#that are so obsessed with me AND each other

[mylovesstuffs]

@miabebe Oh my god, I absolutely LOVED the way you wrote this reverse trope on their heads! This was everything I needed. I’ve always wanted to dive into a reverse trope like this, but for some reason, I just never got the chance. The second I saw this pop up in my feed, though? LOCKED. IN. And let me tell you, it did not disappoint.

Watching them choose to grow closer with each passing day? Ugh, my heart couldn’t take it. The way you wrote both of their POVs back and forth? Genius. Absolute genius. It made their connection feel so raw and real, like they were just meant to orbit around each other. Even before they realized their feelings, you could see it, you could feel it and I’m obsessed with how perfectly you captured that slow, magnetic pull. I’m still not over how much thought and care went into this. Every word, every moment was so precise, so perfectly balanced. Like, HOW? And don’t even get me started on the enemies-to-lovers trope—it’s one of my ultimate weaknesses, and this? Chef’s kiss. Seriously, you absolutely killed it with this. It was everything I hoped for and more. Amazing job, truly. I’m in love.

Too Many Beds (Choi Seungcheol)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 1

Choi Seungcheol may be your parent's best friend's son, your next door neighbour for 20 odd years and the one face you saw every damn time, every damn where but that didn't mean the two of you wanted anything to do with each other. But a business trip - one room, three nights, and seven beds - might just be what it takes to change it all....

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader

Word Count- 13k (don't ask me how I thought I could do this in 5k)

Genre - Rivals to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots, that's all. Oh and smut.

Warnings - one mention of blood cause of intense make out wew, other smut warnings under the cut!

Smut warnings - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, brief face fucking, thick dick cheol lol, slight choking, allusions to a breeding kink, unprotected sex (these two are digustingly in love, extremely horny and highly irresponsible, please don't be like them), creampie, mention of the word slut like once, and I'm hoping that's all?

“Absolutely not.”

“No way in hell.”

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m not sharing a room with him.”

“I refuse to even breathe in her vicinity.”

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.”

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you, sweetheart.”

“That was a fact, darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So, the two of you are dating?”

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back.

“No!”

“No!”

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday than date her-”

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. I can give you something better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that skinny thing-”

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.”

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.”

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking all three of its inhabitants aback.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder. Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out. Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in each hand, leading the way to your despair of the night.

Seungcheol followed quietly behind you, hands tucked in his pocket, his large headphones perched on his head as he swayed to the music, blatantly ignoring you. You were thankful for that. Since you were little children, you had always craved moments where you could pretend like this man didn’t exist. Why wouldn’t you? Everything about him was a pain in your ass.

You first met Seungcheol when you were five. Your fathers were college mates turned business partners and coincidentally, your mothers were best friends since high school. Naturally, everyone expected the children of both families to be just as close as their parents but alas, even at the age of five, you could not bear him for more than five minutes. He was so aggressive and unruly, always messing up your dolls, always pulling your hair, never giving you a second of peace when he was around. Albeit that behaviour got milder over the years but there were other things now.

Like the fact that your father always preferred to have a boy, a son who could be his heir, someone like Seungcheol. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you but a different side of him came out every time Seungcheol was around, a side not even you could bring out. He would laugh louder, his eyes would shine more, he would seem so carefree. Seungcheol too never missed the chance to rub that on your face, constantly sneering and claiming that your father would be happier if he was a part of the family.

Over the years, your displeasure and annoyance at Seungcheol only grew into a deep dislike. As though it wasn’t enough that the two of you did your entire schooling together (yes, all twelve years of it), he was always present anywhere and everywhere you went - the debate club, the swim team, the dance academy, the cafes, the libraries, the movies - there was no place you were free of him. Ever since you were young, you had longed to escape to a place far away from home just to be carefree and explore and reinvent yourself without the constant looming of a figment of your past. You had hoped that at least after school you’d have the chance to go away from him but as your luck would have it, the two of you were accepted into the same business school, were interning in the same company, were working on the same project, and had come out of town for the same three-day conference together. It was one thing to have to bear this man’s presence all day, now you had to do it all night as well, thanks to your cheapskate company.

As you got in the lift Seungcheol held the doors open for you before settling in the corner opposite yours, keeping as much distance in between as possible. The bell boy looked at both of you confused.

“I thought the two of you are dating?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, and fished out your phone, scrolling through it instead.

Seungcheol glanced at you before scoffing at the absurd idea of dating you. He wasn’t foreign to that doubt though – people often wondered if they were together and Seungcheol wondered what on earth they saw between them that even resembled a speck of liking or even tolerance for one another.

Seungcheol had honestly not met anyone as stuck up as you. He never understood why his parents constantly considered you as the ideal role model for their son - ‘Look Cheol, she joined debate, you should too’, ‘She got selected in the swim team, you should try Cheol.’, ‘What do you think about dancing Cheol? She’s really good at it.’. Seungcheol was sick of being dragged into everything you were in, only to always be second. He hated debates, he would rather play football than swim, and though he liked to dance, ever since he joined the academy with you, even dancing was not giving him any solace.

Yet he gave his best all the time. He tried and tried and tried but he was always second to you who was evidently a natural at everything. For example, back in the school days, Seungcheol would almost get the same grades as you but at the cost of sacrificing nights of sleep and putting hours and hours into teaching himself. Meanwhile, you would breeze through the notes a day before the test, get a full 8-hour sleep and still score higher than him. As if that wasn’t enough, you’d invite him home, offering to “tutor” him only to constantly berate him about his ignorance, drop snide comments about how you were better, subtly challenge him in a battle that the both of you were well aware he could not win.

No wonder you had no friends while Seungcheol was as popular as could be - who would even want to be friends with you when you were always so cold and condescending towards anything that moved or breathed. If your parents weren’t joined at the hip, forcing Seungcheol to be a constant presence in your life, he wondered who would ever even talk to you? You should have been thankful for him, that he was the one human presence in your life who was always there despite it all, yet you treated him like he was beneath you. He had hoped that at least after graduating the two of you could part ways but the universe apparently loved playing cosmic jokes, putting the two of you together yet again, at the same workplace. And completely up in each other’s space for the next few days as well.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t ever shared a room before - whenever your parents would meet up at each other’s house to drink and talk all night, the two of you had no choice but to crash in the same room, sharing the same bed even but thank God it was usually queen size, allowing the both of you to take two opposite ends, not even your breaths mingling. It had been years since that though…..Seungcheol felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He had no idea how he was to spend tonight in this room. Or the next few ones.

Neither did you.

As all three of you stood before the door and the bellboy fumbled with the keys, you glanced at Seungcheol. He looked unbothered as one could be. Perhaps you were overthinking this whole thing. It was a matter of four nights, surely the two of you could at least try to be courteous right?

“What in the...?”

Seungcheol’s voice rang in the empty corridor and you leaned to see what had him so shocked. Your own jaw dropped in a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and relief.

Room 68 was no average hotel room. It was as big as the entire lobby, 7 heavily pillowed and blanketed single beds aligned from one end to the other almost military barrack style, only small bedside tables putting space between them.

“Room 68 is uh our bachelorette party suite.” The bellboy clarified. “For, you know, those big groups of girls who are hell bent on partying all night together?” He looked away like he was recalling a horrifying memory. “Since it’s holiday season, the lodge is booked out, this was the only room we had left. Is... is it not good?”

Seungcheol looked at you and for the first time in nearly 25 years, the two of you could finally agree on something.

“No.” You stepped in. “It’s perfect.”

It had been years since you had seen Seungcheol half-naked.

Well, you frequently saw him during swim practice in those tight speedo shorts of his, ass all plump and taut but you were not talking about that. You were referring to the sight before you right now, him with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he searched for something in his bag frantically – most likely his aftershave. You knew he must have cleaned up given the conference was starting tomorrow and also that his cheeks were burning because you couldn’t smell the subtle cinnamon spice aftershave that usually followed in his routine.

Seungcheol strangely felt a pair of eyes on him as he rummaged through his things and suddenly remembered he was not alone in the room. He quickly turned, looking for you, finding you curled up in your bed, writing in what he guessed was your journal, unbothered by his presence. You were wearing that cute nightgown with little tomatoes drawn all over it which Seungcheol found funny given how much you hated tomatoes with all your heart and soul. Realising he had been looking for too long, Seungcheol gulped, quickly grabbing the aftershave he finally found and rushed back into the bathroom.

You flinched as you heard the door of the bathroom slam shut, looking up from your journal. Shaking your head exasperated, you returned to your writing. Seungcheol always handled things around him roughly like he was just not built to be gentle - slamming doors hard, breaking at least one coffee mug a month, causing rips in most of his clothes when he would gym because he was so big…. And muscular…. And built…..You bit the back of your pen thinking about how good he looked in his gym wear but if you were being honest, he looked best in a suit.

He’s going to be wearing one tomorrow.

You snapped out of your thoughts realizing you were entering dangerous waters and turned your attention back to your writing. Seungcheol made that process slightly harder as he walked out, furiously rubbing his towel against the back of his head, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweats.

As he sat down on his bed, he looked at you sitting six beds across, all the way in the other end of the room, right by the window. The moment the two of you entered the room, he took bed 1, the one against the wall and you took bed 7, the one against the opposite wall, putting the maximum possible distance between the two of you. He let you use the bathroom first, not because he knew you preferred using it when it is dry but because he thought this was the best time for him to call his parents and wish them goodnight….. even though it was still 7:30.

He showered after you did but even now, despite being so far from you, he could still smell your bodywash, the fragrance of lilies, the mildest kind because strong fragrances irritated your sensitive nose. Throwing his towel on the chair he kicked his legs off the floor and lied on the bed, turning to the wall, hearing the faint annoyed click of a tongue. Seungcheol knew exactly what triggered it - you hated it when he tossed damp towels like that. But honestly, he couldn't care less right now, not when there were more important things to deal with tomorrow, not when he was so tired already.

You shut your journal, irritated by his behaviour remembering exactly why being in the same vicinity as this man infuriated you. Flipping the lights off and pulling the covers over your shivering body, you realigned your thoughts towards your goal - Tomorrow’s conference was crucial. You had to look your best and do your best so clocking in 8 hours of sleep was the priority, Choi Seungcheol's character development be damned.

But as you lied down turning towards the window, lightning flashed across the sky, a loud thunder following. You turned to see Seungcheol and his back was facing you, the outline of his figure moving up and down rhythmically like he was already in a deep sleep. Slightly relieved yet still unconvinced, you turned towards him before the sleep and tiredness took you away.

Seungcheol simply stared at the wall all night.

Seungcheol most definitely did not sleep all night.

You could tell by the fact that one, he was up without you waking him and two, he was not there in the room right now. That meant he was out for a run which in turn meant his face must have been all swollen which definitely meant he didn’t get enough sleep. You did notice though that his bedding had shifted from bed 1 to bed 2 and guessed it was because of the coldness of the wall - Seungcheol had the habit of tossing and turning at night and there was nothing he hated more than his bare skin accidentally brushing the cold walls. Considering you were still five beds away from him, you ignored it as you went to wash up and prepare for the day.

When he saw the time on his watch as he finished his last lap, Seungcheol realised he was way behind schedule and that you probably were already at breakfast, sitting with a dozen snide remarks, waiting for him. True enough, as he quickly showered, dressed, and headed down to the buffet, you were there already, going through the proposal, the plate beside you nearly empty. Quickly grabbing a piece of toast and stuffing it in his mouth he walked over, putting on his suit jacket in a hurry. As you saw him approach, you shut your laptop, looking at him top to down in an ensemble that fit him all too well. Seungcheol’s eyes wandered over the pretty way you did your hair, and the plunging neckline of your blouse, a sliver of your pink bra peeking from underneath the fabric-

Both of you cleared your throats and looked away.

“We should leave, the cab should be here in-” He glanced at his watch. “-should have been here ten minutes ago, fuck.”

“It’ll be here in ten.” You pushed a cup of coffee towards him, looking at him pointedly to take a seat. Seungcheol glanced at it then back at you.

“You changed the time on my watch.” He huffed annoyed. “Again.”

“Glad to know you are still capable of basic comprehension.”

“You vile woman.” Seungcheol gritted between his teeth, sitting down. “I showered so fast I thought I was going to pass out.”

“But you didn’t.” You shrugged. “And learn to be grateful Seungcheol, you’re only ever on time when I meddle, so say thanks to me.”

“I’d rather die before I thank you.” He took a sip of the coffee before the extreme bitterness hit his tongue, making him spit it out right back into the cup. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You did say you’d rather die.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know ten minutes is more than enough for you but personally, I prefer longer.”

Every single time. Every single time you flashed him that sweet, mocking smile and every single time it pushed his buttons like no other. One day he swore to put you in your place but right now he was too low on energy for that.

Well aware that you loved strawberries more than anything, he grabbed the last one on your plate and walked off to the taxi stand, ignoring the way you whined behind him.

“Oh, real mature of you Choi Seungcheol!”

You knew in your stress about perfecting the proposal early in the morning you had forgotten something important and the moment you stepped into the room that night, you knew exactly what that was.

To close the windows.

Thanks to the pouring rain, the water had drenched your entire bed, not to forget, your bag full of your clothes which was conveniently placed right on the mattress, soaking nearly every piece of clothing you owned. Thank God the laundry in the lodge said they would handle it for you so you still had an outfit for tomorrow’s conference but there were still two major concerns - one, what to wear tonight and two, where to sleep tonight.

You solved the first problem (almost) by grabbing your umbrella and heading to the nearest clothing store as instructed by the receptionist only to find out it sold barely any ‘cloth’ at all. It was an adult shop, filled majorly with lingerie of all kinds which were aiming to cover as little as possible. Groaning inwardly, knowing you didn’t have a phone on you to go any further in this weather, you grabbed the most decent nightgown you could find and rushed back.

A hot shower, a change of clothes and a quick meal later you decided to deal with your second problem, moving your things from bed 7 to 6, not too displeased considering there were still three beds between the two of you. You glanced at Seungcheol’s empty bed and then at the time - it was well past 10. Sighing, you settled under the covers pulling out your journal to write but got lost in your thoughts instead.

You were pretty proud of what you presented today - people praised you, congratulated you for a well drafted proposal and even went so far as to offer you jobs in their company. Yet you were not satisfied. Somehow, the one thing constantly running in your mind was the swarm of women who had flocked around Seungcheol the moment the conference was done, ‘mindlessly’ touching his arms, ‘casually’ brushing their chests against his, ‘genuinely’ laughing too hard at whatever bullshit came out of his mouth.

This was not new to you, Choi Seungcheol being the centre of attention wherever he went. He enjoyed it, basked in it, and chose to make a show of it whenever he got a chance. It was all so fake and superficial; you could not bear to stand it. That’s why even though everyone decided to go out for dinner and drinks tonight, yes, all twenty-seven of them, you politely said goodbye citing a headache and took a cab back. You were not interested in casual conversation and definitely not interested in seeing Seungcheol’s pathetic flirting.

Just as you begin to relish his absence and the beautiful silence that came with it, a loud knocking on the door and his voice screaming your name ended your perfect night. Grumbling, you opened the door to a fully drenched Seungcheol looking absolutely frazzled.

“What the hell-”

He stopped when his eyes fell on you dressed in a white floor length satin gown, the material seductively clinging to the curves of your body, your leg slightly visible between the slit. You crossed your arms to cover yourself up, feeling conscious under his gaze as he gulped audibly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He met your eyes, a slight worry flashing behind the anger. “You just disappeared without letting me know-”

“I told you I was leaving.” You walked into the room rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you could see something beyond all that pathetic fangirling you’d have heard.”

“Fangirling?” He looked genuinely confused, following you in as he stripped off his jacket. You tried your best to not stare at the way his pecs were so perfectly outlined under the wet shirt sticking to his body but Seungcheol caught you peering, his features lighting up with amusement.

“Would you look at that?” He smirked. “Someone is jealous.”

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t be jealous even if we were the last people on Earth.”

“Obviously, if we were the last people, who would you even be jealous of?”

You sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I actually don't, sweetheart. If a little action is all you want, you can just ask for it you know?”

“Funny coming from a guy who kissed me just because another man was talking to me.”

The first tea break of the conference had led to an introduction that was surprising to you considering people did not really tend to approach you on their own. It was even more shocking that this man chose to speak to you in the lunch break as well, completely unprompted. He was sweet, not egging you too much with conversation, simply limiting it to work and the conference and then Choi Seungcheol appeared out of nowhere, snaking an arm around your waist, uninvited. Before you could glare at him and send him away, he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, excused himself and led you away from there, only to abandon you the very next second without an explanation.

“You call that a kiss?” Seungcheol scoffed. “You were so swept off your feet, you were this close to spilling details on our quotation for the project. That was actually me shutting you up.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “If you really wanted to shut me up, then you should have kissed me on the mouth.”

Seungcheol stared at you wordlessly.

As you began to walk away, he pulled you by the elbow, putting you against the wall, trapping you between his hands on either side.

“Is that how?” He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne taking over your senses. “Because there is nothing I’d love to do more than shut you up.” He cocked his head with a small smile. “And maybe also show you what a kiss really is.”

You tried not to gulp the phantom lump in your throat, cheeks suddenly hot under his gaze. Somehow, as though it had a mind of its own, your hand traced his exposed collar bone, trailing down his chest slowly, eyes following. Seungcheol held his breath under your touch. You stopped your tracks at his hard pecs, right above his heart beating just as fast as yours and looked up at him.

And then twisted his nipple.

Shrieking in pain, Seungcheol stumbled back, clutching his chest.

“What the hell mate?”

You walked towards your bed, grabbing your matching satin night robe and slipping it on. “It's ridiculous that you even think you of all people could show me a real kiss.”

“You forget sweetheart, I was your first one.”

You turned to Seungcheol as he brought up a memory you had actually done a great job forgetting. It was during your senior year - your parents had forced you to accompany Seungcheol to a house party so you could “get more involved in the social scene” instead of holing yourself up in your room all the time. It was a classic game of truth or dare and the worst dare of your life - to kiss Seungcheol for a minute.

Now the last thing you wanted to hear was him teasing you every day about how you were too scared to kiss him so you held him by the collar and pulled yourself into his lap straddling him, your mouth meeting his in a frenzy. If you were being honest, something about that kiss served as your sexual awakening - maybe it was the way he moaned into your mouth, or his hands gripped your ass, or hands entangled in his soft hair or your chest pressed up against his. Whatever it was, there was a video of it that your classmates took circulating somewhere out there, timed around five and a half minutes as opposed to the one minute it was supposed to be.

“Don’t take too much pride in yourself Cheol.” You sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands planted in the mattress. “Only I know how many other guys I had to kiss after that to know what kissing truly is.”

Seungcheol felt his jaw tighten.

Something in you had changed in junior year. Yes, you were still the same antisocial, inhospitable, unapproachable person you always were but somehow every other day, he found you in a new location with a new guy's tongue shoved down your throat. They were not boyfriends, Seungcheol knew that much, and it was the fact that they weren't that made his blood boil with anger.

“You shouldn’t take pride in yourself either sweetheart.” He looked at you with a strange mixture of anger and pity. “There's nothing to feel accomplished about not forming a single real bond in your life.”

The moment the words left his mouth Seungcheol regretted it, knowing he had hit a soft spot. It was too late now; the damage was done - pain was flashing in your eyes.

You looked at the insensitive man before you and laughed at him sadly, mirroring his hurtful words.

“No real bond? I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.”

And with that you turned away from him, tucking yourself under the sheets, turning off the lights on your side of the room. Grabbing his towel and a change of clothes, Seungcheol locked himself up in the bathroom, your words piercing his heart like no other. Over the years yes, the two of you argued and fought and annoyed each other and couldn’t stand one another but hate? He didn’t ever think that’s what you felt for him. Perhaps he deserved it - he had after all crossed a line with that comment.

He knew you had always struggled around people. He knew that even though you detested taking his help for anything, in every social setting, you would always choose to hide behind him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact, you just couldn’t. You were a sick child since birth, constantly brought down by various illnesses that often confined you to your room - you didn’t go out to play with the other children, you didn’t join the kids on their trips to the ice cream shop, you didn’t go late night camping with your classmates, you didn’t do a lot of what kids your age did.

And when you were old enough, when you were healthy enough to step out into the world, you didn’t know how to anymore. Hence you continued to stay in your own shell, closing yourself off from everyone, wary of any and all interactions. Seungcheol knew all this, that’s why when he couldn't lay his eyes on you in the crowd of the conference, the panic he felt was like no other. He never thought he would ever feel his heart stop but Seungcheol felt it twice today - once when he lost you and the other when you said that. I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.

You stared out of the window, mildly annoyed by all the light falling in your face, Seungcheol’s words ringing in your ears. It might have sounded harsh but he was right. You never formed real bonds with anyone, you could never bring yourself to. Having spent years all by yourself, you didn’t know what it was like to let another person into a space that was entirely yours. That’s why, though you engaged in all sorts of flings and hookups, you never let it go beyond that - you never let yourself lose your heart to someone, walking away from them before they could walk away from you.

In that sense, Seungcheol was indeed the realest bond you had - just a constantly present, mildly irritating, oddly comforting white noise in your life. It was easy with him - you never had to think in his presence, you never had to wonder whether anything would drive him away, never had to worry about keeping him by your side unconditionally - he was always there. Somehow what you felt for Seungcheol was liberating in a way you hadn’t even realized. Hate could hardly define that; you were unnecessarily harsh earlier.

Seungcheol stepped out of the bathroom, eyes falling on your unmoving figure which he just realized was on bed 6 instead of 7. Noticing the damp sheets and piecing it together, he didn’t think too much of it as he switched off the lights and crawled into his bed.

Hearing the sounds of him shuffling, you turned towards him.

“Are you not going for the dinner?”

“It’s too late now. I would have eaten there if I didn’t have to run back here to check up on you.”

“You could have just called me.”

“I did.” He turned to you, looking at just your silhouette in the darkness. “A few hundred times.”

You checked your phone immediately and it wasn’t a hundred times but there were some fifty odd calls from him and two dozen messages.

“I put my phone on silent during the conference and forgot to take it off.” You mumbled, just a little guilty that he was missing out on a gathering because of you. “Did you at least eat?”

“I’m not hungry, thanks to all the Americanos you kept feeding me all day.”

“If not for that, you would have been snoring in the conference barely an hour after it began.” You turned to lie on your back, facing the ceiling. “And I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d just obediently drank that double shot espresso in the morning.”

Seungcheol remembered you sliding the coffee cup to him and smiled to himself in the dark.

“Then maybe you should also listen to me and stop munching on those strawberries every chance you get, especially when you know they flare your allergies.”

You remembered Seungcheol gobbling up the last berry and smiled to yourself in the dark.

“Goodnight, you obnoxious prick.”

“Goodnight, you insufferable fiend."

When you woke up in the morning, two things had changed - one, Seungcheol had moved from bed 2 to bed 3 in the middle of the night and two, his shirt was gone, discarded somewhere in the mess on the floor. He was lying sprawled on his bare stomach, his back covered in a thin sheet of sweat, his tattoo shining as the light hit it. Ignoring the sight before you with much difficulty, you shook him awake.

“Get up Cheol, we’re going to be late.”

He groaned, rolling over, eyes slowly blinking open, falling on you first thing in the morning. Even though you were dressed in the sultriest thing he had ever seen on you, Seungcheol controlled himself and tore his eyes away.

“The radiator is right across the other bed; I was literally burning all night.” He mumbled, stretching awake, justifying his move.

You turned towards it noticing how it was in fact between bed two and three, closer to three than two to be honest. Considering Seungcheol was still drenched in sweat, his move in the middle of the night was actually quite pointless, but you chose not to say anything about it. Quickly washing up, the two of you rushed for breakfast, skimming over the presentation notes one last time. Today, neither of you noticed but Seungcheol drank the coffee and you didn’t eat the strawberries.

Day two went by in a flash much like day one. Only this time, you didn’t talk to the gentleman from yesterday, choosing to sit quietly by Seungcheol in the break and he didn’t leave your side either, regardless of all the ladies calling him to join them. In the evening, as the team headed to the city’s best karaoke bar, inviting you and Seungcheol again, Seungcheol brushed them off claiming the two of you had a little more work to do on the proposal. To his surprise, you shot him down, agreeing to join everyone, looking at him with a small smile.

“Don’t be such a killjoy darling.”

Seungcheol knew you were compensating for last night so he followed, well aware that you would most likely want to leave the moment the singing started. Well, he was almost right - you actually wanted to leave the moment you stepped foot into the room, turning to him with pleading eyes. Seungcheol turned you by your shoulder, laughing as he led you in.

“Don’t be such a killjoy sweetheart.”

You sat patiently as the beers poured in and people around you fought for the photobooth props. Seungcheol was sitting right beside you, his thigh a comforting weight against yours, laughing with everyone. As the night progressed, you had downed a beer or two, a slight buzz taking over, not noticing the way Seungcheol had his arm around you now or that you were warmly cuddled against his torso. Soon, one by one, everyone settled on the couches, tired from all the screaming, resorting to chatter instead and deciding on an old-fashioned game of truth or dare. Seungcheol smirked at you and you turned his face away with a soft push.

“So Seungcheol,” The man beside him spoke. “Truth or dare?”

“Neither actually. We should leave now.” He stood, pulling you up, stumbling slightly. “I’ve had too much to drink and it's late, Y/n needs to sleep.”

“Didn’t realize wacky wallflower here also had the bedtime of a toddler.” One of Seungcheol’s many fangirls piqued, jealousy stark on her face. “We can book her a cab, why don’t you stay a little longer, Cheolie?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at the nickname, and at her jealousy but Seungcheol did not find anything about her words even remotely funny.

“No thanks, I go where she goes.”

“I thought you guys weren’t dating? Then why-”

“That doesn’t change what I said.” His voice dropped an octave. “I go where she goes.”

“Cheol.” You placed a hand on his chest, sensing his anger rising. “It’s fine, let’s stay for a few rounds, yeah?”

Seungcheol looked at you frowning as you sat down, pulling him with you. The girl you already disliked but quite vehemently hate now, spun the bottle with a giggle.

“We don’t have to stay.” Seungcheol whispered as the guy beside you excitedly asked the one across him a question. “You stayed long enough, you need sleep-”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not.” He spoke between gritted teeth. “Just looking at that foul woman makes me mad. I already said I wasn’t interested in her, she had no reason to be a bitch.”

“Well then don’t you want to put the bitch in her place Cheol?”

You looked at him with big doe eyes which terrified Seungcheol even more. What on Earth were you up to?

“Y/n, you get to ask Yuri!”

You looked at the bottle to see it pointing between you and your little conquest of the night. Hook.

“Truth or dare?” Line.

“Dare.” And Sinker.

“Okay Yuri, then I dare you to not take your eyes off.”

You pulled Seungcheol by the collar, smashing your lips on his, swallowing his audible moan. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you closer, up against his body, teeth roughly tugging your lower lip. Hand sliding up his neck and across his jaw, you entangled your fingers in his hair, drawing him even closer denying even air the right to come between the two of you. Yes, it was all a show for Yuri or whatever her name was, but at a point, she stomped her foot and got up, running out of the room. Perhaps the two of you should have stopped then or at least when you were running out of breath. But you only broke apart when someone dropped a beer bottle, smashing the glass loudly on the floor. Seungcheol and you looked at it, faces flushed, lips swollen. A low whistle echoed in the room.

“We-” Seungcheol cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back. “We should get going.”

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, getting up and grabbing your things as Seungcheol smoothened his hair with his hand, muttering a small goodbye to everyone. As the two of you stepped out of the room, you found Yuri crying at the entrance, her friend trying her best to console her. Not sparing her another glance, you walked away, Seungcheol following you close behind. As the cold air hit you when you reached the taxi stand, you felt a painful sting on your lower lip, making you hiss. Hand cupping your face, Seungcheol wiped the trickle of blood with his thumb.

“Guess you desperately did need a real kiss huh?”

“Shut up.” You smacked his hand away. “I had to help the poor girl get over her pathetic taste in men.”

“By getting a taste of me?” Seungcheol smirked as you rolled your eyes. Before you could say anything, his stomach let out a loud growl making you laugh and look around, spotting a burger joint.

“Let’s get you a taste of that big boy.”

“Sometimes I wonder-” You stared out of the window at the large clouds rolling in. “-considering our parents are best friends and we are not, do you think our children would be good friends or enemies?”

“Wow, children.” Seungcheol munched on his burger furiously. “I never thought that far.”

“Then think about it now.”

“I don’t know.” He hummed. He hated thinking when he was tipsy. “Siblings tend to have a love-hate relationship.”

“I was talking about our children Seungcheol.”

“So was I.”

“No, I mean, my own children and your own children.”

“Yeah, same thing.”

You looked at him exasperatedly.

“Let’s be honest here Y/n. Who else out there can put up with us for long enough to start a family?”

“We can barely put up with each other-”

“But we have, for almost 25 years.” He slurped on his drink. “There’s a reason why you have never been in a relationship and I have never been in one that lasts. Because whatever it is we share, it’s you and I, till the end.”

“Till the end.” You muttered, reaching for his burger, taking a bite from it. Judging by your expression, Seungcheol could tell you liked his better, like you always do. That’s why he made sure to get it without the tomatoes he usually loved and settled to eat your meal instead. He was just about to ask why exactly you were so lost in thought when a loud thunder boomed across the sky sending a shiver running down Seungcheol’s spine.

Shoving the last of the burger down your throat quickly washing it down with some soda, you began gathering your things.

“We should go before the rain starts.”

Seungcheol nodded, finishing up his meal as you threw the trash in the nearby can. As the two of you left, muttering your thank yous to the waitresses, you laced your fingers with Seungcheol’s, gripping him tight as another lightning flashed across the sky. Thank God it wasn’t too hard to flag down a cab because the moment the two of you sat inside, rain began pouring like there was no tomorrow. As you glanced at the obscurity outside the window, Seungcheol stared at his hand, the one that you hadn’t left in all this time.

There were times when he used to stay over in your room, unable to sleep due to all the thundering while you dozed away oblivious to his presence. Those days, you’d turn around, reaching for his hand, holding it in your sleep. Seungcheol now wondered if that might have been a conscious effort to comfort him.

Perhaps not he thought as you began to nonchalantly hum his favourite song. He wondered if you knew he loved that piece because of how beautiful you looked when you danced to it. He wondered if you knew that the reason he was always around you was to make sure you were alright. He wondered if you knew he always carried an extra inhaler for you, that he had written a long list of your allergies in order from ‘can handle’ to ‘keep away from at all times’, that he was constantly alert about everything you ate, smelt and touched. He wondered if you knew, deep down how much he cared about you…..but sleep dragged him away before he could wonder anymore.

Sensing Seungcheol had fallen asleep, you stopped humming, turning to him, smiling at his half open mouth. Scooting closer, you slowly pulled his head to rest against your shoulder, and he groaned softly, nuzzling into it. The driver looked at the two of you through the rear-view mirror, making your cheeks go red as you looked away.

“Is your boyfriend afraid of thunderstorms?”

You nodded, ignoring the title. “Since he was a child. I don’t think he’s been sleeping too well the last few days.”

“The forecast shows it’s going to be worse today.” The driver sighed. “Look out for him.”

You nodded again. You did look out for him. In your own ways you always did - you always challenged him knowing that was what pushed him to do better. You always made sure to wake him up or at least meddle with his clocks so he was always on time. You always made sure he ate and slept enough, knowing how it threw him off whenever he was deprived of either. Even now you were humming his favourite song knowing it calmed him down. You wondered if Seungcheol knew, that deep down you really cared about him…..perhaps more than anything.

When the taxi reached the lodge, you softly shook him awake after paying, dragging his sleepy self through the lobby. The receptionist's eyes followed the two of you, stumbling away hand in hand, mouth curling into a small smile as you disappeared. You only let his hand go when you reached the room and that’s what jolted him awake.

The silence that descended the room today was different. It wasn’t because the two of you were too tired to say anything to each other, rather neither of you knew what exactly to say given there was so much to. So instead, you resorted to washing up and filling in your journal for the day while Seungcheol worked on a few changes in the proposal for the final pitch tomorrow. Just as he shut the laptop and you shut your diary, the two of you looked at each other before quickly looking away, settling in your own beds, for the night.

You were almost ready to drift off to sleep, before the driver’s words rang in your mind - the forecast shows it’s going to be worse today. Without thinking much, you moved your things from bed 6 to bed 5, muttering that the light from the streetlamps was falling in your face there. Seungcheol did not point out that you could just close the curtains instead and curled up in his own bed, glad you were closer to him now.

He looked at you across the one bed that was in between and suddenly you felt too far, like the distance was too much.

You looked at him as his eyes fluttered shut, thunder rumbling across the sky, wondering if he could hear you across all this space, humming louder than usual, lulling the two of you to sleep.

When you woke up, Seungcheol was surprisingly awake and fully dressed, trying to knot his tie unsuccessfully in front of the mirror, expression focused with a small pout. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you stared at his reflection, eyes skimming over the beautiful features of his face which you never really consciously admired - his thick hair, thicker eyebrows, plump, pillowy lips, his jawline sharp and chiselled. He was indeed handsome, in a way you really liked….a lot.

You wondered why you always looked at him like he was the bane of your existence. Was it because it was easier to bury the unresolved tension under pointless banter? Or did you wantonly show him your worst side, hoping it wouldn’t scare him away, hoping he would stay despite every flaw, every shortcoming. What did it mean if in 25 years, he didn’t leave even once?

Seungcheol groaned, annoyed at his futile attempts, eyes finally meeting yours in the mirror. You slid off your bed, walking up to him as he turned to you. Yawning, you took his tie in your hands, tying it for him. Seungcheol’s eyes drifted over the features of your face as he held his breath.

He could get used to this, the sight of waking up to a sleepy you, your hair all over the place, your eyes slightly droopy, nose red. God you were so beautiful - he knew that, but why didn’t he ever think about it? Why did he choose to fight every remote thought about you with irritating banter? Was he scared that the tension would remain unresolved? And what did it mean if you were still here, right by his side, helping him out in everything big and small, always making sure he was going the right way and doing the right thing, every single day for the last 25 years?

You pushed the knot up to his neck, smoothening the material, patting his chest with a proud smile. Seungcheol gulped as you walked away to wash up, trying to get his breath under control.

When the two of you came down for breakfast, you pointedly avoided the receptionist's gaze. There was no time to deal with more thoughts.

The rest of the day went like that, thoughtlessly. It was a little awkward at the conference considering the little show you two put up last night, so the moment it ended for good in the evening, you bid everyone goodbye, citing you had an early flight and had to leave soon. It was true though, you did have to travel in the wee hours of the morning, but leaving from the conference so soon also meant having to spend longer with Seungcheol, all alone. He agreed with you though, stating his social battery was at an all-time low and that he just wanted to go back.

Today the two of you were somehow sitting on two ends of the car backseat, bodies pressing against the door, in complete contrast to last night. It was a silent ride, a silent walk to the room and a silent session of packing up. Suddenly there were very conscious efforts to not brush hands, or accidentally walk into each other or catch the other person randomly staring, lost in thought. It was only when you were finally done that you asked Seungcheol if he wanted to order dinner. He agreed, leading to a very small and very efficient discussion about what dishes to eat and then silence descended upon the room again. While waiting for the food to arrive, Seungcheol muttered that he was going for a quick run, leaving you alone with the thoughts you could no longer stop from plaguing your mind.

Something had changed over the last 3 days. It wasn’t you or Seungcheol - he was still throwing his damp towels on dry clothes and you were still meddling with his clocks. No, the two of you hadn’t changed. Neither did the arguing, neither did the banter, neither did the subtle flirting, neither did the silent support. No…. nothing had changed. It was all the same. It was all the exact same except now, you were finally willing to acknowledge something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself since the age of five, that-

“I’m in love with him.” You whispered, smiling to yourself.

Seungcheol on the other hand thought running around the lodge would mean those thoughts wouldn’t run in his mind anymore. He was wrong - even though you were not there, like always you were on his mind, in his every thought, in his every breath. Seungcheol didn’t know of a life without you. He also knew that you would be there with him for the rest of his life but for the first time in 25 years, he finally found himself owning up to it - that he truly wanted you be a part of his future, that he could not bear to think of one without you in it, that-

“I’m in love with her.” He whispered, smiling to himself.

By the time Seungcheol had returned, dinner had arrived. Between each bite you searched for the right words to say, noticing that Seungcheol was trying the same. Somehow, neither of you could bring yourself to say anything.

You couldn’t peacefully finish up your journal and Seungcheol couldn’t take a relaxing shower, both muttering under your breaths, practicing long speeches, determined to confess everything before sleeping tonight.

But when all was done for the night, both of you laid down on your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, unable to talk, unable to sleep.

Seungcheol turned his head as you did towards him, making his heart clench a little.

Sighing, he grabbed his pillow and put it on bed 4, lying down, facing you.

You looked at him blinking slowly.

Seungcheol held his breath.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your duvet and joined him on the fourth bed, throwing it over the two of you, lying down, facing him.

Seungcheol slid his hand over your waist, pulling you closer.

You gripped the material of his shirt, snuggling into the warmth of his neck.

Nothing was said that night.

Nothing had to be said as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

It was the harsh morning sun and the annoying chirping of the birds that woke you up.

You stared out of the window surprised at the bright light given the last few days were as gloomy as it could be. Seungcheol’s soft breaths tickled your shoulder as his arms held you tight, your back against his chest. Smiling you wiggled in his grip turning towards him, taking in how much more stunning he looked in the morning light-

Morning?

“Cheol.”

He hummed softly.

“Cheol!”

“What?”

“It’s bright outside.”

“That’s how mornings are Y/n.”

“Oh thank you for enlightening me.” You rolled your eyes. “Might I return the favour by reminding you that we had a flight at 5am?”

Seungcheol’s eyes flew open.

He quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand, 11am flashing on the screen.

“Fuck.” He muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck fuck fuck, I can’t believe we missed the flight!”

You took the phone from him and scrolled through the app. “The next flight out is tomorrow morning, same time, 5am.”

“But the company hasn’t paid for the room tonight, where will we stay?” Seungcheol groaned. “How could you not wake me up?”

You frowned at him. “And why is it my job to?”

“Because, you don’t like it when I put alarms on my phone.”

“Uh no, I don’t like it when you continue to sleep through the dozen alarms you put on your phone.”

“Whatever your reasons are, I think its been established that you are the one who's supposed to wake us both up.”

“Yeah well thanks to you I forgot to set an alarm.”

“Thanks to me?” He looked at you bewildered. “What did I do?”

“Who asked you to..” You pointed at everything around with the wave of a hand, the two of you only just registering the situation you were in.

“You were the one who came to my bed.” Seungcheol shrugged. “This is on you because you were desperate.”

“Says the one who’s boner poking into my back woke me up.”

Seungcheol gawked at you, stuttering. “M-morning wood is a scientific phenomenon, okay? I can’t help it-”

“I could have.” You muttered, slipping out of the bed.

Seungcheol pulled you back under him, half hovering over you.

“Oh yeah?” He bit his lower lip with a small smile. “How exactly?”

You hummed, “I happen to know some good meditation techniques-”, running a finger down his abdomen, tracing a random design.

Seungcheol grabbed your hand and pinned it to the mattress by your face, leaning close.

“Think of a better way, baby.”

The nickname sent a delightful chill down your spine as you slightly squirmed under him, smiling.

“How about I get you some ice-”

“That’s not what I want right now.”

“Then what do you want right now?”

His eyes ran along the features of your face.

“I want to kiss you.” He whispered. “So bad.”

“And what are you waiting for?”

Seungcheol groaned, immediately pressing his lips onto yours, needy and ravenous, like he had been waiting eons for this. Well, so had you.

Pushing him off you and onto his back, you straddled his hips, kissing him again, rolling your tongue over his. Seungcheol moaned into your mouth, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other holding you by the nape of your neck, taking back control. When you ran your hand over his thick pecs, he pulled away with a dreamy sigh, planting a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your throat.

“Strip for me.”

Sitting up immediately, you lifted your hips a little letting Seungcheol push the material of your nightdress up your thighs and you pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere. In the ten seconds it took you to do that, Seungcheol was a changed man. The old him wanted to take his time unravelling you slowly, pushing you to the edge but the new Seungcheol felt the animal in him come alive with a throbbing, insatiable desire. It became exponentially worse when you pulled your hair up, tying it with the hair tie on your wrist, baring your neck, perfect breasts, soft stomach….unable to reign it in anymore, Seungcheol lunged forward, hungrily sucking a tit into his mouth, making you lose your balance over him a little, grabbing his bicep half laughing.

“Huh, I really thought you were more of an ass guy.”

Seungcheol let go with a wet pop, looking up at you from between his thick lashes. Oh wasn’t that a sight.

“For you, I’m an everything guy.” His hands gripped your ass hard. “Your derriere does take the cake though.”

You laughed, “Who even uses that word?”

“I don’t know, I have no idea what is coming out of my mouth right now.” He confessed, his tongue running up the gap between your boobs, the sweet and salty taste of your skin driving him insane. “I just know what I want in it.”

“Yeah?” You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him back with a harsh grip, before he latched onto your other tit. “I have better things to put in it.”

Seungcheol grinned like he couldn’t wait, flashing his canines, biting his lower lip.

God he was going to be the end of you.

But you’ll beat him to it.

Palms planted behind you, you slid yourself back off his thighs and sat between his legs, lifting your own up for him. Seungcheol’s eyes darkened in an instant and the moment he saw the wet spot in the middle of your pink panties, he could not hold himself back anymore. With a swift movement he was up on his knees before you, hooking his fingers in the elastic by your waist and slowly dragging your underwear along your legs. Like a man starving he crumpled it in his hand, breathing it deeply, eyes fluttering shut like he was intoxicated by your scent.

“I’m going to be borrowing this, for whenever you’re not there.”

“Pervert.” You whispered as he tucked it in the back pocket of his tracks. “But I’m never not going to be there. I’m afraid you’re stuck for life now.”

Seungcheol fisted the material at the back of his neck and pulled it over his head, flinging it somewhere before he put his hands between your knees and spread your legs apart, groaning at the sight before him. You were quite literally hiding his paradise between your legs.

“Trust me,” He reached for a pillow behind him, throwing it to you. “I want to be stuck here.”

The moment you tucked it under your head lying back, Seungcheol wasted no time in crawling between your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, descending on your sex. You felt your back arch off the mattress as he devoured, his tongue, mouth, lips all showing you stars in daytime.

“Fuck Cheol.” You whimpered as his tongue slipped into your hole, his moan sending a wild vibration against it. Bringing your hands to his head, your fingers gripped his hair, pushing your hips up against him “Give me more.”

Seungcheol smirked, pressing your hips down, continuing his ministrations in a way that made your toes curl. Damn he knew what he was doing. For a split second you wondered how he knew so much and an ugly jealousy began coursing through you but it was lost almost immediately, when he began to suck on your clit.

“Cheol….” You moaned, the sudden stimulation too intense for you, a tightness growing deep inside. “F-fuck that’s good.”

Seungcheol knew he was good. Not because he was experienced, not exactly - more because he was desperate to taste every inch of you. If he thought the taste of your arousal was heavenly, the moment your legs trembled and your breaths got harsher and you came against his mouth, Seungcheol knew he’d cast aside the heavens for it. This wasn’t enough.

This was probably the fastest orgasm you ever had, waves of the buzz washing over as your jaw fell slack. You rode it out against his mouth, tense shivers running down your body as his nose grazed your clit before falling limp into the softness of the bed, chest heaving.

Seungcheol was so noisily devoted to making you fall apart on his tongue, he wasn't sure if you didn't moan his name or if he was too entranced to hear it. Either way, he had to go again, keeping in mind to put his eyes on you this time. When he looked up at you, your face was flushed, lips curled into a blissful smile and Seungcheol thought he fell more in love with you, if that was even possible.

“We're gonna have to talk about why you're so good at that.” You half laughed, trying to sit up. Seungcheol pushed you back down, throwing another pillow at you, humming.

“How good was I exactly?”

“Nice try big boy,” You stacked the pillow over the previous one, leaning back against it. “I'm not going to feed your ego.”

“I'll feed myself then.” He smirked before licking a long strip between your folds making you tremble with over stimulation.

“Cheol not yet-”

“If I don't hear you I'm not going to stop.”

And he descended upon you like a mad man again, making you gasp in surprise. You did not think he'd go through with it.

“Cheol I really can't-”

but Seungcheol did not stop.

When he didn’t listen, you reached to pull him off you but Seungcheol was quicker as he grabbed both your wrists in a flash and held them against your heaving chest, continuing to eat the life out of you.

“Seungcheol please.” You couldn’t even squirm if you tried to, held down hard by his brute strength. “I really can’t-”

He looked up, his mouth wet with his spit and your arousal as he licked his lips. Fuck you really loved this man.

“Do you actually want me to stop?”

He was taunting you but there's a slight concern laced in his voice.

You shook your head slowly.

“I thought so.” He chuckled before continuing his act of wolfing down on you.

Your second orgasm began to rush in with an unreal speed and you don't know how Seungcheol could read your body so well already but the little bitch backed out before you could cum again.

“Cheol…”

You whined, frustrated at the feeling ebbing away, desperately clenching to hold on to it.

“I said I wanted to hear you.”

You glared at him, not used to him having the upper hand. He knew he's got you under control when he finally loosened his bruising grip on your thigh to sit up and you opened your mouth on your own accord to let him slip his fingers into them.

“What a pretty little girl.” He sighed as you sucked on his digits. “My pretty girl.”

“Yes yours.” You moaned, as he pulled them out of your mouth and pushed them into his, wetting them more as you practically panted below him.

“I'll do what you want, just put them in me Cheol.”

“You're quite demanding baby.” He leaned over you looking amused. “I hope you deliver as well as you talk.”

“I'll suck the life out of your dick after this I swear, just let me cum again.”

Enticed by the idea, Seungcheol captured your mouth in another one of his messy kisses, his fingers slowly slipping into your heat. You gasped into his mouth, surprised by how thick his fingers were. Oh his dick would probably make you pass out and god were you ready for it.

“Say my name baby.” Seungcheol pressed his forehead against yours, still holding your wrists between both your bodies with his other hand. “Tell me who's making you feel so good.”

“You.” You moaned as he pumped his fingers, slowly stretching you open, your arousal dripping down between your thighs. “Fuck Cheol, faster.”

He obeyed, picking up the pace as you babbled a string of curses, legs squeezing his hand desperate to feel more. Seungcheol sucked on your neck, enjoying the way you were crumbling apart for him. How was he ever going to be away from you after this?

“Oh god yes.” You sighed, as his fingers curled hitting the spot, eyes rolling back. Seungcheol looked at you in awe.

“I apologise if I ever told you that it was annoying when you rolled your eyes.” He continued to push you over. “That was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Yes yes yes.” You chanted not hearing him, too lost in your own pleasure building. Pleased with himself, Seungcheol finally put his thumb over your clit and that was all it took for you to cum all over his fingers with yet another silent scream.

Seungcheol let your hands go and sat back on his heels, admiring his artwork. Your chest heaved erratically like you had forgotten how to breathe, squeezing your tits, hands desperate to claw something. Hair sticking to your forehead, sweat running down your neck next to the bruises he marked, you were a vision to behold.

Seungcheol sucked his fingers clean, relishing the taste of you yet again. You stared at him wide eyed, curious.

“Have you never tasted yourself?”

You shook your head.

“Oh sweetheart.”

Seungcheol pushed his tracks down just a bit, enough to pull his dick out. It's not the longest you've seen but God was it thick, a stark vein running down the length which looked painfully hard. The thought of having him fill your mouth and choking around it literally made you drool.

He pumped it a few times before hooking his hands under your thighs and pulling you towards him with unsurprising ease. You scrambled to raise yourself up on your elbows, watching as he ran it up and down your slit, gathering your release on it.

“Come taste.”

You blinked at the man holding out his dick to you like it was a treat, like he expected you to crawl to him, stunned at just how cocky he had gotten in 20 minutes. Hell no.

You shook your head, tilting it in challenge.

“Come fuck my mouth.”

If Choi Seungcheol had a fatal flaw it was how much he desired control but right now, there was nothing he desired and craved more than you.

Moving over not so gracefully he aligned himself by your mouth, knees planted on either sides of your waist, looming over you.

You immediately wrapped your lips around his tip, humming at the weight on your tongue as he pushed your hair off your face softly.

“I know baby, you taste fucking divine.”

Giving him a half nod, running your tongue over his slit before hollowing your cheeks around him. The mix of your and his arousal indeed tasted….right, like they belonged together.

You tried to take in more of him but you might have underestimated his girth and overestimated your ability. Pulling back with a pop, you licked your lips.

“You're too thick.” Mumbling you tried to push him off you, onto his back. “Let me move over-”

“Oh no no.” Seungcheol clicked his tongue, grabbing the back of you neck, forcing you to look up at him. “It can't be that bad, someone claimed they could stack fruit loops on it.”

You rolled your eyes realising he was a bit too proud of himself. “I still can. I just don't have the cereal to prove it.”

“I'll buy some on the way back and when we go home that's the first thing you're going to do.” He wiped the spit leaking around the corner of your mouth with his free hand. “And if you don't manage to prove your point, that's grounds for punishment.”

You grinned at him.

“Oh you like that.” He hummed, guiding your head back to his cock. “We'll see how much of it you can take baby.”

A lot apparently.

Seungcheol should have known. You were like him - you didn't like to be challenged. That's why the moment he thrusted himself into your mouth, you held onto the back of his thighs with both hands, pushing it in a lot more than Seungcheol had thought you were capable of. Throwing his head back with a satisfied moan, he began moving his hips ever so little, slowly fucking your face, but you had other ideas, taking him as far back as you could, your throat constricting around his dick.

“Alright that's it.” Seungcheol pulled you off him, staring at your confused face. Somehow you had no gag reflex and Seungcheol suddenly had the endurance of a teenager. “Want to actually fuck you.”

He muttered drawing back, kicking off the remaining of his clothes and sitting up, trying to hide his breathlessness.

“Aw Cheol, was I right again?” You laughed, getting up and clambering onto his lap. “Is ten minutes really enough for you?”

“You'll see.” He pulled you into a deep kiss before abruptly breaking away, leaving you confused yet again. “Or not.”

“What?”

“I just realised… I don't have a condom.”

You waited for him to tell you he was kidding but he looked serious.

“Cheol….” He looked at you apologetically. “Ugh Choi Seungcheol, why not?!”

“One, don't call me that and two, I don't know, maybe because this was a work trip and the conference dress code didn't mention dick envelopes.”

You sighed annoyed. “I just always thought you'd carry one on you, xl sized.” You shot his overconfidence down before it even grew on him. “you know, for your head.”

“Oh because I'm a dick?” He rolled his eyes at the comment you had used on him too many times already. “Well, wouldn't that make you a little slut? Since you’ve been in love with me for so many years.”

“Who said I was in love with you?”

Seungcheol looked at you with the biggest, fucking cutest eyes. “Are you not?”

You smiled, surprisingly shy despite all that transpired so far. Honestly, you didn't have to answer that question. What you felt for each other was clear as day.

Putting a finger on his mouth, you whispered. “Less talking, more fucking please.”

Seungcheol groaned. “What do you want me to do? Go buy them now?”

“No…” You hated the thought of him leaving.

“Or…. I could pull out?”

“The last thing I trust in this world is your timing.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, don't you want to be inside me when you cum? Squeezing you tight? Milking you dry?”

“Kinky.” Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, secretly delighted. “And shoot me if I ever say no to that, but you're not on birth control are you?”

“No…” You drawled. “But I can get plan b?”

“Baby, you realize how reckless this is-”

“I know.”

“-we've barely just-”

“I'm aware.”

“-plus your health-”

“Choi Seungcheol.” You pushed him back into the bed, annoyed. “Are you gonna fuck me or not? Because if you don't then I'm gonna do it myself and all you get is to watch-”

Seungcheol, tucked his arm under his head, looking like he liked that idea a little too much.

“-while I cum taking someone else's name.”

His eyes darkened as his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you down to his eye level, “Try me sweetheart.”

“You know how I feel about challenges.”

“And you know how I feel about sharing what’s mine.”

“Then fuck me like I’m yours.”

Seungcheol smiled, dropping a soft kiss on your mouth, much in contrast to what followed. “Remember, you asked for this.”

One arm wrapped around your waist, he flipped you over, putting you below him once again, the hunger in his eyes burning a lot more now. As he shifted to push your legs apart, hand leaving your neck, a soft whine left you and Seungcheol caught it immediately.

“You’re into that too?” Seungcheol smirked as you frowned at him, annoyed.

“Apparently. I just found out as well.”

“I wonder what else you’re into.”

“You can wonder all you want, after you put that dick into me.”

Seungcheol clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I don’t like how you think I’d listen.”

Yet before you could talk back, he slid his cock along your folds, the tip slightly dipping into your hole, pulling out the most exquisite moan from you.

“Now that’s something I’d listen to.” He pushed himself a little further, your hands immediately coming to grip his biceps, gasping again at just how big he was. Seungcheol had been dying to listen to you sound like this and god was it so worth it.

You attempted to relax, adjusting around his girth as he eased himself in, but gave up even trying to maintain the facade of composure when he bottomed out, pressing all the way in.

“Fuck yes Cheol.”

He hissed softly, feeling your soft walls flutter around him. He had never fucked anyone raw and after this, how was he expected to just not spend his whole life buried in you?

“Please, move.” You begged, and he folded immediately, his hips slowly picking up pace as he kissed you along your neck.

“We should have done this years ago.” He groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips, pounding faster, harder. “We should have been doing this for years now.”

You nodded half listening, half submerged in your pleasure, nails running down his back. “Let’s just never get out of this bed.”

Seungcheol chuckled, absolutely agreeing with that idea, snapping his hips faster, delighted by the way you were reacting under him.

He wanted to flip you around and take you from the back, mark your ass with the red prints of his hand. He wanted you sitting on him, fucking yourself on his dick while he watched, your head thrown back in pleasure. He wanted to eat you out till you cried, fuck your throat and make you swallow, pull every moan and every whine and ever chant of his name out of you. God he wanted so much but Seungcheol wasn't capable of any of those right now - he had been hard for almost an hour now and your grip around him was like a vice.

“Seungcheol more.” You whined, despite him already railing into you like there was no tomorrow. He still listened though, sliding his hand down between your bodies and finding you clit, well aware that you would probably go unbelievably tight the moment he touched it, rendering him absolutely helpless. Sure enough, you keened, clamping down on him hard the moment he began rubbing circles, a string of curses leaving your mouth.

“Cum for me.” He whispered, hips rutting against yours harshly, holding his own release back desperately. “Cum all over me.”

And you did, the pleasure washing over you in waves, legs tightening around him before they finally went slack, exhausted. Seungcheol pulled them off him, gripping your thighs instead, shifting from an erratic rhythm to quick, deep strokes as he finally came inside you, collapsing on top.

He was careful enough not to crush you under his weight, holding himself up a little so you could regain your breath, watching your eyes flutter tiredly.

“We need to get you cleaned up.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, glancing at your mixed arousals dripping out of you. “I don’t know how long the statute of limitations for ejaculate is….”

For the first time in your life, Choi Seungcheol had managed to turn you dumb, as you nodded mindlessly, not having registered the stupidity that just came out of him.

He chuckled, rolling off you, but you dragged him back by the wrist, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hold me.”

And as though the universe hated you, a sharp knock on the door made you two jump apart. Seungcheol still proceeded to hold you but the knocking only repeated, louder this time. He huffed annoyed, sliding off the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and threw it on. Opening the door just a little, half hiding behind it, lower half specifically, he peaked out but his plan was foiled when the receptionist pushed the door fully open and came barging in, throwing her hands around.

“Check out time was 12! You’re late-”

She froze as Seuncheol quickly covered himself with a towel from nearby and you scrambled in a hurry, hiding under the sheets, squirming in embarrassment.

The old woman slowly, still shocked to the core, muttered an apology and walked out of the room as Seungcheol smacked his head against the wall, regretting not wearing his pants.

“You…” She cleared her throat from the other side of the door. “You have till 2. Get it together and get out of my lodge.” She then walked away, the sound of her footsteps fading, before they suddenly got louder again. “I would also like to add that I knew this was going to happen from the moment you two stepped foot in here!”

You covered your face trying not to pass out from the embarrassment as Seungcheol locked the door laughing.

"Why does she sound so happy?"

“I cannot believe she saw us." You groaned. "Who walks in like that-”

“Who cares?” Seungcheol walked over to you. “I cannot believe we still have two more hours.”

“You’re not even ready to go again.” You looked pointedly at the softened dick in his hand that he was pumping lazily. “Besides, we're going to have to book the room again, for tonight.”

“2 hours isn’t enough for you? Oh baby-”

“Our flight is at 5am tomorrow you idiot, we still need a place for the night.”

“Right.” Seungcheol recalled, “I forgot we had to go… that this had to come to an end.”

“Nothing’s ending.” You clarified, putting a rest to his worries. “Didn’t you say, you and I, till the end?”

Seungcheol nodded as you held your hand out to him. He walked over taking it, dropping a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Say.” And you knew an unholy thought was brewing in that head of his. “We have all this time and there are seven beds here.”

“I don’t care how many there are.” You laughed, pulling him into the softness of the sheets. “I only want one to share with you.”

A/n - this was supposed to be out a few hours ago but tumblr was being a bitch to me. Im adding the tags in the comments! Reblogs with tags, comments and asks are much appreciated, thank you for reading :)

[srnileforme]

‘that's why he my man young and he fine and he tall and he handsome talkin' so fine, i might hold it for ransom’

[demilypyro]

Ok so as someone who knows very little about sonic characters that aren't the main cast. Can you explain to me who Surge is? (I am asking you to infodump. I understand I could just check the wiki but then you wouldn't get to talk about a character you like)

Alright you asked for it. Long post attack.

So Eggman had this protege named Doctor Starline, who had a falling out with his mentor and hatched a plan to kill Sonic and replace him with a new hero, one who would take Sonic's place in the eyes of the people but be under his control.

So he kidnapped a random girl off the street (no name or history known at this point), filled her with a bunch of cybernetics to give her superpowers, and slowly brainwashed and trained her into becoming essentially Sonic's equivalent of Wario.

This was Surge the Tenrec.

As Sonic's so-called "imposter," Surge is like an exaggerated version of Sonic. She has his heroic heart, but also his temper, his pride, his irresponsibility, his rudeness, all turned up to 11. She's got the standard super speed, as well as electrokinesis - lightning powers. She's accompanied by Kitsunami, or just Kit, a blue fennec with water powers and a similar background, but who was based on Tails instead.

As part of their brainwashing, Surge was conditioned to hate Sonic. As Surge's backup, Kit was conditioned to want to support Surge in any way he can.

Surge and Kit eventually found out what had happened to them, how Starline had kidnapped and brainwashed them, and were planning to betray him. Before they could, however, Starline was killed, after being thoroughly trounced by Eggman, leaving Surge and Kit free to do whatever they want.

When Surge finally encountered Sonic, she blamed him for what had happened to her. She holds him responsible for always letting Eggman survive to come back another day, leading to ever-escalating conflict. While before she had no real reason to hate him beyond her brainwashing, all that baseless animosity now had a foundation, and she's wanted to take him down since. Surge and Kit have had several fights with Sonic and Tails already, and while they were defeated each time, it's clear they pose a real threat.

Left with only each other, and having no real goals beyond taking down Sonic and Tails, and no hints to their past, Surge and Kit became a neutral force of chaos, not affiliated with either Sonic or Eggman. While Surge has the desire to be a hero, she can't let go of her grudge toward Sonic, and Kit's obsession with helping Surge regularly shows itself to be unhealthy, which may lead to a falling out between them in the future.

Since their first appearance in the Impostor Syndrome mini-series, they've made regular appearances in the main comic starting with issue #50. They've been making waves, establishing new rivalries and inciting new conflicts. Sonic wants to believe there's good in Surge, but she's a tough nut for him to crack.

Surge is one of the series' best original characters. Surge is cool, has an interesting origin, and she contrasts Sonic in a way that gives ample opportunities for new stories. She's got a good heart, but she's carrying around a ton of trauma and animosity she doesn't know what to do with. She's scrappy, resourceful, and more introspective than you might expect. And by often being positioned as the underdog, she's very easy to root for.

I was always a bit uninterested in the Sonic series at large, but Surge really got me on board. She really made me a fan.

She's my favorite Sonic character.

If you're interested, look into the Imposter Syndrome mini-series, which leads right into Sonic IDW issue #50, or you can just read Sonic IDW from the start.

Okay bye

[ippipo]

husband!rafayel x reader, reader is lovestruck loser in this

rafayel's eyes contain the entire galaxy in them. you would spend your day cuddling with him while staring into his eyes when he wasn't paying attention.

one day, you just couldn't help how beautiful they looked. the sunrays from the window hit his face just right, and his beautiful orbs were highlighted. he was painting something, and you were absolutely mesmerized by his divinity. is he a god cause dayum.

the way his silhouette was carefully picked out, his skin was so flawless, his body, and his eyes, the heavens took their sweet time making him. your legs were wobbly just by looking at him. your sweet boy.

you gazed for a solid minute into his eyes without blinking until a teardrop made its way out, startling you. your eyes were dry, but you didn't care. he was truly a sight to behold. he moves slightly to fix his hair, and you let out a moan. you didn't know you had that in you. he freezes at the sound.

"is my wife horny just by looking at me? i mean, how could you resist all this?" he teases you. the word 'wife' came out so sweet from that beautiful mouth of his. "you're such a loser," he playfully states, a cheeky grin etched onto his face.

you couldn't reply. you were awestruck at how gorgeous he looked. my husband. you thought to yourself. the concept making you feel giddy inside. your entire body was filled with so much pleasure at the mere sight of him. "rafayel...." you let out. it unexpectedly sounded like a whine, you just wanted to call out his name, satisfied with the way it rolled out on your tongue.

his ears and cheeks turned red the way you uttered his name. "what is it, wifey?" he asks you. you still weren't responding. a dumb look on your face resembling a goldfish made him snort. you were so adorable to him. "i-" you begin, but end it with a sigh.

he placed the paintbrush in his hand down and waltzed towards the sofa, kneeling before you on the ground. your breath hitches at how he became even more gorgeous as he came closer. he caresses your skin, and it just felt so good that you moaned again.

your heart was in a frenzy. unable to handle it anymore while he was moving even closer to kiss you, you pushed him away. your entire body was reacting to his touch, a warm and fuzzy feeling overwhelming you.

he feigns a look of hurt, before pushing himself up and laying on you. the position was awkward but you were seeing stars. his entire weight was on you but it was comfortable. he flips you and now you were laying on him.

you sharply inhale, remembering how to breathe again. "rafayel," you whine out, wanting to repeat his name over and over again like a chant. he was a god and you were his devotee. he was a temple and you were his worshipper. he was the sole reason everything made sense and no sense at all at the same time. you were obsessed.

your fingertips graze over his lips, trying to make out if he was real or not. unbelievable. "did you eat something funny?" he questions, a concerned expression on his face. but you weren't responding again. sure, you did have some weird tasting dessert in the morning, but that wasn't a part of anyone's concern. he was just so addicting.

he decides to kiss you, and you were going crazy. you let out moans in between the kisses, unable to hold your admiration inside. he didn't stop until you were out of breath, lips swollen from the intensity and roughness, and a dishelved look on your face. you pull him into another kiss, lips molding against each other so perfectly.

the warm feeling erupting inside you again, bringing you pleasure beyond your senses. the place down there throbbing with desire, so much so that it was painful.

now it was his turn to be out of breath. you were too, but he was so affected. "my sweet baby," you whisper affectionately while caressing his cheek with your thumb. the love in your eyes was overwhelming to him. no painting he could ever make could resemble that.

"were you in a trance or something?" he asks, but he goes quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. "you just look so so beautiful, i couldn't help it," you flash him a toothy grin.

you sloppily smooch his forehead and connect yours with his. "i would kill for you," you state, a chill running down his spine and straight to his cock.

"baby, you're killing me already with that look," he buries his head into the nape of your neck. you laugh at the ticklish feeling and press a kiss to his temple. your sweet boy.

[kyouka-supremacy]

Peer reviewed!!!! Further elaborating to say: now, y'all may recall I have a very specific way to see when sskk fell for each other, and for Atsushi it was when Akutagawa died (because dying is the most human experience, and by seeing him die Atsushi finally started seeing Akutagawa as human etc etc). Which means when Akutagawa died Atsushi didn't love Akutagawa still; or at least, in the timeframe of his reaction he still hadn't elaborated his feelings enough for his behaviour towards Akutagawa to change because of them. The thing is, it was never about Atsushi's behaviour toward Akutagawa changing to begin with; because even if not specifically loving Akutagawa per sé, Atsushi is still absolutely obsessed with Akutagawa, and always has been. And though he may not have acknowledged his newfound feelings yet when Akutagawa died, that doesn't change the fact that Atsushi couldn't ever envision for him and Akutagawa to get separated. Even if they were to die‚ Atsushi felt in his heart that they would have died together (with a good chance of dying by each other's hand). And that's why he couldn't absolutely bring his body to leave Akutagawa there on the ship. Because ever since they met they've always been tied by fate! They've always been a pair. And Atsushi knows that much at least on an instinctive plane. They fight the enemy together - that's how it's always been‚ right? -, and they can win and save the day or lose and die together; but getting separated‚ that simply never felt like a possible scenario. That's why Atsushi hesitated so much‚ that's why Akutagawa had to urge him to run‚ that's why he physically had to be pulled away to leave the scene.

And these tags!!! Absolutely obsessed with the sentence “he didn’t think akutagawa could GET hurt like that unless it was by him”,,,, They make me so insane.

obsessed with characters being saved against their will. being knocked unconscious and carried away from a danger they won't stop trying to fight. being shoved through a portal somewhere far away and safe right before it closes. trying to self-sacrifice only to have the exact person they're trying to save swap their places at the last second. getting the only cure to the disease or curse bc the person administering it loves them too much to give it to anyone else, including themselves. being thrown to safety right as they had accepted dying. someone else they thought had gotten to safety running back to drag them out of danger. it's so fucking tasty

[theorphicangel]

maybe I’m thinking about the moment sukuna sits yuji down and finally tells him the truth about him and reader

( full fic before this is here but not needed to read this drabble!!)

sukuna finally sits yuji down, it’s only the two of them in the living room with sukuna’s twin brother, Jin, away at work.

yuji was busy playing with his fire truck in front of the couch until he hears his uncle to come sit next to him.

'hey yuj' come here for a sec'

the little one comes by, his toy fire truck that sukuna had gotten him for christmas still in hand. his eyes are wide and curious, giving his uncle his full attention. just at this sight, sukuna feels his stomach drop.

how the fuck was he supposed to break it to a six year old that you won't be around anymore? yuji practically worshipped you, from the first time that he introduced the two of you, yuji got obsessed. he followed you around and bombarded you with questions, asking every little thing about you. he gave you his shitty drawings and you kept them, putting them on your fridge. you'd make time to sit and play with him, diving into yuji's imaginative world a whole lot better than sukuna ever did.

you were patient and caring around him which sukuna appreciated a lot, it made yuji look up to you and treasure you greatly.

but now...well it's not the same. you haven't come by in weeks and yuji's began to question your disappearance.

'well...' sukuna hesitated, his tongue suddenly caught in his throat. what were the right words? how should he phrase this correctly so that his nephew doesn't end up in complete tears?

'yuji, you know-'

yuji cuts him off, stating your name.

sukuna lets out a dry cough, 'yes...about her' he can't bring himself to say your name. '...well we broke up. a couple weeks ago.'

sukuna lets his words digest. yuji looks down at his lap, fiddling with his truck, trying to comprehend. 'broke up?'

'yeah,' sukuna sighs, 'we're not seeing each other anymore.'

silence forms in the living room excluding the clock on the wall suddenly loud in its tick-tick-tick-tick.

'so...she won't come over anymore?'

'no, she won't'

'oh, okay.' there's clear sadness in the six year old's voice, immediately disappointed and now sukuna understands what his brother meant when he said that it would hurt yuji more than it would hurt him.

sukuna throws a hand at reassurance. 'it's okay bud because you still have me... and-and we'll do fun things together alright?'

yuji nods before speaking again, reflecting a little.

'but aren't you sad?'

sukuna wasn't prepared for that question. he struggles to come up with a quick answer, hesitating. 'yeah...i am.'

'i don't want you to be sad 'kuna' yuji mumbles, kicking his feet.

'it's okay yuji, i'm-'

sukuna's words are cut off by yuji coming in for a hug. his toy is discarded with yuji now focused on the task of wrapping his tiny arms around sukuna's large frame. sukuna shifts yuji onto his lap and returns the hug.

sukuna barely hugs his nephew, only in circumstances where he knows he won't see yuji for a long time.

'i hope you feel better soon.' yuji mumbles, his voice muffled. sukuna says nothing more as suddenly his throat is caught and words fail to escape from his lips. if it didn't hit him before then it sure does hit him now.

he hopes yuji doesn't notice his eyes getting blurry.

[valalice]

ུᩧ MULTI FANDOM TWITTER LINKS .ᐟ

ಇ instructions. before indulging, for the best experience and function of the links already be logged into your account.

features. some of your very favorites from arcane, the last of us, and life is strange.

warnings. these are porn links, viewer discretion is advised. strictly wlw. happy indulging, cuties!

a/n. as promised, here she is! thank you, each and every one of you amazing, beautiful, n lovely people. giving all 1,000 of you smooches on your foreheads <3

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN.

older gf!cait's punishment for you. she makes you work for it. milf!cait lets you ride her nipple. getting you worked up. her fingers reach all the right places. overstimulation & praise & cunt slapping. make her cum and she'll think about touching you later. she traps you. taking her strap. getting her upset, so now she has to fuck you over her desk. she's got you tied up ft. teasing & cunt slaps. her nighttime book got boring.

VI.

letting her pretty gf grind on her and let her grope her tits. mutual masturbation but you guys can't help touching each other. tit sucking & thigh grinding & fingering. she's a moaner. using her fingers. she's not done yet. fingering you while she uses a vibe on herself. you treat her good ft. fingering & cunt slapping. she loves missionary. tempo.

SEVIKA.

she takes it slow with you. she doesn't need to get up for air. big mama. reverse cowgirl. messy makeout. letting her rest after a hard day. strap so good she makes you cream on her. keeping you down. tribbing with sevi. she can be sweet. making you squirt on her strap.

JINX.

she loves to sit on your face. playing with your tits. making you dumb on her strap. shes's obsessed with you. she was being a brat, so you put her in her place. grinding and vibe. she's giddy. putting a plug in her and denying her. the only time she'll ever shut up.

MEL MEDARDA.

strapping her for the first time. sharing a double ended dildo. tribbing. she fucks you and looks good while doing so. prettiest pussy ever. she's been busy with the council lately, but she makes it up to you. making a mess. reminding you who makes you feel this good.

ABBY ANDERSON.

you guys are at it all night. she loves to eat. she loves you so much. you missed each other. riding your face ft. choking & tit play. grinding and feeling up on each other. bouncing back on it. tribbing with abs. she finally has her room to herself. you're not running from it. ass groping. she couldn't wait to get her hands on you.

ELLIE WILLIAMS.

mornings with her. pt2. taking what you want. what she sends you when she's desperate. she loves making you guys kiss. she's a squirter. distracting streamer!ellie. she's a finger banger ft. tit sucking. going on a picnic. maintaining eye contact. tasting yourself on her fingers. she loves having a pretty girl on top of her. you promise gamer!ellie that if she wins you'll let her cum. intimate moments.

CHLOE PRICE.

she's high and all she wants to do is munch . . . on you. hope you guys don't get caught in the woods. fingering you while she's driving. you're supposed to stay quiet. you and her have an agreement. the movie got boring. you don't have any money, so you'll have to repay dealer!chloe some other way. the house is empty.

please, let me know if any links aren't working!

[codthefishgod]

Thanks for tagging me, I removed the reblogs because WOW that's a lot of scrolling-

As for my username, I came up with it because before Faroff, my webcomic of choice was Castle Swimmer! It was the first webcomic I ever read, I actually started reading it when it first began, back in 2019, so I guess I'd call myself an "OG fan". Up until I found Faroff, EVERYTHING was Castle Swimmer themed for me, just like how everything is Faroff themed for me now! All my profile pictures, my wallpaper & lock screen, app icons, my discord status, etc., you name it. I even have a Castle Swimmer shirt. And obviously anyone who paid the slightest attention knew this about me, including all my friends on this discord server I was (and still am) on.

One day, I can't remember why, but we were all giving each other god names that went "__ the __ god", and when I came up, they decided to pull inspiration from this Castle Swimmer obsession, and they called me "cod the fish god". Fish, obviously, because Castle Swimmer is centered around merpeople, and cod because it's a fish that rhymes with god. The name stuck, and even though I'm not as into Castle Swimmer as I used to be, I still use that title everywhere I go, on all of my accounts.

@sunlikesdrawing @rocklain

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[reidswrld]

me & you together song.

❛ i’ve been in love with her for ages, and i can’t seem to get it right. ❜

spencer reid x reader.

summary: you’ve always assumed spencer reid’s love language was acts of service. flowers left at your desk. notes written only to you. every tuesday, he gave you your favorite bagel from downtown. you knew he was like this with the rest of the team, too. you didn’t sweat it. you were focused on your job, and your job only. but when multiple instances occur over the course of a case, it’s hard to ignore both of your feelings for each other.

tags: grumpy fem!character x sunshine!spencer reid, friends to lovers, everyone knows but them, the bau literally bets when they’ll get together, no use of y/n, afab character, found family if you squint hard enough, spencer’s obsessed with her but won’t admit it to the public (the public is morgan), based on me & you together song by the 1975 btw, i wrote this while eating a doritos loco taco

word count: 2k

notes: i asked my best friends to give me a character and a trope. happy first post!

When you first landed the job as an agent at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, you first told yourself not to get too attached. This was a job, after all. A career. A high risk one, that could end in fatalities and wounds that might never heal, cuts that will always bleed for the rest of eternity. Once you made it clear to yourself that you were to be civil with your coworkers —close enough to be friendly, but not enough to go out for drinks on Saturday nights— and most important of all, do your job, and do it damn well, you poured yourself a glass of wine and watched the rest of the season of the sitcom you’ve been meaning to finish.

However, with all of the ups and downs your job gave you, it could not have allowed for you to expect the boisterous chaos that were your coworkers. They welcomed you in not only with open arms, but open minds. They respected your boundaries, your ideas, everything about you. Your attempt at remaining just civil became useless after months, but looking back, how could you have tried any longer? Penelope gave you a big kiss on the cheek every week, exclaiming that she loved your outfits and needed to go shopping with you right that minute. Morgan ruffled your hair whenever he brought you coffee (despite your incessant dismay that now you needed to brush it again). Hotch, though not a fan of public displays, would murmur a reassuring, you’re doing well every time he returned a file back to you. And then there was Reid.

Spencer Reid.

Well, what was there to say about him?

Over time, you’ve assumed that his love language must be acts of service. He brought you a bagel every week, sometimes more, from your favorite bagel shop downtown. Every Tuesday, a poppy seed bagel with extra plain cream cheese, extra toasted, cut in half so you could eat the middle dollop of cream cheese first. He made you mugs of tea whenever it grew past five pm because you told him that you had trouble falling asleep once months ago. Sometimes, small bouquets of wild grown flowers were left on your desk. At first, you thought it was Penelope being extra kind to you, or even Morgan playing a small joke on you. Both denied, but still giggled as you walked away. Whatever that meant. Behind your back, they secretly slipped each other five dollar bills.

You were sure he did the same for the rest of his coworkers, too. You’ve seen him refill coffee pots whenever Emily mentioned starting a new brew, and work extra hard on his reports in his free time to make sure Hotch or JJ didn’t stay too late. You were on the same page, anyway. Friends. Civil. It didn’t matter.

You huffed as you walked into the BAU, which was deemed more of a half jog, half marathon sprint. You hadn’t bothered to check the weather before leaving, and on the walk from the subway station to the office, it had started downpouring. The sudden drops of cold from the sky had caused you to drop your half empty cup of coffee, and you had forgotten to grab the breakfast you made yourself the night before in the fridge. Not even Harry Styles’ album blaring in your ears could have stopped you from turning the morning around. You grumbled simple good morning’s to everyone as you shook off your coat. Expecting to see your desk surrounded with papers that you were too tired to file in their intended drawers yesterday, you instead found a clean one; the papers were stashed in their designated places (in alphabetical order), the pens were compiled in the pouch you bought at Daiso years ago and cherished, even the trash under your desk was taken out. The only thing left to be seen on the wooden desk was a small brown bag that smelled of heaven and happiness and a folded piece of paper. You reached inside to find your usual poppy seed bagel the same as it always was. To make your Tuesday better. For you, always, the note read. You didn’t need to decipher whose scribbles those belonged to. You forgot it was Tuesday.

“Where’s my bagel, lover boy?” Morgan’s voice boomed as the man sat on top of your desk, snatching the bag with a grin. Spencer only swiftly passed by the desk with ease, choosing to make eye contact with the carpet.

“Good morning, Dr. Reid. Happy Tuesday.” Spencer’s eyes divert to yours quickly. He only nods, responding with the same greeting. Happy Tuesday, honey.

Morgan’s laugh carried throughout the room, swinging his legs as he spoke. “You two make me sick, that’s for sure. Can I have some of your bagel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You furrowed your brow in annoyance, which only made Morgan smile widely.

“Do you need to get your glasses checked again? You know, there’s an optometrist across the street—”

As you started to speak, Hotch walked from his office, announcing a new case and to meet in the room immediately. You got up swiftly, grabbing your bagel from Morgan’s hands with a muttered asshole falling from your lips. It only made Morgan cackle loudly. You remind yourself to write a psych evaluation on Morgan after the case is over with.

On the first day of the case, you realized it was going to be a more difficult one than usual. You didn’t panic. You never do. The second day, you worked harder than ever only to see little to no result. You continued not to sleep. It was like clockwork. Work, coffee, repeat. After three days, the case was far from settled. In fact, it seemed to only be getting worse with no ending in sight. Everyone was continuing to work in hopes that they would be home for the weekend. The fourth day, though, seemed to be the worst. The killer was getting more spontaneous with their kills, and the team seemed to keep showing up minutes after the kill had occurred. You were running on little to no sleep and were getting more frustrated with each move the killer made in silence. Near the end of the day, as you stared aimlessly at the wall in front of you, hoping it would make some sort of answer appear in front of your eyes, Hotch put a hand on your shoulder, You jumped slightly, trance be gone, when he told you to get back to the hotel immediately.

Immediately, you persisted. “I’m fine. I’ve almost got something. I’m sure of something.”

“I’m not asking you.”

“Hotch—”

“I’m ordering you, not only as your boss, but mostly as your friend. Your dark circles are getting concerning.” You tried to budge once more, but as Hotch gave one of his stern glares, you knew you were done with work for the day. “I’ll get someone to drive you back. Wait here.”

Within seconds, Spencer appeared, replacing the previous figure of Hotch. Gently tapping your shoulder, he signaled for you to get up. With a flick of a wrist and a soft grin, he spun around a set of keys around his fingers. “Hotch is letting me drive.”

You smiled. “Don’t want Morgan to ‘vibe it?’”

“His definition of ‘vibing it’ is just turning on the sirens when he doesn’t want to stop at a red light.” You walked side by side to the car. Your shoulders brushed ever so slightly due to Spencer’s hands in his pockets, but you didn’t mind. You welcomed the warmth.

“Your definition is turning the volume up to 13 and calling it loud.”

“I would like to be able to hear when I’m old, thank you very much. Any decibel over eighty and poof. Hearing. Out the window.”

“I really don’t think playing Queen at any volume above 13 will kill you, Spence.”

“You never know, honey.” Spencer opened the door for you, ushering you in before closing the door and getting in on the driver’s side. He pulled a cassette tape from his bag and pushed it in the radio; it started to softly play Queen while Spencer messed with the volume, setting it at 13 before driving away. It made a soft smile appear on your lips as your head leaned against the cool glass. Between the constant, soothing movement of the car or the way Spencer’s lips mouthed the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Boy, it was hard to tell when the lines blurred and sleep drifted you away. The only thing you recognized before falling asleep were the unmistakable words that left Spencer’s mouth.

“Good night, honey. Love you.”

You woke up with a start the next morning. You had no idea how you got back into your hotel room, or how you were wearing your favorite sports shirt that you find comfort in sleeping in all of these years, though your mind directed each question back to the same person, of course. Your mind wandered to the night before; it was the most relaxed you had been all week, even if it was just the simple act of driving with Spencer. You had done it before in past cases —even driven him back to his hotel at times— but this time felt different. Maybe it was the words that left his mouth.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Spencer suddenly walked in, holding bags in his arms. He set them down on the table, pulling out various assortments of breakfast foods and handing them to you. “No bagel shops around here, but I did find some good pancakes if you want to eat now.”

“Spence.” You suddenly sat up straight, as if a revelation hit you.

“What? No pancakes? It came with hashbrowns, too.”

“Spencer.” You emphasized, getting him to look at you.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you do all of this for me?”

“What?” His head cocked to the side, not understanding.

“Why do you… I mean… you go out of your way to do things for me. Unnecessary things. I need to know why.”

“Unnecessary…?”

“You… you leave me flowers that are like, hand picked from a garden or the forest, or something not from the city. You clean my desk for me when I’ve left it too messy. You make me my favorite tea when I’m at the office too late. You write me notes that are alluding but you won’t say what. I mean, Spence, you get me my favorite bagel every Tuesday. Why?”

His face suddenly turned serious as he sat next to you on the bed. “You want to know why?” He repeated.

“I know you do these things for the rest of our team, but I just, I just don’t get it.”

“Because I’m in love with you.” Spencer stared at you. “I’ve been in love with you. I think I’ll always be at least a little in love with you, if I’m being honest. I thought you’d catch on by now.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, honey. I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“So you meant what you said last night, then?” You said softly.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Really. I would’ve said it better if I had known you were awake.”

“But I did.” Your face grew closer to his. “And I’m not upset about it. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

Just as your lips began to brush, Spencer began to smile. “You know what day it is, honey? It’s our day.”

You smiled, too. “Happy Tuesday.”

You both tried to be subtle about it for the rest of the case. Weeks had passed by without the team knowing, but one slip up of a kiss on the cheek from Spencer on a Tuesday morning had led to an entire office full of chaos (and a meeting on workplace romance and consent from Hotch). You two didn’t mind, though. It was bound to happen. Until Penelope turned to Morgan and yelled at him to cough up the fifty dollars he owed her, of course.

Happy Tuesday.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Can I pls get Joel x reader where Joel is just absolutely feral and obsessed with reader and just loves cuddling up to her whenever he gets to chance and always try to creep a hand under her shirt just to feel her.

This can be smut or not smut, up to you if you want to make it that way!

Thank youu

You close the door behind you as you enter the house you share with Joel. He's asleep on the couch as usual, snoring away. You almost want to wake him for dinner, but you don't want to disturb him. He didn't sleep well last night so you want to let him get as much rest as he can.

You pass him to turn the tv off but his arm reaches out and wraps around you before you can get there. with both arms, he pulls you down on top of him, in desperate need of your attention.

"Joel," you let out a laugh. "I have to make dinner." You lean up to give him a stern look and he just smiles, the exact one that makes you melt every time you see it.

"Make it in a minute," he responds as his hand reaches up to stroke your hair. "Just lay here with me for a while." You can't say no to him so you lie back down on his chest, his heart beating loudly in your ear.

His hands slide under your shirt just like always, his rough hands resting against your bare lower back. Most times he's doing it to cop a feel, but not tonight. He just wants to lie with his girl. He presses a kiss to the top of your head as his hands move up and down your back, the thing he always does as a way to bring you comfort.

You lean up and stare at him, his warm brown eyes boring into yours, that dopey grin appearing on his lips. You lean down to kiss him and he eagerly returns it, smiling against your lips. He hasn't kissed you since you left this morning and in his opinion, that was far too long to go without one.

“I missed you,” he murmurs.

“I missed you too,” you reply, your tongue swiping along his bottom lip to deepen the kiss, but his stomach grumbles before you can go for it.

You pull away much to Joel’s disappointment. You get up off of him and help him to his feet, pulling him along to the kitchen.

He’s clingy as ever as you make dinner, standing behind you, his arms around your waist while he drops kisses to your shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. And once dinner is made, you sit right next to each other at Joel’s suggestion, hand in hand while you eat. And there’s no place either of you would rather be.

[crimsonnsstuff]

i’m so obsessed with mean dom namgyu . i keep thinking about working at his club before the games but i’m no good at it . so i’m pulled into his office , bent over his desk being thought how to give proper service AHHHHH

You were at the club, dancing, a cup in your hand. You were wearing black cheetah print fishnets, a dark purple dress, and black boots. The club was packed and music was blasting.

You feel a hand on your hip and you turn around to see Namgyu. He was the owner of the club. You knew him because he was one of your brothers close friends. “Hey there, pretty.” He mutters. You could smell the booze on his breath.

“Hiya!” You answer back. “What do you say we go into my office, huh?” He says. You smirks and nod, he grabs your cup out of your hand and sets it on the nearest table.

He grabs your wrist and guided you to his office, pushing past the crowd of drunken people. Once he gets to his office he pushes you inside and locks the door behind him. You can hear the now muffled music. “Hey, I liked that song too”

His office smelled of cologne and cigarettes. There was an ashtray on the desk beside the stack of papers, you knew his ass knew nothing about out paper work. He takes out a cigarette and lights it, putting it between his lips.

He walks closer to you and grabs your ass. “Jump.” He commands. You jump and he catches you in his arms. He sets you into his desk and he smiles up at you, hands running up and down your thighs.

He hikes your dress up and kicks your legs apart. He looks at your pussy through the fishnets. He smirks and picks you up, spins you around, and bends you over the desk. He impatiently pulls your stockings down. He hiked your dress up. He rips your panties to get to your pussy.

“Hey! These are my favorite panties!” You squeal, cutting yourself off with a yelp as he slaps your ass. “Shut up, slut. I’ll buy you a new pair.” He says, running a finger up your slit and you whimper.

He rubs your clit roughly. He pulls his fingers back and slaps your ass, making you yelp. He puts one hand on your hips. You hear his belt unbuckling and his pants dropping to the floor.

"Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice rough with need. "I want this," you breathed out, your hands gripping the sides of his desk. He rubs his cock along your pussy, making you try and push yourself back onto him. “Don’t move, slut.”

With a swift motion, he entered you, the sudden fullness making you cry out, the sound swallowed by another kiss. The rhythm he set was relentless, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His name became a mantra on your lips, the only word you could form amidst the pleasure.

He reaches around and wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you back so your back is pressed against his chest. You let out a scream and he throws his other hand over your mouth, continuing to thrust into you roughly.

You felt like you were being torn apart, his thick cock in your tight pussy. He groans as he feels you drip around him. “You’re soaking my dick, whore.” He growls in your ear, making you whine into his hand.

“I-I’m gonna cum!” You whine, but it comes out muffled. “Don’t you dare. If you cum I swear to god I’m gonna fucking kill you.” He murmers. You try to hold it in, legs shaking wildly, and pussy convulsing around him.

“Cum, slut.” He growls. You didn’t have to be told twice, squirting on his cock while your legs shake. He chuckles and cums in you with a grunt. He slams you back down so you’re bent over the desk again. He pulls out and watches as his cum and your cum leaks out of you like a fountain.

“Such a good little cumdump.”

A few days later you hear a knock on the door. It was early in the morning. You walk down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You stop at the door. “Who is it?” There’s not response.

You groan and open the door but you don’t see anybody. You look down and see a small pink box. You raise an eyebrow. You bend over and pick it up. You shut the door behind you and walk into the kitchen, setting the pink box down.

You slowly open it. You smirk as you see what is inside. It was a pair of panties. They were light pink and they had lace. The lace was a slightly hotter and brighter pink. There was a note.

I like you in pink ;)

You smirk to yourself and run upstairs to try them on.

[electronickingdomfox]

#i can count on my finger the ppl outside of spones/mckirk that actually understand bones #like on a basic level not even the unhinged fan kind of understanding

via @pax-et-veritas

I'd say that, outside of the shipping fandom (which is mostly spirk) the views on McCoy are far more balanced and fair. It was never the intention of the showrunners to turn TOS into the "Kirk & Spock show" either. Consider these quotes from Robert Justman, co-producer of TOS:

My feeling is that if Kirk is the meat, then Spock and McCoy are the potatoes and gravy and should be considered to be vital ingredients. -These Are The Voyages: TOS Season Three

It became apparent to me as well as to Gene very early on that the character of McCoy was going to be a ‘linchpin’ -- a ‘fulcrum’ upon which one side was balanced with the other. De was very effective in this role, and I was very aware of this. -These Are The Voyages: TOS Season Two

But of course when fans want to make the whole series about Kirk and Spock and nobody else, they end up seeing things on screen that were never there, and distorting the narrative. This happens a lot in the Marshak & Culbreath official novels. They made Kirk and Spock so absolutely obsessed with each other, that they ended up being unrecognizable as characters. Like sure, there are a few examples in the series of Kirk looking at Spock in a "special way" (mostly in season one, and mostly due to Shatner's particular acting choices). But this is like 1% of the series. The rest of the time isn't about Kirk and Spock being all lovey-dovey and McCoy just standing there doing nothing...

Me when a new Star Trek series makes a reference to Kirk and Spock but leaves out Bones

[eyesfullofsttars]

do you have any ellabs headcanons :3

big mistake asking about that because now i can’t stop talking... those two are my babies!!!

els is so :3 x abs who’s more like :) 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

ellie wears belts because her pants are like three sizes too big. they fall down, her boxers show—usually her minecraft ones—so she wears studded belts or something to keep everything in place. (abby has this talent for pulling off belts with one of her big, veiny hands… yeah, ellie basically had a visual orgasm just watching her take it off her waist... yes 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

ellie’s favorite activity? oh man… definitely playing video games lying on the couch, her head on abs’ bare chest, while abby’s busy reading a book. ellie’s left hand manages the joystick, and the other one’s tracing and feeling anderson’s abs because they’re so firm…

abby has just a few freckles on her face but a lot on her shoulders and back, while ellie’s freckles are more noticeable on her face.

they get along pretty well with each other’s parents. joel and abs will roll their eyes at the same time at ellie’s dumb jokes, trying not to laugh, and end up chatting about old rock or country stuff. abs is polite and respectful, BUT ellie with jerry? they’re way too comfortable with each other, always joking around. ellie’s also kind of obsessed with jerry’s job, so… yeah, she’s always asking him questions.

(they each keep baby pictures of the other. abby has a pic of ellie at the dinosaur museum in her wallet, and ellie has one of abby with a giraffe on her nightstand)

abby’s hair is wavy—i don’t care, it’s my headcanon. it’s usually braided, but when it’s down, it’s long, blonde, and wavy 🥰🥰 also, yes, she’s braided ellie’s hair more than once and ofc ellie likes two braids instead of one.

(oh and teenage abby used to straighten her hair, but now she doesn’t even care)

anderson knows how to sail, and in the summer, they spend a lot of time on the boat. ellie just sits on the edge sketching while abby applies sunscreen on her shoulders with gentle massages.

ellie doesn’t wear bras, and abby is obsessed with her in white tank tops when everything shows through—just hot. abby does wear bras, but nothing fancy—simple black or white basics. no lace lingerie or anything.

abby wears reading glasses because her dad told her to take care of her vision. ellie? she NEEDS glasses because she can’t see anything far away, but she refuses to wear them because she says she’ll look like a “nerd” (even more than she already does)

ellie loves slipping her hands under abby’s shirt, hugging her from behind, fingers tracing her strong muscles, brushing past the light hair, down to the waistband of her boxers. she rests her chin on abby’s shoulder, giving her soft kisses on the neck.

abby? she’s shamelessly obsessed with ellie’s ass. if ellie bends over, abby’s gotta smack it. when ellie wraps her arms around abby’s neck for a kiss, abs can’t resist reaching down to give her a squeeze. yeah... 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

someone please stop me and forbid me from TALKING!!!

[hellinistical]

in which your heart is not your own, owed to Rafayel. Rafayel x fem.reader. mdni.

tw: heart mutilation. obsessive tendencies. death of siblings. death of a friend. familial disowning. pet names. kidnapping. betrayal. miscommunication. manipulation. sexual manipulation. blood. nearly attempted murder. oral (f. receiving). piv. sensory deprivation (sight). manic episodes. fantalization of murder. death of reader. horrible mother-in-law. slightly ooc rafayel. virginity loss. stalking. harassment. not proof-read.

wc: 23.3k

The blindfold became a second skin, its silken weight a constant reminder of your curious bargain: love without sight. You weren’t blind or anything; quite the opposite. It was an arrangement sealed by whispers in the dark, by a voice that melted into your bones and hands that knew your body better than you did.

The room was alive as if the humid air pulsed with his presence. His touch was reverent, deliberate, as though tracing unseen constellations across your skin. He didn’t speak often, and when he did, his words were like the low hum of a distant storm—calm, commanding, magnetic. You had never known such intimacy, yet a lingering ache settled in your chest. A hunger to see the one who worshipped you so wholly.

The nights were your sanctuary, tangled in his arms, consumed by his worship. But the days were long and solitary. You would roam the halls of the vast, echoing estate, guided by touch, sound, and memory. Each room carried his essence: rich, intoxicating, and mysterious. Yet, no mirrors adorned the walls—no reflective surfaces offered even a shadow of him.

And truly, tonight was no different. 

His touch was a paradox of restraint and possession, a delicate balance between firm and tender. One hand pressed against your stomach, grounding you, anchoring you to him as though he feared you might drift away. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles on your skin, each movement a silent confession of need. The other hand cradled your chin, tilting your face upward with such care it made your breath hitch.

You felt his warmth everywhere, radiating from him like an endless flame, seeping into your own body. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if he were memorizing every shiver, every arch, every breathless sound that escaped your lips. The blindfold over your eyes heightened every sensation; every touch felt amplified, every brush of his lips on your skin a spark against the kindling of your longing.

“Do you feel me?” he murmured, his voice low and edged with something primal. 

Of course, you could. You nodded, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you, grounding yourself against the intensity of him. He shifted slightly, and the hand on your stomach pressed down harder, making you gasp. He stilled for a moment, as though savoring the sound, and then continued his slow, relentless worship of you.

"I want you to know," he said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, "how deeply you are mine."

Your husband’s cock dragged against your gummy walls deliciously as he teased to pull out once again, only to push through your ings and fill you up. His hand on your stomach searched for where he may be inside your guts, and upon finding it, he pressed down again, 

“O-oh!” 

“So needy…but that’s okay,” His lips brushed against your forehead, trailing kisses down to your cheek, jaw, and neck, the hand holding your chin sliding down effortlessly to hold your hip as his thrusts worked you through almost hellishly slow. Your lips were puffy, overspent with not enough reward as he took the hand off your stomach to pinch your puckering clit. 

The syllables falling from your mouth were nonsensical. 

Grateful. That’s what he told himself he was. Grateful for your presence, for your laughter echoing softly in the vastness of his world, for the way your body responded to his touch as though it were made for him alone. But the truth?

No, gratitude wasn’t enough to contain the storm inside him. He was enamored—utterly captivated by the curve of your lips when you smiled, the way you furrowed your brow in thought, the quiet sighs you made when you slept. Obsessed, perhaps. He would trace the shape of your hand in his mind long after you had fallen asleep, commit the cadence of your voice to memory like a sacred hymn.

In love? The word seemed too small, too human for what he felt. His longing for you was consuming, a tidal wave threatening to pull him under. His heart, if it could still be called that, didn’t just yearn for you—it burned, a constant, searing ache that no touch, no whispered word could soothe.

Yearning. Yes, that was it. A raw, endless yearning. Not just to hold you, to worship you, but to be known by you. To shed the shadows that cloaked him and bask in the light of your gaze. Yet, the fear lingered, sharp and unrelenting. What if the truth of him made you recoil? What if the blindfold, that fragile barrier, was all that held this tenuous, perfect illusion together?

Every night, he battled with himself. The desire to see your eyes widen in recognition warred with the terror of seeing them widen in horror. And yet, he couldn’t stay away. You were his sanctuary, his punishment, his undoing.

As his hand lingered on your skin, tracing slow, reverent lines, he wondered if you could feel it—the desperation in his touch. The way it whispered what his lips could not: Stay. Don’t turn away.

Well, truly, he had his mother and her jealousy to thank, he supposed. It was her envy that had cast the first stone, her cruel game that brought you here, blindfolded and bewildered. And your sisters—ah, yes, your sisters. Their bitter whispers had stoked your doubts, planted the seeds of curiosity and rebellion in your mind. They had warned you, hadn’t they? Told you no man could love like this without hiding something monstrous. They had been so sure, so certain, that the one who adored you so fervently could only be a beast in disguise. He hated them for it, hated the cracks they had tried to drive between you. Their envy had been a quieter thing, but no less potent, planting seeds of doubt in you that he struggled to uproot.

His hand slid up from your hip, lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. Slowly, deliberately, he intertwined his fingers with yours, as if anchoring himself to this moment. His thumb brushed the ring on your finger—a masterpiece of his own making.

The ring had been the first gift he’d ever given you, long before you’d come to this place, to him. A delicate band of gold, adorned with a singular blue gem.  He had poured his essence into its creation, shaping it with his own hands, imbuing it with fragments of himself. It was meant to be a promise, though he hadn’t dared to speak the words aloud when he placed it on your finger. You are mine, as I am yours.

His own creation, forged in a moment of reckless hope. The gemstone glimmered faintly even in the dim light, its color a reflection of something deep and hidden within him. A piece of his essence, captured and bound in that delicate band, as much a promise as it was a claim.

And it may have been foolish- stupid, even, to get sentimental at such a time when he should have been focusing on the pleasure of his wife, but timing be damned.  He took your hand, kissing it tenderly.

And you…you were just about gone. 

Needy. Insatiable. So full of want. Your mind became saturated at his prolonged drags, your back long since off the feather-stuffed sack you called a bed. 

He threw your ankles over his shoulders, locking them around his neck carelessly, your thighs jittery, your muscles tender from his earlier man-handling. 

Your husband’s hand slid upward, wrapping around your throat. His grip was firm but careful, more a reminder of his presence than a threat. Yet, even as he reveled in the softness of your skin, a darker thought flickered through his mind.

Sometimes—only sometimes—he wondered what would happen if he just... snapped it.

What would it be like to end it all, to sever the connection so completely? To see you shatter, your life slipping from him like water from a cracked vessel. The power of it, the utter control. He imagined it in flashes—your eyes wide with shock, the sound of your breath halting, your skin going cold beneath his touch.

The thought thrilled him, excited him. His pulse quickened at the heady rush of power, of having you utterly and completely in his grasp. The idea of snapping your fragile neck—the utter finality of it—was both intoxicating and terrifying. But no. 

No.

Not his lady love. 

He tightened his grip just enough for you to feel it, but not enough to hurt you. His eyes, though unseen, burned with the ferocity of his internal battle, trying to wrestle with the darkness in him that was so close to taking over.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, his voice rough, a raw edge to it. He pulled his hand away, but his breath was shallow and uneven.

"Husband?" Your voice trembles with both curiosity and unease, a soft whisper that feels too loud in the silence that suddenly envelops the room. The warmth of his body, the heat of his touch, is gone—vanished like a fleeting dream.

You sit up, instinctively reaching for the space where his form had once been, only to find it empty. The bed feels cold now, the soft sheets still clinging to your skin but no longer warm with his presence. For a moment, you’re disoriented, your pulse quickening in the sudden, oppressive quiet.

He had been there, hadn't he? His hands, his lips, his breath... all so real, so consuming. And now, nothing. The absence of him presses down on you like a physical weight.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor beneath your feet grounding you in reality, but still, the question lingers: Where is he?

A subtle shift in the air, like a quiet breath, stirs your senses. Something is wrong. You feel it in your bones, the pull of something deep inside you—a fear that has no name, only the cold certainty that the distance between you and him is more than just physical. It feels like he's slipped beyond reach, as though the very essence of him has evaporated into the shadows.

“Husband?” You call again, this time louder, more urgent, the words trembling on your lips. The sound feels strange in your mouth, a name you no longer feel certain about.

The silence is deafening, and the lingering scent of him on your skin becomes both a comfort and a cruel reminder of the emptiness now surrounding you. Your fingers brush over the empty space on the bed where he should be.

And then, faintly—so faint you almost wonder if it's your imagination—a whisper floats from the shadows, a voice low and almost broken.

"Don’t search for me."

The words send a shiver down your spine. They're not a command, but a plea.

*** The sun shone brightly, filtering through the leaves above as you stood by the lake, the warmth of the day wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The water lapped at your calves in a gentle rhythm, its cool touch refreshing against the summer heat. You smiled to yourself, wringing out your hair, the droplets catching the light as they fell, each one a tiny diamond in the air.

Birds flitted from branch to branch, their cheerful songs blending with the soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze. The day was perfect—everything about it seemed touched by the gods. The soft chirping of the birds, the way the water shimmered under the sun, the gentle sway of the wildflowers on the bank—it was all part of the peaceful symphony that made this place feel like a dream.

You couldn’t help but feel grateful. This hidden lake, tucked away from the hustle of the village, was your secret retreat, and it always brought you peace. You had come to bathe here often, and the nymphs who lived in the lake were like old friends, joining you with their laughter and playful antics. Their bright laughter echoed through the trees, and you found yourself smiling as their voices floated over the water. Sometimes, they would gift you flowers woven into crowns, and other times they would tell you stories in their musical voices that made you laugh until your sides ached.

A soft ripple in the water caught your attention, and before you could turn around, a gentle but playful grip wrapped around your breasts.  You gasped in surprise, but laughter bubbled up from within you as the familiar presence of Hersilia, the naiads’ most mischievous, appeared behind you, her long, wet hair trailing behind her like silken strands in the water.

“You’re getting too comfortable, my friend,” Hersilia teased, her voice lilting with joy. Her fingers, slick with water, pinched at your sides, sending a shiver through your body. You swatted at her hands, laughing as you tried to push her away, but she was quick—too quick—and only giggled harder as she danced just out of reach.

“You can’t catch me!” Hersilia sang, her feet skimming across the water’s surface, sending soft splashes that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight. The mischievous glint in her eyes told you this would turn into another playful chase through the lake, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Do you always sneak up on people like that?” you asked, feigning annoyance, but your laughter betrayed the mock seriousness in your voice.

"Always," Hersilia replied, her voice light and teasing. "If you didn’t want to be caught, you should have kept an eye out." She twirled in the water, her movements fluid and graceful like a dance. “Now, you’re mine.” With that, she lunged toward you again, her wet hands reaching for your sides, causing you to squirm and giggle even more.

“Catch me if you can!” she called out, her voice full of challenge as she darted into deeper water, her lithe body cutting through the surface like a serpent.

As soon as you put your hands in the water to splash the naiad, your heart still light from laughter, you froze. Your sisters voices carried over the water as they called out to you. Hersilia’s teasing grin faltered, and in a blink, she disappeared beneath the surface as if she were never there, the ripples from her intrusion fading just as quick as she did. 

Your sisters' figures stood silhouetted against the sun at the top of the hill, their skirts fluttering in the breeze. Algaura, ever the patient one, raised a hand to shade her eyes as she looked for you, while Clidippe cupped her hands around her mouth, her voice ringing out.

"Are you planning to live in that lake forever?" Clidippe called, her tone sharp but not unkind. "Mother’s been asking after you, and we’ve wasted enough time chasing you down!"

You sighed, casting a glance at the shimmering lake. For a moment, you thought you saw Hersilia’s laughing eyes just beneath the surface, but when you blinked, the water was clear, its secrets tucked away once more.

Reluctantly, you waded toward the shore, water dripping from your dress as you stepped onto the soft grass. "I wasn’t hiding," you called back, wringing out the hem of your gown.

"You’re always hiding," Algaura said, her voice softer, though you could hear the faintest hint of amusement. "Come on now. We shouldn’t keep Mother waiting."

You climbed the gentle slope to where your sisters stood, their expressions a mix of exasperation and affection. Clidippe crossed her arms, arching a brow. "You’ll have to explain to her why you look like you’ve been dragged through the lake."

"Maybe I was," you quipped, earning a laugh from Algaura and an eye roll from Clidippe.

“Besides, you know you’re not even supposed to be out—there’ve been rumors of kidnappings at the markets lately,” Algaura added quietly, her voice laced with concern. Her eyes darted around as if she expected danger to leap out from the trees. You knew she wasn’t wrong. As princesses, you and your sisters were always at risk, especially during times of unrest. The weight of your station pressed on you, even now, as you walked back toward the village.

Clidippe, ever the brash one, scoffed. “Never mind the kidnappings. We have enough trouble with peasants constantly vying for your attention, Y/N.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, her tone dripping with disdain. “Honestly, the way they fawn over you—it’s ridiculous.”

You couldn’t help but sigh at Clidippe’s dramatics. “It’s not my fault people are kind to me,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips despite her exasperation.

“Kind?” Clidippe shot you a sidelong glance, her lips curling into a wry smirk. “Please. Half of them would give anything to whisk you away. The other half just want to curry favor for their own benefit.”

“Not everyone has ulterior motives, Clidippe,” Algaura interjected, her voice calm but firm. “Y/N has a way with people—it’s why they like her.”

“Too much, if you ask me,” Clidippe muttered, though there was no real malice in her words. She glanced at you, her expression softening slightly. “I’m just saying, you should be careful. You’re too trusting sometimes.”

You looked between your sisters, touched by their concern even if it came in different forms. Algaura’s quiet worry and Clidippe’s sharp protectiveness were two sides of the same coin, and though you often found their nagging tiresome, you knew it came from a place of love.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured them, your voice light but sincere. “I always have you two watching over me, don’t I?”

Algaura smiled gently, reaching out to tuck a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “Always,” she said softly.

Clidippe rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked into a reluctant smile.

Still, it didn’t stop Clidippe from popping the back of your head with a playful but firm slap. "Run out again, and I’ll tell Mother everything," she threatened, though the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips betrayed her true feelings.

You yelped, rubbing the spot where her hand landed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” Clidippe said, arching an eyebrow with a look that only a sister could perfect—a blend of teasing and warning. “One more stunt like this, and I’ll make sure Mother knows all about your little escapades to that lake. Let’s see how much ‘kindness’ you get after that.”

Algaura sighed, ever the peacekeeper. “Clidippe, don’t be so harsh. She’s not a child anymore.”

“Exactly,” Clidippe shot back, throwing her hands in the air. “Which is why she should know better!”

You stuck your tongue out at Clidippe, earning a pointed glare. “I’ll be good, I promise,” you said, though the sparkle in your eyes made it clear you’d likely end up sneaking off again.

Clidippe rolled her eyes dramatically, muttering something under her breath about you being incorrigible. But as the three of you reached the village gates, the lighthearted bickering melted into an easy camaraderie.

Despite her threats, you knew Clidippe would never actually tattle. 

***

True to your sister’s words, the palace was already in an uproar. Servants scrambled through the halls, their frantic footsteps echoing off marble floors. The air buzzed with tension as your name was shouted by guards and attendants alike.

Ushered through the hidden servant’s path by Clidippe and Algaura, you reached your chambers in a hurry. Even so, the chaos outside did not abate, nor did the sharp, commanding voice of your mother as it carried through the palace. The tone was unmistakable: fury tempered only by concern.

“Get in, and don’t say a word,” Clidippe hissed as she shoved you inside.

“Stay quiet,” Algaura added in a softer tone. “We’ll try to talk to her.”

You nodded and hurried to change out of your damp dress, tossing it into the hidden laundry chute as you pulled on a fresh gown. Your hair was still damp, but you quickly twisted it into a loose braid, praying it wouldn’t give you away.

No sooner had you seated yourself by the window with an open book than the door burst open, your mother’s imposing figure framed in the doorway. Her face was a storm, eyes blazing as she took in the sight of you.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, her voice like the crack of a whip.

“Mother, she’s been here,” Clidippe interrupted smoothly, stepping into the room. Her tone was casual, but there was an edge of urgency to it. “We checked ourselves—she’s been reading by the window.”

Algaura appeared beside her, nodding in agreement. “It was a misunderstanding. The servants must have miscounted.”

But your mother was not so easily deceived. Her piercing gaze flicked between your sisters, then settled on you. She took a step closer, her presence filling the room.

“You think me a fool?” she snapped, her voice low and dangerous. “Your hair is still wet. You reek of the lake.” Her eyes narrowed, and you felt the weight of her judgment bearing down on you. “Do you have any idea the panic you’ve caused?”

“Mother, it wasn’t—” Clidippe began, but she was cut off by a sharp wave of your mother’s hand.

“Enough!” she barked, silencing the room. “Both of you, out. Now.”

Clidippe and Algaura hesitated, glancing at you with apologetic looks, but they knew better than to argue. They slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

Left alone with your mother, you felt as though the air had been sucked from the room.

“I have warned you,” she said, her tone cold and measured, “time and time again about your reckless behavior. And yet, you defy me.”

“Mother, I didn’t mean—”

“Silence,” she interrupted, her eyes boring into yours. “You are a princess. Your actions affect more than just yourself. Do you understand that? While you frolic at the lake, the palace is thrown into disarray, and our reputation is put at risk.”

You looked down, shame burning in your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry will not suffice,” she said sharply. “You will spend the next week confined to your chambers. No visits to the garden, no trips to the library. Perhaps solitude will teach you the responsibility you so sorely lack.”

Your heart sank, but you knew better than to protest. “Yes, Mother,” you said quietly.

She studied you for a moment longer, her expression softening ever so slightly. “I do this because I love you, Y/N. But you must learn. For your own sake.”

With that, she turned and left, the door closing behind her with a decisive thud and the unmistakable click of the lock. You sat in silence, the weight of her words pressing down on you. Outside, you could hear your sisters murmuring, their voices laced with guilt.

Your chambers were vast, grandiose in a way that reminded you constantly of your status as a princess. High ceilings, intricate tapestries, and polished floors—all designed to impress and suffocate in equal measure. Large windows let in streams of sunlight, and a balcony overlooked the sprawling gardens below. But what use was beauty when it felt like a gilded cage?

You paced the length of the room, your bare feet making soft sounds against the cool stone floor. The confines of the space didn’t ease your restless mind. You considered the balcony, leaning against its railing and staring down at the manicured hedges and fountains below. It was tempting—freedom was right there. But jumping wasn’t an option. The drop was too far, and while you could climb, you doubted you’d make it down without breaking a limb or getting caught.

“Damn it all,” you muttered under your breath, smacking your palm against the railing in frustration. The sting in your hand was nothing compared to the helplessness bubbling inside you. You had barely been out at the lake an hour, and now you were stuck here for a week.

You threw yourself onto the chaise by the window, staring at the ceiling with an exaggerated sigh. The room might have been big, but it felt smaller with each passing moment. You hated being confined like this, unable to explore the world outside, the woods, the lake, the freedom.

The sound of soft footsteps in the hall made you sit up. It was likely a servant delivering food or linens—maybe even your sisters trying to sneak in a visit. You darted toward the door, pressing your ear against it and listening.

“Y/N?” came a whispered voice.

Algaura.

Relief flooded you as you opened the door just a crack. Her face appeared, smiling sheepishly as she squeezed through the gap.

“Mother would kill me if she knew I was here,” she said, glancing around nervously. “But I couldn’t leave you alone all day.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you admitted, hugging her tightly.

She pulled away, her expression thoughtful. “I brought something to cheer you up,” she said, producing a small bundle wrapped in cloth. She unwrapped it to reveal a handful of flowers—wild ones, from the woods near the lake. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one who can bend the rules now and then.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest easing slightly. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t let Clidippe hear that,” Algaura said with a wink. “She’ll never let me live it down.”

It’s quiet for a moment before she adds on. "You know, Clidippe was right- there really are lot of suitors outside. It's a little...strange."

Algaura’s words made you pause. You sat back on the chaise, the wildflowers resting in your lap. “What do you mean?” you asked, tilting your head.

She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, looking thoughtful. “It’s not just the usual nobles hoping for a chance to curry favor with Mother and Father. There are strangers—people I’ve never seen before. Foreigners. Merchants. Even a few peasants who’ve somehow wormed their way to the gates. All of them asking about you.”

You frowned, your fingers brushing absently over the soft petals of a flower. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would they be asking about me specifically?”

Algaura shrugged, though there was a flicker of unease in her expression. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. It’s not surprising people would notice you. But this... It feels different. Like they know something we don’t.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, though you tried to laugh it off. “Maybe they’ve just heard about my charming personality,” you joked, though your voice wavered slightly.

Algaura didn’t laugh. Instead, she studied you closely, her brow furrowing. “Be careful,” she said softly. “I know you hate being cooped up, but maybe Mother was right to keep you here for now. There’s something strange in the air lately. I can feel it.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of her warning settling over you. Algaura wasn’t one to be superstitious, but when she got a feeling about something, she was rarely wrong.

“Strange how?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

She hesitated, as though weighing her words. “It’s hard to explain. Just... I don’t trust all those people outside. It’s like they’re waiting for something.”

The unease inside you grew, twisting like a knot in your stomach. You glanced toward the window, half-expecting to see shadows moving in the garden below. But there was nothing—only sunlight and swaying trees.

“I’ll be careful,” you promised, though the words felt hollow.

Algaura nodded, though her worried expression remained. “Good. Because something tells me this is just the beginning.”

***

The rumors had started as whispers—passed from one mouth to another, carried on the breeze that swept through the markets and the quiet corners of taverns. But in time, they grew louder, more insistent, until the very air around the kingdom seemed to hum with the story of a princess more beautiful than any goddess of old.

A beauty that rivaled Aphrodite herself.

It wasn’t just your appearance that captivated people’s attention; it was the mystery that surrounded you.  No one had truly seen your face, at least not in the way they wanted to. 

Each rumor twisted, shaped by the imagination of the masses, until you were not just a princess—but an otherworldly vision. Some said you were touched by the gods themselves, a living incarnation of love and grace. Others whispered that you were an enchantress, capable of bending the hearts of even the hardest of men.

And so, like a ripple in a pond, the word spread far beyond the kingdom’s borders—across oceans, over mountains, through forests, and into lands where they did not even know your name. But they knew the legend.

The first few days, it had been easy to dismiss. A few admirers calling out from below, a few bouquets of flowers left at the foot of the palace gates. It was nothing new, nothing you hadn’t experienced before. But soon, it became something else entirely.

You could barely step out onto your balcony without being greeted by the sight of eager faces staring up at you, their eyes filled with something darker than mere admiration. They had no shame, no respect for the space between royalty and commoner. 

The flowers had turned from sweet-scented lilies to strange, unfamiliar blossoms. Some with petals as black as night, others with thorns sharp enough to pierce your skin if you weren't careful. And the gifts—small trinkets, strange tokens, even jewelry—felt like offerings, as though they thought you were some kind of goddess to be pleased.

It wasn’t just the courtyard. It was everywhere. As you walked through the palace halls, you could hear the faint, eerie whispers of your name on the wind, drifting in from outside. Even the servants, usually busy with their duties, glanced nervously at you, as if they too were starting to sense that something was amiss.

The situation grew increasingly unsettling, day by day. At first, it had been easy to brush off the behavior of a few overzealous suitors, but now it was spiraling into something far more disturbing. The crowds gathered outside the gates and beneath your balcony grew more persistent, more entitled. No longer were they content with simply offering their gifts or admiring you from afar.

It wasn’t long before your guards began to report strange incidents: men lurking in the shadows, eyes fixed upon the windows, waiting for the right moment to approach. 

There were whispers among the palace staff about people who had tried to slip past the guards, pretending to be servants or tradesmen. Some had been caught trying to scale the walls, attempting to break into your chambers when the moon was high in the sky. And then, there were the ones who had been caught near the palace gardens, staring at the windows with expressions that were almost manic, as if they believed they had a right to be there.

At first, you had relished the attention. The excitement of being desired, the feeling of power that came with being the center of so many people's gaze. The flowers, the gifts, the glances of admiration from every corner of the kingdom—it all felt flattering. After all, who wouldn't enjoy being the object of such longing?

But as the days wore on, that thrill began to dull, replaced by an uncomfortable weight that grew heavier with each passing moment. The whispers that once made you feel cherished now felt like chains, dragging you down. The crowd below, once full of eager faces, began to feel suffocating. Their eyes were no longer filled with admiration, but something far more possessive. They expected something from you—something you could never give.

It felt like an impossible request: to want someone who loved you for you, not for the polished image they had built of you in their minds. The desire for genuine connection, something real, was becoming a sharp, aching void in your chest. You longed for someone who saw beyond your beauty, someone who wasn’t captivated by your face alone, someone who wanted you, with all your flaws, your doubts, your fears.

The thought flickered in your mind, almost in jest, that perhaps you could somehow make them stop looking at you like that. If you marred your appearance, disfigured the thing they worshipped, maybe then they would stop seeing you as an object. But the idea made you sick, even as it seemed to offer a twisted kind of solution to your growing dread. You knew, deep down, you weren’t brave enough for such an extreme. You couldn't bring yourself to erase the one thing that had given you power in the first place, even if that very power was suffocating you.

But the yearning for something real, something honest and untouched by the expectations of the world, gnawed at you relentlessly. The pressure, the eyes on you, felt unbearable. Every interaction, every glance, every whispered word from the crowd below reminded you that you weren’t truly seen. You were only admired for the idea of you. And the more you thought about it, the more it consumed you.

***

Angry. Angry pacing. No, anger didn’t quite cut it. Aphrodite was seething. On a marble bay window, Talia stretched, wine red lips staining her glass. "I don't know why it bothers you so much, friend. You should be glad the mortal seems just as uncomfortable with the comparison that you are mad it was even made."

Aphrodite’s pacing halted, her golden hair shimmering in the sunlight streaming through the bay window. Her eyes, sharp and brimming with fire, flicked toward Talia with a look that could shatter glass. “Glad?” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “Glad that a mortal child—a mortal princess no less—is being called more beautiful than me? Glad that my name is on the tongues of men not for my glory, but for how she surpasses it?”

Talia smirked, taking another languid sip of her wine. “Yes, actually. It’s amusing. Mortals and their fleeting obsessions. The girl could slip on a rock and ruin her face tomorrow, and your precious title would be safe again.” She tilted her head, her crimson nails tapping against the glass. “Why waste so much energy on someone who doesn’t even want the attention she’s getting?”

Aphrodite’s nostrils flared, her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. “It isn’t just about her,” she snapped. “It’s about the insult. The audacity. Do you know what I’ve heard, Talia? Some say she might be a daughter of mine. That she carries my blood and my beauty, unclaimed.”

Talia chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “And is she?”

Aphrodite’s jaw tightened. “No. But mortals are stupid enough to believe it. And if they’re willing to believe that, what else will they start to question? My divinity? My perfection? My place?” She resumed her pacing, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “This isn’t just about a girl. It’s about what she represents. A challenge. An insult to my name.”

Talia leaned back, watching her friend with amused detachment. “And yet, the mortal hides herself away, terrified of the world outside her palace walls. She doesn’t seem much of a challenge to me.”

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “That’s the only thing keeping her safe.” She turned to the window, gazing out at the distant horizon. “But even the most beautiful rose wilts when plucked from its garden. And I intend to see just how much pressure she can withstand before she breaks.”

"You take everything so personally," Talia drawled, her voice as smooth and rich as the drink in her hand. "Mortals are fickle creatures. They say what they wish, worship who they will. Their praise and comparisons mean nothing in the grand scheme of things."

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a sneer. "Nothing? It’s not nothing when their whispers spread like wildfire, tarnishing my name. Diminishing my glory. What is a goddess without her reputation?"

Talia raised an elegant brow, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "A goddess still," she replied, lifting her glass in a mock toast. "You’re acting like a jealous lover, fretting over someone stealing the affections of their beloved. But isn’t that what you do, Aphrodite? Stir hearts, twist desires, ignite jealousy?"

Aphrodite’s expression darkened, and the air in the room seemed to grow heavier, as though the weight of her rage pressed against the walls. "This is different," she hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "She is no goddess. She’s a child. A fragile, mortal girl. And yet they dare speak her name in the same breath as mine? I will not tolerate it."

Talia set her glass down, finally meeting Aphrodite’s gaze. "Then what will you do?" she asked, her tone carrying a hint of mockery. "Strike her down? Curse her beauty? Destroy her entirely? Wouldn’t that only prove their point, that she poses a threat to you? It’s a delicate line, dear friend, and one that even you may not wish to cross."

Aphrodite’s jaw tightened, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. She hated that Talia was right, hated the truth in her words. 

Talia raised her glass in a mock toast. “Ah, there it is. The vindictive goddess I know so well.” She smirked. “Do be careful, dear. Mortals are fragile things, but they can surprise you when cornered. I’d hate for you to get your hands dirty and find yourself with more than just a bruised ego.”

Aphrodite turned on her heel, her gown sweeping the floor like the tail of a restless serpent. Her fiery glare softened for a fleeting moment, replaced by a look that was almost calculating, almost...fond. She raised a hand, her golden bracelets chiming softly with the motion, and gestured toward the attendant waiting in the shadows of the chamber.

"Fine then," Aphrodite declared, her voice now calm but heavy with authority. "Bring my son."

The attendant, a young nymph with wide, shimmering eyes, immediately bowed low, her silken hair falling over her shoulders like a curtain. "Of course, goddess," she murmured, before slipping out of the chamber as quietly as a passing breeze.

Aphrodite moved to her seat, a throne carved from pure alabaster and inlaid with veins of gold. She sat gracefully, her hands folding in her lap as her expression hardened once more. The flickering flames of the room’s lanterns cast long shadows across her face, accentuating the sharpness of her features.

Talia, still lounging by the bay window, arched a curious brow. "Your son, hmm?" she mused, her tone laced with intrigue. "And what role will he play in your scheme, I wonder?"

Aphrodite didn’t look at her, her gaze fixed on the far door as though willing it to open. "He will do as I command," she said simply, her voice void of doubt. "It’s time he learned the responsibilities that come with being the son of a goddess. And who better to teach this mortal girl her place than someone who understands the weight of divine beauty?"

Talia chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Ever the strategist," she murmured, swirling the last of her wine before downing it. "I suppose I should prepare myself for the fireworks that are sure to follow."

Aphrodite didn’t respond. She simply waited, her mind already weaving the threads of her plan, her lips curving into a smile that promised both charm and danger. Soon enough, the door opened, and soft, steady footsteps echoed through the chamber.

She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The air itself seemed to shift with his arrival, a presence both magnetic and unnerving.

"Mother," came the voice, smooth as silk but carrying an undertone of reluctant obedience.

Aphrodite smiled, her eyes finally lifting to meet his. "My darling," she purred. "I have a task for you."

***

It was stupid.

Really stupid.

Did you tell your sisters? Nope. Did you leave any warning behind? Not a chance.

A horse? Ridiculous. Too obvious. And besides, what was the fun in making it easy? You were faster on foot anyway.

Even a snack? Who needed a snack when you were on the verge of discovering the truth?

The fact that you were going to be found out, eventually, didn’t bother you. It was bound to happen. But right now, you needed answers. You needed to understand.

“Huzzah, huzzah,” You giggle excitedly to yourself, quiet. 

So, you set out for the Oracle. No more distractions. No more idle questions from your sisters. No more waiting for someone to tell you what to do. You were going to make your own decisions for once.

And if it helped to get some fresh air, all the better.

The cool night air wrapped around you like a cloak, the quiet stillness of the palace gardens turning into the bustling sounds of the village as you moved further away from the gates. You felt the soft crunch of gravel beneath your boots, your breath coming steady and slow.

You had no idea where the Oracle’s temple even was. Not a clue.

But you knew your nymph friends—Hersilia and the others—would. They always seemed to know everything, didn't they? If anyone could point you in the right direction, it was them. So, you made a snap decision, leaving the overgrown paths of the village behind and heading straight for the hidden lake.

It was a place you had frequented many times before, the secret sanctuary where the cool waters were the only constant, and the ever-playful nymphs danced and sang, unseen by the world. The lake was deep in the woods, far enough from the prying eyes of the palace that no one would think to search there. And it had been a while since you last visited, at least since the rumors and the crowds started gathering.

The walk was familiar, like returning to a dream you hadn’t quite finished. You stepped lightly over roots and rocks, your thoughts swirling, but your purpose clear. You needed answers. The air was thick with the scent of pine, and soon the rhythmic calls of the birds shifted into the soft sounds of water lapping against stone, guiding you toward the hidden clearing.

When you arrived at the lake, the scene was just as you remembered—peaceful, serene, untouched by time. The cool mist from the water wrapped around you as you approached the edge, your fingers grazing the surface. You could hear the faint whispers, just beyond your sight, of the nymphs who lived here, hidden in the depths.

"Hersilia?" You called softly, hoping she’d hear you through the quiet.

There was a splash. A ripple in the water, followed by the unmistakable sound of giggles. And then, as if materializing from the mist itself, Hersilia appeared—her form rising from the water with a grace only a creature of the lake could possess. Her pale skin glistened like moonlight on the water, and her green hair cascaded around her shoulders like flowing seaweed.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up." There was a false playfulness to her voice.  "What brings you here, little princess? Trouble?"

You smile, opening your mouth to say something, but she puts a hand up. 

“You’ve been gone so long,” she murmured quietly, more to herself than to you. The light from the lake’s surface danced in her eyes, and for a moment, you could have sworn there was a tinge of sadness in her expression. “I thought you might have forgotten us... forgotten me.”

The guilt pricked at your chest, the weight of time and distance settling in. You hadn’t meant to stay away from your friends, but with everything that had happened—the palace, the rumors, your mother’s constant grip on you—it had been impossible to carve out any time for yourself.

“I haven’t forgotten you,” you said quickly, taking a step toward her. “Mother had-” “I’m not taking you to the oracle.”

“What?”

Well. That certainly threw a wrench into your plans. 

The air between you both felt heavier now, as though the very weight of the unspoken history between you was pressing down on you both. She seemed to take a slow, deep breath before she met your eyes again, her gaze still carrying that trace of sadness.

"I don’t know if I should help you," Hersilia admitted, the hesitation in her voice unmistakable. "The Oracle, Y/n… It’s not just any place. You have no idea what’s been happening with the gods. There are rumors. Things changing in the heavens, in Olympus. You don’t want to go there... especially now."

You could tell she was holding back, her eyes flicking away as if she didn’t want to speak more of it. But there was a distinct shift in her tone—one that suggested there was more to this than just the Oracle being difficult to reach. Whatever it was, it clearly troubled her.

She took a step closer, the water barely shifting with her movement. "I’m your friend," Hersilia continued, her voice almost pleading now. "I care about you, and I don’t want to see you fall into something you don’t understand. The gods are... fickle. And the Oracle, well, she doesn’t always show you what you want to see. Sometimes, you can’t unsee it."

Hersilia’s eyes hardened as she stood her ground, the playful demeanor that had once been there entirely gone. The air between you both seemed to thicken, and the tension was palpable. Her lips pressed together, her usual kindness replaced by something much more firm—almost fierce.

"And I don't want you asking my sisters for help either," she added, her tone brokering no argument.

You opened your mouth to protest, but she cut you off, her voice unwavering. "No, Y/n. I don’t want you going to the Oracle." Her words were final, as if she'd made a decision that you couldn’t undo.

For a moment, you stood there, your thoughts swirling. There was something in the way she spoke, something in her eyes, that made it clear she wasn’t just worried about you getting lost or confused. There was a deeper fear in her, something you couldn't fully understand. Her words about the gods, about the Oracle... they lingered in your mind like a warning.

"But why?" you finally asked, your voice softer now. "Why don’t you want me to go?"

Hersilia hesitated, her jaw tightening. She seemed to struggle with how much to reveal, her gaze shifting between you and the water. She opened her mouth as if to say something more but paused, taking a deep breath.

"You don’t know what you’re asking, Y/n," she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "You don’t know what’s at stake. You think you’re ready, but you’re not." Her hand reached out, almost as if to touch you, but she pulled it back before she could. "The Oracle’s answers aren’t simple. They come with a price. And sometimes... once you’ve seen what she has to show you, you can’t unsee it. You can’t go back to the way things were. I don’t mean to sound like a cliche, but that’s final.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with a sense of warning, but also with an underlying sorrow. Hersilia was afraid—not just for you, but for what you might uncover. It was clear now that there was something deeper at play, something she feared you wouldn't be able to handle.

The silence stretched between you both, and she finally spoke again, softer this time, her voice laced with regret. "Please. Don’t go to her. Not now. Not yet."

Indeed, it threw a wrench in your plans. 

…

Oh well!

You make your way home in a hurry not to get caught. If the nymphs wouldn’t help you, surely he would. 

Despite the nagging feeling in your chest, the desire for something real—something not tied to your appearance or your royal status—pushed you forward. The evening air felt lighter as you walked back, your footsteps quick and determined. Hersilia’s words had barely sunk in before you were already moving, not willing to let the uncertainty weigh you down.

When you finally reached your balcony, your pulse quickened, and your thoughts buzzed with the familiar restlessness. There was only one way to escape the constraints of your palace, the constant eyes that sought only your beauty. One way to chase something genuine, something more than the false promises of suitors and endless admirers.

You closed your eyes and whispered the words, calling for Zephyrus, the playful west wind who often answered your summons. The breeze picked up immediately, carrying the scent of distant flowers and fresh rain, and with it, his presence.

"You called?" His voice was light and teasing, and before you could even spot him, you could feel the air shift around you—lighter, warmer, like the embrace of an old friend.

Zephyrus appeared, his grin wide, almost absurdly cheerful. His tousled hair was windblown as usual, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous gleam. He crossed his arms, the playful energy about him almost infectious.

"Did you miss me?" he asked with a wink, his tone always more teasing than serious. "Though I must admit, I was wondering when you'd summon me. Been a little too quiet around here, don’t you think?"

You grin, then pause.  "I need your help, Zephyrus. I... I need to escape for a little while. Everything’s just... too much. I can’t take it anymore. Not with them all watching, and the pressure of being what they want me to be."

Zephyrus raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Ah, I see. The princess wants a little freedom, hmm? Can’t say I blame you. But you know, I’m not some simple errand boy, dear." His grin widened, clearly enjoying the drama of the moment. "What’s in it for me?"

You narrowed your eyes at his teasing, but you were desperate, and you knew how to play his game. "Come on, you owe me one. You know you do." You leaned in, dropping your voice to a mock serious whisper. "Besides, I’ve heard rumors that you were getting bored of your usual windblown routes. Thought I might spice things up for you."

Zephyrus chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "Oh, you’re good," he said, and with a mischievous wink, he gave you a nod. "Alright, alright. You’ve convinced me. But you know this is going to cost you, right? A favor in return. That’s how we wind spirits work."

You sighed, rolling your eyes again. "Fine. Whatever it takes. Just get me out of here, Zephyrus."

The wind spirit beamed at you, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Deal. Hold on tight, princess. Let’s give you the escape you’re looking for."

In an instant, the air around you seemed to rush in all at once, sweeping you off your feet. The room, the palace, the overwhelming pressure—all of it disappeared in the span of a breath.

“But, just a question. Where’re we going, honey?”

Zephyrus’ voice rang in your ears as the wind swirled around you. You could feel the familiar pull of the air as it wrapped you in its embrace, but something about his question gave you pause. You hadn’t quite thought this through—hadn’t really figured out how to explain what you were doing.

You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to admit how reckless your plan was. Still, there was no backing down now.

"The Oracle," you said with a defiant smirk, though your heart raced a little in your chest.

Zephyrus was quiet for a moment, and you could almost feel the wind hesitate, swirling around you with a sudden, cooler edge. Then, with a small laugh that was half disbelief, half amusement, he replied, "The Oracle? Really? That's where you want to go, princess?" He paused again, his voice laced with something that wasn’t quite concern, but it was close. "Do you even know what you're getting yourself into?"

You clenched your jaw. "I need answers. I can’t stay in this cage forever, Zephyrus."

The wind spirit’s playful tone shifted, a bit of seriousness creeping in. "And what happens when the Oracle gives you those answers? What do you do with them then?" His voice lowered, sounding almost like a warning. "Once you know the truth, you can't un-know it. You can't go back to the way things were."

You swallowed, his words striking a nerve. But you had already made up your mind.

"Take me to her," you insisted, a firmness in your voice that you hadn't expected.

Zephyrus was silent for a moment longer, then sighed dramatically. "You’re impossible, you know that?" But despite his teasing, there was a note of respect in his voice. "Alright, princess. Hold on tight. We’re going to the Oracle."

***

Hersilia stood by the lake, her usually bright and carefree demeanor now clouded with concern. She had been watching you from a distance, making sure you didn’t stray too far, but when Zephyrus appeared and swept you off without a second thought, a pang of disappointment shot through her.

She had warned you, tried to keep you safe, but it seemed you were determined to walk your own path—even if it meant putting yourself in danger. Hersilia’s lips pressed into a thin line as she sank back into the water, disappearing from view. She didn’t want to see you go like this, but there was little she could do now.

She’d failed to stop you.

Hersilia had just sunk beneath the water, her form dissolving into the deep blue, when she felt a chill run up her spine. The temperature dropped sharply, and a hand—cold, lethal—clamped around her throat. It was like the water itself had frozen solid.

Her breath hitched, and her body stiffened in shock. She barely had time to react before the sharp pressure against her ribcage told her an arrow was now hovering just under her skin, its tip pressing against her in a way that made her heart race.

The voice that followed was low, chilling—an echo of power she recognized but feared.

"The mortal. Where did she go?"

Hersilia’s eyes widened in panic. She opened her mouth to speak, to beg for mercy, to tell him where you’d gone—but her words died in her throat. The hand around her neck squeezed harder, and before she could finish her sentence, her form began to flicker, her essence dissolving into the air.

Her last vision before she vanished was of a figure stepping forward, eyes dark with fury and an edge of something colder beneath.

"Raf—"

But before she could finish, before she could offer any explanation, her form began to dissolve. The pain from the arrow flared once more, but it was the overwhelming force of his power that caused her body to vanish into a shimmer of water, evaporating like mist in the morning sun.

The man, now left with nothing but the ripples of his presence, clicked his tongue in annoyance. His voice, laced with venom, echoed through the quiet air. "Using my name. What gave you the right?"

And with that, he was gone—disappearing as swiftly and silently as he had come, leaving only an eerie silence behind.

Hersilia's fading form lingered in his mind for just a moment longer, but her disappearance meant nothing now. He had other things to tend to. The mortal—she—was his concern.

***

Zephyrus had kept to his word. He’d dropped you off and told you to call him again when you were ready to come home. 

The air was thick with the scent of incense, thick enough to make your head spin, and the shadows in the temple seemed to stretch long and ominous. You’d barely made your way through the murky halls, the flickering torches casting strange reflections on the walls. The oracle’s place wasn’t nearly as grand as you'd imagined, no golden temples or sacred fire to mark the divine presence. Instead, the stone was worn, the floors cracked in places, and you even had to kick a few scattered skulls out of your path as you walked.

"Damn... Apollo really doesn't care for who he picks despite all the glamorization," you muttered, your voice bouncing off the cold walls. You were beyond unimpressed. The long, winding journey to the Oracle had felt so much more grandiose in your mind, but here you were, standing in a crumbling temple with nothing but a handful of whispers from those who’d come before you.

You kicked a skull out of the way and glanced around, half expecting something extraordinary to happen, but...nothing.

The Oracle, seated on an old stone bench, was the only thing that stood out in this place, an elderly woman hunched over with wisps of white hair framing her face. She looked as though she’d seen everything—and yet, the air about her was as dull as the rest of the temple.

You sighed, a little too dramatically, and crossed your arms. "Erm…hello. I’m uh..I’m Y/n. So, you're the Oracle?" you asked, cringing at how your voice came out. "What is this place? I thought there’d be more...mysticism. More fanfare. Less dust."

The old woman’s eyes flickered up at you from beneath heavy eyelids, and for a brief moment, you almost felt like you had stepped on something sacred. But her gaze held no such intensity. It was passive—almost bored. "It’s not the place that matters, child. It’s the answers you seek."

You raised an eyebrow. “Right. And what kind of answers are we talking about here?”

She blinked slowly, her wrinkled hand reaching out to beckon you closer, her fingers shaking slightly. “That depends. What is it that you seek?”

"Um... was hoping you could tell me about my fate? Ya know, my er- my love life." The oracle raised a brow. "You ventured here for...your love life?" 

Well, when she said it out loud, it did sound silly. 

You shifted uncomfortably under the Oracle’s gaze, suddenly aware of how ridiculous it sounded. "Well, yeah," you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. "I mean, it’s kind of important, right? Who doesn’t want to know about their love life?"

The Oracle gave you a long, steady look, her eyes narrowing as if she could see right through you. "You came all this way to ask about something so fleeting?" Her voice was both calm and oddly judgmental. "Do you not seek more? A purpose? Power?"

You flushed, feeling small. “I—uh—guess... but it’s just that love’s been on my mind, and I thought maybe you could help me out with some... insight? I mean, if I’m going to get it wrong, I’d at least like to know how to fix it.”

She hummed under her breath, studying you carefully. The silence stretched out long enough to make you question whether she’d say anything at all. Finally, her cracked voice broke through with a sigh.

"Fine. Apollo knows this isn't what I signed up for. First the girl with her dreams and now this-" she clears her throat. "Alright, lemme see." you look excitedly, expecting some magical prowess to be on display- maybe glowing eyes, floating hair, anything. but the old lady just closes her eyes and hums a little bit before talking. "A monster." "Beg your pardon?" "Your love is a beast. Be careful of your trusts."

How anticlimactic. 

You blinked, trying to process her words. "A monster?" you repeated, feeling a bit insulted. "What do you mean? Like, a literal monster?"

The Oracle’s eyes remained closed, her wrinkled hands folded in her lap. "A beast," she repeated softly, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "The kind that lurks in the shadows, hidden behind a beautiful face." She paused, letting the silence linger for a moment before adding, "Not all monsters show their fangs at first."

You stood there, bewildered, feeling the excitement you had felt moments before quickly draining away. This wasn’t what you’d imagined when you came looking for answers. "Isn’t there more to it?" you pressed, desperate for something more concrete. "What does this monster want with me?"

The Oracle finally opened her eyes, locking them onto yours with a piercing gaze. "What they want doesn’t matter," she said. "It’s what they take that you must worry about. And how far you’re willing to go to follow them."

You felt a chill run down your spine. You were used to cryptic answers, but this one had a weight to it. It wasn’t just vague—it felt... ominous.

"Are you saying I should just stay away from this person?" you asked, heart hammering in your chest.

The Oracle didn’t answer immediately. She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tapping gently on the edge of her chair. When she finally spoke, her voice was lower, almost a whisper.

"If i say anything else, it's 5 coins a word." "What?"

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the Oracle’s antics as she faded into her strange muttering. The whole experience had been so anticlimactic, and the Oracle’s smugness didn’t help at all. Five coins a word? Seriously? Highway robbery indeed—except without the actual highway, just a confusing old lady hiding in some forgotten corner of the world.

You shook your head, turning to leave the dreary little hut behind, already regretting the trip. As you stepped out into the open air, you could hear the faint rustle of trees and the call of birds overhead. It felt good to be back in the world where things made sense—or, at least, where you could pretend they did.

“Alright, whatever,” you muttered to yourself, starting to walk back toward the place you’d landed, grateful that at least Zephyrus wasn’t hovering around anymore. "You have a good day too," you muttered sarcastically, throwing one last glance at the hut as you made your way toward the lake once more. It was clear the Oracle wasn’t in any mood to provide more answers, and frankly, neither were you.

***

Your sisters sat on either side of you, Algaura leaning in with a furrowed brow while Clidippe played with the tassels of your blanket, clearly uninterested but humoring you nonetheless. You were pacing in frustration, your hands gesturing wildly as you retold the story, the words tumbling out of you faster than you could stop them.

“I mean, can you believe that? The Oracle actually charged me for every word! I paid her all I had left—five coins a word!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “And then, then she tells me my love is a monster. A beast—like, are you kidding me? Is that some kind of riddle? I don’t even know who she’s talking about!”

Clidippe snorted, not even looking up from the blanket. “Sounds like a bunch of nonsense, honestly. Why would you go to that old crone for advice in the first place? She’s just as cryptic as everyone else. ‘A monster’? Please. It’s probably just some dramatic thing to make you worry.”

Algaura, ever the more thoughtful one, tilted her head. “I’m with Clidippe on this one, Y/n. It sounds like something made up to keep you hooked on her words. Monsters? That’s absurd. It’s just another way to keep you tethered to superstition.”

“But, what if it’s not?” you muttered, sinking down beside them, running a hand through your hair. "What if there really is someone out there that—" You cut yourself off, swallowing hard. “What if that’s the whole point? What if I’m going to fall for someone... dangerous?”

Clidippe rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Don’t be so dramatic. You’re looking for some deep meaning in a riddle when you’ve already got enough suitors begging for your attention. If you’re smart, you’ll just stick with someone safe. You’ve got everything you need, don’t let some fortune teller confuse you.”

Algaura, however, seemed less sure, her lips pressed together in contemplation. “Maybe Clidippe’s right about not overthinking it. But still, I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to what the Oracle said than just her usual rambling. Could it be…? No, never mind.” She quickly shook her head, cutting off her own thought.

Clidippe let out a sharp yelp as you flopped onto the bed, crashing right into her. She groaned, smacking your arm in mock annoyance. "Uggghhhh... Is it too much to ask for a guy that can rock my shit without being weird?"

You felt the bed dip as you lay there, burying your face into the pillow in frustration. “Seriously! It’s like every suitor out there either has some insane expectation or, like, weird obsession. What do they even want from me? I can’t even breathe without someone offering me their life.”

Algaura, sitting at the edge of the bed, gave you a sidelong glance, her lips curling slightly in amusement. "You do realize that many of them are after your title, right? It's not you, it's the whole princess thing. You’re a catch, Y/n."

“But I don’t want to be a catch,” you groaned, your face still buried in the pillow. “I just want someone who actually likes me for me, not for what I can do for them, or because of some ridiculous prophecy.”

Clidippe snorted. “Who said you needed anyone? You’ve got everything you need right here, don’t you?” She gestured to the lavish surroundings of your room, the fine fabrics, the jewelry, and everything else. “No one’s worth losing your peace of mind over. You’re a princess—act like one.”

You lifted your head, a frown tugging at your lips. “But what if there’s something more, Clidippe? Something out there I’m missing. The Oracle said—”

“Ugh, stop going on about that!” Clidippe threw up her hands, clearly fed up. “That old woman probably saw some rat scurrying around and thought it was a monster. You’re overthinking it. Trust me, the best thing you can do is just enjoy being you.”

You stared at the ceiling, the weight of her words settling in. Maybe she was right. Maybe you just needed to stop worrying about the unknown and focus on the life in front of you, the one that was full of luxury and comfort.

But something about that thought still felt hollow.

***

That night, you could slept like a baby. How? only Hypnos knew. But it didn't matter. soft feathers fell gracefully to your floor, the sounds of feet padding across even softer. His eyes searched in the dark, looking at the figure hidden in the blankets.

Aphrodite said just one arrow should work. But then- you turn, shuffling, exposing yourself. 

Gods you were beautiful.

His fingers trembled as he held the delicate, glistening arrow between his fingers. The moment had come. He had watched from the shadows, unseen, waiting for the right moment to strike. Aphrodite had been clear: One arrow to make you fall in love, and everything would be his. But as he stared at you, his breath caught in his throat, and the arrow—a weapon meant to bend hearts—slipped from his grasp, pricking his own skin.

A sharp, cold sensation shot through him, a tremor that reached deep into his chest, igniting a burning heat inside him. The world blurred as the room seemed to shift. His thoughts, once precise and calculated, became erratic. His pulse quickened as a foreign ache stirred deep within his bones.

No... No. This wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to control this. He was supposed to be the one to make you fall, not the other way around. Yet, as he watched you, still sleeping, he could feel his heart pounding louder than ever before. It wasn’t just the allure of your beauty; it was something deeper, something he couldn’t name.

He took a slow step forward, watching you with an intensity he had never experienced before. The arrow was forgotten now, discarded on the floor. His mind raced, thoughts tumbling over one another as he tried to make sense of the overwhelming feeling that had taken hold of him.

And then, as if guided by an invisible force, his hand reached toward you. The same hand that had been meant to hold the arrow now reached for the warmth of your skin, trembling with a new kind of desire—one that wasn’t born of manipulation or divine intervention, but of something far more real. Something he couldn’t control.

Your skin was... soft. Softer than he imagined it could be. The warmth of it seeped into his fingertips, sending a jolt up his arm that made him freeze. His breath hitched, his heart racing uncontrollably as if it were trying to match the rhythm of your own. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but this—this was entirely different.

His thumb brushed over the curve of your shoulder, featherlight, as if afraid the touch might break you or, worse, wake you. It was a tenderness he didn’t recognize in himself, a care he wasn’t sure he was capable of. The simple contact stirred something deeper, something raw and unguarded that he didn’t want to confront.

For a fleeting moment, he let himself indulge in the serenity of the moment. The way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the peaceful expression on your face, the strands of hair that had fallen across your cheek—all of it captivated him, held him in place like an invisible tether.

And then, as quickly as the moment came, reality sank in. What was he doing? He wasn’t supposed to touch you, wasn’t supposed to feel this. You were the mortal. A fleeting existence compared to his own. Yet here he was, unable to pull away, unable to resist the pull that seemed to come from within his very soul.

He clenched his jaw, withdrawing his hand slowly, reluctantly. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, a mix of confusion and longing swirling in his chest. He had come here with a purpose, but now, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.

"Well, fuck... Mother will not be happy about this," he murmured under his breath, dragging his hand away from your shoulder as if burned by his own foolishness. He let out a frustrated sigh, his eyes flicking down to the arrow he had dropped earlier. With a swift movement, he retrieved it, inspecting the delicate tip as if it held the answers to his predicament.

The temptation to stay lingered in the air like an unspoken promise, but he shook his head, steeling himself.

No. Not tonight.

With one last look at your sleeping form, a mixture of awe and frustration playing across his face, he stepped back into the shadows. You were still, serene, and unaware of the storm he had just unleashed within himself.

"I’ll come back for you," he whispered into the silence, the words hanging in the air like an unbreakable vow.

And then he was gone, leaving only a faint trace of feathers and the lingering warmth of his presence.

***

The rumors hadn’t stopped. If anything, they had grown more wild and insistent, with whispers of suitors climbing palace walls and offering impossible treasures for just a glimpse of you. It was overwhelming, stifling even, and yet none of it mattered—not when the oracle’s words kept echoing in your head.

"A monster."

True love was true love, wasn’t it? That’s what all the stories said. Love wasn’t supposed to care for appearances or stature. And if your destined love happened to be a beast? Well...so be it. You’d face it head-on, the way you had faced everything else in life.

Which is how you found yourself perched on a windswept cliff, staring out at the vast expanse of sea. The roar of the waves below filled the air, mingling with the occasional caw of seabirds circling above. The sky was painted in soft shades of twilight, the sun dipping low on the horizon, and still, you sat there, waiting.

For what, exactly? You weren’t sure. Some grand, monstrous entrance, maybe. Something to finally give you the excitement your heart craved.

Instead, there was nothing but the rhythmic crash of the waves and the wind tugging at your hair.

You sighed, leaning back on your hands, letting the cool stone press against your palms. "Honestly," you muttered to yourself, "if this beast is real, it’s taking its sweet time."

You kicked a pebble over the edge, watching it tumble down into the frothy waters below. It felt absurd, waiting for some mythical creature to show up like a character from a bard’s tale. And yet, here you were—bored, restless, and hoping for something, anything, to happen.

A light tap on your shoulder broke through the quiet, startling you out of your thoughts.

You turned your head sharply, expecting to see someone standing behind you—but there was no one there.

"Huh?" you muttered, frowning as you scanned the empty cliffside.

Another tap, this time on your other shoulder.

You whipped around again, irritation bubbling up in your chest. "Who—hey!"

Before you could finish, something soft but firm slid over your face, plunging you into darkness. A blindfold.

Your hands shot up, scrambling to pull it off. "What in the gods’ names—"

"Shhh," a low, velvet voice whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched. "Who are you? What do you want?"

A chuckle, soft and almost amused. "You called, didn’t you? Now I’m here."

Your heart raced as you froze in place, the voice far too close for comfort. "Called?" you echoed, confusion laced with a flicker of fear.

"Yes," the voice murmured, shifting to your other side. You could feel the faint brush of air against your cheek as the figure moved. "You waited for your beast. And now your beast has come."

Out of pure reflex, your fist shot forward, connecting solidly with something—or rather, someone. A sharp grunt of pain followed as the figure stumbled back.

"Ow! Seriously?" the voice hissed, filled with both surprise and indignation.

Your hands immediately flew up in panic, blindly waving in the air. "Sorry! Sorry—oh gods, that sounded like it hurt! Are you okay?" You reached for the blindfold, but no matter how you tugged at it, it didn’t budge.

"Would you stop—" the voice cut off, clearly frustrated. "Leave it," they commanded, the irritation in their tone mixed with a faint hint of amusement.

You froze, your hands hovering near the cloth covering your eyes. "What—what do you mean, leave it? I can’t see!"

"That’s kind of the point," they muttered dryly, and you could almost hear the smirk in their voice. "If I let you see me, it’d ruin the fun."

"Fun?" you echoed incredulously, half-tempted to swing again. "What kind of fun is this? Who just sneaks up on people, ties them up, and—"

"You’re not tied up," they interrupted smoothly.

"Blindfolded, whatever!" you snapped. "This is ridiculous!"

They chuckled, low and rich, sending another shiver down your spine. "You’re just mad you didn’t see it coming. But don’t worry, little mortal. I’m full of surprises."

Before you could deliver a follow-up punch or throw out another retort, his grip was sudden—fast, firm, and impossibly smooth. He scooped you up effortlessly, as though you weighed nothing at all.

"Hey! What the—put me down!" you protested, thrashing instinctively. But his hold didn’t falter; if anything, it tightened, keeping you steady despite your struggles.

"Stop squirming," he said, his voice closer now, velvet smooth and annoyingly calm. "You’ll hurt yourself, and I’d rather avoid that."

"Avoid that?" you snapped, kicking your legs uselessly in the air. "Maybe you should’ve thought about that before grabbing me like some—some deranged kidnapper!"

His laugh rumbled through you, infuriatingly warm for someone committing what absolutely felt like an abduction. "Kidnapper? Dramatic, aren’t we? I’d say this is more like… escorting."

"Escorting? You didn’t exactly give me a choice!"

"No," he admitted, and you could practically hear the grin in his tone. "I didn’t."

You twisted again, trying to wrench yourself free, but he was impossibly strong. And now, despite the blindfold, you were acutely aware of something—his warmth, the way his hands cradled you with surprising care despite his teasing tone.

Your voice dropped to a mutter, frustration blending with confusion. "Who even are you?"

There was a pause, and then: "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

And then he threw you off the cliff. 

The air was ripped from your lungs as you felt yourself being hurled into the void, the edge of the cliff disappearing behind you. The blindfold fell off now, flying away to return to its owner. 

A scream tore from your throat, panic flooding every part of your body. But instead of the gut-wrenching drop you expected, the wind surged around you, catching you with a powerful, almost gentle force.

"Zephyrus?!" you gasped, recognizing the familiar warmth of the west wind as it wrapped around you, carrying you upward and away from the rocky descent.

There was no response.

"Zaephryus, answer me!" you demanded, your voice rising with the chaos of your emotions. But this time, he didn’t answer. No playful quip, no cheeky banter—just a strange, disquieting silence.

You tried to crane your neck, but the wind was too fast, too strong, rushing around you as if it were trying to shield you. Something wasn’t right. The usually carefree spirit felt… afraid.

"What’s going on?" you shouted, your voice carried off into the night. "Why aren’t you talking to me?"

Still, there was nothing. Only the sound of the wind, howling louder than it ever had before.

You stumbled as you were dropped unceremoniously in front of the palace gates, the sudden shift from the wind's embrace to solid ground leaving you dizzy and disoriented. You barely caught yourself, hands pressing against the cool stone walls for balance.

"What in the—" Your words cut off as you tried to steady yourself, confusion flooding your senses. The wind was already gone, leaving only the strange echo of its absence.

You glanced around, expecting something, anything, to make sense of the situation, but it didn’t. The night air felt thick and tense, and the sound of your own heart pounding seemed louder than ever.

Why had Zephyrus brought you here? Why had he ignored you so completely?

A chill ran down your spine as a shiver of dread prickled the back of your neck.

And that’s when you heard it—a soft whisper in the air, so faint you almost thought it was your imagination.

"Aphrodite..." The word drifted past your ears, a whisper that felt like it had come from the very air itself, and your stomach dropped.

You’d heard rumors about her, about what she could do, but this? This felt like something darker. Something that made the air feel heavier, as if the world around you was closing in.

What had you gotten yourself into?

***

The days in the palace had turned into a surreal rhythm. It was odd, almost dreamlike, to move through the grand halls filled with invisible hands that seemed to anticipate your every need. The peace was nice, and the constant arguing was a thing of the past. For once, you were allowed to exist in the silence of your own thoughts without boredom…at first.

Still, the so-called "beast" was a mystery. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once. His voice followed you through the corridors, rich and smooth, a deep timbre that wrapped around you like the softest silk. He’d talk to you during your strolls in the lush gardens, his voice carrying on the wind. At meals, you’d hear him as though he were seated right across from you, but the chair always remained empty yet all only at night. When you first arrived, he’d told you that everything in the palace belonged to you. And he kept true to his word about that. 

And yet soon enough, you became lonely again, only looking forward to the night, when he would visit you. 

Oh, how his hands would worship you, smooth over your body, lips whispering praises as he lost himself in you every night…

But still…

“You’re avoiding me,” you’d accused once, poking at the air with a fork.

“I could never avoid you,” he’d replied smoothly, a chuckle in his voice. “I am always with you.”

It was infuriating.

You tried to reason with him, plead with him, even bribe him to show himself, but every time he’d laugh softly and give the same answer:

“No, my love.”

The palace, as beautiful as it was, began to feel like a gilded cage. You couldn’t leave, though you hadn’t really tried yet. Something about the way the invisible servants seemed to watch your every move was unsettling. They weren’t unkind, but they were a constant, quiet reminder that you were not entirely free.

***

And yet, despite the strangeness of it all, you couldn’t deny that you’d started to enjoy your conversations with the beast. He was clever, funny even, and he always seemed to know just what to say to draw a laugh or a blush from you.

But there was one thing you couldn’t shake:

Why wouldn’t he let you see him?

You sat on the edge of the plush velvet chaise, the weight of the ring on your finger now feeling oddly familiar, though still heavy with unspoken meaning. The palace felt more like a home each passing day, but something about the silence from your sisters made the air feel thicker, colder. You needed to talk to him. Needed his presence, his guidance.

“Husband?” you called again, voice soft, yet laced with the hint of a question that had been bubbling inside you for days. You hadn't been able to shake the thought of them—Algaura, Clidippe.You missed them. And there was a strange part of you that wanted to show them this strange new world you had found yourself in. It wasn't just about the palace or the mystery of your beastly husband—it was about you, too.

You were different now, weren’t you?

The air shifted, faint at first, but undeniable. His voice rang out, a deep, soothing sound that filled the space despite his absence.

“What do you need, my love?”

His words never failed to make the corners of your lips twitch into a smile, despite the frustration simmering in your chest. You swallowed the rising feeling before it had a chance to take root. This was him—your husband. The one you’d been growing to care for, though you'd never seen his face, never truly understood the full weight of the creature that he was.

“I—well... I’ve been thinking about my sisters,” you began, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the ring on your finger. “I miss them. Could... could I invite them to visit?”

There was a pause, a long stretch of quiet that made the silence in the room feel as if it were pressing in on you. You held your breath, unsure of his answer. What would he say?

He responded, his tone carefully measured, yet a softness lingered within it. “Your sisters…”

He didn’t continue immediately, but his voice didn’t waver. “Why would you want them here?” His question wasn’t harsh, but there was a clear undertone of concern.

The question hit you harder than you expected, but you pushed through. “Because... I miss them. And because I want them to see... see you. See this place. It’s... it’s not so bad here, not really.” You bit your lip, mentally cursing yourself for the half-formed confession. But it was the truth.

“You wish to bring them here to... what?” he asked, his voice almost... quiet. There was a trace of something you couldn’t quite place in his tone. Was it hesitation? Was he afraid of what your sisters might see, or worse, of what they might think of him?

No, impossible. He was too secure for that. The thought of him caring about their opinions was laughable in itself. You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. It wasn’t about fear—at least, not for him. Was it about you?

“I just wish to spend some time with them. Maybe have tea. Please?” you murmured, your voice soft yet earnest. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, or why you felt the need to plead your case. But the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

There was no immediate response, but the weight of his presence filled the room. You felt it—oddly comforting yet undeniably strange—the weight of his head resting in your lap. It was something he did when he was deep in thought, seeking your touch without words.

Your hand moved instinctively to his hair, fingers threading through the invisible strands as you began to gently massage his head. It was surreal, feeling the texture and warmth of him, knowing he was there yet unable to truly see him. His arms wrapped around your waist, grounding you in the moment.

“I could say no,” he finally said, his voice low and deliberate, the vibration of his words almost tangible against you. “But I don’t want to deny you something you long for.”

Your heart leaped, a mix of hope and relief flooding your chest. “You mean...?”

“I’ll allow it,” he said, his tone softer now. “But only if you promise me one thing.”

You stilled, your hand pausing in his hair. “Anything,” you whispered.

“Promise me you’ll tell me if their visit troubles you.” There was something in his voice—a protectiveness that made your chest tighten. “I’ll arrange for them to come, but your happiness is my only concern.”

You exhaled slowly, your hand resuming its gentle movement. “I promise.”

And though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the warmth of his contentment, the invisible lines between you both softening in the quiet of the room.

***

Clidippe and Algaura sat across from you, their expressions a mix of confusion and awe as the servant poured tea into delicate cups, their hands trembling slightly from the sheer surprise. They must have been in a state of adrenaline; Zephryus had whisked them to the palace on your husband’s orders. You, on the other hand, could barely contain your excitement. The familiar faces of your sisters, so long absent from your life, were a welcome sight.

Clidippe raised an eyebrow, eyeing the invisible space next to you, where the beast’s presence loomed. “So… this is where you’ve been all this time?” she asked, her voice cautious, yet carrying a sharpness that suggested she wasn’t quite ready to believe everything she was seeing.

You, on the other hand, were practically buzzing with excitement. "Isn't it incredible?" you asked, your voice bright and brimming with enthusiasm. "The palace, the gardens, the servants—it’s like something out of a dream!"

Clidippe glanced at Algaura, her lips pressing into a thin line. "A dream... or a curse," she muttered under her breath, though loud enough for you to catch.

"Clidippe!" you scolded, though your grin didn’t falter. "Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not a curse. It’s... well, okay, it’s unconventional, but I’m happy here!"

"Happy?" Algaura asked, raising a skeptical brow. "With an invisible husband?" She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Have you even seen him yet?"

You hesitated, your hands tightening slightly around your own teacup. "Well... no, not exactly," you admitted, trying to sound casual. "But we talk all the time, and he’s kind, and thoughtful, and... he loves me."

Clidippe let out an incredulous laugh, setting her teacup down with a sharp clink. "Y/n, how can you know that if you’ve never even seen him? What if he’s some monster? What if he’s—"

Algaura, always one to amplify a dramatic moment, leaned forward, her voice rising slightly. "What if he’s evil or—" she gasped, eyes wide with mock horror, "—ugly?"

"Algaura!" you scolded, setting your teacup down so forcefully that the porcelain rattled. "He’s not evil. And even if he were... um, ugly, it wouldn’t matter!"

"Wouldn’t it, though?" Clidippe chimed in, arching a brow. "You’ve got this whole fairytale thing going on here, but isn’t it weird that he hasn’t shown you his face? What’s he hiding?"

You crossed your arms, glaring at both of them. "He’s not hiding anything. He told me he wants me to get to know him for who he is, not what he looks like. And honestly, I think that’s kind of beautiful."

"Or kind of suspicious," Algaura muttered under her breath, earning a glare from you.

"Look," you said firmly, "I didn’t invite you here to criticize my life or my husband. I wanted you to see that I’m happy, that I’m okay. Can’t you just trust me on this?"

Clidippe set her teacup down with a deliberate clink, fixing you with a serious gaze. "We can't, actually." Her words were sharp, cutting through the fragile layer of joy you'd been clinging to. "You're being a fool."

Her bluntness stung, and you felt your chest tighten. "A fool?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," she continued, unrelenting. "You’re living in some enchanted palace, surrounded by invisible servants, married to someone who won’t even show you who he is. And you think that’s normal? That that’s love?"

Algaura nodded reluctantly, her earlier teasing replaced by a more subdued concern. "Clidippe’s right. We just... we don’t want you to get hurt. What if—"

You held up a hand, silencing her. "I know what you’re going to say. What if he’s dangerous? What if he’s lying? What if this is all some trap? I’ve heard it all before."

"And have you considered any of it?" Clidippe pressed. "Because, honestly, it doesn’t sound like you have."

Your lips parted to argue, but no words came out. Deep down, you knew they had a point.

"You’ve always been headstrong," Clidippe continued, her tone softening. "And we love that about you. But sometimes... sometimes you’re so stubborn you can’t see the cliff you’re about to walk off of."

The room felt heavy, the warmth of the tea and the laughter from earlier evaporating into an uncomfortable silence.

"I’m not walking off a cliff," you said finally, your voice quiet but steady. "I know this seems strange to you, but I feel safe here. He makes me feel safe."

"Then why hasn’t he shown you who he really is?" Clidippe asked gently.

You didn’t have an answer. And that, more than anything, made their words cut even deeper.

***

Later that night, long after your sisters had left, you waited eagerly for your husband, who, as per usual, arrived with a gust of wind blowing through the naked windows. You giggle excitedly as the wind blew into your hair, smiling big as you feel him embrace you tenderly. “I take it you enjoyed yourself?” He murmurs in your ear, his lips gently nipping the shell. “I did! They were happy for me, husband,”

You feel him tense for a split second before relaxing. “Happy? They didn’t question it?”

You pull away, waving your arms as you clarify. “Oh, no- they definitely did, but it was just curious questions, nothing to fret over. Oh! And Helina had made the most delicious tea earlier. I think she had put pomegranates in it!” He chuckled at your excitement, patting your head affectionately, “That so? Then I will give you all the world of pomegranates.”

His hand slid down to your jaw, and with the other, he returned the blindfold to your eyes so that he could stop hiding. 

It’s a natural thing now. But… when he does so, you can’t help but think about how your sisters had questioned your love if you’ve never seen your husband.

The thoughts leave just as quickly as they came, his lips following a trail only known to him as he lifts you off your feet.

***

The feathered mattress was comfortable as it ever was, staying cool against your hot skin as your husband ravished you. Your knees were pressed up to your chest, your hands grasping at the pillows, sheets, him- whatever you could find to anchor you. 

You tried to keep quiet, truly, but it was much harder than you thought. The blindfold, coiled with his touch and pleas for you to be more vocal? It was simply too much. It was one thing to not have the blindfold and not see him, but to have your sight denied? 

You could feel how the goosebumps rose, hairs sticking up, your arms feeling all but off. 

“C’mon, sweet princess, please don’t hide your voice. Sing for me, yeah?” His voice murmured softly as kisses decorated your skin, down your inner thighs.

“Husband-” “Rafayel.”

What?

You open your eyes, the black from them being covered of course blocking what you could see. 

“Call me Rafayel.” His voice was light. Airy. In need. 

When you don’t immediately address him as so, he presses a kiss to your clothed cunt, tapping it so affectionatley. “C’mon princess, don’t hesitate now of all times.”

And the words he used were like honey, his lips on your clothed folds a dessert to your sense of touch. 

“I- okay, Rafayel,”

He hums in delight, kissing your cunt again, your underwear wet and soft against his lips as he moves your thigh to open wider, make more space for him. “Thank you, my love,”

You didn’t even question why he was only now giving you a name to address him as; “husband” was perfectly fine for the months you had been here beforehand. 

Then again, how could you focus, when your husband’s- when Rafayel’s- lips were so loving and his fingers so tender as he pulled the fabric to the side, all but worshipping your cunt. 

His fingers patted it softly, humming in approval at just how wet you were, giving a quick kiss to your exposed clit. Your hips jerk, he’s enjoying it as he spreads your folds open, bringing his tongue to lay flat, swiping up, up, up to the tippy top, his nose bumping your clit as he groans. 

“Pretty girl, my sweet wife, I’m sorry for keeping you waiting every day for night to come, ‘s not because of you. Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?” Like you were ambrosia, he drank, drank, drank from you, not waiting for an answer, as he already knew. 

But again. 

Your sisters words crept in the back of your mind as the night carried on….

***

…Doubt is a cruel thing. It slithered into your mind and refused to let go, wrapping its coils tighter with every passing moment. The warmth of his presence, his gentle words, the invisible hands that cared for you—they all felt too good to be true now, tainted by the seeds of your sisters' concern.

The room felt suffocating as you stared at the flickering flame of the oil lamp, its light casting eerie shadows across the walls. The knife was cold in your hand, its gleaming edge a stark contrast to the warmth of the flame. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, a mixture of fear and doubt twisting in your gut.

What if they were right? What if you were blind to the truth, just swept up in the illusion of safety and comfort he'd created? What if this whole thing, the grand gestures, the unseen servants, the kindness he'd shown you... what if it was all a game, a way to keep you trapped in his web?

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they kept creeping in, clawing at the edges of your mind. "What if he's just using me?" you whispered to yourself, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

You glanced at the knife again, its sharp blade gleaming menacingly in the lamplight. It wasn’t like you intended to hurt him—at least, not physically—but you had to know. You had to see what he was, who he really was.

With trembling hands, you set the knife down and reached for the lamp. It was an impulsive decision, one born out of fear, not logic. But you needed to know the truth, and if that meant seeing him for who he truly was, then you'd face it. Even if it broke your heart.

The silence of the room was deafening as you quietly slipped out of bed and headed toward the door. You weren’t sure what you were going to do once you found him, but at this point, the uncertainty gnawed at you more than anything else.

Your pulse raced in the stillness, every step heavier than the last as you ventured deeper into the corridors of the palace. The shadows seemed to stretch longer, the air thicker with each breath you took. The further you went, the more you felt like you were walking into something you couldn’t turn back from. Something... irreversible.

The palace seemed to whisper as you moved, the halls groaning underfoot. And just as you reached the doorway to his chambers, your breath hitched. Was this really what you wanted? To confront the beast, to strip away the mystery, to shatter the fragile peace you’d built?

But there was no turning back now.

You pressed the lamp to the door, the faint glow barely illuminating the intricate carvings etched in the wood. The knife felt like an anchor in your hand, both a lifeline and a threat.

"Please..." you murmured, unsure whether you were praying or pleading with yourself, "Just... just let me see the truth."

And then, with a deep breath, you pushed open the door.

You froze in the doorway, the oil lamp trembling in your grasp. The sight before you was almost too much to comprehend. Your husband—no, this—was not what you had expected. Not in the slightest.

His body lay still, relaxed in sleep, draped in the faintest sheen of moonlight that filtered through the window. His skin shimmered faintly, as though kissed by the gods themselves, and his chest rose and fell with a peaceful rhythm. His wings, vast and impossibly beautiful, were folded neatly behind him, feathers soft and iridescent, catching the light in a cascade of colors that seemed almost otherworldly.

You took a hesitant step closer, the flame of your lamp flickering as though it too was stunned into silence. His features were perfect—sharper than you imagined yet softened in slumber.

You had known his presence, felt his warmth, his embrace. But now, seeing him like this, unguarded and vulnerable, the fear that had driven you here melted away like mist in the early morning sun. The knife in your hand felt foolish now, heavy with the weight of your doubts, and you realized just how misplaced your fears had been.

His beauty was undeniable. Everything about him—from his sculpted features to the grace with which he rested—was perfect. The lavender curls of his hair framed his face so gently, his long lashes resting peacefully against his cheeks.

Another step forward. The lips that had whispered sweet nothings to you now parted slightly as he breathed. And those hands... the hands that had touched you so tenderly, cradled your face, and drawn soft gasps from your lips—they rested loosely on the bed, every vein and knuckle a masterpiece.

But it was the wings that held your attention. They weren’t just wings; they were art. Each feather seemed crafted by divine hands, glimmering with colors you couldn’t even name. They exuded warmth and power, a silent testament to his nature—whatever that nature might truly be.

Your throat felt tight. You wanted to cry out, to drop the lamp and run to him, to apologize for doubting him, for letting your sisters' words cloud your mind. But something rooted you in place. A mix of awe and fear kept you there, staring down at the man—the being—you’d married.

Who are you? the thought screamed in your mind, louder than you intended. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

But you knew. 

You knew he was a god. 

How stupid- how foolish of you.

And then, as if sensing the weight of your gaze, his eyes fluttered open. Those eyes... they were a storm of colors, shifting like the tides, deep and endless. He blinked, confusion crossing his face before realization struck. His gaze fell to the lamp in your hands, and then to the knife, still clenched tightly in your trembling fingers.

His expression changed. Hurt. Betrayal. A crack forming in his once serene features.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice soft yet heavy with disbelief. “Why?”

His eyes, once warm and filled with a tenderness you had come to know, now held a coldness that made your heart drop. The air between you thickened with the weight of unspoken words, his grief pulling at the edges of his features.

“Why?” His voice was a whisper, rough with emotion. “After everything… after I’ve shown you nothing but care, why would you—” His breath hitched, his wings shuddering slightly as if even they were trying to shield him from the sting of your doubt.

You opened your mouth, but no words came. The knife trembled in your grasp, the edge of it catching the faint light of the room. The lamp you had forgotten to put down flickered as if in sympathy for the tension that crackled in the air.

“I didn’t mean… I just…” Your voice was small, barely a whisper. What did you mean? What could you say to undo this?

You had wanted to confront the fear that had been gnawing at you, the doubt planted by your sisters. They had warned you, raised questions you hadn't wanted to entertain. What if he’s a monster? What if he’s only been pretending to be kind? It was foolish, you knew that now. But in the quiet moments, when your mind wandered, the questions took root.

He reached for the knife gently, his movements slow, cautious. His fingers brushed yours, a brief, almost hesitant touch. “You thought I was a monster,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, the pain in his voice evident.

You recoiled, clutching the knife to your chest in an instinctive defense. "No, I didn’t—I thought—" Your words faltered as you met his gaze again. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to believe.”

The hurt in his eyes deepened. He stood, his wings flexing as he moved closer, his presence overwhelming yet gentle. “I’ve shown you nothing but who I am—who I really am,” he said, each word deliberate, his voice breaking slightly. “And yet, this doubt… it lingers in your heart?”

“It was your sisters, wasn’t it?”

His grip on your wrist was firm, his eyes narrowing with a hurt that twisted in a way that made your heart ache even more. The anger in his voice was unmistakable, sharp like a blade itself.

"It was your sisters, wasn't it?" he repeated, the words heavy with accusation. The quiet rage simmered beneath his words, as if the mere thought of their influence was enough to unravel whatever fragile peace you’d built. His wings twitched, his body rigid with tension.

Before you could respond, he yanked the knife from your grasp, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. It landed with a soft thud on the floor, its sharpness now rendered useless in the face of his fury.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. His anger wasn't just at the doubt you’d harbored—it was at the outside voices that had planted the seeds of it. He had allowed himself to believe in you, in what you could be together, only for that fragile trust to be shattered by their words.

"I warned you," he spat, his breath quickening. "I warned you not to listen to them. They know nothing of us, of what we are." His fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

It felt as though the very air around you had shifted, turning cold and heavy. You wanted to apologize, to explain, to beg for his understanding, but the words seemed to stick in your throat.

The beast before you—your beast—wasn’t just angry. He was hurt, deeply so. It wasn’t just the betrayal of your doubt. It was the years of isolation, the weight of everything he’d carried in silence, the belief that for once, someone might truly see him for who he was.

"I wanted to protect you," he muttered, his voice cracking slightly as he looked away, fighting the emotions that were bubbling to the surface. His wings were tight against his back, the darkened feathers almost trembling with the weight of it all.

The truth was, you had been foolish. You had let the whispers of your sisters cloud your judgment, but now, standing before him, you saw the depth of his pain—the depth of your own misunderstanding. It wasn’t just about him being a beast; it was about him being someone who had allowed you into his world, and you had almost thrown it all away.

"You—" He stopped himself, swallowing hard. "I thought you understood me." His hands went to your throat for a brief moment, his eyes full with the intent to snap it, but something stops him. It wasn’t the pitiful way your hands clawed at his grasp to let you go, or your pleas for forgiveness, no. It was the fact that he even considered to snap it. Rafayel thought that surely he was done with such fantasies, the urge to break you apart every time he bed you- to rip your head, to bite and tear into your flesh, to utterly consume you, he thought he could hold back, no, that he must hold back. In a mix of horror at himself and grief- mourning at your betrayal, he took a step back, letting you drop to the floor and crumpling. 

Your heart dropped as his wings unfurled, the magnificent span of them taking up the entire room, and before you could even fully comprehend what was happening, he was gone. His words, cold and final, lingered in the air long after his form disappeared into the night sky.

"You...You have betrayed me. And I have no need for traitors. I- I’m- forgive me, for not earning your trust," 

The words echoed in your mind like a death sentence. The finality in his voice, the hurt that bled through his anger—it was all too much. You were left standing there, breathless, as the silence rushed in to fill the void he had left behind. The weight of his absence crushed down on you, suffocating. Tears welled in your eyes, but they didn’t fall. Instead, they stung—burning with the guilt of your actions, of the doubt you had let fester and bloom in your heart. You were a fool to let anyone, even those you loved, make you question him. He had shown you nothing but care, nothing but love, and you—you had betrayed him with your own insecurities.

"No," you whispered to yourself, shaking your head as if to rid yourself of the thought. But it didn’t work. The guilt remained, a gnawing feeling that twisted in your gut.

You rushed to the window, pressing your palms against the cold glass, but there was nothing—no sign of him, just the empty expanse of the sky. He was gone, and you were left in the wreckage of your own foolishness.

"Please," you whispered, the desperation in your voice thick. "Please, come back."

But the wind only howled back at you, carrying his absence like a cruel reminder of what you had done.

It was too late to take it all back. Too late to explain that you hadn’t meant to hurt him, that you were just scared. But now, there was no one left to explain it to.

Tears finally spilled from your eyes as you sank to your knees on the cold floor, your heart shattered. The bed, once a place of warmth and love, now felt empty, a reminder of the broken trust between you.

You had lost him. And you weren't sure how to find him again.

***

A month passed in a haze of silence. The palace, once full of warmth and life, now felt like a cold, oppressive shell. The servants remained kind, as they always had been, but their smiles were hollow, their eyes carrying the weight of something unsaid. You could feel their pity, even if it was never spoken aloud.

The days blurred into one another, each one spent in the same routine—quiet walks through the gardens, meals that were eaten alone, and long hours in your room, staring out at the world outside the palace walls, wishing for something—anything—to change. The silence of your husband’s absence was deafening. He hadn’t returned, hadn’t even sent word.

Your thoughts were consumed with guilt and regret, constantly replaying that night over and over in your mind. What if you had just trusted him? What if you had never listened to your sisters, to the doubts that they planted in your mind? But it was too late for what ifs. The damage was done, and you were left with nothing but a gnawing emptiness inside.

The loneliness was suffocating. You had always relied on your sisters to bring laughter and comfort, but now, with no one to share your thoughts and fears with, you felt more isolated than ever. You missed them terribly—their teasing, their warmth, their presence. You needed to see them again.

The palace felt like a prison, and you were a prisoner of your own making.

So, one evening, you made up your mind. You couldn’t stay here, not like this. You had to see your sisters, to feel some semblance of normalcy again. You had to fix what you had broken, no matter how impossible it seemed.

You slipped out of the palace, as quietly as you could, hoping that no one would stop you. The night air was cool, the scent of fresh flowers and earth filling your senses, but the sense of relief was short-lived. You couldn’t escape the tight knot in your chest—the dread of what you had lost and the uncertainty of what you would find.

“Zephyrus?”

He was there in an instant. Zephyrus’s voice was soft, as if he knew the weight of your request, even before you spoke it. "Of course, my lady. Home it is."

The wind responded to his call, swirling around you gently, as if coaxing you back into its embrace. You didn’t know if it was the wind’s touch or the weight of your own thoughts, but you felt the shift—the pull toward something that felt more familiar, more comforting than the cold emptiness that had become your palace.

With a quiet sigh, you felt the wind lift you off the ground, carrying you away from the place that had once been your home but now felt foreign. The cool air rushed past your skin, and the familiar feeling of flight made your chest tighten in both relief and sorrow.

"Zephyrus," you murmur again, this time with a hint of vulnerability in your voice. "Do you think… do you think I’ve ruined everything?"

There was no immediate answer, only the soft whoosh of the wind as you flew. His silence was not comforting, yet somehow, it gave you the space to reflect, to finally let yourself feel everything that had been buried inside.

It didn’t take long before you saw the familiar landscape below—green fields, gentle slopes, and, in the distance, the village where you grew up. Home. Your heart tightened, knowing that even this place might no longer feel the same after everything that had happened.

But this was where you belonged, wasn’t it?

Zephyrus landed you gently in a quiet corner near the palace, not far from where your sisters lived. His presence faded into the wind, leaving you standing there, facing the uncertainty of your future.

***

As you spoke, recounting everything that had happened—your marriage, your betrayal, your husband’s departure—it felt as though the words were echoing in an empty room. You saw the concern on their faces, the sadness in their eyes, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to ease the discomfort in your chest.

Clidippe’s eyes softened as she listened, but the skepticism in her voice was impossible to ignore. “So, he just… left?” she asked, her tone tinged with disbelief. “After everything? You let him leave like that?”

Algaura, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up, her voice sharp. “You were so sure, Y/n. So sure he was something special. And now look at you. Empty-handed.”

Their words stung, each one sharper than the last. You hadn’t expected their support, not really, but this felt… different. You thought they would understand, that they would see the pain you were in, that they would comfort you in a way only family could. But instead, you felt like a stranger in their presence, isolated by your choices.

“I—” you started, but the words faltered in your throat, swallowed by the knot of guilt that tightened with every passing second.

Algaura’s eyes narrowed. “What, Y/n? What now? You want us to feel sorry for you? To fix this mess?”

Clidippe reached out, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “We don’t blame you, Y/n. But you need to think about this. What’s next for you?”

You couldn’t answer. The emptiness inside you, the pain of knowing that you had hurt someone you loved deeply, it all churned inside, and there was no easy way to make it right. Not now. Not ever.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, feeling the weight of everything crash down on you. "I thought... I thought I knew what I wanted, but now... I don't even know who I am anymore."

The silence stretched between you and your sisters, an uncomfortable weight. They didn’t have the answers, either. And neither did you.

It felt wrong. It felt like no matter how hard you tried, there was no going back. You couldn’t undo what had been done. And worse yet, the wound you had created in your heart was only growing deeper, as if the space where your husband used to be was now an aching void you couldn't fill.

And the worst part? You weren’t sure you even wanted to anymore.

***

Clidippe and Algaura were more than pleased after you left. "Perhaps, he'll take one of us to be his wife?" Clidippe said, almost cheerfully. 

Algaura let out a small laugh, though it was cold and cynical. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. After all, we’re far more deserving than Y/n, aren’t we?”

The two of them exchanged a glance, one that spoke volumes, though it said nothing aloud. The tension was palpable, their earlier concern for you now replaced by something darker, more calculating.

Clidippe leaned back, her expression shifting from one of mirth to something far more calculating. "I always thought Y/n was too naïve to keep something like that. Such a fool to waste an opportunity with someone like him."

Algaura scoffed. "Exactly. So much potential thrown away. It’s almost laughable." She leaned in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “But I’m not so sure. There might be a way for us to claim what she couldn’t.”

Clidippe’s eyes gleamed with a quiet determination. “Let’s wait and see. If he comes back... we’ll be ready.” She paused for a moment, as if contemplating something more. "We don’t need her to ruin things for us again."

Algaura smirked, a cold, confident expression. "No, we won’t let her."

"Better idea. Why don't we just go to the cliff and have that wind god take us?" "Sister!”

Clidippe raised an eyebrow, but the mischievous glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement. "You know, I might just be tempted to take you up on that offer. Imagine the look on her face when we show up with him in tow."

Algaura laughed again, but this time it was tinged with something darker. "What a sight that would be. A wind god at our side, whisking us away... too bad we’d have to deal with her first, wouldn’t we?"

Clidippe shrugged, her smile widening. "Why deal with her when we can let her waste away in her pitiful loneliness? It's more fun this way, don't you think?"

The two sisters shared a knowing look, their plans already forming in the corners of their minds. Whatever they did next, it was clear they had no intention of letting you get in the way of their ambitions.

***

“You what?” Aphrodite fumed as she tended to her son.

Rafayel flinched, his wings tensing behind him as his mother’s words echoed in the grand hall. "Mother, please, calm down."

"Calm down?" Aphrodite’s voice rang out, her tone venomous. "You’ve disgraced yourself, and worse—her! You let a mortal get the better of you, make a fool of you, and you hide it like it’s some kind of prize?" She spun around, eyes blazing with fury. "Do you even understand what this means?"

Rafayel, for the first time, didn’t know how to respond. His silence seemed to only fuel his mother’s rage.

"You don’t know the first thing about real love, Rafayel!" Aphrodite’s voice cracked as she gestured toward the grandiose chambers. "That mortal girl is just a stepping stone. You’ve thrown away everything for her—your honor, your name, and now your position among the gods."

"But mother, she loved me," Rafayel said softly, the weight of his words falling heavily in the air between them.

Aphrodite’s laughter was cold. "Love? No, my son. What you call love is nothing more than infatuation. Mortal affection is fleeting, and you—" She narrowed her gaze, "—you have let it consume you. You cannot afford such weakness. Not as my son. Not as the being you were destined to be."

Rafayel stared at her, a distant sadness in his eyes. "You don’t understand. She’s different."

Aphrodite’s lips curled into a sneer. "And you will suffer because of it. You always do." She turned away, as if dismissing him. "You had a job to do, but you couldn’t even do that.”

Rafayel’s shoulders sagged under the weight of his mother’s fury, his wings folding tightly against his back, as if trying to shrink from her anger. His eyes, usually so confident and composed, were now filled with a mixture of sadness and uncertainty. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, unsure of how to express the turmoil swirling inside him.

"Mother, please..." he whispered, his voice quiet and vulnerable, almost pleading. "I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I just... I didn’t want to be alone anymore. She—she makes me feel alive. I’ve never felt anything like this before."

“That doesnt matter.”

"I... I thought you would be happy for me," Rafayel murmured, eyes dropping to the marble floor, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I thought you'd want me to be happy. You said... you said I should follow my heart. And now I’m following it... and you hate me for it."

His voice cracked as the reality of his mother’s rejection washed over him. He wasn’t the confident, untouchable creature he pretended to be. He was raw. He was hurt. And all he wanted, more than anything, was to share that with you. To be with you. But now, in this cold, unforgiving space, he didn’t know if he even deserved to.

"She’s everything I’ve ever wanted," he said softly, as if confessing a secret he was scared to admit. "And I don’t care what anyone says, not even you, mother. I love her. I love her more than you could ever understand."

His heart hammered in his chest, torn between the loyalty he had to his mother, the goddess who had raised him, and the love he had for his wife- you.  "Please... just try to understand. This is real. She’s real." His voice faltered. "I don’t want to lose her."

But it was no use. 

“You just let mother take care of this. Mother will fix  everything.”

Rafayel's body jerked as the magic took hold of him, his wings freezing mid-flap. The transformation was swift, brutal, and without mercy. His form shrank, feathers sprouting where skin once was, his wings no longer elegant and powerful but instead simple and fragile. His sharp, pleading gaze locked with his mother’s, but the words he tried to speak caught in his throat, swallowed by the magic that overtook him. He could only chirp, a sound far from the voice he had once used to proclaim his love.

His body was small, vulnerable, caged. The bars of the iron cage pressed against his delicate wings, and a bitter taste of defeat filled his mouth. He flapped once, twice, but there was no escaping the confines of his mother's wrath.

Aphrodite stood, her face set in stone, her anger still simmering beneath her calm demeanor. She waved her hand dismissively, ignoring the bird trapped within the cage. The motherly affection she had once had for Rafayel seemed like a distant memory.

"You’re a fool, Rafayel," she said coldly, her voice dripping with disdain. "But I will make sure everything works out. I always do. You will see. You will forget this mortal... and you will return to me. You will learn that I know what's best for you."

***

Talia's expression remained impassive as she watched you from her perch, her fingers lightly tapping against the railing of the balcony she'd been lounging on. She had seen this coming, even before you had realized what was happening. You and Rafayel? It was almost too predictable. That beautiful, foolish boy who had so easily fallen for you, swept up in his own infatuation, despite the consequences. Talia knew Aphrodite too well to not expect such a response.

Still, there was a pang of something in her chest—was it pity? Yes, perhaps it was pity. For you, for the way your world was now falling apart, even though you were too blind to see it coming. It wasn’t that Talia enjoyed watching you suffer, but it was hard to ignore how predictable everything had become.

Aphrodite, beside her, glared. 

“You pity a stranger over your friend.”

A statement. A fact. Not an accusation. 

"She humiliated my son, broke his heart, and shattered his trust. I should’ve intervened sooner."

Talia leaned lazily against a pillar, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, utterly unbothered by the goddess’s rage. She was no stranger to Aphrodite’s dramatics.

"And yet," Talia replied, her tone as light as the breeze, "it was your son who fell for her, wasn’t it? Who bound himself to her in secret? Perhaps your anger is misplaced."

Aphrodite’s glare could have turned lesser mortals to ash. "Watch your tongue, Talia. My patience with you is thin."

"Yes, yes, your patience," Talia said with a dismissive wave. She pushed off the pillar, stepping closer to the goddess with a confidence that bordered on reckless. "But let’s not forget, Goddess, you’re the one who proclaimed yourself the expert in love. Perhaps your son inherited your taste for chaos. Shouldn’t that make you... proud?"

Aphrodite’s hand twitched, her nails biting into her palm as she considered smiting the infuriating nymph. Instead, she closed her eyes, taking a slow, measured breath. Talia always knew how to strike a nerve.

"This isn’t chaos," Aphrodite finally said, her voice quieter but no less sharp. "This is betrayal. She doesn’t deserve him. And I will not allow her to destroy him further."

Talia’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smile. "You sound more like a mother scorned than a goddess of love."

Aphrodite turned away, her expression unreadable as she gazed down at the mortal world below. The fields stretched endlessly, the winds carrying whispers of sorrow. Somewhere down there, you were grieving. Somewhere, you were suffering.

Good.

And yet...

For a fleeting moment, a pang of something unfamiliar—something dangerously close to guilt—flickered in Aphrodite’s chest.

"I protect what is mine," she said at last, as much to herself as to Talia.

Talia tilted her head, watching the goddess with an almost pitying gaze. "If you keep him caged, Aphrodite, you’ll lose him too. Just like she did."

The golden cage trembled violently as Rafayel clawed against the spell that bound him. His bird form shimmered, wings beating with a frantic energy that sent feathers scattering like falling stars.

“Rafayel, stop!” Aphrodite’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. But he couldn’t—he wouldn’t. The bars bent under his growing form, groaning under the pressure as he swelled beyond the confines of her magic.

His breathing was ragged, desperate. His talons stretched into fingers, his wings unfurling as the feathers melted back into flesh. With one final, guttural cry, the cage snapped, its golden fragments raining down like shards of light.

"Rafayel, please—" Aphrodite’s tone shifted, now tinged with worry. She reached out to him, but he recoiled, his back to her as his transformation completed.

He was silent, his chest heaving as he stood tall, his silhouette framed by the moonlight pouring through the open window. His lavender hair clung to his damp skin, his iridescent wings unfurling to their full, magnificent span.

“I can’t stay here,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling.

“Son, listen to me,” Aphrodite implored, stepping closer, her divine grace now softened with maternal concern. “That girl doesn’t deserve—”

“She does!” he cut her off, spinning to face her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “She made a mistake, yes, but so did I. I left her to face her doubt alone, Mother. I love her, and I don’t care what you think anymore.”

Aphrodite’s hand hovered in the air, her lips parting as though to protest, but the raw pain in his voice froze her.

Before she could speak, Rafayel turned, his wings extending. With a mighty leap, he soared through the window, the force of his departure sending a gust of wind through the room.

“Rafayel!” Aphrodite called after him, her voice breaking.

But he didn’t look back. The stars blurred as he flew, his heart pounding with one singular thought:

He had to find you.

***

How ironic. 

How ironic that you had returned to the cliff where this had started. 

Only to find your sisters. 

The air was thick with the scent of saltwater, the wind teasing your hair, but it did nothing to soothe the aching void inside you. You stood there, frozen, watching your sisters with a hollow heart. They laughed, carefree, on the edge of the cliff, their voices carrying on the wind, full of mirth.

"Zephyrus! Zephyrus, catch us!" they called in unison, like children daring fate. Their voices rang in the cold air, their words both a plea and a taunt, as though they were so certain he would appear. But there was no response. No gust of wind, no comforting presence.

How….oh, how your heart hurt.

Your chest tightened as you felt the coldness settle in your bones. You should have known. Should have known that their trivial games would come at a cost. Your sisters were so used to their charm, their beauty, their privileges that they believed everyone else—everything—would bend to their will. Of course…you should have known when they had suddenly decided to question your love when they first visited you, instead of being happy for you. 

And yet, you ran. 

You ran to them. You needed them. One last hug, one lass embrace-

Clidippe took a step forward, laughing as she always did, confident in the wind's power to save her. Algaura followed, grinning, her trust in Zephyrus unwavering.

But Zephyrus wasn’t coming.

The air seemed to still as they jumped. No wind rushed to catch them, no graceful hands reached out. Instead, the two of them plummeted into the dark abyss, their screams quickly swallowed by the sea.

A sick feeling churned in your stomach, a blend of guilt, betrayal, and something much worse. 

You barely registered the tears that spilled down your cheeks as you watched the empty space where they had fallen, knowing that nothing could bring them back.

“Why didn’t he catch them?” you whispered to yourself, voice raw with disbelief. Was it because of your own failure? Had you made him so bitter, so distant, that he had forsaken them, too? Or was it their own arrogance that had led to their doom?

“No…no-! No, no, no, no. NO!” You ran to the edge of the cliff, almost stumbling off but the wind was pushing you back. 

“Zephyrus! Let me go! Let me- my- my sisters! Zephyrus-” You gasp for air as you swallow back the thick knots forming in your throat, blocking your breath. Your stomach was in your heart, your heart in your lungs, everything out of place. 

The weight of your heart pressed down, harder than the cold air around you. How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

A soft rustle disturbed your thoughts, and you turned sharply, hoping for some form of relief. But all you saw was the wind, swirling around you in a turbulent dance.

And then, his voice—gentle, familiar—came through the chaos of your mind.

"I'm here, my love."

Rafayel stood before you, wings glistening in the moonlight. His form seemed to fill the space, ethereal and powerful. His eyes were filled with something softer now, the pain from before replaced with something new. Something deeper.

“Rafayel…” you breathed, your voice trembling as you rushed toward him.

He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. The distance between you, the betrayal, the pain—all seemed to fade with each passing moment.

"I didn't mean for this," he whispered, reaching out to you. “I should have never left you. I thought... I thought if I kept my distance, you'd be safe, but I was wrong."

You wrapped your arms around him, the warmth of his presence surrounding you, and for the first time in so long, you allowed yourself to feel something other than emptiness.

“I didn’t want them to fall,” you whispered into his chest, your tears soaking his clothes.

His hands held you tightly, pressing you against him as if to shield you from the world. “You didn’t cause this, love. They made their own choices, and now they must face the consequences. But you... you are everything to me.”

He gently tilted your chin up, his gaze locking with yours, and for the first time in ages, you felt truly seen.

“Will you come back with me?” Rafayel asked softly. "Let me show you that you are loved. You’ve been through too much alone."

But-

No.

He had left you.

He left you.

The weight of your heart pressed down, harder than the cold air around you. How had everything fallen apart so quickly? The faces of your sisters, their laughter, their screams—they wouldn’t leave your mind. The sight of Rafayel, his tender gaze, his outstretched hands, was too much. It was all too much.

You stumbled back, your legs trembling beneath you. His voice called out to you, soft yet desperate, but you couldn’t face him—not now, not like this. The world spun, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the reality of what had just happened sunk deeper into your soul.

“Stay with me,” Rafayel said, his voice pleading. But you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t.

Your feet moved before you realized what was happening. You turned, your body propelled by something primal, something desperate. You ran. Away from Rafayel, away from the cliff, away from the memories that clung to you like a shroud. Back, back, back—to home, to safety, to the one place you knew might offer you solace.

The lake.

Hersilia!

Her name echoed in your mind like a lifeline, a prayer. She would know what to do. She always did. Your breath hitched as you pushed forward, the terrain blurring around you. The sharp branches clawed at your skin, the cold night air stung your face, but none of it mattered.

You needed her.

The lake came into view, its surface eerily still under the pale moonlight. Your feet slipped on the damp grass as you stumbled toward the water’s edge.

“Hersilia!” you cried out, your voice cracking. “Please, I need you!”

***

When you came to that secret lake, the air felt wrong, heavy, and strange. The surface of the water was no longer the welcoming mirror of moonlight you remembered. Instead, it churned faintly, disturbed by an unseen presence. Around you, the nymphs who once danced and sang in joy screamed and fled into the shadows of the trees, their translucent forms flickering like dying embers.

Were they afraid of you? Or of something else? You couldn’t tell, and you didn’t care. Your mind could focus only on one thing.

“Hersilia!” you cried out, your voice raw and desperate. “Please, I need you!”

No answer came, only the sound of the water lapping against the shore. The nymphs’ fearful whispers drifted to your ears, fragmented and faint.

“She doesn’t know...” “Should we tell her?” “No! Let her be.”

Their words were like shards of glass cutting into your heart. You shook your head, refusing to believe what they might mean.

“Hersilia!” you shouted again, your voice breaking as you collapsed to your knees by the lake’s edge. “Please, it’s me! It’s—”

Your words died in your throat as you caught sight of the water. There, faint and ghostly, was a face—a face you knew too well. Hersilia’s face, but pale and ethereal, like a memory clinging to the surface of the lake. Her once-lively eyes were dulled, her expression distant.

“Hersilia,” you whispered, reaching out.

The image wavered and dissolved, leaving you staring at nothing but ripples in the water.

“She is gone,” a trembling voice said behind you. One of the braver nymphs had stepped forward, her form flickering as if she might vanish at any moment. “Hersilia has been gone for many moons. You... you did not know?”

But then a nymph shrieked, her voice piercing the stillness of the night like a crack of thunder. Her trembling finger pointed behind you.

Your heart stopped. You turned slowly, fear and hope warring within you.

There, standing at the edge of the clearing, was Rafayel.

His lavender hair was disheveled, the soft curls wild from flight. His wings, now fully unfurled, glistened in the moonlight, each feather shimmering like mother-of-pearl. His eyes, those deep sea-blue and pink hues, were filled with an emotion so raw it took your breath away—grief, anger, love, and longing all at once.

“Rafayel...” you breathed, rising to your feet.

He didn’t move closer. His gaze bore into you, searching, as if trying to understand something unspoken. The nymphs had scattered entirely now, their fear palpable in the air. Only the two of you remained by the lake, the silence deafening.

“I thought...” His voice broke, soft and trembling, but then it shifted, cracking with something darker. “I thought I would never see you again…” His gaze hardened, and his tone grew sharper, more raw. “And you—” He took a step forward, his wings shuddering with restrained emotion. “You run away? You run away from me?”

His laugh was almost maniacal, echoing in the quiet night like something unhinged. The sound made your blood run cold.

You instinctively took a step back, your heels slipping into the cool water of the lake.

"You..." Your voice trembled, barely audible as fear gripped you. "You killed Hersilia?"

The words hung heavy in the air, your body stiffening as his gaze locked onto yours. His eyes darkened, unreadable and sharp as a blade.

Before you could even register his movement, he was suddenly there—his hands gripping your arms tightly, pulling you closer with a force that left no room for escape.

"She was a bad influence," he said, his voice low and cold, venom dripping from every syllable.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding against your chest as his words sank in. "Rafayel, she was my—"

"Your what?" he snapped, his wings flaring wide behind him in a display of frustration. "A friend? Someone who told you to run from me? To leave your place by my side? To keep you from your fate?”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. "No, she—"

"Don’t lie to me!" His voice cracked, raw and filled with pain. For a moment, the grip on your arms loosened, as though he realized the weight of his own actions. His hands slid down to your wrists, trembling. "Everything I’ve done... I’ve done for you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hands closed around your neck, tightening with a force that made it hard to breathe. His eyes burned with a desperation that mirrored the one you'd felt in your own chest—his need, his possessiveness, overwhelming everything.

"And you're staying with me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You want someone to love you. Y/n? You don't want to be lonely? Well neither do I."

His words echoed in your mind, each one heavier than the last. The suffocating grip on your throat made it difficult to focus, the edges of your vision starting to blur. His pain was raw, but it was tainted with something darker—a twisted form of affection that you couldn’t bring yourself to understand.

"You’re hurting me," you gasped, struggling to free yourself, but his hold only tightened, his face inches from yours.

"Not enough," he spat, his voice full of anguish. "Not enough for you to understand how much I need you. How much I need you to stay."

His eyes flickered for a second, showing you the vulnerability that you once recognized. The part of him that wasn’t a monster, the part that had loved you with a gentleness you hadn’t thought possible. But then it was gone, replaced again by something darker, more volatile.

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to protect you—or break you.

And it didn’t matter.

Because he snapped your neck. 

The world went black. No pain, just the crushing emptiness that followed when your body stopped fighting, when everything ceased to exist in an instant. Your breath, your heart—gone.

Rafayel stood over you, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, his eyes wild, still filled with that insatiable need. He had done it. He had taken everything.

He dropped to his knees beside your lifeless form, his hands trembling as he reached for you.

Rafayel’s lips pressed softly against yours, his tears falling gently onto your still face. His heart was heavy, the weight of his love and his violence crashing together in an unbearable torrent. He had taken everything from you—your life, your love, and now... your silence.

"Till death do us part," he whispered against your lips, his words full of regret and sorrow. "And for you, I give you half my heart."

He layed you down as the nymphs hid in the lake in horror, watching as the god tore his chest open, golden blood spilling in torrents as he took his heart, ripping it in half, its aorta limp and loose, the left ventricle almost coming apart as if it were tender and slow cooked. He gasps in pain, closing his eyes as he opens your chest, tearing your heart out. 

And the same, he rips it in half. 

Half to you, half to him….

***

When you woke up, you gasp, clutching your neck. Could it be?

Was it truly just a horrible dream?

You turn to look beside you, reaching out. 

Your husband was invisible; you could feel the warmth of his back against your hand. 

But…there was an itch in your chest. Like something didn’t quite fit. 

[blanc-et-n0ir]

I've become obsessed with Shidou and Isagi friendship by extension of their respective crush on the Itoshi brothers oh GOD. Listen to me. Shidou talking about Sae to anybody willing to listen (not a lot) and Isagi snaps his neck to listen because he thought Shidou meant Rin. This is the start. This is the tip of the hill and it goes downhill from there.

Isagi thinks Shidou likes Rin up until Shidou actually namedrops who he likes to Isagi (cause duh he's the only one willing to listen) and Isagi heaves the BIGGEST sigh of relief like "I almost wanted to punch you in the face" and Shidou is confused cause why?? And Isagi goes "Because I thought you liked Rin and I like him first."

And it goes even more downhill from there because now. NOW these two have MORE things in common (being a striker, loving football so much, football knowledge, etc) so they strangely hit it off much to the confusion of literally everyone. Because let's be real there was like 0 precedent to these two being friends but they suddenly are and huh?

And now they just talk to each other like a bunch of highschool girls with a crush (mostly right) and complain about their failed attempts.

Fast forward to when they both managed to date their respective Itoshi brother and they both find out that Isagi and Shidou are friends so now the BIG problem when they go on a double date is Shidou teasing Rin, Rin getting irritated by him and Sae and Isagi standing at the side being the non confrontational kings that they are.

[ratmonky]

Tide of Turmoil (Chapter 3)

word count: 5.3k

warnings: non-con, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, blood, obsession, manipulation, power imbalance, ptsd, past sexual assault, sexual assault, cannibalism, forced pregnancy, breeding, miscarriage, tw munkey content

ao3 link

Time passed weirdly while you were in there. You could sometimes tell. There were some clues, such as Beam leaving for work. He always arrived at the office a bit after you did back then, so it had to be close to nine in the morning when he left.

By the time he returned, you would be sleeping in the cold but it wasn’t as cold as before since you had covered the air vent. You were never too sure about when he returned though, it could be minutes, it could be hours. They both felt the same. In the end, you always greeted him like a dog waiting for its owner. 

You were relieved that he was there and you weren’t alone.

As if he didn’t put you here.

To your disbelief RELIEF, he didn’t touch you much. You tried to make sure to sleep with the blanket over your head and against a wall in the corner where he put the bed but he always managed to sleep right next to you. During your restless sleep, you would wake up a couple of times to find Beam humping you in his sleep, his teeth deep in your shoulder. Although you were scared of him getting it infected, you kept quiet. That was another thing, he bit you a lot. You kept bleeding nonstop and it hurt like hell, each time the wounds managed to close a little he would tear the flesh again with his sharp teeth. Biting was something he did that you first thought to be to make you weaker but soon you realized that he was just acting on his instincts. Devils were weird.

When he finally returned, Beam didn’t bring the things he promised he would. You were able to get your hands on a small pillow and a thin blanket which would do nothing against the brutal cold air of the bunker. It would make it a bit more comfortable to sleep now though, you couldn’t deny that the pillow he brought would let you sleep without hurting your neck. 

“Here,” he said, holding out a trash bag towards you. Once you put down the pillow and wrapped yourself in the blanket, you took the trash bag from him to check what was inside. There were clothes inside. Work clothes. Pencil skirt, button-down shirt, and a blazer. You thought at some point that he was mocking you but Beam probably thought you only wore work clothes. Nonetheless, you had some new clothes you could wear. 

“Thank you,” you said with a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “Can you bring me other clothes too? I am not working right now and these clothes are for work only.”

He seemed a little hurt but nodded rapidly. “Beam will bring clothes.” He got closer like he wanted something. From the way he was tilting his head, you knew what it was.

Patting his head, you praised him. “Good job.”

He smiled, showing you his sharp teeth, “Beam is good!” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his hot body. You melted into his touch because of the warmth and hugged him back, desperate to get warmer. His mouth which was buried in the crook of your neck started rubbing against the bite mark he had left. It hurt and when you winced, he tightened his arms around you. 

Panicking, you let out a squeak, “Beam…”

The hot and wet feeling of his tongue made goosebumps erupt all over your skin, you tried pushing him away but his arms were preventing you. He was growling like an animal. He was nothing like what he used to be like at work, he was becoming more and more unpredictable, you wondered if that was because your contract with Makima was over. You felt him trace the bite mark with the tip of his tongue and he kept applying pressure into one spot. 

“It hurts,” you whispered, your mind going hazy from the warmth and the pain preventing you from relaxing of not being cold anymore. 

His arms didn’t loosen around you but he forced you against the wall, his mouth didn’t leave your neck for a single second. As he was pushing your back against the wall, you could feel his hard erection pressing against your stomach. Whether it be from the cold making you sensitive to feeling anything, the sudden rush of warmth was overwhelming, you could feel him throbbing. Placing a hand on the wall, he rubbed himself against you with a frustrated groan. 

You gasped in fear, all the memories of the night where he left you bleeding and bruised coming back to you. Squirming, you anxiously and hurriedly spoke to yourself in an attempt to prove that this was all nothing but a nightmare. You didn’t wake up in your bed though, you were still in the arms of the fiend who kidnapped you. A sudden sob left your lips, you were going to relive everything, weren’t you? 

Beam let you go as you started crying hysterically, he must have been surprised by your strange outburst of emotions. He took a few steps back and mumbled something you didn’t hear. When you calmed yourself enough to look around, you saw that he had left. 

Well, at least you knew that he couldn’t handle you crying.

Did you really want him gone?

What if he was gone for good?

You had to be careful if you wanted to get out of here.

Time didn’t pass in the next moments, you tried sleeping but it was too cold to even with the blanket you had gotten. The air vents were cruel, blowing the coldest air inside constantly. You turned to look at the pile of clothes and an idea struck you. 

In the next moment, you were climbing on the table after putting a chair on top to reach the vents with a few pieces of clothing in your hand. You tried using the clothes to cover the vent by stuffing the small grills with them. To your surprise, you were able to cover them and the vent wasn’t blowing cold air in full force anymore. 

You got down to try to sleep again, you wanted to save some energy while also distracting yourself from hunger. It wasn’t long before you started feeling wrong. At first, you thought it to be from the cold or hunger but soon later you realized that your stomach was burning and your throat was aching. Rushing to the bathroom, you started vomiting full force, all that came out was water but the acidic taste of vomit lingered in your dry mouth.

Washing your face and mouth, you returned to your spot to sleep after drinking more water. The bunker wasn’t as cold anymore and you were grateful that you would be able to sleep without waking up from the cold from now on.

As soon as you put your head down on the pillow, the water you drank made its way up, this time you covered your mouth to run to the bathroom but the vomit dripped from the gaps of your fingers and onto the floor. 

You could slowly feel your energy and strength leave your body as you gagged continuously, heaving and vomiting whatever was left. Coughing, you washed your face and returned to the bed without drinking any water. This time you didn’t vomit but you could feel your heart palpitating, your cheeks were warm and you were scared. Were you going to die?

From what exactly? You haven’t been here for long and you didn’t eat anything weird-

The vivid image of the dirty water coming from the kitchen sink flashed in your mind, you then understood one thing: the water you had been drinking from the kitchen sink wasn’t safe. 

You started sweating while thinking about all of the possibilities of what would happen now, Beam wouldn’t be able to take care of you if you were sick. Fuck. 

You forced yourself to sleep while your stomach churned without any rest, and you tasted vomit in your mouth even hours later. However, it was unbearable to sleep when hunger took over all of your senses. That was when you tried eating a protein bar. It took seconds until you gagged and covered your mouth to get up and run to the bathroom but your body wouldn’t move, and you ended up vomiting on the ground. Humiliating, the stench was too acidic and it was right by your face, pooling under your chin and neck. 

Poisoned? Or was it just unfiltered water bacteria? Were you going to die? 

Pathetic sobs started leaving your mouth as you called out for Beam’s name, fear was overwhelming your senses, you felt wrong, and it was almost like you were going to die. What if you died right now? Then what? Would he just leave you here, throw you somewhere, or continue to keep you as his pet?

Pfft, so pathetic to die from drinking water. Can you imagine Beam finding your dead body covered in vomit and piss? He would probably mourn you for a second before ravishing you. Would it matter to him if your body was going cold? Would he prefer it warm? Well, you knew that he was unaffected by the cold, his own body warmth might warm yours.

Whatever the outcome, you wouldn’t be conscious to know your fate.

Fuck.

You were so hungry.

Meat. Yeak, steak would be nice.

Although you ate well-done steaks, the steak that you imagined in front of your eyes was rare, with blood dripping from the center and as you cut the meat, it was tender. 

Covering your mouth with your arm, you hoped to stop daydreaming of food. However, it didn’t help. The smell of meat was close. If only you opened your mouth, you could taste it.

You could taste it.

Drool dripped from the sides of your mouth as you opened your mouth and took some of your flesh in. Your teeth sank into the flesh without hesitation and the pain wasn’t there. Were you dreaming?

No, you weren’t.

Grinding your teeth, you could feel the strings of muscle and flesh being torn apart from the skin. The blood tasted so good. It was just like a steak.

You chewed. It was so chewy. But God… It tasted perfect. You swallowed and were about to take another bite.

Eating steak and-

You weren’t eating steak.

You were eating your own flesh.

You froze and stared at your furiously bleeding arm. Death was inevitable now. With the way you were bleeding, it would only take a few hours until you lost enough blood to suffer from the consequences.

Why had you gone and taken a bite of yourself?

Fuck. You pressed your hand against the bleeding wound. 

Some of your strength returned and to your surprise, you didn’t vomit again. 

You lied on the rough floor and stared at the wall. 

Were you going insane?

Was it because you were stuck here or was it because the only thing keeping you alive was Beam?

Why did your flesh taste so good?

Time passed. You weren’t sure how long it had been but it must have been hours. Because your blood had dried on your arm and your breathing became uneven, you were weak and felt like seconds away from death.

Until Beam came to find you next to a pool of vomit and blood. 

“(name)!” he sounded worried, his warm hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around.

“Beam,” you whispered as he took you in his arms, “Take me to a hospital.” It wasn’t a request.

Shaking his head to deny your demand, he took you to the bathroom. Against your protests, he walked you into the shower. Which broke the promise of never using the shower, especially while he was there. It had to be okay, you thought to yourself. You were sick and terribly weak.

As he was undressing you, sobs let your lips but you held onto him, hoping that you wouldn’t fall down. Your hands on his strong shoulders could feel the muscles move under your palm, oddly it was the only thing you could focus on while he continued fiddling with the shower. He finally turned on the water which was warm to your surprise. Yet, his arm around your waist that was helping you stay up was warmer. 

Once you were fully nude, he got closer to hold the shower head over your face. His naked chest against yours felt nice. You had to be going crazy to admit this. 

He was gentle as he let the warm water wash the dust, blood, and vomit off of you, his hands caressed your cheek so softly that you thought it was warm water running down your face. By the time he was done, you asked for water and food. Better food would be nice or a toothbrush because you could sort of guess that eating nothing but protein bars could harm the teeth the same way eating too many sweets would. Or your own flesh.

“Yes, yes!” A deep frown was on his face, he looked unsure if you were actually sick or if you were messing with him. While he was trying to put you in the new clothes he had brought with him, you noticed that these were just random clothes, possibly things he stole from someone’s drying rack. Although the thought of sharing a stranger’s underwear was a distant idea, today it was real. You couldn’t object as Beam put someone’s underwear on you and dressed you in their clothes. 

Then he scooped you in his arms and you wrapped your arms around his neck in surprise to not fall. He would never drop you.

He walked back into the bunker and you saw that he had prepared a spot on a corner. There was a makeshift floor bed. After grabbing the blanket, he wrapped it around the two of you and kept you close to him as the two of you laid down on the floor bed, you didn’t protest and fell asleep in his arms.

The next time you opened your eyes, he wasn’t there but there was a plastic bag next to the bed on the floor. You sat up to check what it was. There was some food in a container with someone else’s name on it, bottles of water, and a toothbrush. No toothpaste. Though, you weren’t complaining.

You felt a bit better but you were scared of eating anything for a while. You didn’t want to vomit or go through that again. Yet you were too weak to do anything anyway. You laid in the bed and didn’t try to get up. 

Beam woke you up, it had to be evening time from the way he looked. What you could see of his face was covered in dirt and he had dried blood on his chest. He held your head up and made you drink bottled water carefully, it tasted weird.

“Medicine,” he said with a grin when he noticed your scrunched nose. “Stomach medicine!”

You thanked him for at least trying to take care of you while you were sick. He was kind and gentle. Maybe this wasn’t as bad of a situation.

What the fuck?

He helped you take the medicine and let you lay down again. He didn’t get in the bed with you but instead sat next to the bed to watch you. His warm hand started petting your head like you were a scared animal. In a way you were. 

As he kept petting your head and carded through your hair with his fingers, you found yourself falling asleep. In your sleep, you wondered why he was being so nice but your thoughts then shifted to the time he showered you. His body against yours and his soft touch. The way he held you up and carried you, he was so strong.

Strong enough to rip off the wheel handle of the bunker’s door. 

He could easily hurt you if he wanted but he didn’t.

He will.

When you woke up in cold sweat, he was there, lying next to you with an open mouth. From the looks of it he was sleeping, you took your time to study his face. Facial hair was growing out of his face, meaning he was shaving his face daily but didn’t do it here. Did he have a second home? Or did someone do it for him when he was at work?

The top half of his head was smooth, a sharkskin that wasn’t slimy yet it wasn’t completely dry either. You lifted your hand to touch him, the skin felt nice under your fingertips, soft and smooth. His hair had gotten longer, you didn’t know if he got it trimmed or anything. His facial skin was also smooth except for where the facial hair was growing. You retrieved your hand and continued staring. You didn’t know how he was able to see but you didn’t think about it too much. Your eyes landed on his body, he was very muscular and you could guess it was because he was swimming nonstop and every day. From what you could tell, he was around your age. Could be a lot older but it was impossible to tell because of the way Beam acted.

There was a distant thought in the back of your mind, something you wondered ever since you met him. What did the person who he took over look like before him? Was he an ordinary office worker? Perhaps a funny guy who worked at a local bar? Or a person who worked several part-time jobs to make a decent amount of money? Whatever he was before, it didn’t matter. He was a fiend now.

The first thing you did was to reach for the plastic bag by the bed and grab the food container. You managed to eat everything inside the lunch box, you didn’t even remember what it was that you ate but you knew it was the most delicious thing in the world at that moment. It was a blessing to finally eat real food, it sort of helped you regain some energy. It wasn't enough to help you recover your strength. You were better, you weren’t sick anymore.

A sudden cramp made you wince, hurriedly you got up to get to the bathroom. On your way, you noticed how damp your bottoms were and you saw blood. Lots of blood. It made you panic even more. You checked your arm, it was-

Fully healed?

Huh?

What was going on?

Were you having your period now? Come to think of it, when was the last time you had your period? Had you been here for a few days, weeks, or months? Things were getting too hazy at the moment. You sat on the toilet to think and avoid bleeding any more into your bottoms. 

This would be a problem. Beam didn’t know about menstruation nor would he be able to bring any pads to help you. Were you going to spend your entire week on this toilet now? Fuck. 

The images of your used pads flashed vividly in your mind. They were right there. He clearly knew what pads were and what they were used for, right? Ugh, what if you had to reuse those pads? 

You gagged at the thought and something fell out of you.

…

You heard it hit the shallow water in the toilet.

What was that?

Standing up after pulling your bottoms up, you stared at the bottom of the toilet. 

Blood.

Flesh.

Flesh?

What?

What was that?

It had a shape, weird. Was that a large blood clot? Was that the piece of flesh you ate? Or something like- WHAT THE FUCK-

You watched the thing move and screamed as you lost your balance and fell on the floor. Beam rushed to your side almost immediately, looking concerned. 

“What? What happened?” he asked, face flushed red as he took in your bloody appearance. He sniffed the air, his concern growing.

You kept stammering, unable to speak, and pointing at the toilet.

Beam’s attention was fully on the toilet as he approached it, there was something off. He was acting weird. Inhuman. Moving strangely too. Like a frightened cat.

When he stood above the toilet, staring down at the bottom, his shoulders slackened with a soft whimper. He whispered something. 

“W-what?” you asked.

He leaned down into the toilet bowl and you let out another scream in disgust. Yet, he seemed unaffected, he reached down and grabbed the thing. He held it so gently in his claws. He turned to you with a frown, lower lip trembling. “Dead,” he whispered. 

“Dead?” you sounded confused. What was dead? What was he talking about? Ugh, why did he have to reach down like that? It was so disgusting. 

“Our baby.”

What?

The sudden realization and shock froze you in place as he loomed over you, his face obscured by the dim light. He held his hand out toward you, showing you the monstrosity. You didn’t speak immediately and instead stared at the weird creature. 

Freak of nature. Not natural at all. Devil-born. Monster.

Have you been eating yourself because of this thing?

The claws of the failure were more visible in Beam’s hand. How could it be this big already? When Beam assaulted you, it was only a few weeks ago. Was it because he was a fiend? 

Did it matter?

“Get that thing away from me,” you spat through your teeth.

Beam’s frown deepened. “You killed it.”

You slapped the hand he was holding towards you in anger, “Get it away from me!”

The bloody thing fell out of his gentle hold, smacked against the grimy tile floor of the bathroom, and bounced somewhere away in a wet plop. Growling in frustration, Beam bared his teeth. 

The inhuman sound he made and the way he slowly moved as if he was a predator ready to pounce on its prey, you knew that he was going to kill you now.

In a single, desperate burst of strength, you kicked on the floor, using it as a springboard and ran out of the bathroom.

He moved faster. You were barely able to make it out of the bathroom when you felt him tackle you on the ground. Wrapping an arm around you, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, where the bite mark was. You felt him roughly tracing over the bite with his lips and licking the wound. You weren’t sure if he was going to rip your throat out but when he pressed himself against your ass and you then had something bigger to worry about. You gasped when the rock-hard erection poked your clothed cunt.

“Stop!” you screamed but he wasn’t being as gentle anymore or listening to you. 

Beam wrapped his arm tighter around you and breathed into your neck. Your hands went to his forearm that was pressing against your chest and his hand that was around your neck, he was keeping you firmly right where he wanted you. With your cheek pressed against the cold concrete, you huffed all the dust, coughing and crying. That fucking thing was right there next to your face too. That bloody thing. Fiend baby.

“Stop,” you managed as he moved his hips to hump you over his clothes. Pressing his mouth next to your ear, he grunted while he aimlessly thrust. You just had to bite it and let him finish humping you because you could never outpower him. As long as he didn’t eat you or kill you. As long as he doesn’t fuck me, you thought. Dry humping was fine even if it hurt because of how desperately he was humping you.

Beam rolled his hips forward in a way that made you conscious of his size, in turn, your body started to heat up. He let out noises that made you feel something. Your chest tightened with each pant and soft moan. You were about to lecture yourself about how you needed to stay sane but the feeling of a cock stretching your pussy threw you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed him take off any of your clothes or his.

A quivering moan left his lips, he had been waiting for this. You mewled in pain as he shoved himself deeper. Your hands went to your groin to try to push him away or pull your clothes up. He slid out of you and thrust into you in full force, forcing a scream out of you while your hands found the waistband of your pants. You realized that you were fully clothed but he still was able to fuck you.

Then you felt tears coming as the realization set in. He was fucking you through the clothes using his ability.

“Ssssstop!” you hissed but he cut you off with his abrupt thrusts. 

“Beam must do this!” he said, his claws digging into your skin and drawing blood. “(name) must have another baby!”

The thought alone made you retch and you struggled even if it hurt your insides. He was continuously fucking you regardless, his pace only got faster as you tried trashing around. It fucking hurt. 

So that was why he hadn’t touched you? Because he thought you were bearing that monstrosity? Did he bring you here to his nest to take care of you? That sick and stupid bastard. Fuck. You wanted him dead.

He moved his arm away from your neck and you took the opportunity to bite his forearm with all your strength. His cock twitched as your teeth drew blood from his forearm. You could taste the fiend’s blood, it tasted saltier, a bit less watery like blood clots. Like a corpse’s. You bit harder in an attempt to stop him but it only made him more excited and his teeth sank deeper into your neck. 

You were the first to stop biting. A pained yelp left your lips.

Beam didn’t waste any more time and mounted you completely while still biting your neck. His cock pounded into your pussy with ease, you weren’t sure if it was because you had been bleeding or not but the gross squelching sounds were echoing in the bunker. It was too much. You wanted this to end. You wanted him dead and-

Beam slammed his hips into you so hard, stealing your breath and the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. 

You couldn’t even finish the thought.

He slammed into you with brute force, tearing a scream out of you. He started to fuck you frantically almost immediately. You could feel the filling pressure in your tummy with every single thrust. Crying under him, you tried to crawl away. You were getting flashbacks of the night he assaulted you back in your apartment and the horrific image of that monstrous miscarriage was enough to make you start screaming. His cock relentlessly slid in and out of your cunt as he shifted his position to put more force behind his thrusts and to effectively stop your squirming and screaming. 

He groaned into your neck when your pussy clenched around him, the way your walls tightened around his cock was almost perfect, the pressure threatened to make him spill all of his seed inside you right then and there but he wasn’t done with you yet. 

Beam fucked you like the animal he was, the perverted fiend was obsessed with breeding you. He had done it once and he would do it again. His pace picked up speed and strength, each thrust was more unforgiving and made you lose yourself. 

“Beam will take care of family. Beam promise!” he could barely speak in between breaths and thrusts as he pulled his mouth away from your bleeding neck. The erratic pace staggered, and he couldn’t keep up anymore. “Our home together forever.”

That was the final nail in the coffin. 

He surged his hips forward, you felt his cock throb as his seed poured from the tip of his cock and into your womb. 

Tears stained your face and his blood in your mouth tasted gross. 

He fucked his cum into you for a few moments longer and his hands petted you over the clothes. When he finally pulled out of you, it was a strange sensation, he phased through all of the clothing and left them soaked in his cum as the bodily fluids gushed out of your pussy and seeped into the fabric. 

Neither of you spoke.

You didn’t move at all and stayed exactly where he left you. 

He phased through the ground and appeared in front of your face with only the top half of his head showing. “Beam go to work,” he said. “Will bring more food later if you be nice.”

With that, he was gone and you were alone with your thoughts and the monstrous failure a few inches away from you.

That thing was the reason why you had ended up here. This place. You could never escape. He was delusional and just so stubbornly stupid. You understood now that he would never let you out of here. He wanted to keep you here like a fucked up housewife. That was what you were to him, right? A mate? A wife? Whatever he thought of you was the only reason why he bothered with keeping you alive. You had to make sure he didn’t change his mind about you or you would rot in here with that devilish spawn in you eating its way out of you.

Yet even if you did everything right and kept him happy, you would always stay a prisoner. Could you call that a life?

There was a small chance that you could get out and you wanted to live until you got that chance.

What if Beam died?

Could Beam die? Makima had mentioned that he was expendable. If he died during a mission then you would never know and rot here without anyone knowing that you were ever here to begin with. He possibly couldn’t die. He wouldn’t die... Right?

In a world where devils existed, God had to exist too. You prayed to God that Beam stayed safe and returned home.

This was your home?

Beam had to return.

He was the only thing that could keep you alive. He was the only thing who could get you out of here. He was the only thing that knew where you were.

If he died then-

You didn’t want to think of the possibility. He was a fiend, he wouldn’t die.

You worked with devil hunters before. They killed devils. 

That made you shiver. All you could do was hope and pray.

Sitting up, you placed a hand on your tummy, if he had claimed you as a mate he would most likely return to take care of you. He had promised to bring you food if you promised to be nice. See, he wouldn’t just leave you to die.

Crawling to a near wall, you leaned back to rest. It happened to be right next to that thing. You stared at it with disgust but your furrowed brows slowly softened when you realized it was practically useless to get mad at something dead. 

You lifted your gaze and stared at the bunker’s ruined door. 

Maybe your only way out was to kill yourself. Your hand went to your arm that you had bit before. The flesh was perfectly healed. Had that spawn given you some of fiend's abilities of healing? If that was what happened then you wouldn’t be able to die. You didn’t bother with killing yourself. At least not yet.

Though a terrible wave of anxiety washed over you. How long had it been since Beam left? Why wasn’t he back yet? Had he left you?

You sat there staring absently at the door. Bottoms soaked in blood and cum, mouth full of fiend blood, and neck bleeding as you waited for Beam to return.

Beam didn’t return.

Tide of Turmoil

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: non-con, blood drinking, stalking, obsession, biting

AO3 Link

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