, self-harm, betrayal, death and violence, (y/n) treats the boys like puppets on strings, gore(barely), suggestive themes, the boys being literal criminals, spiking drinks, intoxications, they suffer and finally get what they deserve...and more type: mini series word count: 17.2k

jungwon and riki are now smitten which means that (y/n)'s plan is near perfection. now, all that's left is to finally bestow upon them the 'reward' that they deserve. a truly picturesque ending is about to befall them... well, at least to (y/n), it is.

𝓟𝓐𝓡𝓣 3 (the finale)

𝒥ungwon finds himself watching (y/n). It began with curious glances and grew to become mezmerised stares and eventually, lead him to roam with the anticipation of bumping into her. It's so painfully obvious and (y/n), being the little bundle of rainbows and sunshine she is, obviously entertains him.

She of course, doesn't miss throwing in a couple of snarky remarks and pulling off little rebellious acts just to give him a taste of both sweet and spice—preserving his interest until it becomes permanent. And like the others, she has succeeded. Being with (y/n), Jungwon seems to forget his social status and truly, it gives him a sense of relief yet at the same time vulnerable but he adores it. He's addicted to these newfound emotions and sensations he's never felt before.

The same goes for Riki whose guarded walls tremble and crumble with each day he uses to tutor (y/n) in dance. Every caress of her hand against his, every shy, longing gaze exchanged and every whisper of her hypnotizing, lulling voice brings goosebumps to wake on his skin. He finds himself shivering and buzzing with want towards her—to be the only one she lays her touches, to be the only one to be graced by her smiles and to be the only one whom she sees.

And Heeseung? A rat caught in a beartrap. His spirit has been through the roof ever since (y/n) confessed to him on how he's so special. Always sneaking bashful yet, hopeful glances at her when others are around and clinging onto her like a homesick pup at every chance they get to be alone—babbling and chanting how much he loves her, begging to be praised and reciprocated.

Others are no different. Each and every one pathetic, overgrown manbabies who don't see past their their own noses.

"(y/n)!" Sunoo calls for the girl and she exits her thoughts to lay her focus onto the other who's out in the sun while she stays shielded under the veranda. She smiles when she sees him fisting a number of small pink flowers with the widest, brightest grin on his face that rivals the sun. "Your favourite colour!"

(y/n) titters and nods and he returns to crouching on the radiant green grass.

There are others...and then there is Sunoo.

She's noticed how different he's become compared to how he was the first time they met. He's changed, but it isn't simply a facade or a temporary shift in character but he's truly changed.

With or without (y/n) in the picture, he acts the same. She's seen it plenty of times before. Whenever he and his six other friends would lounge, he'd stay quiet during the times when they would speak of scandalous topics or belittle those around them—present and yet, absent. When he would face a little mishap such as the servants accidentally spilling tea on his clothes, or when his aide would try to advise him, he listened. He did not immediately punish them nor does he harshly send them away but he stayed and listened—letting the servants apologise and letting his aide speak before sharing his won thoughts which more often than not are understanding and mindful.

Certainly, he does grow irritated every once in a while and it is clear that at times, his patience is forced and smile strained however, he's tolerant. More sensible and more...attentive to those around. A better him than he ever was before.

(y/n) looks up at Sunoo who's now standing upon her and she feels something light and ticklish resting on her crown. Bringing her hand up, her lips stretch to form a grin at the soft feel of dewy petals and she realises that Sunoo's made her a little flower tiara.

"You're beautiful," he compliments quietly, still shy despite the time they've spent together, and his cheeks glow in a shade skin to the petals on her head.

"How honoured I am to be called such by someone of your stature," she teases but the frown that places itself on his face displays his distaste for her statement.

Sunoo sighs before slowly bringing himself down to his knees to instead rest his cheek against her knees. "I've told you before not to mention about that..."

His sulky tone elicits a soft chuckle of amusement from her and she runs her fingers through his dark locks.

"How can I not? Living in this mansion, wearing fancy attires and feasting on gourmet meals—everything reminds me of it, of how I came from nothing. You can't deny it, Sunoo. We're both of different worlds," (y/n) emphasizes once more and it deepens his sour mien.

She halts her movements when he abruptly raises his head up to glare at her but it turns gentle immediately as a face of defeat appears.

"I know but...I will make it work. I'm certain I can. The moment father returns, I will explain to him. I cherish you, (y/n), and I want to live my life with you," Sunoo softly yet adamantly states as his hands clasp hers—drawing circles on their backs with his thumbs.

Hearing those words from him...aches her. An odd feeling.

(y/n) exhales deeply with a small shake of her head. "It will never work. I know my place and it is nowhere near you. Even if you were to tell your father, he will never accept me and I will never be granted your family name. It is more feasible that he will choose another to receive that honour."

Sunoo almost scoffs at her words. They are nothing but truth and that is exactly why he finds it more incredulous. Just as she said, he is a man of power, his family reigns over many, they are authority and yet, he is still confined to this rule that prevents him from having (y/n) to be his betrothed—to be united in holy matrimony until death do them apart.

Still, he is unable to break free from this ridiculous law and tradition. What use is power and name if he can't share them with (y/n)? What use is anything if (y/n) cannot remain by his side?

"Don't be too disheartened, Sunoo."

Her voice lures him out of his head and he lifts his head up to her before she cups his jaw with her hand. She smiles. "We do not need to be wed to stay together. I can still be with you... Perhaps, as a concubine of some sort."

Sunoo's lips fall open, in disbelief that she would even suggest such a thing. Does she truly believe that Sunoo will willingly let himself vow to be with another woman when he only has her in his eyes? And her expression—

His gaze flickers on her visages, not overlooking the subtle melancholia swirling in her orbs, or the stiffness of her smile and the soft knit of her brows.

How can he ever be able to let her suffer? So, he shakes his head. "No. I refuse it."

"What do you mean?" She almost gasps, interpreting his words as a rejection but he shakes his head once more.

Rising to sit on his heels, he then holds her face in his warm hands before staring at her with a look so determined and convicted that she falls quiet.

"We flee," he breathlessly says, as if he's been holding those words for the longest of times. "We run from this wretched place, away from this accursed fate and start anew. We'll follow our own rules without caring of what others may think. We'll live in our own place and we'll spend our lives happy with one another without the need to conform to all this...this absurdity that have been internalized within society."

(y/n)'s eyes widen and she shakes her head vigorously. "Sunoo, have you gone mad? You’ve lived like this for so long, what makes you think you can survive out there?”

“You.”

His answer is immediate, concise and assured. He spared not a single second nor breath to reply and his hand moves to tenderly tuck her hair behind her ear. A soft, loving smile forevermore on his lovestruck mien whenever he gazes at her.

“You, (y/n). Because of you, I am sure I will be able to survive for I cannot live without you. Yes, I am aware of the risk but I too, cannot ignore the undeniable so I have been considering to escape for some time,” Sunoo confesses and he brings his face closer to hers—tips of their noses touching.

“I will have everything prepared within 3 days and we will forever leave this place behind.”

‘Perfect,’ the girl thinks but externally, she continues to protest as she pulls away. “But Sunoo, this place is your home. You grew up here—created many beautiful, priceless memories and have many cherished belongings. You really want to leave all this behind? Will you not grow to yearn and mourn for it?”

The noble goes quiet at this, seemingly pondering over the fact or maybe even just realizing it. But then his eyes upturn once more into crescents and plush, rosy lips pull to a wide grin as he shakes his head side to side with his hair bouncing.

“My heart have already resided with you, my love,” Sunoo claims, voice wispy and enchanting. He leans forward once more, letting his lips graze the skin of her cheek before placing a kiss—then on the other side before on her forehead, eyes, her nose, jaw and finally her lips.

He savours the kiss—melting in the warm softness of her touch and relishing in her saccharine taste.

Sunoo’s hand that holds her travel upwards to gently run through his hair while the other gently guides her to tilt her head, wanting to deepen the kiss.

But before he can, (y/n) turns her face away slightly to speak.

“If…If we truly are about to leave then, can I make one request?” (y/n) asks and Sunoo nods, attention all on her. “Would it be alright to have a little outing? There is this place that I know of, that I often frequent before I came here. It was always tranquil with a view so picturesque that I wish to visit it just once more.”

The subtle bobs of his head urge her to continue.

“I’m more than ready to leave once the time comes, but I too know that it means that I will never be able to visit that place again. Your father…I don’t reckon he will simply let you go without sending his soldiers to a search party,” she lets out an airy chuckle, bittersweet, and Sunoo knows that she’s referring to the constant hunt they will be apart of—not until they finally go as far as they possibly can from here.

It aches him, to know that the reason why they have to be like this, that she has to suffer this fate is because of him. Despite choosing to flee, it was actually his last resort as he knows that by doing so, they will be in a constant chase of cat and mice.

As if fugitives, and yet the only ‘crime’ they’ve ever committed is fall in love.

“Then, we shall go to this place tomorrow morning. I will tell the servants to prepare what we need,” Sunoo offers and the girl nods but then rests her hand on his arm lightly.

“Can we bring the others?”

“What?” Sunoo’s voice raises in pitch from surprise, not expecting her to want to include his friends. And truthfully, as inappropriate timing as it is, he feels jealous. “Why—I mean, they might not want to join.”

Never in a million years and more will they refuse and Sunoo knows that. Which is exactly why he’d prefer them not intruding.

But at the dispirited mien she wears, he immediately goes back on his words.

“But, of course! They have not ventured for a holiday as of late which means they would love to attend,” he brushes off his previous statement with a light chuckle and the girl’s spirit returns.

(y/n) practically buzzes as she beams and her pecks on his cheeks make them glow bright pink. “Splendid! It’s just that, I figured it’d be nice to have a final farewell. You’ve been friends for the longest of times, it’s only proper.”

Her attentiveness towards him makes him feel afloat, so light and giddy. To think that her proposition is for him makes him feel so touched.

So, so loved and wanted that he’s unaware of the wickedness and maliciousness that drips from her ‘harmless’ words.

‘Final farewell, indeed,’ she thinks as Sunoo fixes the flower crown to sit prettily on her head.

—

“So, a sudden excursion?” Jaeyun asks as he slips into (y/n)’s dwelling that afternoon. The girl looks up from her book and smiles at him—not making a single attempt whatsoever to move because a moment later, Jaeyun’s head rests on her outstretched lap while he lays perpendicular on her bed. “What prompted it?”

The girl hums as he plays with her hand that hovers his face—massaging her palm and folding her fingers. “Just needed a breath of fresh air.”

“Then, I reckon it has nothing to do with Sunoo’s father returning from his business trip. For example perhaps-” His eyes shift to stares into hers. “A little getaway for goodbye?”

His intellect surprises her considering how he is akin to a clingy puppy at most times.

She doesn’t reply and he sits up, now facing her after he turns his body.

“It is??” He asks in disbelief, eyes popping and mouth gaping. Sorrow flashes across her face and that’s enough to answer him—large hands clasping both of hers instantly as he mirrors her expression. “That can’t be. You can’t leave me!“

She sighs, feigning despair. “I have to, Jaeyun. Sunoo’s father will not take me kindly as you all have.”

“You have the choice to come with me. All you have to do is choose me," Jaeyun offers desperately, his grip tightening at every emphasis and (y/n) is once again taken aback by the pure genuineness from his pleading gaze.

However, (y/n) has grown bored of entertaining these entitled men. So instead, she just turns away. "You know where I stand, Jaeyun."

Her firm refusal has him breaking, shattering, and he's confident he has never felt agony as excruciating as this. It drives him mad.

Tears well in his eyes and (y/n) feels his grip tremble violently around her encased hands before cold air suddenly caresses her skin. She furrows, not expecting for him to simply let go but she is instantly corrected at the sound of objects clattering.

Her eyes widen when she sees him holding a candelabra to the skin of his arm, sleeve messily rolled as the cold item shakes in his quivering hold. The candles have all been broken and discarded to the floor along with the trinkets put on her desk.

"Jaeyun...put it down."

The latter shakes his head—bottom lip tight between his teeth, pretty eyes streaming hot tears that cascade down his flushed cheeks as he swallows his sobs into choked whimpers. "You're not leaving me. Y-you just can't! How can I live without you?? A day without you has me yearning for your soft caresses and whispers! Needing to be graced by your laughter and smiles! Do you think I could survive if you were to be absent for longer?"

'How is that my problem?' (y/n) internally hisses a snarky thought but she remains a solicitous charade. "Jaeyun, you know I have no choic—"

"You do!" The other interjects, almost in a roar before he swallows harshly to quell himself. "You're the only one who says that! You have the choice to choose me, or any other but instead you decide to be tethered to Sunoo. Yes, he saved you! And yes, he brought you in but I could've done the same! And I can do so much better than he ever did!"

He presses the sharp edge of the candelabra onto his flesh before letting it slice against his skin, drawing blood and (y/n) gasps at this, now turning (appearing, at least) frantic.

"Don't do this, Jaeyun!" She begs as she rushes to him and albeit seeming to be guarded, he makes no effort to push her away when she runs into his chest.

Her fingers curl into the light ruffles of his white shirt and she shakes her head vigorously. "I'll think of something! I-I may not be able to be with you all the time but I will come to visit! I will make sure of it."

He stiffens instantly, expression falling to indifference and gaze hardening as he emits a shuddering breath. "So, injuring myself is not enough for you...?"

She furrows, both amused and gobsmacked at his mindset. It's ridiculous how he thinks he can make her do anything for him. It's laughable.

"Then, will you turn to me if I were to do it to Sunoo?"

(y/n)'s brain quietens almost instantly at that. Shocked.

'He's threatening to hurt...Sunoo?'

Jaeyun tilts his head upon noticing the immediate shift of response from her. He scoffs, lips pulling to a smirk as he wipes his teary eyes and cheeks with the back of his unoccupied hand. "Answer me, (y/n). Will you?"

And suddenly, she's...furious.

The noble is given no room for reaction when she abruptly smashes her lips onto his after a rough yank of his collar.

His brows raise and grip loosens—dropping the candelabra with a loud THUD! against her carpeted floor—he's roughly pushed before being forced onto the bed when its edge touches the back of his knees.

Jaeyun grunts into the kiss when he feels her teeth pierce his lip and the metallic taste of blood spreads on his tongue—sending an electrifying feeling through him.

He gasps violently when she pulls away, in desperate need of air, especially because of the pleasuring pain but is indubitably titillated by her assertiveness. He breathes heavily as he looks up at her with clouded eyes and flaming red skin—his head unable to conjure a single coherent thought as he's overwhelmed by his crave for her.

"Just listen to me, hm?" (y/n) hisses deceptively sweet with a raise of her brow and the other gulps, nodding like the mindless little mutt he is. Her hand begins to caress his cheek before she traces the centre of his throat down to the dip between his collarbones and down to his chest, making him arch to her touch.

He mewls loudly but immediately bites his tongue to quieten himself at the disapproving look she throws him. He must be insane. He truly must be, especially for (y/n). To feel more aroused by her anger is unnatural, is it not?

So, why does he feel himself getting stiffer and needier by it?

"What was it that you were saying before?" (y/n) asks and Jaeyun groans, eyes fluttering shut when her hand begins to trace shapes on his chest. "You wish to harm Sunoo? Hm?"

Something tells Jaeyun that by agreeing, it will only further fuel the flame of her anger. So, he does.

"Yes..." He pants out and immediately lets out a choked moan when her other hand finds its place around his throat in a tight hold.

"Don't," she seems to coo and her sickly sweet voice right beside his ear makes his eyes roll to the back of his skull. "Do not even think of doing so. He is my saviour, Jaeyun. You harm him and you'll do the same to me. You will listen to me, will you not?"

He's far too consumed by her to even respond and she frowns—squeezing his neck until it narrows his air supply and his eyes shoot open to look at her.

"Answer me, Jaeyun. Will you?" She mimics him and the knowledge of that is so ravishing to him. To think that she's outsmarted him using his own words? Oh, he's bewitched.

And the violent nods he performs is enough to tell.

Seeing his excitement makes her scoff. 'How wretched.'

"What a good listener you are. Such a good little thing," she insults, but at his airy whimpers and fluttering eyes, he obviously did not comprehend.

As expected of a despicable, dumb mutt.

—

It was the right choice to entertain Jaeyun. Because now, there is no tail behind her asking for attention for the rest of the day as he's incredibly spent and is recuperating in his chamber with a deep slumber.

"(y/n)? What are you doing here?" Jongseong asks when she steps into the kitchen.

She casts a glance onto the tea set in front of him. "I could ask the same to you. But from the looks of it, are you making tea?"

He nods before closing the pot and walking over to her with the tray in his hands. "None can make the beverage as well as I can—well, if I were to omit you."

(y/n) giggles and his chest fills with pride.

"Care to join me?" He offers and she replies with looping her arm around his, letting him guide her to the tea table at the garden.

And on the way they meet another, Sunghoon, who naturally invites himself to the table without even regarding their opinion.

"You can drink from mine," (y/n) pushes her cup to Sunghoon and he's glad to accept if it isn't for Jongseong shoving his own into the younger's face.

The latter's luxuriant brows knit at his intrusion but the older only shrugs.

"Any hints to where we are going tomorrow?" Sunghoon strikes up a conversation and (y/n) smiles ambiguously as she keeps her gaze on her cup.

“A place where land meets water,” she replies tersely.

Sunghoon arches a brow. "A beach? It seems you have an affinity for them. That is where Sunoo first found you, after all."

The girl grins as she traces the painted flowers on her cup. "No...and yes. The place I frequent is not a beach, but it is true I am fond of them, or more specifically, water."

Jongseong chuckles, finding her liking for something as simple and abundant as water both mirthful and endearing. "Yeah? What is it about them do you like?"

The sparkle in her eyes and blush on her cheeks are so lovable to them and they stare with faces of adoration—grins wide and gazes tender as they anticipate her answer.

"Well, water can solve most problems first and foremost. It's one of the essences of life. They quell the thirst of all living things—crops, animals and humans alike—and they also serve as medicine for certain illnesses. And if there are distasteful people then you can..."

She trails off, suddenly silent until she lifts her stare to meet with theirs. A ghost of a smile on her face. "Drown them."

Despite knowing of her insanity, Sunghoon himself is still shocked hearing it. Meanwhile, Jongseong is purely horrified to hear his sweet girl mentioning something so violent and unhinged.

But do they grow wary? No, not at all. They simply think it's just a personality quirk. A little more 'truth' from her as a sign that they've grown closer. Which in this case, is not untrue at all.

"That's a frightening idea, (y/n)," Jongseong gasps softly as he reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair away from her face. He looks at her attentively, his touch warm and inviting as he strokes the apple of her cheek. "Now, what gave you such a malevolent perspective?"

She shakes her head and takes a sip of her tea, meeting eyes with Sunghoon briefly as he stares at her with intrigue. "Sailors. They fall into the waters much too often."

Hoon tilts his head and dark brows knit subtly. "How do you know?"

"(y/n)!" Riki beckons and they all turn to the lad who jogs towards them.

He nods to his friends with a small, "hyung" uttered as a greeting to each and they reciprocate similarly. His eyes then shift to the lone girl and his lips curve faintly into a smile before he restrains it by pursing them together. "Sunoo hyung searches for you."

Both Sunghoon and Jongseong acquiesces her request to be pardoned but the former lad finds himself staring at her furthering back with a rather inquisitive stare—differing from the other who wears a small pout on his adorable petite lips.

"Let us call it a day. I doubt your inclusion is for the purpose of having tea and biscuits with me," Jongseong sighs out knowingly, ready to retire to his chamber and Sunghoon agrees. The two stand and bid brief farewells before going their separate ways and letting the servants tidy the table.

Riki and (y/n) are already within the safe, warm walls of the mansion. Both embraced by a comfortable silence before the lass breaks it.

"Why have you lied, Riki?"

Her cognizance makes his eyes widen and he whips his face to the other with alarm, mouth parted as he tries to justify himself but failing to.

His sad attempt amuses her and she titters with a soft shake of her head.

"Fret not. I don't mind and neither do I intend to tell the other two," she assures and Riki sighs in relief.

He clears his throat from embarrassment. "I...wanted to spend some time with you. As our ballroom lessons have ceased due to your outstanding ability, we have spent less and less with one another and I, well..."

Riki becomes reticent but it is not as if both he and her are unaware of his sentiments.

Of how he misses her.

After all, absence makes the heart yearn.

"Do you like them? The hyungs," he suddenly asks and (y/n) turns to him briefly, seeing him staring at his polished shoes before facing the front. "I noticed that you seem to be with them for most."

The girl hums in thought. "I have no favourites."

"Except for Sunoo hyung," he adds and it brings a smile on the other's face which is not unnoticed by the young man. It tugs on his heart effectively, in such a way that he wishes to be in the position of his older bestfriend.

In a rare state of distraction from her reverie of Sunoo, she fails to notice how the figure aside her has shifted to her front until she finds herself colliding softly against his chest.

She lifts her head up to meet his sharp, solid gaze that oddly seems to plead for her affections.

"Why? What does he have that I lack?" Riki asks out of the blue, voice in a forced composure.

'It has started,' she thinks as she recognizes that familiar green murkiness swirling in his deep brown orbs. 'The envy.'

"You lack nothing, Riki. How can you assume such a thing?" (y/n) comforts and it works wonders to assuage the young noble's anxiety—however, it is much heavier than how it seems.

"Then, why are you fond of him so? Is it not because he's pretty? Everyone tend to admire him for his beauty, his gentleness and elegance that are seamless. All so perfect, so admirable—everything that I—" He halts at the realisation of how emotional and whiny he sounds and he swallows the remaining words. 'That I am not.'

He is uncertain of when it started, but by the time he's regulated his thoughts, his breaths are heavy and eyes are burning as vision blurs from the pools that gather in them. He sniffles but quickly fakes a cough with a turn of his head—arm against his mouth to before he hastily presses it against his glossy eyes.

Exhaling a shuddering breath, he prepares to face her again but his throat tightens and water brims within his lash line once more when she calls for his name so sweetly, warmly.

"Riki, come here," (y/n) beckons softly, barely above a whisper and he gravitates towards her figure at her opening arms. His back hunches as he bends—now wetting the fabric on her shoulder as he hides his face against it and muffles his sobs with a harsh bite of his bottom lip. "What caused you to think of this?"

'Everyone, everything,' he wishes to say but only manages to think.

Throughout his whole life, he has been labelled as bad news and instead of choosing to work against it, to prove that it is all a misconstruction, he instead chooses to succumb to it. He fulfilled all those rumours they speak of him, conducted every misdeed no matter if it brought misery and ruin to others and became the monster they believed him to be.

To be the miscreant he believes himself to be.

Nevertheless, he reveled in it—the power and forced reverence he carries from this image—until he met (y/n).

He's never wanted, wished and prayed desperately for anything more than he has for her.

But seeing her so lovestruck and attached with Sunoo, or anybody else for that matter, it torments him. He began comparing them to himself—listing his flaws one by one and further digging the grave of desolation. Day by day, he understands why (y/n) prefers them more than she does with him, why she smiles more with them than him, why she likes them more than she likes him.

Why they're so much better than him in every single aspect and why she will undoubtedly turn the other way if she were given the choice to choose between him and anyone else.

And it kills him at every waking moment. And even in sleep, his dreams are haunted by this, like an incessant nightmare woven to cause him everlasting terror.

But he can't let her go. He just can't.

"Why must you come now? Why couldn't I have been to one to have found you?" Riki croaks feebly against her shoulder and the cordial, soothing caresses of her palm against his back only turns the faucets in his eyes even further. "Why am I such a wretched, worthless being?"

He has fallen too deep, feelings too grave that he is unashamed in leaving them bare. She will find out sooner or later after all. All these emotions too foreign and consuming for the young lord to keep them covert.

Her silence however, acts as some sort of balm to his distress. Seeing as she has not rejected him, he feels the slightest stroke of hope and his arms coil around her waist tighter—akin to a predatory snake and its prey yet, their roles are undoubtedly reversed.

“Why do…why do you favour Sunoo so much?” He then, asks.

If he can’t compete with Sunoo, then at least he can mimic him—try to adopt his characteristics that (y/n) adores with the wishful thinking that he will obtain even a sliver of her affinity towards the older.

“Why? Hm…” She begins to hum a tune that both acts as a calming lullaby and an anxiety inducing countdown from suspense. “It is because he listens well.”

“L-listen?” Riki inadvertently stutters at his choked words from emotional vulnerability but then begins to straighten his posture at the feel of her hand gently tugging him back by the nape.

The girls nods—letting her gaze run across his flushed, dewy face from his tears before offering a beguiling smile that renders him breathless. “It is simply because he listens so well… And for someone like me, that in itself is a miraculous gesture. You see, those with no identity nor status—and a woman at that—are often cast aside. So to have someone to listen to me so attentively, to be so uncritically accepting no matter what I say or do, it means the world."

'To listen...' Riki empathizes with her deeper than he expects. Despite being a complete juxtaposition, he is aware of how it feels to be unheard. All too well.

And to have this sort of connection between them rekindles that diminishing aspiration inside of him. He has a chance to earn a place beside (y/n). The only condition is to listen and he would be the biggest fool in the world to fail.

"I'm a good listener..." Riki mumbles and (y/n) brings her hand to cup his damp cheek to which he longingly leans into. His softened sharp eyes flicker between her own deep, inquisitive gaze as his plush lips part to speak feebly. "Give me a chance...please."

His frail tone laden with pure ambition and yearn brings a smile to her face—triumphant, wicked—and she nods gently.

"I will, Riki. Who am I to deny you?"

—

"You hide something."

(y/n) pivots on the heels of her feet at the voice that disrupts the silence of the balcony. Her gaze meets with the curious yet cunning eyes of Sunghoon as he approaches her with slow, calculated strides. "You sound certain of yourself."

"And you are not the slightest bit bemused," the noble quips and halts his steps when he looms over her. With a tilt of his head, a corner of his lips hooks to form a smirk. "As if you have been waiting for me to confront you. Is it not?"

His confidence is admirable and she scoffs at the thought of how useful of a quality it is to have as a siren. He would be perfect for the role—if he only deserves it.

The girl shrugs with a sly smirk of her own before taking a step back—letting her waist meet the white stone gate that protects them from a disastrous fall.

Despite the darkness of the night, the maiden is still radiant. The moonlight shining on her makes her seem to glow—hypnotizing eyes scintillating and beguiling beauty enrapturing him with each breath.

His hands find their way around her hips and his hold tightens momentarily when he takes a step forward—figures almost touching now and the proximity is honestly making him dizzy.

The softness of her bod and warmth that penetrates his skin seem to be working against him as well—rendering him dazed and mindless as he is filled with nothing but the thoughts of embracing her.

But no, he has an objective. He shall not let his resolve be so easily broken.

"Tell me. What is it that you have concealed from us? And why do you?" He manages to ask with composure despite the tremble of his limbs as he restrains himself from just pulling her into him.

Wearing a faux face of naivety, she strays her eyes from him. "Why are you so sure that I am hiding anything? I'm just a lone, forsaken girl who was saved by a young, rich noble with too much time and money in his hands. Unless, of course..." She returns her focus to the other as her mien now shifts to a daunting, challenging look. "You have an inkling to what it is that you say I withhold."

Her implication is accurate and Sunghoon's reticence proves it. So she taunts him.

"Come now. I thought you wanted me to reveal my truth so why are you the one keeping to yourself?" (y/n) scoffs and gently rests her hands on his slim bod—feeling the soft curves and dips of his abs beneath the thin night shirt he wears. She doesn't miss the sharp inhale he takes. "What am I hiding, Sunghoon? Enlighten me."

Sunghoon shudders when she slides her palms up higher to his chest before dangerously down to the low band of his trousers hugging his hips. "That you...you're a pirate."

Fits of giggles erupt from the girl before they evolve to laughter—hand cupping her mouth to prevent from being too loud and potentially awaking the others as tears brim her eyes.

A pirate? How creative. Although, it is the most plausible answer considering what he knows of her.

Found at the shore wearing ragged cloth, having an affinity for water, is aware of the fact that many sailors have met their doom at the seas—clearly, she is a pirate.

"I am impressed. If this is your way of flirting then I say you have succeeded," she teases with little airy chuckles escaping her and although to woo her is not his main mission, he can't help but feel proud and gratified.

Feeling emboldened, he decides to make a move.

"Does that mean you'll grant me a kiss?"

He will never admit it but he's desperate. His friends have all been graced by her touch and endearment, he knows that—even her secret relationship with Heeseung because the latter has become much too blissed out recently to even realise how obvious he's being, especially when drunk—so why has he not received anything from (y/n)?

Is he not ravishing enough? Impossible. Maybe, he's not charming? Not in any universe. Perhaps (y/n) finds him unattractive? Never does anyone find him so. He is the epitome of perfection.

Which means that the only reason why (y/n) has been so conserved with him is because she's bashful and hesitant. What if she is rejected by him? What if he finds her unpleasant? She must be so worried which lead her to be so guarded with him. All she needs is a little push and Sunghoon is more than willing to be the catalyst.

"Why should I grant you a kiss?" (y/n) retorts and the sight of her furrow amuses him.

'Ahh... She truly is a stubborn little dove,' he thinks as a beguiling grin stretches on his pretty, porcelain profile. "Why should you not? You do not need to shy away. I promise, I will not reveal any of our shared experience tonight to any other."

His narcissism oozes so profoundly, it chokes the maiden. And she wishes so badly to rip it from him.

"You're unworthy of it. You have nothing to be rewarded for," (y/n) states casually and his jaw clenches while stare hardens.

Reward? Why is she speaking as though he is a mere pet asking for treats? Does she not realise that him even offering her to touch him is an honour itself? Despicable.

"You think so highly of yourself to call a simple gesture from you as reward. You should know that your worth is decided by others—such as how you're treated like the lady of the house simply because the lord, Sunoo, has decided for it to be. But without him, you are but the same deserted speck of existence you were before."

Sunghoon's words are now venom, voice hissing and gaze akin to slicing blades. His fingers are forceful around her, sure to paint her skin in shades of purple and green but she retains her sangfroid.

The bewilderment on his face is so unbelievably comedic when he sees her completely unrattled and instead, wearing the same kind, inviting mien she always does.

"Were you not the one who asked me to 'grant' you a kiss? If it truly is as meaningless as you say, then why do you ask me for it?" She wittily responds and Sunghoon's visibly rendered speechless but he quickly picks himself up.

"Th-that was just a figure of spee—"

Once again, he's silenced—but this time by her lips pressed against his as she hungrily devours him.

Bratty boys have always been her favourite, after all.

Sunghoon's hands on her hips loosen from surprise and she takes the opportunity to press herself against him to which he enthusiastically reciprocates—bucking his hips forward and wrapping his arms around her before dipping his head forward to deepen their connection.

He groans pleasurably when her tongue slips between his teeth to explore the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. The tightness in his trousers grows and she feels him throb and twitch against her, causing her to skillfully spins their positions to instead, have him pressed against the stone balustrade before grinding into him.

Sunghoon moans loudly at this. The sensation much too stimulating through the flimsy, thin fabric of his slacks and her nightgown. He can almost feel everything.

Almost.

And it drives him crazy.

He subconsciously chases after her lips when she pulls away, craving for more, needing to be satiated and whines pathetically when she rejects by turning her head away. Still, he finds an alternative and latches his wet, bitten lips onto her neck to leave open-mouthed kisses.

"To see you so gravely affected by a worthless kiss, it makes me doubt your words," (y/n) brings up and Sunghoon huffs against her skin. "Anyways, you've gotten what you asked for so I think I should retire now."

She attempts to escape from his caging hold but his grip only tightens and teeth graze her skin.

"Wait," he breathes out heavily as he begins to nip and fingers dig into the flesh of her waist, clawing and squeezing in protest. "Don't go."

"Why? Were you not the one who said I am of no value? There is no reason for you to ask for my company," (y/n) intentionally rejects, wanting to see him surrender on his own accord—for him to admit himself that he yearns for the touch of someone as irrelevant as her.

Sunghoon is panting now, face buried in the crook of her neck as he shakes his head—lashes tickling her while hot breaths causing her hair to rise. "No..."

"Hm? You didn't?"

"I did! But am I wrong?" He remains egotistic as he raises himself slightly, just enough so his face is at level with hers as he glares stubbornly into her eyes and yet the shake of his dark, hungry pupils belie him.

She softly arches her brow, expressing her dissatisfaction to his remark and he subconsciously winces at it. "It seems I've wasted my time. I shall see you again tomorrow, my lord."

The term she uses to address him sounds foreign albeit it being only right. It makes them sound distant, and the tone she uses is frigid alongside her austere gaze.

He rejects it.

'No, no no!' Sunghoon chants as she manages to step aside and within a breath, he hurries to block her path to the inside—earning him a mien of incredulity from the girl which shifts into intrigue when he brings her hand to cup it against his face.

"I revoke my statement. I-I'm sorry so please, help me," he pleads through broken, wispy croaks and he nuzzles his face into her palm. His other hand then reaches for her other and brings it down to the centre of his slacks—her brows knit and eyes harden when he begins to rub her palm against the stiff bulge, letting her feel his desperation. "You did this to me. It's only fair that you will help me, right?"

To say she's disgusted is an understatement. The shameless act of using her hand to caress his arousal without her consent? Revolting.

"UGH!" A choked grunt emits from the other at her abrupt blow to his hardened core and he plummets to his knees at the agonizing pain. Never did he expect her to be so violent. His eyelids are shut tight before they snap open with shock at the blunt yet forceful affliction against his lower part.

His gaze travels down to the ball of her foot pressing mercilessly before he brings his eyes up to see what he can confidently say is the most lethal yet beautiful sight he has ever seen in his life.

There, (y/n) stands with a bewitching nonchalance, cryptic, that juxtaposes with her typical softness and he's reminded of the first time he spoke to her.

Stretching his lips to a smile, he was finally able to let out a small chuckle. "Are you sure your friends won't be upset with you by giving these to me?"

(y/n) shook her head and stood—hands dusting her skirt and straightening it before she turned towards the mansion.

"How are you sure?" Sunghoon asked once more as he too, rose to his feet and now towered over the other.

The latter tittered and brought her hands behind her back, clasping them together as she began to amble. "Because I ate them."

The memory kindles an unfamiliar sensation in him and suddenly, the pain she inflicts becomes more welcomed than he anticipated—head falling back, eyelids fluttering and tongue almost lolling out his hanging jaw.

(y/n) scoffs, feeling him twitch and throb under her foot and she lifts it before stomping down—eliciting something between a moan and shriek from the other as he shakes, eyes rolling backwards.

The girl's lips curve to a smirk at the enticing sight beneath her and she begins to massage him through the thin fabric which unsurprisingly makes his hips buck and body limp forward.

His forehead resting against her knee as she stands between his graciously parted legs. A shivering, whimpering and moaning mess as he starts to press wet kisses against her leg to try and distract himself from completely losing his brain from the pleasure.

(y/n) is going to have fun tonight, and she's amiable enough to grant him the same—seeing as it is the last time he will ever be able to.

—

Finally, the day of the trip arrives. Hearty laughter and merry conversations fill the air as the seven nobles rest upon the mats they've laid on the pillowy green grass of the hill. Picnic baskets filled with an abundant of food and beverage surround them, the dawn sky is in a beautiful, amber and pinkish hue while a constant zephyr caresses their figures.

A perfect day.

(y/n) has brought them to a small hill quite a far distance away, on the outskirts of the village and further into the forest. But the journey was not taxing. In fact, it is as nature itself have been awaiting their arrival—not a single vine nor stone obstructed their path, nor does any insect or any other fauna disturb their peace. The dispersed flora only adds more comfort and almost a sense of magical ambience as they ventured through before finally arriving at a cliff.

The seven understands now why (y/n) brought them to this place.

Grass is greener, sky is clearer and the view... oh, the view that greets them is unlike any other. Below the cliff is the sea and it is vast and breathtaking, stretching further away. The rising sun seems to be magically emerging from the waters as its light illuminates the surface to create the illusion of twinkling crystals.

"(y/n)! Come and have this beverage Jongseong just made! It's sweet and refreshing!" Jaeyun beckons and (y/n) pulls her gaze away from the gentle waves of the sea below them before joining the group.

Heeseung immediately opens his arm, inviting her to sit by his side on the mat while he supports his slightly leaning figure with his other hand.

The girl accepts which undoubtedly ignites some jealousy from the others but she cares not. Her eyes are only set on one, after all.

"Here," Jaeyun offers her the cup but instead of letting her hold it, he brings it to her lips and let her drink. Heeseung notices this and scowls at his excessive indulgence although, he too would do the same if given the chance.

The fiery competitiveness between both men is hilarious but she enjoys the princess treatment. For once, they are using their hands and energy for the sake someone other than themselves.

"Are you feeling cold?" Jungwon then approaches with a blanket in his hands and he sits on his heels before pulling down her lifted dress to cover her legs exposed by her sitting position. With an amiable smile, he gently lays the blanket onto them for extra warmth to which she thanks with her own small grin.

Sunghoon watches from the side with crossed arms and restrains a scoff. "All this coddling is going to suffocate her."

"That so? At least, we're doing something," Heeseung retorts and earns himself a glare but the moment Sunghoon meets eyes with (y/n), he shies away and the tips of his ears and cheeks mantle—recalling the intimacy they shared the night before.

Riki rolls his eyes at the olders’ childishness and yet he too, finds himself abashed once meeting the gaze of the girl and only manages to flash a sheepish smile before whipping his head away.

Jongseong does not fail to notice the two’s oddity but he says nothing, assuming that they must have shared an experience with (y/n). At this point, her relationships with his brothers are not a mystery. They've all seen how she's affectionate with each and every one of them but strangely, they do not argue.

It seems they've become aware that by doing so, it will only create more disadvantage for them. To argue means that (y/n) will undoubtedly return to the safe, peaceful embrace of Sunoo’s and stay hidden from their sight as to not provoke any more ire.

So they’ve learned to share—although, deep down each and every one of them wishes to monopolize her, to shackle her within their own cages that they’ve prepared just for her.

All except for one.

One who truly sees her as not a mere possession but a living, breathing being capable of her own mind and heart.

“It is a great day,” Sunoo sighs dreamily as he awes at the clear pink sky before turning his head to look at (y/n) who’s joyous laughing as she’s surrounded by his friends. He smiles, eyes akin to scintillating crescents.

Her image now is a stark contrast from how he and her first met. And knowing that she’s in a far better position now causes his chest to swell with relief and gratitude.

“She’s happy.”

Feeling his stare, (y/n) turns to him and is instantly greeted by the sight of him watching her with endearment and undivided attention. His hand lifts to wave at her and she feels her heart grow.

“It was ludicrous! If only they—”

Jaeyun halts his words when (y/n) starts to rise to her feet, letting the blanket slip off her lap and onto the picnic mat before she makes her way to whom she calls her saviour.

The other 6 watch with apparent flames in their eyes while they turn to deep shades of green—sentiments burgeoning when they see her naturally falling into his open arms like puzzle pieces.

Sunoo clings onto her before pressing his lips against her crown lovingly, pure adoration oozing from his every gesture—from his melting honey gaze to his delicate, lingering touches.

"What a perfect pair," Jongseong mentions and yet, the sarcasm in his voice is sharp and critical.

Heeseung's brows knit further at the younger's statement but he too can't seem to deny as his hardening gaze burns through the initial two. "On the surface they are."

'He is not the only one she adores,' they all selfishly think but appear unbothered aside from their overt jealousy.

"True," Jaeyun agrees confidently, almost vainly. "The only reason why she's so affectionate with Sunoo is because he brought her in."

"Really?" Riki asks curiously and his brows raise. If that is one of the reasons then it's no wonder Sunoo is unrivalled. How can they? Seeing as they took no part whatsoever in saving her.

Jaeyun nods, once again smug. "She told me last time when we were...sharing a moment together. She spoke of how prominent Sunoo is in her life but the only reason being is because she sees him as his saviour. She's indebted to him."

A silence follows as the other five dwell on his words.

"Then...she holds no deep affection for him?" Jungwon asks, wanting assurance as he blinks his cat-like eyes to the older who bobs his head.

"Her affections for Sunoo are as earnest as her feelings for us all."

And all of a sudden, an abrupt greed imbues their chests before it grows and stretches to the ends of each limb—up to the top of their heads down to their toes, the feeling gnaws and festers as a wicked idea surfaces.

If what Jaeyun says is true, that (y/n) likes Sunoo just as she does to them, does that not mean that they are all eligible to gain a position in her heart? The only distinctive factor that separates them from Sunoo is just her sense of gratitude for the addressed due to his heroism.

It is simply just that.

So, if he were to...vanish, per say, does that not mean that they all can vie fairly to be the new conqueror of her heart?

"Why are you all so quiet there??" Sunoo's yell hooks them out of their deviously scheming thoughts and they turn to see him tilting his head at them with a furrow of confusion. "Come! (y/n) says the view will be more wonderful when the sun rises!"

Sunoo swivels on his heels before jogging off to the aforementioned girl who stands near the edge of the cliff while his friends remain unmoving.

The six however, seem to share a similar sound of mind when they turn to one another to exchange ambiguous looks and malignant grins.

They know what they have to do.

"Wah~! The sky is painted in such pretty shades!" Sunoo awes naively with (y/n) by his side, unaware of the approaching six figures from behind. "(y/n), this place is—MMPH!"

A gasp erupts from the girl when she's abruptly pulled back by the shoulders by a pair of strong, large hands while Sunoo is roughly rendered immobile as his wrists are pinned to his back by a brusque grasp while another hand clamps his mouth.

His foxy eyes grow twice their size when he turns to see Heeseung smirking at him with malice glinting in his darkened eyes—immediately looking around frantically to ask for help from his other friends only to see them sporting the same countenances.

Sunoo blinks rapidly, flustered and panicked but he's still very much aware to check on (y/n)—grunting harshly below Heeseung's large, muffling palm when he sees the girl being held back by Riki.

"As much as I agree with this plan, I do think it is unwise for us to let (y/n) be a witness. She will only grow to contempt us from watching us kill her guardian angel," Jongseong voices out rationally from the side, arms crossed and sharp eyes darting between the captured two.

Jungwon clicks his tongue, dissatisfied and vexed at his older friends' rashness that lead to such a messy situation. "Well, it is much too late for that now, is it now? She's already seen us—no, she's watching us right now."

"Do not fret," Sunghoon suddenly chimes and his eyes meet with (y/n)'s glossy ones which turn to a glare instantly and he feels himself shiver with twisted delight. "I know someone who can make her forget all this ever happened. After all, my family has funded for the establishment of a mental institution near our home."

"Excellent!" Jaeyun claps his hand once to show his agreement, toothy grin flashing innocently despite being anything but.

They all then approach Sunoo, backfacing (y/n) in the process as if trying to obstruct her from viewing.

Heeseung lets go of his suffocating grip on the younger's mouth and he gasps for air desperately—panting and shaking as the lack of air catches up. But he's quick to recover.

"What is the meaning of this?!" He shrieks, glaring at the others with such ferocity that he almost seems unfamiliar to the rest. "Let me go this instant! Your pranks are not funny!"

Jungwon scoffs, lips pulled to a mocking smirk as he clutches Sunoo's dark locks within his hand and earns a sharp cry from the other. He yanks his head up as he stares daggers into his fox-like eyes. "This is not a jest, Sunoo. What it is, however, is the perfect plan to finally rid you off of your podium and let us have our rightful chance to gain (y/n)'s heart."

His words confuse the older whose brows visibly knit. "Wh-what?"

Jaeyun clicks his tongue with irritation. "Don't feign obliviousness now! You always keep (y/n) by your side, keeping her tethered to you with the excuse of you being her guardian!"

"I never!" Sunoo denies and this in turn, evokes Sunghoon's wrath.

"Is that so? Were you not the one who raged at me, accusing me of trying to 'steal' (y/n) away from you when all I did was suggest for her to get treatment for her wellbeing?" Sunghoon hisses, stepping forward while Won tightens his grip on Sunoo's hair. Hoon scowls at his rival before arching his dark brow challengingly. "Do correct me if I have wrongly misjudged you."

Sunoo can only bite his trembling lip, unable to refute and at his silence, the others begin to bombard him with complaints and curses—both aimed to bring misery and demise to the poor, young noble.

Meanwhile, (y/n) has been quiet and strangely compliant within Riki's hold and he is honestly bewildered. But his loosening grip becomes taut once more when she suddenly speaks.

"Riki."

Oh, how his heart skips beats just from hearing her mellow, sweet voice call for him.

"yEs—" He clears his throat at the unexpected crack in his voice. "Yes?"

"I thought you wanted to gain my favour," (y/n) then, says and he stays mute, not knowing what he should say. "I thought you said you wanted a chance."

He freezes, eyes widening briefly.

"Do you not want it anymore? Or maybe, were you simply just toying me around like all the others do?"

His throat dries. "I—No! Of course not! I was never toying with you! My feelings are genui—!"

"Your actions say otherwise," (y/n) spits abruptly and the ire in her tone makes his knees buckle and face pale.

Is she cross with him? Does she despise him now?

"You betray me," she says coldly, voice firm and rough despite its lack of projection. "You betray us. What we could've had."

The abrupt shift of her tone when he hears it crack and tremble into a feeble whisper makes him shake his head with horror at the realisation that he has disappointed her.

'You betray us. What we could've had.'

Her words echo in his ears and his bottom lip begins to quiver, desperate to justify himself and yet seeing the brutal scene unfolding before them—his brothers belabouring Sunoo both mentally and physically—he finds little to no chance of him saving himself.

Has he ruined his chances with her?

After she so kindly and graciously offered him one? Even when she's so patient and lenient by only setting him one condition and that was to—

"Listen," (y/n) shakily says and Riki looks down at the side of her face, heart clenching so suffocatingly he loses his breath. "I thought...you said that you'd listen—that you're a good listener. But perhaps, I should not have given you the benefit of the doubt."

CRACK!

And just like that, Riki's resolve shatters into a million shards and his thoughts have gone haywire.

He wants to rewrite himself for (y/n). He wants to prove that he can be better—he will be better.

And this objective is so strong and overwhelming, it blinded him. So, so blinding that he doesn't seem to notice how his hands have slipped from (y/n) to instead grapple another before brashly and mindlessly shoving them off the cliff.

A loud shout erupts while heads turn with shock and panic, all eyes widening and jaws falling.

"JAEYUN!" Jongseong shouts frantically as he runs to the edge to see the younger emerging from the water. Thank goodness, the sea is serene—calm and silent other than the soft splashes made by the smallest waves that hit the ragged sides of the cliff.

He sighs with relief, grateful for nature’s patience and understanding. If the waters were raging, Jaeyun could have suffered a fate much worse.

“Riki! What is the meaning of this??” Heeseung growls, clearly disapproving and upset. “Have you lost your mind—Oh."

Ears perk at the sound of controlled surprise that left their furious eldest's mouth and they follow his hard stare to see Riki standing behind (y/n) whose hand is wrapped around Sunoo's wrist.

Heeseung, with the other 4 nobles standing firm on his side, express bewilderment at the sight of the 3 who are clearly against them. But it does not linger in Heeseung as he's suddenly smirking—a scoff of disdain escaping—and he wets his bottom lip with a swift swipe of his tongue.

"Oh, so this is how it goes? Behind our backs, you've decided to consort with the enemy and betray your lifelong brotherhood," he hisses and Sunoo furrows deeply.

"Enemy? As in...me?" The latter asks with his tone feeble and shaky. The rims of his eyes are already brimming, glistening with hot tears as he recalls what just transpired.

Jungwon clicks his tongue with irritation as a groan of exasperation rumbles through. "Yes, you! Who else could it be, Sunoo?? If you were not such a selfish bastard who hogs (y/n) all to himself, it would not have gone this far."

Sunoo gasps, his wide shocked eyes meeting the venomous feline eyes of the younger who only scorns.

"It's fine, isn't it? After all, they are still outnumbered," Jongseong points out and the realisation fills the majority group with a sense of triumph. Their previously frigid faces now grinning malevolently as they begin to step closer. "Jungwon, make sure (y/n) remains obedient, will you?"

Jungwon snickers, thrilled as a wicked grin forms. "Of course."

However, just as the four are about to commence with their plan of once again, eliminating Sunoo but now with an addition of Riki, a loud, booming thunder roars—shaking the ground beneath them—before being followed by an explosive, sharp lightning that rips the sky—making them crouch and cower as they rush to to cover their heads.

The tremble is violent, the sound akin to a banshee's shriek and a heavy storm brews abruptly—clouds thickening and ridding of any sunlight while its snowy white trait turns into a deep, dark grey. It's all so sudden and unexpected. The previous sunny day seemed to be a mere figment of their imagination from how quickly the weather shifted. It's impossible.

"The waves are picking up! I-I'm starting to get carried away! Find help! AND QUICK!" Jaeyun shouts frantically from the waters. His yell is shaky as the body of water he floats in begin to turn violent. It almost swallows him but he manages to pull himself back up with a sharp gasp of air. His eyes widen with terror as he realizes how precarious of a situation he is in and the colour drains from his face. He flounders in the water as he looks up at the top of the cliff. "HURRY! PLEASE!"

Sunghoon combs his hand through his dark locks stressfully. A sharp hiss sounding as he listens to his brother's desperate calls. "We have to save Jaeyun first. The temperature's fallen and he will soon freeze. The waves will engulf him."

"Sunghoon's right. Search the carriage. There might be a rope or something in the emergency supply box," Heeseung sighs out exasperatedly before approaching the edge to look down at the floundering Jaeyun. "Stay afloat! We will get you some help so—"

"I've tried to be patient," (y/n)'s feminine, eerily calm tune interrupts Heeseung and they all whip their heads to her just to see her with her head hung down. "I've tried to be patient...just for the sake of Sunoo. I wanted him to be able to laugh with his brothers just a bit longer...for the last time."

As if listening to her hauntingly soft voice, the aggression of the waters have quieten, the winds now absent and even the faint rustles of small creatures have vanished—creating a still dead silence that makes her voice seem to echo.

"'Last time?' What are you..." Jungwon trails off when (y/n) slowly lifts her head to reveal her ghostly pale eyes, a mix between an icy blue and an exotic, venomous caledon with shimmering silver flecks surrounding her slit, pitch black pupils.

He gasps with terror, stumbling back on his heels and crashing against Sunghoon who wears the same, pale-faced look of horror just as the rest are.

But what scares them most is when she smiles, malignant and vengeful, and reveals lines of sharp teeth, sharper than razors that even just seeing makes them feel as if their flesh is being torn by rows and rows of blades.

She's a creature—a terrorizingly beautiful and bloodthirsty monster. They can see it in her piercing, predatory eyes.

"A witch... She's a witch!" Heeseung shouts accusatorily as he attempts to step back but once again, thunder roars and lightning strikes before the heavy clouds begin to shower bullets. The sounds of turbulent waves crashing against the cliff and the deafening rain muffle their ears from hearing anything else.

"DID I NOT MENTION BEFORE—TO NOT GRAZE EVEN A HAIR ON SUNOO’S HEAD?" (y/n) vociferates with a voice shrill and booming throughout the cliff. Her figure stands at the edge as her cutting gaze fixes on a speechless, petrified Jaeyun.

Sheer fright and panic as he struggles to remain afloat from the violent fearful tremble of his limbs combined with the hostility of the waters that exert his limits.

(y/n)’s reptilian eyes narrow as the ire in them bursts. “Yet, you still foolishly ignore…and so you shall pay.”

There is no time to wonder on what she means when Jaeyun abruptly begins to scream with excruciating agony. His sounds of pain alert the others who rush to inspect the cause—eyes widening and jaws unscrewing when they witness the horrid sight.

Red begins to diffuse in the water surrounding their fallen brother as he writhes and flails frantically in the pool. Invisible forces seem to be tearing through his clothes and deep into his flesh—creating cut after cut that seems to increase in severity the more it continues.

Jaeyun gargles a mouthful of salty sea water when he momentarily submerges from the overwhelming pain and yet he’s given not a moment of rest—continuously yelling and pleading for mercy as his deep injuries sting terribly with a torment like no other.

It’s as if his whole body is engulfed in flames as the salty liquid seeps into his open flesh and he struggles more and more to stay afloat.

“H-help! Help…!” Even his desperate cries have grown weak—his throat burning from the salty pool and eyes threatening to shut as the blood loss sends his consciousness slipping.

“What is happening?? What’s causing him those injuries? Are there sharks below there??” Sunghoon frantically voices, in panic at the terrifying state of his friend.

Jungwon trembles violently, fearful and yet unable to tear his eyes away and that’s when he sees it. Sharp, shimmering tails. His face blanches immediately as throat dries, his heart thumping so forcefully and quickly from the terror that it seems to wish to escape on its own. “No…these are not sharks.”

And as if awaiting for a more dramatic flair, the figures that have been shredding Jaeyun from below the surface like piranhas emerge with mischievous, devious eyes and wicked grins that display their rows of razor teeth.

They bear the same characteristics as (y/n)—pale, icy eyes that drip with malice and an ethereal beauty so deadly it gags them.

"They cannot help you nor can you help yourself," (y/n)'s voice rings and it surrounds them from every angle, from every direction, even through the deafening storm as if she's enwrapped their heads—yet here she stands upon them. "I am your only salvation."

Chills run down their spines as they attempt to maintain a defensive stance but it's an impossible feat with how heavy the rain is—it quickly bringing them to their knees from its sheer intensity and weight. Fear dominates them as they realise how greatly disadvantaged they are—vision greatly blurred and ears deafened but ironically, they also feel a sense of...excitement.

They can't calm the trepidation and yet, neither can they contain their obvious anticipation of what's to come. Their hearts are racing, cheeks flushing as they wonder what sort of deviousness (y/n) has planned for them.

And that hopeful feeling only multiplies when the sound of her giggles echo—silencing every rational, coherent thought as they physically tremble with titillation.

It's her.

At the end of the day, it's still her. The girl they adore, the girl they admire and have fallen so deeply with to the point of an unhealthy obsession. They've always wanted her, that's the main reason why they even orchestrated to remove Sunoo in the beginning. But now, seeing as how they're so desperately craving her, needing and yearning for her despite seeing her true nature, they realise that they've gone truly insane.

Nevertheless, they think they will truly lose their mind if they are not graced by her presence in the next second.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), D-DARLING!" Heeseung is the first to crumble as he practically uses all the air in his lungs to howl for the girl. "I'm sorry! I-I never should have acted so foolishly! It is a mistake and I will repent! Just—just let me join you, my love!"

Another giggle and he jolts in his position at the pleasant goosebumps that rise on his skin. He pants before inhaling deeply, about to holler once more but is halted by a hand clasping his mouth with a harsh slap.

(y/n) looms over him, reptilian eyes cutting into his as her long, forked tongue runs across her razor teeth and despite the horrifying nature of her form, Heeseung smiles beneath her hand.

The girl of his dreams, she's come to him.

"Silence yourself or I shall do it for you," she hisses as her fingers dig into his cheek and bends down slightly only to bare her teeth when he attempts to raise himself, desperately chasing after her. "Disgusting."

Still keeping a hand over his mouth, she shifts her focus to the other three who are already staring at her as much as they can with eyes straining due to the storm—hoping to get even a sliver of the attention that she gifts Heeseung.

"Mmph...(y/n), please. Take me back. I-I'm sorry," the eldest of the nobles muffles against her palm as he presses needy kisses against her cold skin. "Pleasepleaseplease—"

"Enough!" She snaps brusquely and he shudders, eyes fluttering at her command to which she recoils at. A pathetic specimen of a man.

This is not what she wants—she refuses to let them find pleasure nor contentment from her ministrations and yet, Heeseung’s brain is far too muddled with his affections for her that even her insults are defined as rewards.

She cannot let that be.

Heeseung’s round eyes grow twice their size, bulging out of their sockets and unconcerned for the sharp droplets stinging them as an inexplicable, unendurable pain burns at his cheek.

His voice is untamed, shouting and yelling in pure agony as the taste of his own blood spreads on his tongue—the result of (y/n) ruthlessly, in the slowest, most excruciating manner, stabbing her sharp nails through his cheek until her fingers press down on his wet pink musclle.

Heeseung writhes and thrashes, desperate to flee from her blade fingers as she continues to viciously rip through his soft tissue, nearly ripping his whole jaw but she stops before she reaches that far. She'd hate for him to die so quickly.

Pulling her hand back roughly, she revels in the way he continues to scream through the pain as bloodshot eyes flow endlessly with thick tears—his body toppling over to land on his back harshly as his skull crashes onto the stone ground.

The large hole at the side of his face oozes with thick, dark blood like a waterfall and into his own mouth as he twitches and jumps like a fish out of water.

She then turns to the other three with a sharp spin and she smiles sweetly although the blood of their brother that drips down her hands as she clasps them express otherwise. “How rude of me to not entertain the rest of my company. As an apology, I will grant each of you your own personal attendee. Now, won’t that be swell?”

The three nobles are rendered speechless from fright, throat dry and body paralyzed both from her horror and the rapidly dropping temperature. Despite it being supposedly early morning, the day is more fitting to be evening with how the sun is completely veiled behind thick layers of dark gray clouds.

Harsh winds blow, adding more to their chill as if the storm is not sufficient enough to freeze them.

“(y/n), please… I thought we had something. I thought we were companions,” Jungwon attempts to crack her stony heart and yet the frigid stare she casts him is enough to confirm that she will not be swayed—by any means possible. Tears brim his eyes and he blinks furiously as breaths begin to grow ragged and rushed, desperate.

Sunghoon’s quick to notice that he’s begun to hyperventilate and he grunts, struggling to move his laden figure and clothes to reach the younger. “J-Jungwon.”

This act doesn’t go unseen by (y/n) and yet, she simply turns her head away. They deserve not even a pinch of mercy.

Growing impatient, she thinks she might just finish the job by herself until the melodious song of her people begins to pierce through the air.

Its hypnotizing quality is overwhelming, instantly putting the nobles in a hazy condition, a brief moment of respite, before being abruptly drowned into a sense of deep desolation and uninhibited anguish.

Their previously melodious hums shifted suddenly into bloodcurdling banshee shrieks and wails as they arrive atop the cliff—all wearing white rags and hanging from their shoulders as a poor excuse of clothing however, it only makes them appear more haunting and daunting.

Akin to ghostly, vengeful spirits thirsty for blood—which in this case, is not entirely false.

The fear and shock that imbue in the kneeled nobles’ figures jolt them immediately, even Heeseung who was writhing against the floor and Jungwon who was struggling for breath.

As if orchestrated before, the maidens all divide themselves to stand behind a man each. The ominous ambiguity of what’s to come fills the humans with a dread alike no other and they’ve begun to plead for (y/n) to “grant us mercy!” or “we will change—be better men!”

All of which, she disregards.

“As promised, you all will have a woman each—is that not to your preference?” (y/n) mocks, tone light as if she is doing them a favour and yet the condescension that paints her features are a telltale sign of her true intention.

Her words make them quickly shake their heads. They’ve seen the fate that has befallen Jaeyun as he was ripped to shreds in the waters before.

As if hearing their thoughts, (y/n) grins and with a snap of her fingers, another maiden arrives with a limp body carried in her strong arms before it’s dropped carelessly in front of the four.

Their eyes widen and jaws drop to see their brother—whom they assumed was dead—wheezing laboriously as blood continues to spill out of his deep, flesh cuts that are carved into every surface of his bod.

His expensive attire now completely stained with a crimson shade while his skin is paled with almost a bluish undertone.

He’s still alive—surviving, to be exact—and yet he already looks like a corpse. Jaeyun’s eyelids flutter as he attempts to lift them but to no avail and he continues to pant and moan feebly at the excruciating torment, not even aware that his brothers are by his side.

“Jaeyun!” Jungwon calls out, feline eyes round, but he’s restricted from uttering another word when the siren behind him roughly clasps his mouth with her cold hand, the other grappling his shoulder with long sharp nails that sink into his flesh.

He grunts against her palm as blood seeps through his shirt from his fresh wounds.

(y/n) giggles, a sound too sweet for someone so diabolical and the nobles thrash within the grasps of their captor when they’re abruptly immobilized by the siren standing behind them.

Each of the mystical being now standing on their knees as their arms wrap around the man relentlessly—mimicking (y/n) who holds the same pose with the dying Jaeyun in her embrace.

“They’ve made quite the masterpiece with Jaeyun,” (y/n) starts as her lips graze the shell of his ear down to the crook of his neck, the smell and taste of his blood drowning her senses—pupils dilating and forked tongue running across her bottom lip. She then turns to the sirens with a glint in her eye. “If you will, ladies, mirror the art that I hold now?”

And without warning, shrieks and screams of terror and agony rip through the heavy storm as the sirens mercilessly begin to ravage the nobles with their sharp long nails and predatory teeth.

Even when the humans beg to be saved, plead for them to stop, they all fall on deaf ears as the sirens seem to find enjoyment in their torture.

High pitched giggles and laughter emit from the group of enchanting women as they continue their ruthless savagery to the battered lords.

(y/n) stares with sparkling orbs, awed, before she turns her head to the side to face Sunoo and Riki who are held tightly by a siren each—although, not quite in the same predicament as their brothers.

She tilts her head, brows dip and lips in a faux pout. “Do you see what happens to bad men? You should be grateful that you are not among them.”

Riki with dark hair matted to his forehead from the rain, gulps as his fingers twitch by his sides. His eyes refuse to stray from his childhood friends despite the gruesome sight that is displayed. However, deep within his chest, he can’t help but feel somewhat…relieved.

With his five brothers gone, there are less rivals to compete with to gain (y/n)’s affections. With his brothers gone, he can finally do as he wishes without their haughty, domineering presences that always overlook him due to his young age.

With them gone, he can finally have (y/n) all to himself. Of course, there is a matter of Sunoo but he has always been the softest, kindest among them. He’s more than certain that Sunoo will be willing to share. Especially now that he’s lost all of his friends, Sunoo is expected to want to hold anyone that’s left close to him—and that is Riki.

His dark, twisted mindset is left unknown by Sunoo whose face is flushed red and moist not only from the rain but the thick waterfall of tears that cascade down his cheeks.

The latter is trembling in his stance as his hands are clenched tightly. Watching his friends, his brothers, family, being murdered right in front of him ruins his mentality in a way that can’t be reversed.

He’s despondent, grieving and sympathetic yet at the same time, he’s confused, awed and accepting. Because who is he to deny the accusations that they are men of corruption? They’re vile people, wicked and selfish. It is no wonder that they are now suffering from the price of their sins.

Yet at the same time, they’re his close friends. They grew up together, spent time with each other more than they do with their own families. So to see them being tortured in such inhumane way ruins him.

“(y-y/n),” he managed to croak out and despite it being deafened completely by the raging storm, (y/n) manages to catch it—eyes shifting from Riki to him in an instant. “Please...”

Hearing his plead, (y/n) ponders for a moment before suddenly raising her hand that previously held Jaeyun’s jaw and the sirens halt.

Despite their pause however, the four men continue to writhe and groan exhaustedly as the pain from their multiple injuries continues to send ineffable agonizing sensations shooting through their limbs and shutting every other sensations.

“Sunoo,” (y/n) calls, her voice in that same echoey, haunting yet dulcet quality. Her arm outstretches to him and the siren that holds him easily loosens her grip to which he quickly escapes to instead, run to the maiden that holds his heart.

“Please stop this,” Sunoo whispers with a crack in his voice, eyes constantly flooding with tears even as he searches her face for an answer. His pale, quivering hands reach up to cup her face as his thumbs gently caress her wet skin. “Please, please, (y/n). I can’t bare to watch this any longer.”

His words are heavy, deep with genuine remorse and desperation before he breaks down into complete sobs. Short inhales and shuddering exhales as he brings his face closer to the girl—nose brushing against hers before he places a chaste kiss on her lips. “I beg of you.”

He pulls away, expecting to see that delicate, fond smile that she always graces him and yet what greets him is pure nonchalance, almost like the face of a porcelain doll as she blinks.

“How brazen. Do you truly think you are innocent enough simply because I do not punish you as I do them? How adorable,” she coos condescendingly and Sunoo’s face falls, shocked and bewildered. He yelps when she abruptly yanks his head back by the hair—the pain stinging and bringing tears to his already brimming eyes. “Do you think that just because I hold affection for you, your past sins are now irrelevant? Because that is simply foolish, Sunoo. There are many, many that have become victims to your iniquitous deeds. And until now, they are still suffering.”

Sunoo can only bite his tongue at her words. She’s right. She has always been. It is true that he’s done a great deed of evil and it costed the peace and sometimes even, lives, of others.

And he’s only begun to realise that when she came into his life. He strived to be better for her, to provide his people with a comfort that they rightfully deserve since way before and he’s proved that he’s capable of it. He has changed.

But never once did he ever regret his undoing from the past. Never once did he take a moment to sit and mourn for the people whose lives he has ruined. He has completely forgotten them, hoping to simply conceal them from existence by being good.

“I-I’m sorry,” Sunoo sniffles, biting his lip with an intensity that draws blood. “I’m sorry.”

(y/n)’s heart aches and she frowns, tightening her grip on his hair before tossing him away haphazardly. “It is not me you should apologise too, but the people.”

He crashes against the stony ground of the cliff and the sounds of his brothers screaming and howling fill his ears once more as the sirens resume their activity.

Sunoo curls into a ball with hands tight against his ears as if it will drown out the product of his brothers’ misery.

And this goes on and on until they’re practically holding onto their dear life by a thread. With eyes that struggle to open, mauled chests that rise and drop as if they’re weighted by bricks and figures completely marred by lacerations on every surface of their skin and flesh. Their faces and limbs mangled beyond recognition.

The storm calms too, now turned into a light drizzle and Sunoo finally rises to sit albeit weakly before whimpering as the sight of his friends lying inert in their own pool of blood greets his vision. He can still hear their desperate, harrowing screams for mercy, to be alleviated from the pain with a quick death—“just KILL ME! please! PLEASE!”—echoing in his head like an everlasting mantra.

The sirens now completely vanished from thin air as if they were never there. Only the damage they've inflicted on his brothers are proof of their existence.

“Riki, come here,” (y/n) beckons and the young lord immediately moves as soon as he's unbound—being in a much better condition than Sunoo although the thick gloss on his eyes, grit teeth and knit in his brows belie his indifferent front.

He lowers himself to one knee beside (y/n) and tries his best not to cast his gaze onto the whimpering, debilitated Jaeyun in her hold and yet his attempts are proven futile at (y/n)'s request.

"Can you help me clean up?"

Riki blinks before nodding without a moment's hesitation. "What do you want me to tidy?"

The girl says nothing although the sly yet, almost sympathetic mien that forms on her visage tells him.

His plush lips part as the air is knocked out of his lungs. Even the light and warmth of the sun that has finally begun to peek from behind the clouds do nothing to comfort him.

"Y-yes?" He sounds shakily, eyes darting to Jaeyun and at (y/n)'s definitive nod, he slumps—eyes wide and spirit withered as if it wasn't already draining before.

"Is this not exactly what you wanted? To have me all to yourself?" The maiden tempts, voice wispy and melodious, upon seeing the hesitation flickering in his quivering pupils and he inhales sharply at the feel of her cold hand against his cheek before being completely rendered breathless by the proximity of her face.

She smiles against his lips and he feels it through the slight graze she graces him with—adam's apple bobbing as he feels his rationale and kinship towards his brothers beginning to diminish to the back of his head. (y/n) pulls away just enough to run her gaze across his features, seeing the black of his eyes widen as ears blush before angling her head and leaning forward.

However, just as their upper lips touch, she retracts completely and Riki grunts softly at the lack of contact—frowning in protest and yet, unable to complain.

Her ministrations are brief, fleeting and still, so seductive.

The promise of getting that attention from her is enough to fuel his fire and that's what brings him to the edge of the cliff with the limp body of Jaeyun in his arms.

"R-Riki?" Sunoo stutters, eyes wide with fear at what the younger is about to commit while the latter ignores—taking only a few seconds pause before his arms drop and Jaeyun's figure falls freely with a harsh, heavy splash.

And at that moment, Riki can only think of one thing: how truly grateful he is that they're dying. He can't trust himself to be able to do the same thing if they still had the will to fight for their lives.

"Riki, stop!" Sunoo pleads, voice hoarse as he stumbles to his feet.

SPLASH! Down goes Heeseung.

"Riki! Please!"

SPLASH! And now the water is Jongseong's eternal bed.

"STOP!" Sunoo commands as he rushes to reach the younger.

SPLASH! The pearls are returned home with Sunghoon's descent.

"NISHIMURA RIKI!" Sunoo roars, hand tights around Riki's forearm as he brings Jungwon's flailing body in his hold. The youngest turns to meet the furious yet deeply broken gaze of the older as he pants. "What...what are you doing?"

"She asked me to," Riki simply replies, face stoic. "And I listened."

Sunoo's grip tightens. "How could you?? Have you gone insa—??"

"Have you not?" Riki abruptly interjects and the other flinches backwards when the former turns his whole body towards him. "After witnessing the horrors that have been bestowed upon, you've still retained your sanity?"

The older's fingers uncurl from the other.

"No... Actually, you've lost your mind way earlier before, haven't you? The first of us to," Riki scoffs while the other furrows, unnerved. "You're the first to have fallen into her trap, hyung. You've kept her with you, allowing her to poison our heads and making us her victims one by one while simultaneously making sure you've monopolized her—that end of the day, she will always return to you."

His accusations are sharp and yet, groundless. It's incredulous. He's ridiculous. "What on Earth are you saying? I never had such motive!" Sunoo denies.

Riki laughs, head thrown back as his grip around Jungwon’s mangled form tightens, making the weakened man to flinch amidst his state between conscious and unconsciousness. And yet, their youngest barely bats an eye. “You may think I’m a fool just like the others always do. Must think I’m daft enough to not be able to see through that halo you wear on your head. But I am not—I can see how selfish you truly are, how greedy. You cannot tell me that you don’t feel the slightest bit of relief knowing that you no longer have to share (y/n) with the hyungs. I know that deep down, you’re just as corrupted as we all are—after all, you are friends with us.”

The older curls his fingers into a fist, shaking and foxy eyes sharpened. Riki’s wrong. He’s not what the younger says he is. He’s better than them. Despite those adamant refute in his head however, Sunoo can’t seem to find his voice to verbalize them.

Because hidden underneath, stuffed inside a heavily guarded and locked chest in his heart, Sunoo himself seems to realise that the younger’s words are nothing short of truth.

And Riki, the ever so observant Riki who is always overlooked, knows this.

He takes another step forward, practically a hair’s width away from the pretty faced noble if it isn’t for Jungwon that remains caged in his arms and separating the two. A long exhale escapes as he looks down at the shorter with crazed eyes paired with the devious smirk that curls onto his face—bending down slightly to be face-to-face.

“I’m sorry to say however, that you still have to share (y/n),” Ki taunts, wet hair falling over his eyes and making look more insane and villainous than he already is. The drizzle that continues making the atmosphere more grim and Sunoo’s eyes widen at his statement. “Because lo and behold, I am still here and you can do nothing about it. Sunoo hyung is after all, much too soft that even when his lovely girl was having fun with his friends he chose to turn a blind eye. Unfortunately for him, I’m not as delicate and I will not stop until I make (y/n) mine and mine alone.”

Hearing those words spill past his lips, that declaration that drips with venom, Sunoo’s mouth gapes as his whole body stiffens.

‘He’s going to take (y/n)?’ His mind asks as warning sirens blare incessantly in his head and deafen his every thought except for that of Riki’s statement to take his beloved for himself. ‘He wishes to rob my love away from me? To deny me of her?’

All while this plays, (y/n) watches from afar like one does in theatre—sitting leisurely on her legs with hands folded on her lap as she stares. Her pupils large as they flicker between the two with interest.

She awaits for the conclusion, to see how long this feud will last and who will remain standing. If she has to choose however, secretly she hopes that Sunoo will prevail. After all, she’s grown quite fond of him. But at the same time, it’s dangerous—to be attached to someone is daunting.

Not that she thinks that Sunoo will win of course. Because in order to be like her, one must know when to be cold-hearted when needed, to be unafraid to get their hands dirty. To be able to stay by her side and be her companion, she needs not a man who will die for her, no. Instead, she needs someone who will live and kill for her.

And Sunoo is just as Riki says, too sof—

SPLASH! SPLASH!

(y/n) snaps her head back to where the two stood, momentarily distracted by her thoughts and she’s just about to stand and congratulate Riki for his victory—that is, until she’s met with the unexpected sight of Sunoo standing at the edge of the cliff with arms quivering violently by his sides and nails digging into his palms so severely that it draws blood.

He stands…alone, in all his glory.

The maiden’s tinted lips part as she approaches the young man and her hand gently rests on his shoulder that rises and falls strongly at the heavy yet shaky breaths that he takes. “Sunoo…”

Her voice returns to how it usually is, soothing and lulling without that haunting echo that follows and the other’s breaths hitch. She momentarily shifts her gaze to the waters far below them, seeing the fallen bodies of her victims with an addition of one who in fact, did not perish by her hands.

Riki’s floundering frantically in the pool, struggling to stay afloat and yelling for help but he’s instantly hushed by a pair of bony fingers that cup his eyes—blinding him before they dig into his sockets, ridding him of his pretty orbs with her long, unforgiving sharp nails.

The siren giggles gleefully at his roars and yells of pain before she mercilessly drags him deep down under, prolonging his death as he slowly drowns.

And then, utter silence.

No more rain, no more wind and not a single wave crashing nor birds chirping.

It’s done. Everything…is done.

“He threatened to take you from me,” Sunoo suddenly says, voice just above a whisper as his breaths slow to a calm. His eyes still set on the sea below them yet mind elsewhere. “He wanted to steal you away. To deprive me of you. I abhorred it.”

He turns his head to her, finally facing him and the insanity that swirls in his otherwise hollow eyes brings shivers up and down her spine—even more so when his hands reach to cup her face. The trembles are unceasing and he stares into her eyes almost manically, searching and digging through them with a sentiment even she’s unsure of. “No one can take you from me. No one. I am yours, all yours, just as you are mine. You know that, right? You understand why I had to do what I did, right? Right, (y/n)?”

The need for her to validate him, for her to accept him even after the sins he’s committed is heavy, overwhelming.

He did it for her, she knows that, right? She has to.

(y/n) only smiles as she keeps her gaze on his and that alone is enough for him—instantly pulling her into a bone-crushing embrace as if the slightest space between them will cause for her to slip away.

His face is deep in the crook of her neck and she stays as he continues to drench her skin with his hot, rapid tears. His amalgamation of each and every emotion sending him into a wreck and he only sobs and pants more when he feels her hand stroking the back of his head—her touches now harmless and tender at the absence of her tearing nails.

“You’ll be with me forever,” he shakily declares, breath steaming against her neck and she nods, imbuing a sense of contentment within him as he sighs.

“You lived for me, and killed for me,” (y/n) states endearingly and she smiles. “You’re truly perfect.”

And the two lovers stayed there, in each other’s warm embrace and silent company before they disappear from the eyes of humans, never to be seen again.

.

...

.....

.......

Many, many centuries later…

“Walk faster, man! Why are you so slow??” Jake grunts at Jay and the latter rolls his eyes obnoxiously.

"Maybe, if someone helped, things would be much quicker," Jay huffs with a glare directed to the younger as he lifts his arms up to secure his grip on the girl he carries.

Jake shrugs. "I won the drinking game so you and Sunghoon have to do the dirty work."

Not long after, Hoon can be seen tagging behind with another unconscious girl in his hold. His brows knit at the two's bickering but soon their focus shifts as a black, classy van slows down beside them at a distance away from the club they emerged from.

The three young men quieten as the door slides open and Heeseung steps out.

"About time!" Sunghoon complains and Heeseung ignores, his eyes instead zoning in on the two girls the younger three have chosen. His face remains indifferent and...bored. For some reason, Seung can't find seem to feel any spark for anyone no matter how eye-catching or charming they may be.

And yet, he keeps doing it. They all keep doing it—going to the club at random nights, hooking up with various different girls and sometimes even going as far as spiking their drinks, getting them intoxicated before bringing them home.

Even after so long, they've remained so...corrupt.

"Jungwon," Jay greets with a nod when the said boy climbs out of the van to let Sunghoon and him lay the girls in. The older's brows knit as he peers behind him. "Where's Ni-ki?"

He's promptly answered when the mentioned guy joins them, black headphones covering his ears and overgrown bangs falling over his eyes.

He only glances at his hyungs and their chosen girls for the night before focusing back on his phone, gaming without end. Unlike the rest of his friends, he's not very enthusiastic—not very involved in their activities and prefers being on his own.

But he and Jake are neighbours, always been since they were young so naturally, he spends most of his time with Jake who spends a lot of his time with the other four.

He's never been the one to take part in their 'hobbies,' and yet he's always the one who cleans them up—to be the one to comfort the girls when they wake up, to explain and apologize with thick, sticky guilt coursing through his veins and clogging up his throat.

To be the shoulder they cry on or the punching bag they strike just so they can feel better before they get sent away with the hyungs giving them hush money.

It’s a repetitive cycle.

“They’re so out cold,” Jake almost cackles when he sees the girls unconscious at the back of their van and he runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

Heeseung sighs, hands in his pockets as he opens the driver seat door. “Come on, let’s go.”

They all start climbing back into the vehicle, the youngest being last but he stops just as his foot makes it in—focus stolen by another who stands a few steps away from them.

Ni-ki furrows as he meets eyes with the other who seems strangely poised and…expectant as he continues his staring contest. A glint in his foxy eyes while unblemished milky pale skin seems to glitter beneath the moonlight. His lips and cheeks are in a soft rosy shade while bleached, silky blonde locks fall perfectly onto his forehead and eyes, adorning his visages.

He’s beautiful—too beautiful, even. Almost inhumanly at that so why, why does Ni-ki feel a foreboding chill shiver down his spine?

Especially when the other tilts his head with a taunting smirk, eyes squinting to give a playful sentiment with a brow cocking upwards.

“Ni-ki! What’s going on out—”

Jaeyun too, freezes the moment he sees the seventh presence that watches them from afar and finding his reaction strange, the others make their own exit—each and every one of them sporting the same look and mannerism upon seeing the unknown young man.

“Long time no see,” Sunoo says from afar, voice slightly raised to reach them as he approaches. The chill of the night seems to peak and the six figures shiver subtly, white puffs of air escaping past their lips. “A really long time, actually. I doubt you’ll remember me—not without her help, anyways.”

For a reason unknown (to the six at least), Ni-ki flinches backwards right as Sunoo halts in front of them—almost as if he’s fearful to which Sun only grins at.

“Who…who are you?” Jungwon asks, voice only above a whisper but the tension encasing them is so thick and suffocating that the air feels stiff, any other sound deafened that his whisper almost resounds.

Sunoo grins, eyes upturned to a deceivingly sweet extent. “It’s not me you should ask about.”

An abrupt gust of wind knocks them off their feet and they stumble to the floor—all but Ni-ki who remains unaffected alongisde Sunoo.

“What the fck?? Is a storm coming??” Jake grunts as he groans, sitting on his heels as he begins to stand but is stopped by another presence that towers above him. A sweet scent surrounds him and his heart skips beat after beat, racing erratically from fear? Excitement?

He’s not sure but he’s unable to resist the temptation to lift his head—meeting eyes with whom he can say the most ethereal, breathtaking bell he has ever laid eyes on.

And yet, the smile playing on her lips and gaze that bores into his speaks of a calamitous quality. Her beguiling beauty a mere facade to the devastating catastrophe that she carries.

But does Jake turn away? Not even once.

“(y/n)…” He mumbles, eyes wide and pupils blown as they study her features.

She grins. “Hi, Jaeyun—or do you prefer Jake? As that is your name in the present.”

Jake blinks rapidly, confused at his own utterance when she suddenly steps back to review the group as a whole—Sunoo immediately latching himself behind her as he buries his nose into her hair, sighing with an inexplicable relief and delight from her presence.

“After all these years, you’ve stayed the same. Can’t say that I’m surprised,” (y/n) scoffs, eyeing each and every one of their bemused yet deeply enraptured miens until she stops at one.

Nishimura Riki.

Upon meeting his eyes, the smirk on her face softens and her smile shifts to something more genuine, more endearing and she offers a hand to which he feels a strong, overwhelming urge to hold.

“This time, you’ll help me again, won’t you?” (y/n) asks and although her request is vague, Riki doesn’t resist the temptation to accept—his hand instantly finding place over hers and receiving a jolting buzz that fires through him.

He gasps, eyes widening as memories from centuries away flood through his mind and he grunts, hands flying to clasp his head from the overbearing pain that knocks against his skull.

But (y/n) pays no mind, only reaching out again to hold his wrist which catches his attention.

She flutters her lashes, sickeningly sweet, as her lips pull to a delicate smile. “But this time, you’ll be by my side just as Sunoo is. They’ve been bad, haven’t they? To you, to everyone?”

Riki sniffs, unaware of the tears that spill past his lash line as his memories return. Trembling lips agape, he lets out a shaky breath before nodding, palms still tight against his head.

(y/n) coos, comforting him before her eyes shift to the 5 others who seem dazed, stuck under an enchantment as they struggle to keep themselves grounded. “You’ll listen again this time, won’t you?”

Again, Ni-ki nods, finding comfort in her being as he melts into her hand that cups his cheek.

The girl titters and her eyes shift to that icy pale hue that both deters and pulls him in. “Don’t worry, after just a little change, you’ll be perfect. You agree, don’t you, Sunoo?”

Ni-ki gulps when he moves his stare to Sunoo whose arms tighten around her waist. He nods, muttering an ‘Of course,’ through the light kisses he plants on her hair but when he turns to the younger, the latter’s rendered breathless by the sight of his icy, serpentine eyes and forked tongue that slithers out as he grins manically.

“He’ll be the perfect addition.”

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

inspired by ‘milk of the sirens’ by melanie martinez and ‘siren’ by kailee morgue

𝜗𝜚 sorry for the very late update but i hope you guys enjoy this chapter and hopefully, will meet you all again in my future works!! anyways, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog for some motivation!! but please, do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

(those in pink bolded cannot be tagged) taglist for this series is closed—thank you for enjoying 'leche of the sirens' until this far ♡

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[soulprompts]

"FANCY A CUPPA'?" PROMPTS.

hi hello holy moly i've been gone a while but look!!! i bring you prompts! and these are MONTHS old according to my notes app! but basically i'm two weeks and four days away from returning to my home country, and my mother sent me some tea from home, and i just got thinking about the sheer power of a cup of tea, yk? anyway! here it is! and here are my conditions! DO NOT ADD OR CHANGE THIS LIST! and also feel free to add "REVERSE" if you want to switch the rolls, i suppose!

[ COLD ]: With a notable drop in temperatures, the sender makes some tea for themself and the receiver, if not for drinking then for the warmth and comfort of holding the mugs in their chilled hands.

[ SHOCK ]: Having found a most-definitely-in-shock receiver, the sender makes a big, strong, and immensely sweet cup of tea for them in order to restore them a little bit.

[ ANOTHER ]: While preparing a cup for themself, the sender makes a second cup for the receiver in a polite and low-effort gesture towards them.

[ FIX ]: The sender, realizing the receiver is genuinely upset about something, comforts them and makes some tea in the hopes of lifting their spirits some bit.

[ WEARY ]: After a mutually extensive day, the sender and receiver return home, and the sender prepares some tea as a soothing introduction to their bedtime routine.

[ BETTER? ]: The sender, at a loss for how to approach the receiver who has clearly endured a very difficult time, decides to make some tea in an effort to console them and possibly encourage them to talk about it.

[ GUEST ]: The sender welcomes the receiver into their home with open arms and two strong mugs of tea. (There may also be food of some kind, that's for you to decide!)

[ WHY NOT? ]: The sender prepares some tea for both themself and the receiver, not out of any great need or want, but because their default setting is making tea and frankly they can't see any harm in it either way.

[ DECAF ]: The sender subtly intervenes in the receiver's sleep schedule by bringing them a cup of tea rather than a cup of coffee in the hopes that they might get some sleep that night.

[ TRY ]: The sender just received a new kind of tea, and prepares some for themself and the receiver because who better to share the experience with than the receiver?

[ COPING ]: In the aftermath of some terrible and life-changing news, the sender busies their self with preparing some tea to give themselves something to do other than think about what's just happened.

[ INSTINCT ]: Something isn't quite right with the receiver, and the sender knows it. In order to get them to open up, the sender prepares some tea.

[ REFRESHMENT ]: Someone made cookies, and what is a cookie without a cup of tea? The receiver won't need to find out; the sender is already making a cup as we speak.

[ TEA ]: The receiver has just arrived with some particularly excellent and scandalous gossip; the sender, unwilling to let the receiver's voice dry out during the revelation, prepares some tea to go with it.

[ RELAX ]: After a particularly stressful day, the sender prepares some tea so that they can finally begin to relax and unwind in the evening.

[ OLIVE BRANCH ]: The receiver is angry with the sender; the cup of tea is just the sender's cautious attempts to heal the relationship.