#though! its going to be very heavy so not at all for the faint of heart

[abyssalic]

long time no see, babes!! heres a wip of one of the creatures thats going to be part of my beloved au!!

#fnaf security breach #dca fandom #fnaf au #fnaf eclipse #all im going to say is he is an antagonist!!! #I'm stuck between the name Quasar and Blitz for this creature #what do u guys think?? #might write a fic for this au eventually but only once i get enough art done for it. so expect drawings and some comics!!! #my snart (snail art) #Of Blood And Steel #expect some more stuff soon!! #pats my wip folder #im nervous #ive been working on this au for almost two years now!!! so this au has me excited!! #its so important to me #though! its going to be very heavy so not at all for the faint of heart

[themidnightcrimson]

good morning ࿏ wm

summary: in which you decide to get what you want first thing in the morning.

words: 3.9k

warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink, cumstrap (r receiving), somno (r giving), blowjob on cumstrap (r giving), enhanced strap, brief choking, just imagining slutting top!wanda out like this woeidbsibfwioe its the power bottom in me

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

The room was cool and the bed warm by the time you woke up. Legs shifting smoothly under the crisp sheets, you could hear the faint chirp of a lone bird outside the window along with what sounded like a gentle spring morning rain shower.

Plat plat plat plat the rain softly tapped against the window and quietly onto the roof above you. It was a sleepy rain, an early morning rain whose clouds blocked the sun from glaring through your window. It made waking a little easier, a little more soft.

The other thing that made waking a peaceful experience was the warm body you were tangled up with. The soft, curled ends of light brown hair tickled your bare shoulder, and it was the first thing you saw in the dim room as you opened your eyes. Your head rose and fell slowly with Wanda’s steady breath. It was resting on her bare chest, the skin there hot against your ear. She always slept so hot.

Your legs were tangled with hers, your arm thrown across her torso. As you blinked your eyes awake, you tilted your head upwards to get an angle of her from below. The stretch of her jawbone, the mountain of her cheekbones just beyond it. Heavy eyelashes fluttered closed, deep pink lips pursed in her sleep. The crinkle between her eyebrows that was always there when she slept. She was starting to get a permanent wrinkle from it, and while she was embarrassed of it, you told her it was just the imprint of all the dreams she’d ever had right there in one wrinkle between her brows so she would never forget them. Wanda was always a deep dreamer, for better or worse.

The puffy comforter you shared rested right below her breasts, likely pushed down during her overheated sleep. Her hair was splayed over her chest, barely covering the peaks of her soft pink nipples. Her skin looked pale and soft under the dim gloomy morning light. You let your hand glide over the soft expanse of her tummy, fingers pressing into her flesh as you shift, waking up a little more. Letting out a silent yawn, you casually let your hand stroll further down beneath the blanket, being thrown off guard a little when your hand touches cool silicone between her legs.

It was Wanda’s new creation still left strapped around her hips via harness from last night’s endeavors. It took a lot of research and magical effort for Wanda to create her enchanted strap that functions like a biological part of her body. Using her magic, she enchanted the strap so that she can feel through it and cum through it. Let’s just say the first few tries once she perfected it could be described as very quick, hot, and wet on her end. It was the most mind-blowing feeling she had ever felt, being able to feel you inside. Even now, a few weeks later, she still warns you how sensitive it still is, which you could tell from the beginning because of how fast she came with you.

Wanda’s magic was very powerful—spontaneous creation. For that reason, she insisted on wearing a condom the first several times using the enchanted strap out of fear of accidental pregnancy, though you knew she secretly had a breeding kink. Finally, she stopped using condoms, but she still pulled out of you every time. It was hot, seeing her get so close to just doing it, to just letting go and planting her cum deep inside you. You could see it on her face every time. But every time, milliseconds before release, she pulls out and chooses to spill all over your tummy or back instead. Of course, that was also hot in its own right. But you desperately wanted her to cum inside. You weren’t sure if it was the risk or the ownership aspect of it, but you fucking needed it.

And you knew she wanted it too. She had a tendency to hold you down when she’s about to cum, almost as if she is about to force you to take her cum, which you willingly would take every single drop. You even told her in a heated moment of passion to cum inside you once, and she almost did accidentally. Hearing you say that made her orgasm immediately, and she had to frantically pull out right as she spurted all over your mound, making sounds you’d never heard her make.

And now, in the dim morning light with cozy rain coming from outside, and Wanda’s soft, warm sleeping body with her cock in your hand as you thought over all these times with the new magical piece, you wanted it.

But she was so pretty and peaceful in her sleep with her crinkled brow of dreams and her slowly rising and falling chest. You wouldn’t wake her.

Licking your lips, you shifted your body so that you hovered over her, taking great care in slinking down her body without moving the blankets or the bed too much. With the hem of the blanket resting at the back of your neck, you rested your elbows over her plush thighs, eyeing the strap that now sat right in front of your face.

Humming, you trail your fingers to the harness straps, fiddling with the fabric on her hips for a moment before you carefully let them trail to the base of her cock, taking it in your fist gently. Glancing back up to her, you saw the same image—her head resting on the pillow, turned to the side, sleeping peacefully like an angel. The warmth between your legs grew as you formulated the plan of your desires, licking your lips and coming closer to her strap.

You placed Wanda’s length in your mouth. It surprised you every time how big she was—an advantage she smugly gave herself when crafting her piece. Suctioning your lips, you began to swirl your tongue around the tip of the strap with a gentle but purposeful pressure.

It didn’t take long before your mouth ignited the spell within the strap, and her magic peered through the silicone in cracks that looked like molten lava in a crimson hue. That’s how you knew she was aroused now, and as you looked up at her again, she was still sleeping as peacefully as ever.

It took some practice for you to understand how to give your girlfriend a blowjob since it was your first time, but Wanda was patient and could get off with basically any touch you gave her with how sensitive the strap felt when she wore it anyways.

So you lowered your mouth further down on her strap that was warming up between your lips, keeping your hand on the base to keep it steady. Letting your other hand gently squeeze her thigh, you sucked her gently, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting to wake her up. It startled you when, as you took her entirety in your mouth so that the tip of her cock poked the back of your throat, Wanda’s legs twitched under you. It was only once and, looking up as you deepthroated her, you saw that the sleeping look on her face remained unchanged.

The depth with which you took her in your throat prompted tears to form in your eyes and saliva in your mouth. Sniffling, you kept taking her all the way in and then suctioning as you lifted your mouth from her, letting your tongue flick around her tip before deepthroating her again. You were slow and gentle, but she was hot and throbbing with magical arousal. You could even smell it on her now and, reaching down under the base where her slit was, you found that she was wet there, too.

Getting excited, you bobbed your head perhaps a little too hard, and she twitched again, this time letting her head sway to the other side. You paused, waiting for any sign of further movement or signs of being awake, but she was still deep asleep, the crease in her brow deeper now. You went back to sucking her off dutifully, and as wet sounds filled the air, Wanda moved again, this time arching her back. The movement sent her hips bucking up, which shoved her cock into your throat unexpectedly, causing you to choke on her girth.

Recovering, you continued carefully and watched as she twitched and squirmed in her sleep, somehow still staying deep asleep even as you could feel her throb faster. Her lips fell open at one point, soft gasps of air filling the quiet, dim room along with your wet sucking sounds. Her body heated up even more under your hands, and she started to buck her hips more.

Picking up your speed, you deepthroated her more and more, choking yourself on her strap while she grew even more restless. You knew she was seconds away from cumming, so you grabbed the base of her strap and sucked harder and faster. Finally, with a whispery, sleepy moan, and a more violent twitch of her hips, Wanda came in your mouth. You kept your mouth around her, feeling her warm cum gush at the back of your throat and ooze down it. You waited, letting her twitch and gasp and push out every last drop of cum before you finally swallowed it and took her out of your mouth. She was sweet to the taste with just a hint of metal, an interesting mix of her magic that reminded you of the taste of her real arousal.

There were many benefits to this magical creation of Wanda’s, one of many being that there was an unlimited supply.

Her cock now wet and shiny and slightly glowing, you carefully crawled back up her body and straddled her. She had almost immediately fallen back into utter stillness as soon as she came, except for her chest that was rising and falling much faster now. Biting your lip, you reached down and took her breasts into your hands, squeezing and letting your thumb roll over her nipples that were already rock hard for you. You could feel her cock, resting below your thigh, twitch and throb, basically vibrating with magic. All you could taste was her cum that coated the inside of your mouth, the taste still soaked into your tongue.

She just looked so pretty, even more relaxed now, having just helplessly cum in your mouth without even knowing it. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to her still lips before moving your mouth to her neck and pressing soft, wet kisses there. You let your hand grope her breasts for a moment before sliding it down and rubbing her tummy, lowering it further and further until you reached below yourself and took her strap in your hand again.

Still kissing her neck, and feeling her twitch once below you, you adjusted yourself over her cock and rubbed your throbbing, wet slit down her length, not letting it go inside. You remember the first time you did that, before she ever went inside you with the new strap, and she had prematurely came. She had been so embarrassed, taking off the cum-filled condom and tearing the strap off of her and getting up, but you’d found it so hot. You loved having this control over her. You loved knowing that you held this power over her, that you could make her cum so easily, that she desired you so much that she found it hard to even have any control. You wanted to tease her constantly, to degrade her and embarrass her by using her desire for you against her.

Wanda’s sleepy breaths hitched as you rubbed your warm, wet folds up and down her length, leaving a wet, sticky trail on the strap. She shifted under you, turning her head back to the other side. Her eyebrows creased deeper, her face contorting into a look of neediness as she subconsciously bucked her hips, pushing herself harder onto you. Chuckling, you gave her one last kiss on her neck before sitting up fully, unable to control yourself anymore. You wanted to get what you truly wanted out of her before she woke up.

Your breathing growing heavier, along with the rain pattering much harder on the window outside, you lined Wanda’s cock up with your entrance, letting it sit there pressed against it for a moment. You took a deep breath—her size still surprised you, and you still needed to relax and prepare yourself before taking her in. Thanks to the blowjob and how wet you were, there was enough lubrication for you to lower yourself down on her cock, feeling her slide right in and stretch your walls around her.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you stopped halfway, feeling a tinge of pain. Wanda shifted beneath you, which didn’t help, so you just took another deep breath and basically slammed yourself down on her, Wanda’s entire cock ramming deep inside you.

As if on cue, right as you let out a louder shriek than you meant to because of the way her cock hit your cervix, Wanda also let out a sleepy form of a moan, her head swaying to the side as her legs shifted under the blankets below you.

Placing your hands on her shoulders, you stayed still and felt her throb inside you as she squirmed, watching her eyes scroll side to side behind her eyelids. Biting your lip, you slowly lifted yourself off halfway before coming back down again, nearly seeing stars when she hit your deepest point again.

It was obvious that doing this wasn’t going to keep her asleep for much longer. She was still moving, eyelids fluttering, lips twitching as if trying to speak between her growing breaths. She was breathing faster now, redness blooming on her cheeks.

There was no point in being careful now. Grinding your teeth together, you rolled your hips, throwing your head back as she hit your sweet spot in your lower tummy. She was so big that her cock was basically all you could feel as you rode her, feeling pure pleasure bloom inside you as you anticipated the ending you were dreaming about.

“Mmmm-nnnn” Wanda murmured as she squirmed more beneath you, kicking at the sheets covering her feet and arching her back. “Ahhh…” She was starting to come to, being lured by your actions into an in-between state between sleeping and waking. She was arching her back off the bed and bucking her hips up into you, natural instinct to have more friction and be as close to you as possible coming through.

Power filled you as you stared down at the helpless witch, her cock lodged deep inside you, throbbing as you bounced on it. You bit the tip of your tongue and squeezed her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin as you rode her cock.

The feeling of your nails in Wanda’s skin was the one thing that brought her into awareness. Her eyelashes fluttered, mouth dropping open. Finally, her eyes opened fully, exposing those pretty irises that were usually green but were now a deep, sleepy crimson red from the magic she was subconsciously using.

A grin slashed across your own face, your tummy filled with excitement as you watched the look of confusion on Wanda’s once peaceful face. This was the second moment you were anticipating the most. Her eyebrows contorted in confusion as she stared up at you, her eyes blank with dumb sleepiness at first as her mouth let out heavy breaths. Then she blinked a few times, her eyes falling down over your body and to her own. She saw her cock, glistening with wet, appear halfway with every other bounce you made. She watched it appear as you lifted up, and then disappear again as you slapped yourself down on her lap.

Then she felt it. The tight, wet warmth. The squeezing of your walls around her. The more textured parts around your cervix, how much warmer and tighter you felt the deeper she was. Your lips smushed against the base of her cock when you had her fully inside. The ridges of your cunt massaging her length as you jerked up and down on her, the friction feeling like a white hot flame of pleasure with each stroke.

Her mouth fell open wider with a loud, startled moan, her hands immediately slapping onto your hips and holding them. “Baby!” she exclaimed in surprise, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes as you continued fucking yourself on her.

You giggled at her reaction, how she was confused but so turned on and so obviously overwhelmed by the feeling of you milking her cock as soon as she woke up, this being the very first thing her consciousness experienced this rainy morning. You felt her cock swell a little inside you, now that she was awake with her magic.

Her breathing turned into gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as she hissed through her teeth, her hips trembling as you slammed down onto them. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck,” she croaked, her voice sleepy and husky and burning hot in your ear.

“I always wanted to wake you up like this,” you whispered, scratching down her chest and over her nipples, causing her to let out the cutest little high-pitched whimper.

“Fuck,” was all she could whisper, holding your hips as they bounced up and down on her length.

You could see the sweat breaking on her forehead, the flush in her cheeks, the way her tummy tightened under your palm. She was getting close.

“D-Did you use prot-protection?” Wanda stammered, her brown hair starting to stick to her temples. She knew the answer. She could feel it, but she needed to ask anyway.

Chuckling, you let out a pornographic moan just to make her shudder and then said, “Nope.”

Wanda’s eyes widened a little in panic. She could already feel herself leaking a little, or maybe it was just your wetness, which was also dripping down her shaft and onto her thighs. Through the slight panic in your eye you could see the desperation, the idea she always dreams about sitting right there in her brain.

You purposefully clenched, and she bit her lip and threw her head back, her body lifting off the bed as she pushed herself into you. You gasped at the depth but used your strength to pin her hips back down to the bed.

“Baby,” she breathed, her eyes barely open. “Baby, get up.” Her voice grew breathy with quickness. “I’m gonna cum. Get up.” She slapped your hip a few times to make you get up, but you kept riding her.

“No,” you purred, leaning down closer to her face and smirking. “You can easily push me off if you want to.” You watched her, struggling to keep her eyes open, her body moving with your bouncing, look up at you with such a strong mix of horror and desire on her face. You waited, but she only continued to struggle beneath you, not making any effort to use her magic or strength to push you off. “So why don’t you?”

Wanda whined, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as if just looking at you was going to make her bust. Her nails dug into your hips as she trembled, looking like the pleasure was turning into pain as you continued to ride her. There was no way she would actively deny you. She could stop herself all she wanted when it was her in control, but if you were going to take it from her, she couldn’t not acquiesce.

“Baby, please,” she murmured through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the struggle to keep herself from cumming. You knew she could stop it if she wanted to—you didn’t have her physically wrangled, and even if you did, her magic could put an end to it immediately. “Please, get up, I can’t hold it.”

Grinning, you slam your hand over her throat, and she gasps, choking slightly as you squeeze her throat. “You’re so cute like this,” you whisper, “Begging me to stop. You’re the one who can’t control yourself.”

Tears were falling down her cheeks now. “Please, please,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. “Please, baby, I can’t—I can’t hold it—I’m gonna cum, fuck, please…”

“Do it. Give me all your cum,” you hiss, riding her harder to the point where the bedframe slams against the wall. Wanda, choking on the pressure of your hand around her throat, trembled and violently twitched below and inside you as she tried her hardest to hold it. But she was hot to the touch, and so were you, and your cunt felt so good squeezing around her cock, and you were taking complete advantage of her which she found to be so hot, and she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about breeding you for weeks now, and it was all too much for her to even stop it.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, get off, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck fuck!”

Wanda’s nails dug into your hips as her words turned into incoherent babbles, her mouth falling wide open and her body lifting completely off the bed as she finally lost all control. You tried to watch her as long as you could, but your eyes fluttered closed when finally you felt her cock give one last hard twitch before loads of her burning hot cum went gushing deep inside you, splashing the wall of your cervix and filling your tummy all up.

The feeling made you cum, shivering on top of her and squeezing around her which only prolonged her orgasm even more. Wanda saw flashing images of you pregnant, which had been fueling what she thought was fear for weeks now, but she was learning just now that that fear was pure fetish. She tugged your hips down onto her and pushed herself as deep inside you as possible as she loaded you with her cum, surprising you with her strength as she kept you in a complete hold.

After a few moments, when she had filled you with all she had to give, which was a shocking amount this time because of how long she had held it, and you were limp against her chest, recovering from your own orgasm, Wanda finally relaxed, letting go of your hips and closing her eyes.

“Fuck,” she breathed, panting as sweat rolled down her tear-streaked face. You were quiet for a minute, relishing the feeling of a full tummy of Wanda’s cum, her cock throbbing gently in your cunt. You were so glad she’d enchanted that strap.

Finally, you hummed, looking up at her. She looked dazed and fuzzy-minded, her eyes hooded and cheeks blushing red from embarrassment. She sighed and grinned sheepishly, placing her hands over her face. You smirked. “That was a lot better than cumming on my tits, right?”

Wanda breathed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #top!wanda #power bottom #subby top wanda #sub top wanda #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #wanda maximoff x f!reader

[acapelladitty]

ok but,,,, Mr "the" ghoul subbing for his so/ for the first time and he's all unsure and tryna be cocky but he's actually a big softie who loves being taken care of and told what to do 💥

light me up and breathe in

Pairing: Cooper Howard/F!Reader

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Summary - After some convincing, Cooper agrees to let you give him a chest massage.

(tw: heavy petting, teasing, cockwarming, threats of violence, cannibalism mention, dirty talk)

Convincing Cooper to let you take care of him was a task better suited for the great thinkers of the world, people who had the patience and the fortitude to deal with his stubborn bullshit as he dodged your every attempt. However, time was always on your side and you weren't convinced if it was the appeal of a massage or the promise that you would stop asking if he relented, but he had eventually given in.

His upper clothing had been shed quickly enough, exposing his bare torso to your greedy eyes. A shapely sight, his body wasn't overly muscular, but clearly held a core strength as it formed a solid expanse - the skin scarred and textured across every visible inch.

Reclined on his chair, his eyes were wary but heated as he watched you clamber onto his lap with a childish eagerness.

"That desperate, huh?"

"Shut up."

Rolling your hands along his chest, the rough texture of his skin left a pleasant tingle in your fingers as you follow the natural contours of his body. Patchy and pitted beyond reason, you map out the ridges with a faint smile and your fascination with his skin didn't go unnoticed.

"You staring at me like that makes me wonder if you're thinking 'bout taking a bite?" Cooper's low voice, dulled by his forced nonchalance, filled the air between you and you refuse to look up and meet his eye as you answer.

"Maybe." You tease, trailing a finger along the column of his neck. "It's about time you had something to worry about so maybe I'll cannibalise some part of you to shut you up for a while."

"If you're gonna wrap those pretty lips around a part of me then I've got some ideas, darlin'."

Gaze flitting across his body as you ignore his suggestion, you settle on his nipples and admire the deep red colour which stands free of his chest. You can imagine him in a better time, picture how dense the chest hair which would have coated him would feel below your fingers. How fun it would be to run your digits across the thick mat and pull at it teasingly, forcing him to shift up and meet your lips with a single tug.

But no.

Hairless.

It really was a cruel world.

Still, there was more than one way to get a reaction and you clamp your thumbs and forefingers around his nipples as you pinch the nubs with malicious intent.

"Maybe I'll focus on these. They're very sensitive."

A strangled gasp escapes him but he covers it quickly by curving his thick hands around the swell of your ass.

"True that, sweetie, but if you tear 'em off I'll be taking yours to replace them. With my teeth, mind."

Pulling at the nubs even more roughly, the discomfort forces a warning rumble from his throat as he arches his back against the chair.

"Not how this works, Coop. You have to say please if you want me to stop."

Scowling, he relents regardless, having alresdy agreed to the terms of the game. "Please."

"That's better, handsome."

Hands feeling dry, you get a move on with your agreement and add a healthy dollop of the unscented lotion which you had stumbled on in an abandoned pharmacy. Its discovery had prompted this little game and you can't hold back your grin as you spread it across his skin - sinking into the intimate contact with a soft sigh.

Tense as hell, Cooper is every inch a coiled serpent ready to strike out. He's subtle with it though; matching your wry comments with his own and visibly attempting to force himself to relax into the earnest touch. For a creature who was wrapped around you like a glove when you fucked, this type of intimate engagement appeared to give him more anxiety than staring death down the barrel of a gun.

"Relax." You soothe, hands running across his collarbone to wrap around his shoulders.

"I am relaxed." He lied.

"Liar." You call him out with a teasing smile. "But if a little massage is so scary for the big, bad bounty hunter then let me make you a bit more comfortable."

Dropping your slickened hand to his groin, you cup his hardened cock through the fabric, wasting no time in opening his fly and releasing him; allowing the girthy length to jut free in the cool air.

"Wow, Mr. Howard," you tease, gripping your hand around his length and stroking along it with a firm grip, "this looks painful. What are we going to do about it?"

"Cruel to play with a man's bone and not give him somewhere to bury it." Cooper rumbled, his hips bucking into your hand as you tighten your fingers around the base of a cock, denying him any further stimulation until he settles. "Might drive a man to do something dangerous, sweetie."

"Oh well in that case." Raising yourself off his lap by planting your feet on the floor, you slip further towards his body and line up his blunted cockhead with your hole - arousal making your lips feels swollen and sensitive as you run his cock along your slickened folds. "Would be a shame to waste it then."

Sinking down on his cock, you drop your head to his neck to hide the discomforting gasp as the familiar stretch of him makes your walls burn with the sudden intrusion. The texture of his cock adds an intensity that makes your legs tremble as it rubs along those sweet spots which make stars fly behind your eyes.

You adjust your hips until you're able to sit flush against his groin, the angle a little awkward but fucking delicious as every slight jostle sparks fresh pleasure. His eyes pin you with a greater ferocity than his cock as his head tilts up to keep line with your gaze.

"Tight as a drum." Cooper growls, the feel of you wrapped around him making his hips move of their own accord as he fucks himself deeper; each small rut leaving your cunt wanting more.

But no.

That wasn't the game.

Slapping a hand to his exposed chest, the skin there still moist from the lotion - you cupped your other hand around the back of his neck and scowl at him with a playful anger.

"Hey! Did I tell you to fuck me?"

Stilling his hips, Cooper curled his lips into a smirk.

"That you did not, darlin'."

"Then stop moving and let me have my fun. You focus on keeping that big ol' gun of yours holstered somewhere I know it likes, and I'll focus on what I want to do."

"You drive a hard bargain, missy." He replies, amusement playing across his harsh features. "But a deal's a deal and, hell, I'm sure there's gonna be a reward of some kind for such agreeable behaviours."

"Keep dreaming, handsome. I'm letting you warm your cock in me. Isn't that enough?"

"From you?" Flashing his teeth with an almost feral grin, Cooper's arm snapped around your waist to pull you flush to his chest as his rough lips brushed your ear. "Never."

Squeezing your cunt around him, the action netting you a muted groan, you push him away and roll your hips as your hands return to his chest.

"Nice try, buddy. But no amount of, admittedly, great cock is going to stop me from rubbing every inch of you."

"Stubborn bitch."

Cooper mutters the words without heat, his hands returning to their original position around your ass as you edge yourself on his cock; determined to explore every inch of him before allowing him to get his rocks off.

"Yours."

#sooo hot want to touch the hiney awoooooooo #fallout #fallout 2024 #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #ghoul x reader #ghoul x you #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fic #ghoul smut #ghoul fic #walton goggins

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Fourteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Secrets are revealed, relationships are tested, and the arrival of new guests at the River House make things all the more complicated. Oh and some canon typical violence.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

There was something cold and damp against your forehead, the bitter taste of medicine lingered on your tongue, dry and acrid, and a faint pulsing near the base of your skull.

“She’s waking up.” Gwyn’s voice came to your ears through fifteen feet of water. “You can hold her hand, if you’d like. She can handle it now.”

A hand slid into yours, palms calloused from hundreds of years spent swinging a sword. Warm and heavy. Golden light pricked behind your eyes like sunlight through thin curtains and you woke up to the sun smiling down on you, red-eyed and weary.  

“Helion?” His healing touch traveled over you, whisking away any remaining tenderness in your stomach. You whimpered when he wove his fingers through your hair, gently peeling apart any tangles. It felt nice to be touched by him. Safe.

“I’m here.” 

“It hurts,” you murmured, even though you couldn’t identify the pain very well. It seemed to exist both within you and outside of you, pressing down on your chest until even breathing felt unnatural. Everything just… hurt. Your head, your heart, your throat. Like you’d swallowed a mouthful of hot ash. “I’m so… I’m so tired.” 

Again Helion combed your hair back with his fingers and you felt the sore spot on the back of your head prickle when he touched it. The blood had been cleaned, the wound closed, but you could still feel it there like a stamp sinking into your skin. The same way you could feel the stretch of scar tissue over your stomach. A thick, pale line a few inches below your sternum.  

“You’re ok, my dear. Rest. I won’t let anything hurt you.” 

“Thanks Dad,” you whispered, but you were already slipping away. You wouldn’t remember what you called him when you woke up again. 

Helion gritted his teeth and brushed away the stray tears that dripped down your cheeks, then his own. 

“I won’t let anything hurt you,” he said to the empty air.

The next time you awoke was not so pleasant. There was no caressing hand down your face. No slow murmurs from your father. No warm light blinking in the darkness. 

There was the banging of doors. Cassian’s alarmed shouts mixing with Rhysand and Mor’s, and Feyre’s commands for Nyx to take Velaria upstairs and lock the door behind them.

“Don’t come down until I get you, ok sweetie?” The boy’s footsteps were light and quick up the stairs as he calmed a startled Velaria with gentle coos. 

“Gwyn?” You reached across the bed for the priestess’s hand. Her robes looked like they were glowing to your sleep-dazed eyes. 

Her teal eyes were hard. The grip on her knife tight. 

“Gwyn, what’s happening?”

“Shhhh. Go back to sleep.” 

Helion roared and the River House shook down to its foundations. The silky covers stuck to your weak arms, slippery and cool as you gripped Gwyn’s arm and forced yourself to stand. Your knees immediately buckled and Gwyn’s awaiting arms caught you in a sprawl of heavy limbs. 

The House trembled once more. The wooden banisters creaked. The faelights that sat on swooping, wrought iron curls blinked on and off, signaling the House’s alarm as the floor slipped and slid beneath your feet. Help me! The House seemed to shout. 

“Gwyn.” 

“Hold onto me.” 

You leaned heavily against the priestess’s side, her arm wrapped around your waist, and together you stumbled out the door and into the hallway. 

You blinked, eyes adjusting to the lamplight just as Cassian flew across the room, crashing into the fireplace mantle in a burst of color that had you turning pale. The glass figurines and picture frames cracked and shattered in a rain of glass. But Cass only grumbled, “This is what I get for helping,” before bouncing onto his feet and charging back into the foyer where Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor stood. Rhysand kept his arm out in front of the two sisters and grabbed Mor’s arm before she could step further. 

“Let them go.” Rhys said, his voice low and deadly. He knew something they didn’t. “Helion has a right to this.” 

“It wasn’t Azriel’s fault,” Mor seethed.

“Doesn’t matter. I’d do the same if anyone hurt Velaria.” 

“What the hell does that—” 

Helion slammed Azriel’s bloody and bruised body against the wall with a snarl. The shattered vases in the hallway and the blood dripping from Azriel's broken nose clear evidence that you'd stumbled upon this fight a few minutes late.

Helion held a fistful of black leather in one hand and a gleaming sword of pure light angled up just beneath Azriel’s sternum in the other. His skin burned so brightly even Azriel’s shadows had slunk away to seek shelter in the few remaining dark corners of the House.

“You bastard,” Helion spit out the words like venom. 

Azriel hung limp and exhausted, wings brushing against the floor. The bruises beneath his eyes and the cut of his cheeks spoke of days spent without sleep. Days spent prowling Velaris for Andrian. Days spent waiting outside your door for you to wake up. 

“You think I don’t see what game you’re playing? This pathetic pattern of yours?” Helion’s eyes flashed a dangerous yellow. 

“Helion!” Your voice was weaker than you wanted it to be. “Let him go!”

“It’s not a game,” Azriel said through gritted teeth. “It’s never been a game. Not with her.” “Don’t. Lie. To. Me,” Helion snarled. He pulled Azriel off the wall only to slam him back into it. Cracks splintered out like spiderwebs. Dust floated down and landed in Azriel’s hair like snow. “It wasn’t so long ago that you were convinced enough about a mating bond with Elain to invoke a fucking Blood Duel with Lucien Vanserra. Now you’re chasing after Y/n’s skirts like a dog? Looking at her with lovesick eyes as if being near you won’t bring anything but death on her head?” 

You went still.

He’d… he’d challenged Elain’s mate to a Blood Duel?

He’d believed they were mates?

All at once it made sense why Elain and Lucien had disappeared to the Mortal Lands, chased away by a violence that should have ended with either Lucien or Azriel ritualistically buried in the ground. Nothing but a pint of blood and a name to remember them by. All at once it made sense why it had been so long since their family had lived under one roof. 

Your words shriveled up in your throat and died there.

Azriel stiffened, eyes flashing dangerously. 

Helion clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You’re not the only one who hears whispers, Shadowsinger,” he hissed. “First it was Mor you pined after for five-hundred years, then Elain, then the priestess. One right after the other like a prize just out of reach.” 

Gwyn tensed beside you and your heart tightened in your chest like untempered glass ready to shatter. 

“Gwyn?” You whispered. 

You had no right to Azriel, no right to know about his past exploits with females, but still it felt like something you should have been told after long nights spent in the priestess’s presence. Months of living under their roof, eating their food, and falling in love without a whisper of warning. The things they must have whispered about when you weren’t in the room. 

Her silence was all you needed to hear. Greasy and rotten.

Azriel’s hands shook the more Helion spoke. 

“You like your females broken and vulnerable. You like it when they need you. When you get to swoop in feeling like some grand hero. So you felt you had the right to go after my daughter! And then you were too weak to protect her when the time came? You dared to lay a hand on her are you fucking kidding me?!”

The world froze at those two words. The Inner Circle was shocked into complete silence. 

You swayed dangerously as the floor tilted beneath your bare feet. 

Is that what they thought of you? Is that what Azriel thought of you? Broken. Weak. Pathetic. Someone who couldn’t handle their own. Someone who had needed saving. An easy target to charm and dazzle. A Librarian who’d been left alone for so long she’d throw herself at the first handsome male who smiled in her direction. 

Azriel stiffened. 

You were Helion’s daughter. And somehow that made everything worse, because Azriel knew how lonely you’d been as a child and how much losing your mother had nearly destroyed you. You’d shoved yourself into the Alcove where everything was familiar and safe, and all this time Helion had just stood by and done the bare minimum. 

Azriel had been holding back his rage — his pain — but he felt it erupt with new passion. Lingering jealousy, that acid that had been building up every time you mentioned Helion or touched the necklace he’d gifted you, added fuel to the fire. Shadows burst out from his hands and ate away at Helion’s magic like a plague.

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel growled and spit blood onto the floor by Helion's feet, “You weren’t even here. She could have died on those streets.” His voice was hoarse and on the verge of breaking, “And you wouldn’t have been there.” 

And he might not have been there either. 

Rhys had held him back, refusing to let go even as Azriel had tried to crawl to you on broken bones. Even as Azriel had screamed for you. 

Helion's face twisted into something ugly and foreign to you, because deep down he knew the true reason he was so enraged at the Shadowsinger. It was like looking in a mirror. They’d failed you in similar ways. 

“Helion… Helion no!” But your father didn’t listen. 

His power shot out in a blaze of light and heat and slammed into Azriel’s chest. His shadows were barely able to soften the blast. Azriel saw you then, shock and horror seeping down the bond along with something that felt a lot like heartbreak. You watched wide-eyed and slack jawed as the wall bowed out and then snapped in two. Azriel was thrown onto the front lawn, a gaping tear left in the House like a knife wound. 

Helion stepped outside and stalked up to Azriel like a lion out for blood. There was murder and hatred in his eyes. 

Everyone was shouting again as he raised his sword. 

You felt a flare of something bright and hot in your chest, like a shot of whiskey or the first bleeding rise of the sun. You stood up on your own, eyes burning with a glassy, gold sheen that had Gwyn stepping away from you with a gasp. You were glowing, pure and clear and strong. 

You’d only felt like this twice before. First, when you’d grabbed hold of Henna and stopped hiding who you really were, and then once more at the Palace of Hoof and Leaf mere minutes before Azriel had turned the book to ash. Both moments where your power demanded to be felt. Moments when your emotions turned to magic. 

“Helion.” Your voice echoed throughout the room and into the wide open space beyond, eerie and calm. So loud. So quiet. Like an aching whisper in pitch black darkness. “Let. Him. Go.”

Helion blinked in surprise with his arms still raised over his head. Inch by inch that blade of bright light faded away with the dying light of a sunset. His eyes cooled and that magic rage left his body. He staggered away from where Azriel lay on the ground. 

Your hands were trembling, but you forced them to be calm as Azriel got back on his feet, hazel eyes boring into yours. He drank in the sight of you. Your wrapped forearm. The white bandages around your middle peering through your thin nightgown. Your clean hair. 

The smell of blood was but a distant nightmare, even if he swore he could still feel it on his ruined hands. Slippery and dark. 

You turned to leave.

“Y/n, wait!” Azriel shoved a stunned Helion out of his way, racing back into the House in a blur of darkness. “Y/n,” he begged and reached out his hand, “Please let me explain.” 

You froze. The weight of his hand wrapping around your wrist and the rough feel of his scars against your fluttering pulse pinned you to the floor. You felt uncentered — off kilter — and without meaning to, you were thrust into his mind. 

You felt the way he’d pined after Mor for centuries. Always close by. Waiting. Watching for the moment she might actually look at him and realize what he was willing to become for her. Someone to love and kiss and take to bed. Someone who’d never have cast her off into that wood. Someone who would do whatever she asked until she was smiling and whole again. 

You felt the way he looked at Gwyn, like she could be the answer to all his questions. Like she could be the one to hone all his sharp edges with her delicate smile and her creamy skin and dewdrop eyes. Because if she could love him, it might actually mean something. It would mean he was capable of fixing, not just destroying. 

You… you knew the ways he’d imagined Elain. Three sisters for three brothers. Mates. Fate. Love. How he’d imagined touching her. How he had touched her. The thrill of hiding away in dark corners and the soft skin of her fragile neck beneath his lips. The arch of her back. Wood grain beneath his fingers as he pressed her up against a wall and kissed her. How he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else ever again. 

You felt the acidic contents of your stomach surge and wrenched your hand out of his grasp. 

Azriel faltered, eyes wide and staring. Something inside of him fractured and broke. You hadn’t pulled away from him like that since Summer Solstice back when you were strangers and meant nothing to one another. But even then you hadn’t looked at him with this much feeling. This much betrayal. 

His arm was still outstretched and hanging in the empty air. 

Tears dotted your eyes, but you forbid them from falling. Not in front of him. Never in front of him. 

“I am not broken.” 

You went back to your room and slammed the door shut. 

“I thought he liked me,” you murmured pathetically, leaning against Helion’s side. He’d slid into your room quietly and approached you like a wounded animal ready to scatter. 

Your father hesitated, fingers caught in hair that reminded him so painfully of Leda — of your mother. Things had not ended well between them, but he could think of her with nothing less than fondness and gratitude. After all, Leda had given birth to you. Brilliant, wonderful, beautiful you. 

He listened to the House and the way it seemed to be holding its breath. The doors shut a little tighter. The curtains hugged the windows. And across the hall shadows lingered by the door of Azriel’s room, reaching out towards yours but never crossing the threshold. They were held back by their master’s tight leash. 

“I know this might come as a surprise after what I did, but I… He did like you. He does like you. They all do. How could they not?”

You shook your head slowly. “But not in the way I want him to. Not in the way I lo—” You shut your mouth and sighed bitterly. Your cheeks flushed with warmth and before you knew it you were crying again, leaking tears onto Helion’s bare shoulder and feeling wretched. 

Azriel curled in on himself, collapsed on the floor like a broken doll with knees pulled up to his chest as he ignored the pulling of his shadows. 

She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. They repeated over and over again, yanking on his leathers and strands of ebony black hair. Helion had left for one of the guest bedrooms upstairs after you cried yourself to sleep. Now was Azriel’s chance to beg for your forgiveness. To explain himself. To hope.

She needs you.

Azriel shrugged them off, scattering their disembodied voices with a wave of his gloved hand. He was back to wearing them. 

I am the last thing she needs.

“Lucien’s found one of Bethsevah’s descendants.” 

Gwyn stood by the doorway, pale skin and blue robes outlined by the mountain’s red walls. The priestess kept her hands behind her back, wringing them in a nervous twist of bitten fingernails, and waited for you to finally look up from your notes. 

You didn’t like spending time at the House. You hated the way everyone’s attention shifted to you whenever you entered a room; the look of tight, empathetic smiles and knowing glances filling their eyes. It wasn’t that they were trying to be unkind, but you knew they whispered about the power you’d displayed. About your status as Helion’s bastard daughter. About the absolute state that Azriel was in. 

This morning, when you’d left your room for Cagniv Library, Azriel had been waiting, filling his bedroom door frame with a hauntingly tortured look in his eyes. 

“Y/n, please—” 

You’d left without a second glance in his direction, footsteps hurried and head bowed down. His shadows had followed you to the front steps of the house, but no further and you couldn’t help but feel a weight in your chest thinking about how Azriel had looked. He’d started wearing the gloves again. 

Bethsevah’s name rang through the air like a jolt of electricity. After thousands of years, her name still held a strength that demanded to be felt. The book was gone. Whatever magic Azriel had been forced to perform had swept it away to the Continent, and Rhys and Feyre had been wracked with worry and preparations ever since. Favors called in. Threats made. Weapons forged. Bodies armed. At any point they might be called away to the Continent, or forced to reckon with a Death God at their door. 

You’d helped in your own way by digging through your notes on mating bonds and the manuscript that was becoming more useful each day. 

Thanatos and the Bone Carver, one and the same, and mated to Bethsevah Mordeigh. Magic that wasn’t the same, but perfectly complementary. Magic that worked as a lock and a key. 

You were made to ruin me.

Your initial theory, the one you’d shared with Azriel in that cramped apartment at the Alcove, had turned out to be true. Bethsevah, and Bethsevah alone as Thanatos’s mate, had possessed the ability to split him from his power and lock him away, and because his magic was cut from the same kind as his siblings, Beth had been able to do the same with Stryga and Koschei. Her blood, her genetic connection to that magic, would be the only thing capable of releasing the power in the lake. 

All magic could trace itself back to a biological underpinning. 

You were made to ruin me.

The memory was burned behind your sleepless eyes and haunted your dreams, but sometimes when you stopped concentrating so hard on the harsh angles that made up the Bone Carver’s face, you caught him transforming. Black eyes turned to brandy. His reed thin body filled out and grew strong. Wings sprouted from his back. His pale skin turned tan and scarred.

You were made to ruin me, Y/n. Azriel would say, and you’d pretend that the look of utter love and adoration in his eyes was real. 

“When will they be arriving?” 

Gwyn sighed in relief. You’d been so quiet the last few days. “Tomorrow.” 

Mor bit her cherry red lips, glancing at Rhys and Feyre with worry in her eyes as they all stood in a row ready to greet their guests. Rhys was schooling his features into one of careful neutrality, but Mor had known him for centuries. She’d seen him through his awkward teenage years when his skin wasn’t so perfect and his body grew like a weed in Spring. Back when his temper wasn’t so honed and his ego undeserved. She knew when he was agitated. The squaring of his shoulders. The set of his eyes. The faintest twitch of his left ear. 

What a fucking mess this all was. If he thought about it too hard it gave him a raging headache. 

Azriel and Y/n were mates, although Y/n didn’t know and no one knew how to tell her, especially after Azriel had stabbed her through the chest under Andrian’s influence. Helion had nearly killed Az. Azriel had nearly killed Lucien. And if anyone ever told Lucien about Y/n being his half-sister, he was sure Lucien would try and kill Azriel too… again. And— oh FUCK. Helion didn’t know Lucien was his son. Y/n didn’t Lucien was her half-brother. Fuck fuck FUCK. Cauldron boil me.

Rhysand rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. 

Azriel stood motionless, nothing but the minor sway of his wings and the masked look of anguish in his eyes to hint that he was still reeling from that day in the market square. He couldn’t stop glancing over at where you stood between Mor and Cassian, every inch of your skin covered and a forcefully blank look on your face.

Truth Teller was no longer strapped to his thigh. His shadows had returned, but with hesitance, and Rhys couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Azriel eat something. Every family meal that you didn’t attend, Azriel would just stare at your empty seat and flinch at the sound of knives dragging through meat.

Feyre winced at the onslaught of Rhysand’s thoughts. Do we even want to attempt to fix any of that right now?

Feyre darling, where would we even begin?

At least Helion’s moved to the House of Wind. Feyre offered it as a small consolation. Took me a while to convince him of that.

Rhys gritted his teeth. And he will stay on that fucking mountain.

Lucien had gone his entire life not knowing about Helion precisely because when he stood next to his brothers he blended in. There was just enough similarity there in the silhouette of their faces and their overwhelmingly bright red hair, that no one had ever batted an eye at the seventh son of Autumn. But put Lucien and Helion side by side and a keen eye would make out the same strong slope of their noses, the same dimples on their cheeks when they smiled, and the way their brow bones hung over deep set eyes.

You possessed such an eye — an eye for details and specifics. So when Lucien Vanserra walked through the front doors with the setting sun splashing his frame with fire and light, Elain glowing and beautiful beside him, you knew immediately who he was. 

Fuuuuccccckkkkkk. Cassian groaned. Nesta, she knows. 

Stop it. There’s no way she figured it out that quickly. Nesta said. Then she actually looked at you. Your mouth was open in a round “o” and your face had gone pale. Oh for fuck’s sake. Really?

Your gaze was locked on Lucien as he walked up to Rhysand and shook his hand. 

“Lucien, welcome back to the Night Court. It’s been too long.” 

His golden eye whirred, moving up and down the line and lingering first on Azriel. His full lips flattened, freckled nose twitching with thinly veiled distaste. “Not long enough.” But his many years spent as emissary wiped the emotion from his face quickly and he moved on, greeting everyone with a detached kindness. 

“Luc.” The High Lady grinned, finally tugging a genuine smile from Lucien Vanserra’s lips. 

“Hey Feyre.” 

She wrapped him in her arms, closing her eyes and giving him a hearty squeeze. 

“It’s good to see you again.” 

“You too.” 

There was a somber familiarity there, and you got the sense that Feyre was the only one Lucien truly felt connected to. Whatever history he had with the other members of the Inner Circle was tolerable at best.

You finally caught his eye — the one strange face he’d never seen before. He easily towered above you, built with Helion’s strong legs and resplendent in a deep green riding cloak and cream-colored trousers that accentuated the tinge of color in his skin and his mismatched eyes. 

He tipped his head to the side, his long braid falling over his shoulder, and smiled softly. “You must be the Librarian that got roped into all of this madness.” Yes. Because that’s all you were to him — some unnamed female from the Day Court. An unfortunate victim of circumstance. “Y/n Halwynn.” 

You blinked, surprised to hear him speak your name so casually when you were reeling over the fact that standing in front of you was another one of Helion’s children. Another bastard that perhaps should never have been. Your half-brother.

“The one and the same.” 

Lucien evaluated the shrewd set of your eyes and the fit of your clothes over straightened shoulders and found that, at first glance, he quite liked you. You were of the bookish variety — that much was evident in the small novels dragging down your pockets and the smudged inkstains on your fingertips — but you held yourself in front of him well. You looked kind, if not skittish. 

“Lucien Vanserra.” He held out his hand and you regarded it with hesitance before accepting it. 

“I know the name.”

“It is a rather infamous last name.” 

“Bit of an infamous first name too.” 

Lucien smiled a little wider. Yes. He quite liked you. 

Elain hugged her sisters in turn, breathing in their familiar scent and gripping them tightly. Her time in the Human Lands had served her well. Gone were the days of frail bones and heavy eyes always looking out sunny windows. Her skin was flush with color, her hands strong and calloused, and her knees pleasantly bruised after months spent laboring in the fields outside Vassa and Jurian’s manor. She smelled like soil and flowers. She was as lovely as everyone had always described her. The second Archeron sister who’d been born with an unnatural beauty even before turning fae. 

Your eyes dropped to the floor so you wouldn’t have to see what Azriel did when she greeted him. But it didn’t matter. They avoided one another carefully, and Azriel kept looking at you, begging you to lift up your eyes so he could offer you a smile. 

A word. 

A glance. 

Anything.

Bethsevah’s descendant appeared next, willful and stunning in her own way as she waited by the door. Her frizzy grey hair was held away from her face with a strap of leather, stormcloud eyes staring out unflinchingly from a time-worn face. Everything about her was grey from her hair to her clothes and the iron jewelry that hung from her neck and wrists. Cassian sometimes forgot how humans wore their age so openly, and how this woman in particular seemed to brandish it like a weapon. 

“Ione Morgana.” Her voice was deep and hardy. Her eyes narrowed at everyone now that the familiar introductions had finished. “That’s my name and it’s the name my family has carried as long as we can remember. Although the redhead seems to believe otherwise. I am old, as you creatures can very well see, and I am tired. My parents are long gone. My sons dead. My sisters dead too. Now,” she banged her walking stick on the ground, although she hadn’t used it when walking up the steps, “Which one of you will see me to my room?” Her words came out more as a command than a question. 

Rhys tipped his head to the side, his surprise evident on his face. “You’re a very bold woman. Do you not comprehend who you’re standing in front of? My wife in particular?” 

“Boldness comes with age.” She stuck her nose in the air like a wolf sniffing for a bunny, “Something you’d do well to learn.” 

An amused smile grew on Rhysand’s face. “I’m over five hundred years old.” 

“You certainly don’t act like it, standing all crooked like a tryhard.” 

Cassian coughed into his fist and Mor snickered. 

“I could kill you.” 

Rhys!

Relax, my love, I’m just curious how she will react. 

The woman — Ione — hardly reacted at all. In fact, she almost smiled. “Time can kill me. Sickness can kill me. At this point a stiff wind could knock me down and break my back. You’re not special.” She whacked her walking stick again, harder this time. “Now. My room?”

Nesta raised and then dipped her head in silent acknowledgement and together they disappeared into the east wing of the house looking like two grey chess pieces moving over the tiles. 

“Wonderful isn’t she?” Elain commented with a fond look in her eyes. She was Ione’s favorite by far.

Jurian came in last, sweat beading his brow as he dragged a huge steel cage up the steps, and Lucien and Elain’s faces turned solemn. Vassa flitted inside her prison — a cage within a cage so that she couldn’t snap at Jurian’s hands when he got too close. His eyes were bloodshot, knuckles bruised and bloody. 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You’d imagined the firebird as something majestic. You’d imagined feathers dipped from the richest dyes trailing light from their ends like red, green, and blue sparklers. Instead, her eyes were the only vibrant feature about her, and they were sharp from hunger. 

“What’s happened to her?” Cassian breathed. When he stepped forward, Vassa lunged from her perch, screeching when she clashed with the steel grate. Her claws tore at the metal but never broke through the magic Lucien had placed there. 

Jurian whispered words of comfort and love through the metal, and in time, Vassa seemed to settle. 

“It started last week,” Lucien said through clenched teeth, “The day Koschei got his hands on the book, Vassa started going mad. She can’t sleep, not in her human form or as a firebird, and she keeps… hungering for something she can’t name. The day we found Ione, she…” 

“She tried to kill me.” Jurian raised his hands and slid his sleeves down. Claw marks, barely healed, ran jagged down his arms. “Let’s not mince words, Lucien.” He grimaced. “Koschei’s trying to call her back to the lake, but she’s fighting it with everything she has.” He looked back at Vassa, eyes dull and tired. She screeched once again and feathers fell from her body before curling up into blackened husks on the floor. You could just make out the sections of skin where she’d ripped out her own feathers, raw and dotted pink with blood. “I suggest you give us a room far away from everyone else.” 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

^^ Me writing this chapter because Helion finally beat the shit out of Azriel and revealed all the tea about his past relationships with Mor, Elain, and Gwyn and because I got to bring Lucien to the Night Court. And soon! We'll get to see how Lucien reacts when he learns that Y/n is his sister!!!!!!!

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst #yessssss Helion beat him up! #Daddy Helion to the rescue #we love a character with “don't touch my daughter” energy!

[randomdragonfires]

If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 | To See You Again

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY

WORD COUNT | 2k

Text Divider by @saradika

They had been running for three days now.

Slivers of moonlight pierced through the dense canopy above. The twisted and gnarled branches of trees, like skeletal fingers grasping for the Seven Heavens, cast their eerie shadows across the forest floor. The tangled roots snaked across the damp earth and moss clung to the ancient trunks like a dark shroud.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp soil and decaying leaves, mingling with the sweet aroma of wildflowers that dared to bloom amidst the darkness. Faint whispers seemed to echo through the tangled undergrowth, as if the very forest itself held secrets long forgotten.

As they ascended the hill, the terrain grew steeper, the path narrow and treacherous. Each step was a struggle against the relentless pull of gravity, the earth slick with dew beneath their feet. Aemond held onto her hand as tightly as she could - she hadn’t allowed him to touch her initially, having been in shock at being abducted from the arms of her betrothed - but there was only so much a defeated, tired princess could do on her own.

She panted from exertion. The blood on her face was dry now – he’d needed to hurt her to get her to comply. She looked at him with all the anger that he knew she was never capable of, and a forgotten corner of his mind yearned for an easier time when she’d held different feelings for him.

In an ideal world, there would have been no war. He could have married her, just as he’d promised in the protected darkness of the nights in hidden chambers and intimate correspondences. They could have been happy.

Though his thirst for vengeance was screaming at him, a small part of his mind wished for a quieter time; a time that would never come.

His family was dead, and he needed her to balance the scales. He owed Helaena that much. He owed Aegon that much. Mother, Daeron, Criston, sweet Jaehaerys, and Maelor - all his kith and kin. He had failed them all.

He would be damned to all Seven Hells before letting their deaths mean nothing.

At the hill's summit, the forest parted, revealing a precipice that loomed over the land below. The distant glimmer of moonlight danced upon the surface of a winding river, its waters black as night. He let go of her, and she fell to her knees, relishing the feeling of a flat surface and slower breaths as she bid her heart to slow down. He watched her ears perk up as she heard the crunch of his boots over the dry leaves, stalking towards her in that catlike stealth that he had taught himself to have.

He took her by surprise as he tightened his arm around her chest and grabbed her by the neck, making her body twitch in fear as she rose involuntarily. At the edge of the abyss, he turned her around to face him as he let the cold steel of his blade kiss her skin and travel over her frayed white dress from neck to navel.

How did we come to this?

She did not recognize the man in front of her.

He was the boy who had brought her books when her brothers teased her to the point of crying; who had kept her company in her grief of being a dragonless Targaryen; who had held her hand and promised that he would marry her; the one who had come rushing to her the night he claimed Vhagar, promising to take her on a ride.

He was the man who had taunted her and her brothers' parentage at a family supper; who had kissed her senseless in a lone passageway the very same night when he found out that Rhaenrya had no intention of letting him have her. He was the man who had killed sweet, mischievous Luke; the one whom she had left behind when she had been sent to the North; the one whom she had hoped would come and take her away, against all odds.

So many memories tied to him, inexplicably. And yet, she did not recognize the man in front of her.

As a boy, he had had such striking eyes - in color, but more so in the volatility of their regard. Always flitting about, looking for things to imbibe, to brand into his memory. His functional eye had grown different since she had last seen him - distant, devoid of the charming curiosity that would shine in his violet orb.

The eye of a war-worn murderer. He had probably brought her here because he wanted to kill her too.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered the words, almost uncertain. The coldness of his Valyrian steel dagger made goosebumps rise up on the planes of her skin, and yet, she surprisingly found that she was scared, not in the least.

He smirked and leaned in close to her, the leather strap of his eyepatch grazing her temple as she let the warmth of his breath bloom over her face. He raised the blade to her neck and teased her, being so bold as to let out a throaty, exhausted laugh that sounded more maniacal than anything else. She shut her eyes closed, hoping that if she could keep her world dark, she could pretend that this was all a nightmare.

She had often dreamt that he would take her away. She had hoped and hoped and hoped, and now that he was here, she couldn’t fathom how wrong she had been to wish for it.

Silly little fool.

“Sharp, sweet niece.”

His tone made her flinch. His voice was rough and predatory - so much so that she couldn’t tell if it was him or the situation itself that made her feel that way. “You’re supposed to be dead. Daemon….”

Her voice was lost in the air as he raised his eyebrow, a menacing smile in place as he pressed the blade into her skin - just enough to make a few blood red spots bloom. “I killed him. He thought he was better than me, the old fool. I stabbed him in his right eye, the very one that I lost. Vengeance, dear niece…” His thumb collected the first drop of blood that dripped from where he had made his mark, “... makes for the sweetest of spoils. And I intend to taste more of this victory…”

It happened on instinct, her reaching out to hold his wrist tight through his shirt. The irony of taking the hand of the man who wanted to hurt her and counting on him to not let her fall was not lost on her; but if she didn’t, she was sure she would faint.

“...With you.”

The last words confused her, having her mind scrabbling to piece the puzzle and figure out his intent. “Me?” She leaned her head back to breathe and put some space between her and his blade, but that only spurned him more as he pulled her to him by the back of her neck.

“Aegon, Helaena, Criston, Jaeherys, Maelor, mother…vengeance for them all. When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him, and then I’ll kill the little boy that you call a King. Take what is rightfully mine and avenge them.”

The Aemond she had known was too calculated, too weary to tell anyone anything at all. But this, this wasn’t her Aemond. This was a different man - a mad killer, a stranger; one that intended to use her in his rage-filled path to regicide and revenge.

When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him. 

She could only think of one man who would come looking for her. Her betrothed, Cregan Stark - the same man who had shown her Northern hospitality and shared his home and hearth so she could be kept safe away from the bloodshed of the war.

And Aemond wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill them all and take the Iron Throne.

“Gods…”

She had always felt compelled to help during the war. She wasn’t a skilled warrior, nor was she a bold woman. Dainty little sweetheart, her mother used to call her. How can I manage to keep you safe and sound?

She had always wanted to help her mother - be a good daughter and play her part in helping her sit the Throne, as was her birthright. When she had been sent to the North as Cregan Stark’s betrothed, Rhaenyra Targaryen had told her that this was her duty, her contribution to the Blacks’ victory.

You will help me win by keeping my mind at ease about you, child, she had said. You will help me win by staying safe and bringing the Northerners’ allegiance to our cause. 

That had been her contribution, but it hadn’t been enough. Daemon, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Rhaenys… they’re all dead. She had done what she could, and it was not enough.

And now, Aemond wanted to kill sweet Aegon. Her beloved brother, the little one who held the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would make a fine king, she knew - but not if Aemond was going to lure Cregan out to fight and make him vulnerable to attacks.

She’d be damned to all Seven Hells if she let him win.

He had been observing her, it seemed. As she let her thoughts sweep her away, he had taken to watching her, reminding himself of every inch of her. She raised her hand to his warm dry cheek, bony from what could have only been a lack of proper food. How long has he been staying here, amidst the trees?

“You don’t have to do this, uncle. Let me go now, and it’ll be like it never happened. There’s been enough bloodshed.”

She thought she imagined it, but she knew it was true when she felt his grip on the blade falter for just a moment. She made good on his momentary lapse and kicked his knee to fold under him with all her might. He fell, and she took hurried steps away from him as he grunted in pain.

Her skirts swirled as she turned just slightly, sneaking a peek off the edge of the hill. If she jumped, she would fall into the waters that ran below - but would that be enough? She’d have to die. She had to. She would not let him use her; she would not let him kill them.

This was her contribution to the war. Her deceased mother’s victory lay in her daughter’s ability to keep the rightful king alive. This was her chance, and she was not going to fail her. He stood up with panting breaths, and she looked him in the eye as boldly as she could, knowing very well that she might as well be living her last and final moments.

She had always wanted to fly - and if she wasn’t going to do it now, then when would she?

She closed her eyes and threw herself over the edge, seeing the sky become a fading memory as she made the steep drop. Halfway through, she opened her eyes and saw him leaning over the edge, panicked, watching her free-falling figure from the hilltop as she flew, flew, flew.

She fell into the water, making contact with sharp tree branches and thorns on the way down in her descent. The blood on her face and body mixed with the water that surrounded her, and blood-red ripples muddled her vision as she closed her eyes.

Water filled her nostrils, and her vision went dark in a matter of mere moments.

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Next Chapter

A/N: Got so inspired by the S2 poster, I managed to finish this damn thing hehe. This was a lot more fast paced than my usual writing style, and I'd love to hear what you guys think! I've been really out of touch with fic writing, and feedback is always welcome :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond fic #aemond #pro aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fanfiction

[strawbeelemonade]

ROMANTIC IMAGINE: Miguel O'hara visits you when you call in sick

i know how to write things other then headcannons i swear. theyre just so EASY. you can request actual fics lmao. promise! This was intended as romantic btw, but you can interperate this however you want!

WARNING: descripion of wounds/blood, description of burns, overprotectiveness,

Miguel lands on your balcony with a heavy thump, his landing was a little awkward from trying to swing with only one hand, but he managed well enough. The Tupperware in his hand looked a little worse for wear, though.

Almost every fibre of him wanted to turn around and forget about this, but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to, he needed to know you were ok.

You had called off sick from work yesterday, and you didn't show up today either. In all the time you were working at Alchemex you’ve never done that before. The secretary had told him you sounded like you were in a lot of pain over the phone, so it was obvious you were unwell in some way or another. He’s been worried ever since.

This felt stupid. Over dramatic, even. But he’d gone to his brother for advice, and this is what he had given him: Their moms classic Pozole recipe, The same recipe him and his brother ate while growing up. Obviously Miguel protested, adamantly. he hadn’t cooked for anyone in a very long time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still be able to… His brothers response?

“Do you want my help or not?”

So Miguel scrounged around the kitchen for what he needed. He squinted to read his mothers old chicken scratch from all those years ago. He put in the work, as uncomfortable as he felt, And He packaged it and come all the way here.

And now he didn’t know how to go forward.

He had never felt more out of his element in his life. As he Stood outside your window with the soup in his freakish claws he realised he didn’t know where to go from there. He hadn’t thought further than this point. What would he say when he gave it to you? What would he even do after that?

He had to awkwardly shimmy through the window with the Tupperware in one hand, almost stepping on a cable stretching across the floor. “Fuck—“

the hinges creaking offensively as he pushed down your open window and he cursed, shutting it as delicately as possible. When he heard your voice ring out from behind him he tensed.

“Uh, Hey Miguel!” You call from the bathroom. He breathed out the puff of air he was holding in. No turning back now.

“…Hey,” he called, not knowing where to begin. “…I brought you a little something.”

He makes his way to where he heard your voice coming from, and pauses briefly by your kitchen counter. He looks down at the soup in his hands.

…He could just leave it here, that would be less humiliating for everyone, wouldn’t it? He knew you were ok, now. He heard your voice, so you were alive. He did what he came here to do. He could turn around right now and escape while you were still in the bathroom.

But something stops him. A little smell wafted by his nose briefly. It was brief. It was faint. But it was there and it made him pause.

So he sits the soup on the counter quietly, but he doesn’t turn around. He walks further down the hall and takes a deep breathe. The smell is clearer now. Miguel gets a bad feeling.

He picks up the pace and pulls off his mask to get a better whiff, and suddenly he’s hit with the all too familiar stifling stench of blood.

No.

NO!

“Y/n!” He runs up to your bathroom door and starts rattling the handle, but the door is locked. He pauses when he hears your voice on the other side, clearer and more effective at preventing him from tearing the door off its hinges—.

“D-Don’t come in!” You yell. “I’m... ngh- I’m a bit busy in here!”

“Y/n, what do I smell?!” He doesn’t need you to tell him, He already knows the answer. It’s pungency rings clear from his side of the door. The tanginess was so prominent that even someone with normal senses could pick up on it.

“N-nothing!” You stutter. You always stutter when you’re nervous. And when you're lying.

“Are you bleeding? Where’s it coming from? Open up!” He starts banging on the door again, his fist unintentionally rattling the frame.

“You don’t smell anything- stop that!” You snapped, annoyance ringing clear. But there was a certain strain to your voice, a painful whine that made his heart drop. “I-I’m just, uh- changing! will you give me a minute? Please, Miguel.”

“Don’t lie to me! What’s wrong, can you not get to the door?” He starts backing up to gauge the frame of the door and… Yeah, he could kick that in, easily.

sensing what he was getting ready to do, you spring up from your spot hunched over on the side of the bath tub and amble to the bathroom door. “No no no!” You lean against the door, heaving. “Don’t do anything drastic, I’m right here!”

He paused and waited for you to open it, but your hesitation makes him start losing his patience. “Y/n-“

“I’m ok, Miguel. S-seriously. I just took a little tumble on the way home.” You swallow back a painful grunt as you lean on the door frame for more support. “Look…” you started. “Now’s really not a good time—“

“Y/n.”

You shut your mouth. ‘Oh, shit.’

the tone of his voice hid a warning. Miguel knew what you were going to suggest even before you said it, and he refused to let you finish. The fact that you were bleeding as much as you were for him to smell you across the house, And you were trying to hide it from him? It must be bad, there was no doubt about that. His brain began racing for answers, for explanations, for names. He didn’t know where you were hurt, god what if it was somewhere vital? Who did this to you and where? Why were you trying to hide it? Did they threaten you? Something must of happened. there was no way he would leave you here, No. There was no getting rid of him now.

“Open this door.” He says one final time. And you can tell it’s the final time from the tone of his words. His voice quaked with fury at even the mere insinuation that he’d ever leave you when you were wounded. That you were even wounded In the first place.

“Now.”

...

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you say anything. And for a second he thinks he’s going to have to break the door open inwards just to avoid plowing over you to get it open. But then he hears you apprehensively turn the lock and he almost breaks the handle from how fast he rips it open.

You stumble a bit, reeling at his strength. and then youre taking a tumble from being thrown off balance, but before you can even yelp out a cry he swoops in to catch you in his arms before your body can even comes close to hitting the floor. “Lo si—! Sorry! Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

from being so close he could tell immedietely that you were running warm, did you really have a fever too? He perches you on to the toilet seat and you wince at the ache washing through your body. God, your back was killing you... and Miguel's hands were all over you. you tried pulling your arms out of his grip, but he wasn't budging. he scoured your front for bruises, cuts, anything.

"what happened, where does it hurt, Y/N, please." he lifted your arms, checking your sides. nothing there... You couldn't bring yourself to answer, all the jostling around was making you go really dizzy... so much so that his words seemed to bounce off your ears. you squint at him. were there two of him before?

"Oi, mami/papi. focus for me. tell me where your hurt." he pats your cheek, snapping you a little out of your stupor. you blinked. his faced was pulled taught with worry, lines creased his skin in places that looked almost painful. and his eyes...

"Miguel... hhhave... your eyessschanged?" you weren't sure if it was the delirium from the pain finally setting in, or if your bathroom light just highlighted the underlying hues, but his tired brown eyes had shifted to a shade of... dare you say red.

they flicked back to your face, they had this wild look in them, like he was angry. but his voice wobbled like he was scared. "tell me where the pain is."

"... M' back.." you mumbled. he tugs on your shoulder to twist you around, making you whine. he apologizes quietly, before turning back to the red stains that were crawling up the back of your shirt.

you both descended into a tense silence. Miguel looked cramped, hovering over you in your tiny bathroom. he had to draw in his arms to not knock into your shower. not the most ideal place to play nurse... but he would manage. Miguel unshealthes his talons and cuts open the fabric like its warm butter. all you feel is a cold draft hit your back, and you shudder.

when he gets a good look at the state of your back his heart drops, what he finds isn't what he was expecting. your lower back is marred with an explosion like mass of burned skin. the center of the wound is deeper and more bloody then the rest, like something fast, blunt and burning hot struck you there.

God.

"Y/N, what the hell happened?" he glances at your bathroom bin and spots your old, scorched shirt lying inside. so you really were changing... that explained why the shirt you were wearing didn't have a massive gaping hole in it.

"Lyla. whats the aetiology for this." she flickers into view next to him, screening your back, and she winces.

"the lascerations have been caused by 1st and 2nd degree burns, the wound has become infected and needs to be treated immediately. the depth of the wound is telling me that the collision was hard and fast, likely a projectile."

"they were shot?."

"most likely. not by any normal weapon though, obviously." she confirmed, "it... doesn't look like the infection has interfered with the spinal collum." she optimistically added.

"will it scar?" he tilted his head towards her, but didn't take his eyes off the wound.

the Ai assistant didn't respond, calculating the most nerve settling response to his question. her silence told him everything he needed to know. "yeah, don't answer that." a snarl was building in his throat, fighting its way to the top.

he spots the first aid bag and its contents sprawled across your counter. most of it was over the counter painkillers, light ointments and bandaids. nothing in there that would help you.

"ok." he drags his hand down his face looking around the room. "Hijo de puta-!" his fist banged against the wall in a burst of anger, the pathetic thin walls rattled underneath the force. "Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?!"

you were stuck in this apartment by yourself, barely able to move or, jesus, even think. the fact that he could have never come… No, that he had come but couldve left here without knowing you were going through this on your own... the thought made him sick. why did you let it get this bad? what had happened?

you don't answer his question, your breathing has started to grow heavier, fevered. the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck had grown thicker as well. miguel reaches out to hold you steady. his mind racing. you can't stay here.

he knows he has to make a call. literally. he lifts his watch to his face.

"Jess, get someone on the medical team to prepare for my arrival." he picks you up carefully and fights to keep his voice from rising, he wasn't thinking clearly. all he could think about was getting you somewhere safe.

it wasn't common for miguel to ask for medical assistance, even at times when he probably should. he didn't like calling for help, he prefered to do things on his own, even to his own detriment. the idea that something could shake miguel up like this, making him ask for assistance, was new. Jessica could hear the tension in his throat as clear as day.

"whats your condition." she responded, concern shining through in her voice.

"no, no. i'm fine." he answered. "i've got an injured with me, they've been shot and need first aid immedietely. its a second degree burn that been left for over 24 hours, its infected."

"...done." she answers. "are they a new recruit?"

"they're a friend."

Pozole: a traditional soup or stew that is made from hominy with meat, you can put in things like shredded lettuce/cabbage, chilli peppers, onions, garlic, radishes, avocado, salsa or limes. (this sounds scrummy ngl i'm so hungry bro)

"Lo siento": i'm sorry (this is when he goes "Lo si-" but cuts himself off)

"Oi, mami": hey, Mama (i learned that mami or mamita can be used in a lot of different ways. native spanish speakers can use it to adress parentel figures, friends that give motherly energy, or it can even be used as a funny nickname for kids. i've seen a lot of people use it sexually in fics, but apparently thats not always the case!)

aetiology: kind of like a diagnosis, but different. its the cause of a desease or condition. idk if it's applicable to wounds, though.

"Hijo de puta-!": son of a bitch-!

I put these here so if anyone has any corrections i could make to the terms I’ve used to be more accurate then I can change them accordingly. I used online translators and articles… if anyone has any good websites for translating languages let me know! i'd be really interested.

#love is stored in the pozole #across the spiderverse #spider man #spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 99 #spiderman99 #into the spider verse #hurt/comfort #gender nuetral reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #angst #fluff #fanfic

[talesofesther]

the one who stayed

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: For a moment, Sebastian thought he lost you, and now the guilt for what happened is eating away at him.

A/N: Yes, this is very random. I debated a lot on whether to even post this here or not, but, this Tumblr is, before anything else, a library for me to store my own works. I post everything I write here, so I figured this one shouldn't be the exception because I did like how it turned out.

Masterlist

Cold. That was all your brain could register at the moment; how the ground felt so cold underneath you.

"She's not moving."

You could hear a familiar, urgent voice right beside you. But as the seconds slowly trickled by like blood dripping from an open wound, it became increasingly hard for you to understand what exactly that voice was saying. Yet you could still register the fear laced within the tone, you could feel it in the shakiness of his hold.

Trembling hands held onto your arm, one of them slowly brushing against your skin until it found your hand.

You wished you could see his face right now. Sebastian had always been bold, confident. Though you were almost certain there would be a faint blush hidden under his freckles right now because of the intimate gesture.

But your eyes were heavy. Try as you might, you couldn't seem to blink them open. Come to think of it, your whole body felt heavy, maybe that's why you couldn't move. Even breathing was slowly turning into too much effort.

The hand holding onto your own tightened its grip.

People were talking around you. You couldn't make out any words anymore, they sounded like nothing but faint noise. The tune of his voice still kissed your ears, however; even if you couldn't recognize the words, you knew it was him. And he sounded erratic, scared. There was a tightness to it, syllables getting stuck in his throat; it was all wrong, you didn't like to hear him in this state.

A deeper voice was there too — you instantly recognized the timbre that belonged to the man who was always crushing Sebastian's hopes — and in the back of your mind, it brought anger to your chest. But there was nothing you could do anymore. Wisps of remaining magic tingled on the tip of your fingers and held your heart in a tight, hurtful grip. Maybe you'd gone too far.

A pair of rough hands then picked up your body, taking you away from the cold embrace of the catacomb's floor.

And when the blood dripping from your nose reached your lips, coating your tongue with a metallic taste, you realized that maybe you did go too far after all. Part of you could already hear the keepers berating you for rushing your abilities.

Consciousness slipped from your grasp shortly after that. Your head falling limp against someone's shoulder, and feeling a hand still holding onto yours.

—

Hogwarts' hospital wing was pretty quiet most days, only with the usual first year who scraped their elbow falling from a broom or suffering the effects of a spell gone slightly wrong. They never stayed for long though, nurse Blainey was all too used to these types of encounters.

Yet every now and then, one of the beds stays occupied for a longer period of time.

There were several beds — their metal frame and pale sheets doing little to ease the hospital vibe — one beside the other on each side of the spacious room.

You were glad to be put on one which stayed further away from the main doors; it made for more calmness this way. You had no need to engage with the unfortunate first years and could focus on leaning back and feeling the soft wisps of sunlight kissing your skin from the high window behind you.

It bothers you that you can't exactly remember how you got here. The nurse hadn't filled you with much information either; she told you an older man had brought you in, talking about a casting exercise gone wrong and you overworking yourself; she also said you remained unconscious for about 15 hours before finally waking up — pale, weak, confused.

Most of those feelings still crawled under your skin. Your body is still feeling 10 times heavier than it actually was. You wanted to get up and run off to find Sebastian but you had a nagging sensation that, if you did so now, you'd fall face-first on the floor.

The fabric of the thin blanket draped over you felt soft as you worried it between your fingers, nearly tearing it apart. The last thing you remembered was being in the catacombs, with Sebastian, and wanting to do nothing but protect him — both from himself and his uncle.

His uncle.

Could it be that he was the one who actually brought you back to school?

You doubted Sebastian would have the strength to carry you all the way back here — as much as he might fight you on that argument.

Running a hand through your hair, you pulled at the roots. Your frustration escaped with a long sigh.

The old floorboards creaked under a new weight. At first, you assumed it would be nurse Blainey coming back to check on you. But, from the side of your eye, you caught a glimpse of green, and your heart fought against your ribs, trying to escape your chest.

Sebastian stood a few feet away from your bed, though you could hardly recognize him. The brown locks of his hair were all over the place, way messier than usual; his eyes had a red tint to them, mixed with dark circles of someone who hasn't slept in a while; his usual grin was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced with a pained frown; his hands held onto his robes with a death grip.

"I heard you were awake."

His voice didn't sound like the one you had grown to love.

"How are you feeling?" The question stumbled past his lips and he avoided your eyes shortly after. He sounded as if you would yell at him to leave at any moment. It only got you more confused.

"Better, a little weak still," you bit at the inside of your cheek. This moment shouldn't feel as fragile as it does. "Care to tell me what happened?"

You didn't think your tone was harsh, but Sebastian flinched at your voice anyway. Bad memories washed over him like a bucket of icy water.

He met your gaze before hesitantly closing the distance between you, choosing to sit at the edge of your bed.

He looked worse up close. Eyes distant, trapped elsewhere.

"We were fighting against my uncle and the-" Sebastian gulped, guilt squeezing at his throat like barbed wire, "the inferi."

You acknowledged his words with a soft nod, slowly remembering things as he spoke. You pushed yourself up to sit straighter, just a couple of inches closer to Sebastian. He looked like he needed it.

The words lingered on his tongue. You never thought you'd see him this way; hesitant, lost, regretful. With tears on the verge of spilling over his freckled cheeks.

"You were trying to reason with my uncle; and me, for that matter," Sebastian chuckled halfheartedly, "trying to stop us from killing each other, when the inferi started to close on us. You didn't think twice, and all I saw were lighting strikes coming through the ceiling of the catacomb, destroying everything but us, and… you laying on the floor afterwards."

Memories were clearer now. Sebastian had attacked his uncle after he destroyed the relic and they started exchanging spells at each other while the inferi slipped from Sebastian's control. Everything could go very bad, very quickly. You remembered trying to speak with them, make them see past the anger clouding their judgment. But it was to no avail. What you remember the most, however, was seeing Sebastian so focused on his uncle, and unaware of the mass of inferi coming towards him.

You really hadn't thought twice at all. Ancient magic flowed through your veins like wildfire; it was all you could feel. The rumbling of thunder became your heartbeat. You killed each and every one of the creatures, burning out all of your energy in the process.

"And what of Solomon?" You found yourself wondering.

Sebastian pursed his lips. His eyebrows scrunched slightly as his body tensed for a moment and then relaxed again. "We stopped fighting as soon as I ran up to you. I- I begged that he'd help me bring you back to school. I'm not sure where he is now." His body shook with each intake of air. "Or Anne."

"Well, guess my plan worked after all. At least I got you to stop fighting," you tried to lighten the heavy air around you and Sebastian, mustering a teasing grin as you tilted your head to try and catch a glimpse of his eyes.

Sebastian worried his lower lip between his teeth to keep it from quivering. There was no witty remark, no ironic comment. Nothing. His tears were one blink away from spilling over.

Maybe if you listened closely, you'd be able to hear your heart shattering. For him. For this broken boy barely holding the last pieces of himself together in front of you, for this boy who stood so desperately alone in the world.

You reached out, your hand closing tightly around Sebastian's — because you couldn't bare seeing him alone one second more. Your thumb brushed against his skin. You could feel his trembling. "We'll find him, and Anne. I promise we'll figure things out, Sebastian."

He was shaking his head before you even finished speaking, squeezing his eyes shut and causing a single tear to roll down his cheek. "No, you don't understand," his broken words fell from his lips at the same time he pulled away from your touch.

"I never-" Sebastian stood up then, choking on his own breathing as he looked at you with a mix of longing and anguish. "It was never my intention to hurt you… I'm sorry," he whispered, so quietly that if the hospital wing wasn't as empty as it is, you would've missed it.

"Sebastian, you didn't-" you cut yourself off when he abruptly turned away from you and started marching towards the main doors of the spacious room, putting as much distance between you and him as he could.

The fatigue still gripping at your muscles was the last thing on your mind when you threw away the covers and stood — albeit on shaky legs — to go after him. "Sebastian, please wait," you called, grimacing as he took your heart with him.

Ultimately, you didn't go very far. Nurse Blainey stopped you in your tracks before you could even reach the middle of the room.

—

The sun rays shining through the tall stained glass windows were warm against your skin, doing little to help with your current sleepy state as you tried to at least pretend to be paying attention to class.

"It's been nearly a week, Ominis." You groaned, folding your arms on top of the table so you could lay your head down, "do you think he's mad at me for trying to stop him?"

The boy sitting beside you chuckled quietly, twirling his wand in his hands. "Darling, I don't think Sebastian could be mad at you even if he wanted to."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Professor Binns walked by a little too close for comfort; his ghostly form sending a shiver down your body.

"He's been spending most of his evenings hiding away in the Undercroft," Ominis felt around on the table until his fingers brushed the fabric of your robes, he gently closed his hand around your wrist and squeezed comfortingly. "I believe it would do both of you some good if you went to see him."

—

It was mostly dark out already. The sky slowly filled with stars as night settled in and a soft cold breeze hung around the DADA hallways. The pristine floors reflected the image of your shoes, pacing back and forth restlessly.

You were having second thoughts. Apprehension tugged at your heartstrings because as much as you didn't want to admit it, the sight of Sebastian walking away from you so desperately that day had stung.

Though no matter how much you stalled, you knew you'd relent. The sleepless nights you've been going through lately are enough of a telltale of the effect Sebastian has on you.

A deep breath filled your lungs and you closed your eyes, pleading for your heartbeat to settle as you pushed open the door to the Undercroft.

The familiar warmth hugged you instantly. All of the candlelights dimly shining against the stone walls forced away the frown that clung to your brows. You'd never blamed Ominis for being so protective of this place, it really was the perfect hideaway.

You found Sebastian pretty quickly. He sat on the floor against the far wall to your right, knees tucked close to his chest as his wand moved delicately, making a paper bird flap its wings and fly around in front of him. The bird fell limply to the floor when Sebastian's eyes landed on you, however. You thought you saw him gulp and straighten his back too, but other than that, the Slytherin boy expressed no other reaction upon seeing you. It felt almost as if he was expecting your arrival.

Your feet were momentarily frozen to the stone floor, Sebastian's gaze burning through your soul. You also couldn't help but notice how lonely he looked, just sitting there by himself; it made your stomach turn unpleasantly. You wondered if he considered himself deserving of it.

It was as if you spoke with your eyes for a beat. You saying that if he wanted you to leave, you would. And Sebastian pleading for you to stay.

All that could be heard were your steps echoing through the Undercroft as you carefully came to sit beside him. Your shoulder just shy of touching his.

The silence wasn't a comfortable one, but it also wasn't awkward. It was just heavy. There was a tension in the air that none of you knew how to address.

Sebastian's knuckles were white around his wand, he sat stiff beside you, not once glancing your way.

You figured that if you didn't speak, you'd be sitting in silence for hours. You glanced down at the paper bird that lay discarded on the floor, your lips quirking up just slightly as you picked it up; "you know, my mother taught me how to make these when I was younger. Without magic, that is." You chuckled. You rarely spoke about your parents, it was a sensitive topic. But it was your way of trying to make Sebastian feel more comfortable to share what he was feeling with you; what was bothering him.

"I used to get rather frustrated when I couldn't get it right the first times," you gently inspected the small bird with your fingers, thumbs running along the smooth white paper, "but she'd always tell me to take a breath, count to five, and start again."

With your eyes fixed on the paper bird in your hands, you didn't notice Sebastian's eyes fixed on your profile. The grip on his wand loosened slightly as he committed every detail of you to memory.

A shiver ran down your back when you finally turned your head to face him again. He was close, your breaths mingling as the lines of your relationship blurred and burned with the candles.

"Sebastian…" You breathed, watching the way his eyes darted to your lips and back to your eyes, "about what happened at the catacombs, I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry." He cut you off suddenly, voice quiet and a little choked, but firm.

"I am, though," you leaned your head back against the stone wall, involuntarily leaning closer to him as your body gravitated to his warmth. "I'm sorry things didn't go as planned, but I promise we're not gonna stop looking for anything else that might help Anne."

Sebastian averted his gaze from you, furrowing his brows. You saw tears steadily collecting on the bottom lid of his eyes, despite his efforts to hide them. "Stop it," he mumbled.

You shifted in your seat, your jaw set tightly in place. The beats of your heart against your chest were painful. The thought of Sebastian distancing himself from you was painful. So much so that you fear you'd be willing to do anything to fix it, within reason or not.

"I mean it, Sebastian, I will do anything-"

"Stop it! You don't get it, do you?" He snapped, his eyes burning into yours again and shining under the candlelights. "I saw you laying on the floor of that damned catacomb and I thought you were dead!" The syllables broke and stuttered past his lips, the pain and fear he felt that day came back in waves and twisted his expression.

You were stunned to silence, watching as Sebastian opened his mouth, lower lip trembling as he searched for his voice again.

"Do you have any idea of what that felt like?" He whispered, words strangled and squeezing his chest until he had trouble breathing. You were nothing but a blur in front of him. Sebastian pursed his lips to try and keep himself from breaking. Speaking it out loud somehow felt like making it real. "I thought I'd just lost you, and… and it would be my fault."

The feeling of your gentle thumb carefully brushing against his cheek brought Sebastian back to reality, and he realized his tears were already dripping down his chin.

"I would never blame you for what happened," you shook your head, smiling sadly as you felt your own eyes sting, "you were just trying to help your sister, when everyone else had given up."

"I will cure Anne… but not at the expense of you," in some ways, he looked surprised at his own words; at the truthfulness of them. He gulped back a sob, "I thought I could control it," Sebastian breathed in sharply, avoiding your gaze but leaning into your touch, "I went too far, as Ominis has probably told you a thousand times already."

You chuckled softly, sneaking your fingers over his jaw and until they disappeared between the brown locks of his hair. Sebastian closed his eyes briefly at your comforting touch, allowing himself to melt against you. "He's more understanding than you give him credit for," you smiled.

That got half a smile out of Sebastian, his freckles highlighted by the candles around you. His hand inched closer to your free one resting on your lap, the tip of his fingers timidly closing around yours, craving more of you. His pupils were blown wide when he finally looked up at you again.

"I promise to never do anything this reckless again." His low tone left no room for doubt.

You leaned in slightly, feeling his fringe tickle your forehead. You thought you heard him trying to suppress a gasp, but maybe it was your foggy mind playing tricks on you.

There was a glint in his eyes you'd never seen before, still shining with remains of his emotions; but vulnerable, calm, loving.

"I am quite fond of your reckless side, though."

Your unexpected words brought an endearing blush across Sebastian's freckles. You felt the shape of his teasing grin when his lips touched yours.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sebastian’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x f!reader #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #sebastian sallow fanfiction #my story

[lazyjellyfish300]

I'm Here.

Miguel O'Hara x Fem reader

Synopsis: Miguel is here to help fix your back pain. Fluff ensues. 💕🖤 Word count: 2k

A/N: for the lovely @ilovetoomanymen . Thanks for the inspiration! I ran across one of their posts with this prompt in mind and decided to give it a go. Hope you like it. 😁🫶🏽 Cuddles with Mig would be soooo heavenly. Mrpmphhhhjj. This was written for fem pov, but besides the gendered terms the story could be enjoyed by anyone.

TW: established relationship, back pain, crying, fluff, some heavy kisses

Miguel sighs loudly as his mask dissipates, rubbing his temples as he shuffles towards your shared bedroom, nearly tripping over the jam-packed laundry basket with a mountain of clothes that's now begun to lean lopsided, until he knocked it slightly, sending the underwear, shirts, and dirty sheets on top into a heap on the floor with Miguel rolling his eyes in annoyance.

He kicks a stray sock off his foot and opens the door carefully with a small creak. The TV is playing your favorite show, but it's long forgotten, the autoplay on its sixth or seventh episode by now, no longer following the plot. You're sprawled out in the middle of the bed, sheets askew. You let out a small groan, your sweatpants you're wearing are starting to ride up on one leg, socks mismatched, your hoodie is making your skin itch but you're in too much pain and feel too lazy to move. Your hair is wild and one of your arms is covering both of your eyes as it lays across your face. You dip slightly as Miguel sits on the bed next to your torso, the soreness of your back triggered by the mild disturbance and you let another loud groan escape, this one slightly more dramatic than the previous.

Miguel raises an eyebrow, one of his hands gently pulling at your arm that's covering your eyes, wanting to have you look at him. "Looks like both of us had a shitty day, huh?" A very faint chuckle rolls from his chest as he notices your arm flops like a dead fish, but his eyes grow slightly wide in alarm when he notices your eyes are wet. Your glistening lashes blink rapidly at him as more tears build up in your irises below, gravity already causing some to leak out of the corners, racing down your face and grazing your ears, the temperature warm, the feeling salty, your face puffy indicating this wasn't the first time today you cried.

¿Qué pasa? ¿Por qué lloras, mi alma? (What happened? Why are you crying, my soul) Miguel murmurs, laying on his stomach as he cups your face in his hands, looking down at you as you look up at him, his face upside down in your vision because of how you're positioned.

You shake your head with a small sniffle, one of your hands pawing weakly for the tissue box that lay next to you. Miguel reaches over, taking the box and offers you one. You greedily pull out one after another, Miguel's brows raising slightly at how many tissues you could possibly need. You sit up, a pained wince flashing across your face as you blow furiously into the Kleenex bouquet.

Miguel watches you patiently as you furiously rub your nose, your breath shaky as it exits and you turn and look at your boyfriend fully for the first time. "My back is killing me."

Miguel's eyes flicker across your form, as though he was trying to search for the spot that was giving you trouble. "Where?"

"Everywhere..." you whine feebly, a scowl appearing on your face as you go to lay backwards again. "I slept on it funny last night...I had to call off work today because there was no way I could do everything in this much pain..." You suck in air between your teeth as you try and shift positions and move the pillows.

Miguel sits up, trying to stop you from overexerting yourself. "Hey...hey..." He drags a pillow to your front, patting it so it's nice and fluffed, flipping it to the colder side. "First of all....you shouldn't lay directly on your back if it's hurting, mi vida..."

You brace yourself for more pain to radiate through your body, squinting as you gently lower yourself down, laying on your favorite side. Miguel places both hands on either side of you, guiding your head to the pillow which you hit with a gentle sigh. The cold temperature of the fabric brushing your face in a satisfying feeling that tickles your brain, soft purrs of contentment leaving your lips. Miguel smiles and hums, one of his hands sliding down your hip as he gently lifts your knee, propping another pillow between them for support.

"That better...?" he asks in a soothing tone, careful not to make his voice too loud and disrupt the pain-free trajectory you were finally on after hours of discomfort.

"Much better, baby...thank you."

"You're welcome, baby..." He presses a soft kiss into your cheek which you answer with a faint twitch of your mouth.

Miguel's eyes wander to your overcrowded nightstand, the space being taken up by empty bottles, plastic drink tumblrs, bobby pins and a couple of your favorite books you keep forgetting to finish. "You been drinking enough water?"

"Mmm..." you lazily answer, the cozy position you were laying in already making your eyes droopy, your mind struggling to form coherent thoughts to audible sentences. "Yeahhh kiindaa.."

Miguel shakes his head and gets your water cup off the night table, brushing all the empty bottles into your mini trash can, carefully creeping across the room and down the hall to get you a fresh glass.

Once he's back, he sets the glass in the nightstand, gently waking you up for you to take several generous sips before you get comfy again. Miguel brings the bed comforter over you, tucking your feet in like a human burrito. "Where you going, babe?" You ask him, your voice a little sad at the thought of him leaving you already.

Miguel gives you a soft look, crouching down to your level next to the bed. Crimson irises flicker with tender study as they look back into your own. "I was gonna see if you needed anything else?"

You shake your head, one of your hands reaching behind his head, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck, making his face go warm. "Just you..."

Miguel gives you a dazzling smile, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed. He lays behind you in the spoon position, being careful not to press too forcefully against you and hurt your back again. He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, running his fingertips across the side of your face, tracing the outline of your body as you squeak out a small yawn.

"Rub my back, please?" You ask, closing your eyes. Miguel nods, sitting up, gesturing for you to reposition so you're on your tummy. You wince again as you lay on your stomach, Miguel positions himself over you so his knees are in between the gaps in your legs, lowering his upper body so he's hovering and careful not to press too much weight onto you.

He brings both hands to your shoulder blades, working his palms into a gentle caress on the skin below. You suck air between your teeth, jerking your head slightly upwards in pain with a whimper.

Miguel tilts his head in concern, "I hurt you?"

You nod a little, pressing your cheek back into the pillow. "It's okay..."

"Pobrecita..." (Poor thing) Miguel murmurs, moving his hands away from that spot for now, working on the other areas of your back.

Miguel's not a stranger to back pain, although his physical ailments he's dealt with are usually few and far between after his transformation into a Spider person. If he is feeling crummy he doesn't need to deal with it for long, thanks to his enhanced ability to heal. The scientist he is, he loved anatomy and studied muscle groups, incorporating it into his trainings and used the knowledge to help him maintain his envious physique. Now, he was transferring what he knew into this moment as he began his massage on your tender back.

He hummed quietly as he worked on you, calloused hands from climbing, webbing, and fighting normally tense and rough handling you as though you were made of glass and paper. Gently kneading, skillfully transferring weight between different parts of his hand, murmuring to you in a sweet tone, checking to make sure you were doing alright, that he wasn't overwhelming you, that he was handling you gently and properly rubbing the muscles without triggering your pain.

Your skin utterly melted under his touch. His hands the brush and your back morphing into something of a canvas. Your chest gently heaved, breaths becoming more relaxed, more content as you just allowed your discomfort to leave you and he soaked it up like a sponge. You could feel the tension and worry being tugged out of your body with each ginger press of his fingers. You could never get over the way this seemingly intimidating man to those who didn't know him seemed to evolve into the biggest sweetheart who wouldn't hurt a fly the moment you entered his orbit.

You were dissipating at this point, your skin and your body rendered to a liquid underneath this man. He stayed silent, save it for his soft murmurs and your gentle purrs of satisfaction. He looked at you when you weren't looking like you were responsible for putting the breath in his lungs, a quiet sense of pride making him feel warm all over when he saw how successful he was at making you feel better. His sweet girl.

When you were fully satisfied with his work and your pain much more manageable, he shifted so he was laying behind you once again. You felt an emptiness when you could no longer sense him above you. "Miggy..."

"I'm here." He reassures. His tone dulcet. "I'm here...." he coos again. Mellifluous, soothing melody that silenced all your fears and put them to sleep. You exhaled as you felt his body press against yours in the bed, making yourself small against him. His strength wrapping you up like a hug.

He pulled you closer to him, a fuzzy feeling running through his veins at the outline of you. A shape he could never get used to, a pattern he became an expert in. Handling and taking care of your body was a job he'd gladly accept and take ownership in. It made him feel special, the way you so trustfully lent yourself to him, though he knew how stubborn you could be. You all but turned to putty in his hands.

He rests his chin in the crook of your neck, letting the silence between you amplify in tranquility when the gentle patter of raindrops begins to beat against the window. He presses soft kiss after kiss into your temple, the plump feeling of his lips on your skin is too sweet to resist. You gently roll over, meeting his kiss and he groans feebly, his turn to become completely helpless under the tenderness of your touch.

You lay there and kiss him, your fingers tangling themselves in his tousled locks, the soft moan you release in his mouth causing him to respond by lightly sliding his tongue into your mouth. You oblige, the kiss deepening, making him sigh. His pleasant noises leaving you with a healthy dose of desire, your pain all but a distant memory at this point.

He pulls away for a moment and you shift your face closer to his, your gazes become intertwined for several intimate moments.

"I love you, you know that....?" you ask softly.

Miguel places a hand on your hips, his thumbs leaving tiny circles, gradually finding residence underneath your hoodie so he can feel your bare skin. His touch sending a tiny pulse of electricity up your spine. He leans in closer, "I sure do, beautiful..."

He plants a kiss in the middle of your forehead. "Te quiero tanto, mi cielo(I love you so much, my sweetheart)..." He murmurs against your skin, the tremor of his voice calming your soul.

"Mi cielo..."(My sweetheart) He presses another kiss, this time on your cheekbone, gently dragging his lips down to yours, a trail of adoration on your face. You lock lips with him again, softly sighing and moaning, both your hands and his all over the other's body, raindrops persistent on the roof of your little apartment, light slowly draining, leaving the sky a murky gray, his lips the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment as your heart stirs alongside his in your cozy bed.

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel ohara fluff #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #Spotify

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

To Hunt a Silver Stag (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Knight!Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Fae Princess!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 6.9k

WARNINGS: Arranged marriage, talks of childbirth, traditional views of women & men in medieval times, talks of war, death, heavy religious imagery/symbolism, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wore a crown of deer antlers atop your head. Charms were woven into the gaps between the tines, attached to golden thread; jewels of starlight strung like teardrops from the moon. Your feet, staying still on the hard stone of the Great Hall, are bare though attract no dirt or dust—it is as if the very ethereal aura that coats your gown of pure white repels any such thought of uncleanliness or corruption of this mortal plane. 

You are so very far from home.

Standing in the center of your soon-to-be husband’s court, your eyes seem not to be on the man himself, who watches you greedily from the throne of black iron, but instead behind him. Blank of any emotion, your long lashes blink in the direction of the stained glass windows with a horrible longing. Whispers from the multitude of court attendants go in one ear and out the other—useless to you. Their time would be gone in a blink, and yet here you would remain, immemorial. Their words were nothing, and their utterances would turn to dust faster than their bodies would.

You can’t help but wonder if those colorful depictions in that glass window, of God and his valiant angels, are mocking you as you blink at them slowly. Not only for what you are and where you now find yourself in the kingdom of your enemies but for being so full of the very qualities that would normally resign a woman of this age to the stake. 

Independent, confident, and curious, among others. 

A voice raises above the rest, and your eyes blink elegantly, the silver hue to them unnatural in all senses. Yet, you do not look away from the mighty white stag, its soldered bits of thin glass a patchwork of an overwatching Lord. Saint Eustace is there, staring at it, just as was told from generation to generation.

A pagan man converted to Christianity, the symbol of a cross set between antlers very much like the ones adorning your head. Humming under your breath, your eyes dip down, chin moving. Below the window, there stands a tall knight, and your gaze locks with his softly. 

“Today,” the King’s voice echoes over the crowd as brown orbs stare at you, blinking. “We are here to celebrate the joining of two great bloodlines!” He stands with a grand cape over his shoulders, falling to the floor as his boots stand at the top of the stairs to the throne. Yet, this knight holds your attention more than your Promised does as the cheering starts, loud; making your ears twitch.

At your waist, a golden belt is engraved with expert attention, stories woven into metal that even seem to move with the magic embedded into it. It seems to hum with an energy that makes your eyes narrow in confusion upon this stranger.

He had brown eyes, the knight, and the hues reminded you of brown that you could see in the trees of your home—those old beasts that grew still with the magic of your line and your gentle touch. Surrounding him, there was silver armor and a strip of red fabric that went over one shoulder, hanging beside the items of his station; a sword and a dagger on a brown leather belt.

Brows furrowing, your head tilts slowly, unblinking, as the eye contact persists. 

A bold man, it seems.

The knight’s eyelids slightly widen, as if realizing he had been staring, and his face swiftly moves to the side, his short hair close to his oval skull. You hear the faint clearing of a throat come into the shell of your pointed ears.

Sighing, your focus returns to the matter at hand, the crown’s adornments clinking together as your head rotates. The speech. 

King Michael spreads his hands out, a man far into his older years but still had the gleam of malice in his eyes. Those beady things. They remind you of a rat—a small creature, while intelligent, that cannot win unless through tricks.

“We all know that magic has slowly been disappearing from the lands,” the King utters, voice echoing off the walls. Your hands are holding themselves near your abdomen, grace embedded into your bones. Watching how he speaks, you can’t deny he was influential. But influence didn’t matter when you had no wife—no children. He has a dying line, and that means weakness…which is why you’re here, after all. “And in that time, our war with the Fae has fallen into a stalemate.”

Your expression sharpens, fingers twitching. Stalemate? There were humans in your lands—spreading their fires and swinging their defiling iron swords. There was no war here except the one that this King was perpetuating. 

But you held your tongue, even if your silver eyes narrowed in an ancient, bitter, anger. Your head raises itself higher, hanging gemstones swinging. The knight near the stained glass is back to watching you—his feet shifting from under him, hands behind his armored back with loose shoulders.

“...Today, myself and the King of the Fae have come to an agreement in confidence, and in the fashion of old, I am to be wed to his daughter, a princess!” Gasps, cheers, clapping. They spring up from all corners of the Hall, bouncing. Your body longs for nature, to be away from rock and metal, these suffocating walls that close in with the gaggle of wretched corpses walking. “Peace shall be beholden to all of us! Magic shall come back into my bloodline through our many children, and all will share in its wealth!” 

You had compared yourself to a broodmare when your father had given the news of your journey here. A womb to be filled until you could give no more; restrained to a bed—away from any privilege and right.

And you’d been sent here anyway. A price needed to be paid, your father had told you. A daughter to stop the war. A child to bring back mortal magic and keep the peace through generations. Was your head to be put to the block for that? Who was to say that children would bring peace? That there weren’t more conflicts to come?

This was a momentary sacrifice, and here you were wearing white.

You hum under your breath and feel shackles tie themselves to your ankles; tying you to this place. But what other option did you have?

Your ears listen to the loud rapturous cheering, the exclamations of love that mean nothing to you—you do not love these people, do not love their need for violence and their pride. You want to go home, to find where you can rest among glades and grass. Converse with the birds and the beasts to learn of their news of far-off lands; run your hands through clear streams and watch plants grow where you walk.

As your stone body stays still, silver eyes unblinking, the knight near the window is the only man in the room not gazing at you like he wants something from you. While Lords have their eyes filled with lustful envy of your age-less skin—your finery and wealth; the promise of strong children, the knight is the only one with an open expression. 

He only watches, handsome face holding the whispers of stubble and eyes that would make many moral women wish to be his wife. 

Admittingly, your attention keeps going back to him, just as his own is stuck on you even as he tries to look professional. Back straight, armor glinting, sword pommel fiddled with by long fingers. 

The King is walking down the stairs, one withered leg at a time. You don’t offer any help.

“My bride,” Michael licks his lips when he’s in front of you; but he’s more fixated on your stomach than all else. What it will hold for him. “My beautiful Fae bride. My wedding will be known through history for ages to come.”

My. 

The world holds its breath. The knight’s jaw clenches, though no one sees it. 

You take a heavy breath into your lungs to hold back your snapping tongue. As the words meet the air, they come out as unemotional as a wave at sea. Wind holding mist.

“Certainly.”

—

As it turned out, the castle itself was even less homely than the material that was used to build it. You walk slowly through the halls, hands behind your back and your crown glimmering—the trail of a thin and flowing gown making you look like a specter. One crudely carved window after another passes by your right shoulder, and you look out of every slit; seeing the silver shades of moonlight. In contrast, everything on your left was washed with firelight from the blazing iron sconces, your ears twitching to the pop of wood and fabric saturated in animal fat. 

Everything here was horrible.

A prison, you think, slowing near one of the larger windows in the hall. A cage.  

Staring outside, trying for only a moment to understand the disgusting castle and adjoined town you look at, there’s a faint noise from far down the corridor. 

Wasting no time, your head moves slowly to the side, blinking. There isn’t anyone to be seen, but yet again, your slightly pointed ears twitch. 

A firm heartbeat. 

Bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump.

Staring at nothing, you listen for a moment, taking it in as your visage fights with blue and red light, shadows littering the small cracks and the marks of stone—your hands slightly tighten, but you hold no fear. 

You refused to be afraid here; you would go to your spiritual death with a high head, and nothing less. 

“It’s unbecoming to stalk as if a wolf,” you call, voice smooth and even. A beat of bird’s wings. “Four-legged beasts have perfected it, yet, the same cannot be said of you.” 

There’s a lapse of silence—a swirling of slight tension that comes not from you but another. The heartbeat in your ear lightly skips. Startled. A shadow cusps one of the connected hallways, a gleam of silver armor. You blink slowly.

“Apologies, Ma’am.” The Knight. The one from the Great Hall. “I…didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

His lithe form doesn’t try to hide from your accusation, instead, his body moves to the middle of the stone floor and straightens—one hand going to his heart and the other behind his back; bowing. The darkness of his complexion seems to glow in the light, smooth skin besides the marring of small scars along the left cheek. Tiny things, only two lines.

For no reason at all, your body lightly turns towards him, watching.

“I’m not nervous,” you respond. “Please, stand straight.” 

He does so without hesitation, though his eyes are avoiding yours. A guilty pull is to his lips that you can’t help but quirk a brow at. Yet, you remain emotionless, and outside the shadows of flying birds shift past.

“What is your name, Knight?” You see his expression slightly tense at the question, but you continue easily. A test, perhaps, if this man was worth your time. “I recall your face.” 

“I can’t give you that, My Lady.” Brown eyes go to meet yours, and the silver flecks in your orbs glimmer. “My orders were clear.”

“And were those orders also to follow me?” 

He clears his throat, feet shifting. “...Maybe.”

You hum, moving your body slowly and walking forward to him. The man blinks in surprise, straightening even more but a firm set to his eyes. His attention never wavers, unless it’s to glimpse your crown and belt, perfect pieces of artistry lost to this section of humanity. No mortal craftsman could imagine making something as such. He liked them, you notice at the light impression of awe in his gaze.

Anyone with sense would.

Stopping just a few feet away, you tilt your head. 

It was common knowledge that you never gave your name to one of the Fae, your betrothed would have told everyone close to him to avoid doing so. Just as you would never tell your real name to anyone—not even under dire circumstances. Names hold power, and no person in this castle would make you even more of a prisoner than you already were. 

You know the names of beasts and plants, flora and fauna—they bend to you, let you manipulate them to your will, though you often find no need to. The animals from any land prefer your company, anyway. The castle’s hunting hounds have already become well acquainted, just as the messenger birds had. 

But mortals? No. No, there were no names that you knew besides the King himself, and even then it was a fake one. Second names and such, are common. 

“Your title, then,” you say to the Knight. “If you’re to be a constant face to me.”

“Gaz is just fine, I’d say.” He nods his head, a slow smile moving his cheeks. Your brows furrow. Strange fellow. “A pleasure. I really do need to say that I wasn’t following you for long—I was only concerned you might have lost your way.”

You stare. 

“Lost?” Owlishly, your head shifts.

Gaz makes a noise in the back of his throat, one hand coming up to rub at the base of his neck. “Yeah—lost. It’s, uh, it’s a big castle, My Lady—”

“Stag.” Wide eyes blink, this meeting is only awkward on his part and not yours. In fact, for how humans go, he was acting far better than most. Usually, there was iron being brandished by now.

“What was that?”

“My title,” you explain, your crown’s gems bright in the light. The fire crackles, popping. “Stag. I do not need my status stated. I know what I am, Knight.”

“Then I’d say the same,” your fingers twitch, liking the word game he plays. Inside of your sockets, the unnatural makeup of your eyes shimmers. 

“Very well,” you pause, picking your words. “Gaz. A strange choice to be sure.”

He chuckles, nodding in a very stoic-like way despite the nearly boyish nature of him. “Well, Stag isn’t exactly common, either.”

You hum in your throat, unblinking; staring. Your intrigue grows the longer the man talks. Just like in the Great Hall, his form attracts all of your attention to it, against all laws that you seem to know in your soul. 

“Pray tell,” you shift, moving back to the window with your feet not making a single sound. Gaz watches on, eyes flickering between the hanging gems and how you tread over the stone as if you had wings. Your form slips back to the window, and your focus once more goes outward. “Has the King told you to spy on me, Gaz?”

The title, even if not the one of his birth—not the one written on his soul like a brand—still made the air quiver with might. You were older than most of this kingdom, the Knight knew. Older than the oak trees of the nearby forest; older than rock and wind and air.

Power dripped off your tongue like water to a leaf. 

But it wasn’t your influence that made the man answer you. It was his own nature. 

“Yes,” Gaz says, taking a few steps to where you stand, watching a flock of birds dance above the courtyard, silver moon-drips illuminating white feathers. “But I wouldn’t call it spying. Officially, I’ve been put in place to keep you safe, Princess.” His dark brows crease when you don’t pay him any mind. “I take my job very seriously, yeah?” 

“I can see that,” you utter, eyes still on the birds. “The only thing I need protecting from is the iron ring on your right hand.”

He startles, blinking for a moment. 

“...Parden?”

Silver eyes pierce him, watching; waiting. 

Gaz looks down, locking on the hand that has been resting on the pommel of his sword. Cape swishing, he makes a noise in the back of his throat. His sigil ring—the one that had been given over at his dubbing ceremony sat on the first digit, the engraving of his King’s coat of arms glimmering back. 

A wolf; a snake caught in its fangs. 

Brown eyes dart back, and he sheepishly smiles, huffing a chuckle of sorts. 

“Comes with the job, unfortunately,” yet still, his other hand easily grasps and slips the thing off, tucking it away into the leather pouch swinging from his belt. “I thought that was a myth—the Fae being harmed by iron. Conjured up to give people something to cling to.”

“I can name a million things that men and women like you consider myth,” you mutter, starting at that pouch, deep in thought. You hadn’t expected him to give in that easily. Your shoulders loosen their rigidness, but your chin never drops its high pride. “Every story comes from somewhere—be it reality or wives’ tales. Who’s to say that the words don’t give them life in one form or another?” 

“Bloody hell. Not a discussion to take up with me, I’m afraid,” Gaz huffs a chuckle, smirking. While still hesitant around you, the conversation wasn’t anything that made him want to not be around you. Everyone deserved to have their character shown, and what he was seeing so far wasn’t ringing any alarms. “Sound more of a scholar than a Princess, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Your lips quirk. “I prefer philosopher.”

“And what’s a Fae philosopher doing out in the middle of the night, then?” A breeze wafts through the window, blowing on your dress and making Gaz’s cape flutter in its bloodish tint. The torches whip and dance. You take a low breath, bird chips coming closer. 

“Speaking with an old friend.”

A white dove lands on the stone opening of the window, fluttering wings coming to fold along its sleek form until it shakes and settles all at once. 

“Lysander,” you say in greeting, nodding your head. Gaz watches, barely moving as his lips part in astonishment. 

Your hand extends itself, bearing no rings or bracelets. All you needed was your crown. Tiny eyes blink as an angular head turns to the side, tiny coos sparking from a rounded breast. Pale feet grasp your perfect flesh, such a tiny weight settles before you lift effortlessly; wings flapping to keep balance. 

“What news, then?” You ask in a whisper, bringing the beast to your crown. Lysander settles on one of the tines, head dipping down as feathers puff. Into your ear, words take shape. 

You hum in answer, blinking at every clicked sentence; tapping talons. 

Gaz stares blankly, eyebrows pulled up on his head and unable to articulate himself.

So many stories about your people—he hadn’t thought half of them to be true. While he’d been stationed in many places during the duration of this war, he’d never actually encountered one of the Fae before. Gaz had been told they were like a plague; they came in when you weren’t looking, spoke magic into your ears, and forced you to come back to their home and live as mindless beasts. Cupbearers and entertainment. 

Of the countless knights he’d been in line with, he knew the true names of none of them. A precaution. Forethought. 

Yet…you don’t look dangerous. 

But the man is far from stupid. 

“He says the fires from your forges burn his eyes,” your voice snaps him back to you, and he straightens, fingers twitching. Gaz finds your face already turned his way, owlish in its movements. “The smoke makes his throat ache.”

“I,” he pauses, mouth opening and closing. Brown eyes dart to the sharp-beaked dove; the thing very much like you in the way it watches him. “I’m…sorry?”

Your lips pull in a frown, sighing with a shake of your head. 

I can never survive here, you find yourself thinking. I believed this is what I had to do, but if this is how I’m going to live…

“Tell me about your King, Gaz,” your body swiftly turns, feet carrying you down the corridor once more with long, even, steps. “If I’m to marry him, I will know of his nature.”

The man clears his throat and follows after, where you hear the clinking of silver and the scabbard against his thigh. He glances over at you, walking if not a bit behind yourself in proper fashion. 

“What do you want to know, Ma’am?”

Your unnatural orbs shimmer, and the bird on your crown hunkers down; puffed contently and eager to rest his wings from a long flight. 

“Everything. I will not be unaware of my fate.” 

“Well,” Gaz sighs, rubbing at his chin with his opposite hand. He licks his lips, mind running to answer the best he can. “You’ll not want for anything—finery and wealth will—”

“I do not care about mortal revelry. I need neither fine things nor wealth.” Your voice curtly moves along the open air. The Knight’s boots connect with stone while your bare flesh emits nothing. “His character, Knight. Is he fair—just?”

Gaz’s face tightens, glancing from you to the hallway as he takes a moment to think.

“My King has…become troubled with the turning tides of the war. I’m sure when your marriage is official, he’ll go back to how he was before.” He doesn’t seem certain, but loyalty is a trait that a knight knows well. You had been set as his charge, of course, not under the best of circumstances, but he would do his job how he believed would benefit all parties. Even if his guts were stiff at the thought of a forced marriage. 

“My Lady Stag?” He asks, and your heart jerks unexpectedly at the muttering of your title. 

Blinking in confusion, your hand coming up to rub at your collarbone like a willow branch, you almost miss the question entirely. 

“Where you come from, if I can ask, of course, what’s it like?” Your mind strays from marriage ceremonies and consummation—momentary peace slipping in on waves of this man’s smooth accent. 

Mouth opening, only to close once and open again, you decide to indulge this man with your answer. If only because he speaks of your home. 

“Green,” is the soft utterance of your answer to him. “It’s green. More trees and rivers than you can count in your lifetime. Animals each more fantastical than the last; all of which your people now call nothing but hearsay.” 

You can sense his attention, sucking up knowledge as if he had the years to know and understand it all. 

Lysander coos, shaking his feathers out, and you glance upward without moving your head. You chuckle like a blade of moving grass. 

Blinking, Gaz slowly begins to smile, cocking his skull to the side boyishly. “What’s so funny, then?”

Your high nose twitches. 

“He says you’re as if a Wyvern hatching. A curious thing.” Brown eyes drift to your companion, whose peaked eye pierces like black fire-stone. Gaz’s mouth releases a puff of a chuckle, chest jerking. 

“Hell, never thought I’d get insulted by a bird.” 

“Humans have not the ability to speak with beasts,” you ease out, walking on. “On that, I have to say you are at a sure disadvantage.”

“What?” Gaz’s amused voice is in your ear. “Minus the whole immortality thing?”

You side-eye him, visage calm with decades of understanding. “Not everything is built to last forever.”

A momentary silence falls between the two of you. Eyes locked, you both stare, legs carrying bodies across the unfeeling stone until the area Lysander had told you about takes form. You shift a slow right and exit into the inner courtyard, large stone walls making a small square of patchy green grass and dying plants. A fountain sits still. 

“If this is to be a game of equal exchange, Knight, I desire to ask the next question.” Your eyes take it all in, hand moving out to capture the blackened leaves of a Medlar tree. Frowning at the dead fauna, you hear Lysander take to wing, flapping until his ghostly form lands on the far-off fountain’s edge. 

“Alright,” Gaz nods, looking around at the dying place with a frown as well. He’d never come here before, but the state of things was…sad, really. “Ask away.”

“When you leave the castle—the town,” you let power move to your fingertips, and you feel the tingles of it running the lengths of your arms like ice and fire; taking a low breath. “What do you see? I admit, I’m not used to having company with humans. I know not how their souls feel.”

Gaz walks into the small enclosed space, humming as he taps the pommel of his sword. His shoulders shrug as his head tilts up, blinking at the stars. 

“I wouldn’t see it as you would, I gather.”

You look over your shoulder, amusement in your face mixed with a slice of intrigue. “That wasn’t my question. But, no, you would not.” 

“Figured,” he chuckles, nodding at you. Gaz articulates himself dutifully. “I see a place far more peaceful than the one here. Outside the stone and smog—it’s beautiful, truly. Calm. You can actually think above the noise, you know? I usually find myself wanting to get out more often, but my duty ties me here.” 

Your eyes soften slightly, thumb running the face of the leaf as you take in his words. Lysander stoops to take a sip of water. 

“You’re…” You lack the words, only humming and stopping yourself. 

“Why are we here, Princess?” Gaz asks you, gazing around. “I had only expected you to walk to the kitchens—the library, even. Don’t get me wrong, you can go as you wish, but I’m not sure this is the most…” He grunts. “Sightly place to end up. Everything’s dead.”

“Nearly,” you whisper, a tiny smile taking over your flesh. “Not quite.” 

Gaz’s frown is lost to you, as is his comment that he mutters, “Looks it.”

Leaning forward, you press your lips to the leaf you hold as if a precious object. Into its blackened and shriveled form, you whisper its name—its true name, one you had learned through years of patience and trust that bordered on an entirely trance-like state. A Medlar is a tough and stubborn thing, like the fruit it bears, it will hang on until all else is gone to dust. Its roots are strong, and from them, you had listened to the earth sing its songs one buzzing note at a time.

All things speak, you just have to know how to listen. 

There’s a surge of wild order, a dichotomy of will and freedom; the sing of an axe and the memories of young saplings just gracing their leaves to the sun. A circle of death and rebirth as old as the stars that still shone in a sky of black. 

You know many names, but those of the trees were the first to come to you, and it was only proper. Before anything, there were trees. 

The Medlar shakes, its leaves dropping down one at a time until they come in groups, in clusters—bare branches shiver like dogs do until creaking ballads move over the air. 

Starling, Gaz had taken a large step back, hand snapping to the handle of his sword, the blade half drawn. Lysander flies past his face, blunt talons skating the close-cropping of his hair before the bird grapples to your crown. Flinching, the knight watched with a mixture of horror and pure wonder.

The tree was sprouting new greens. 

You step back, and from your feet, the dead grass quivers, before the smell of groaning earth makes his nose twitch; fresh blades show themselves anew. The dove atop your crown jumps from one sharp tine to the next, dodging lines of gold—eyes glinting and wings flapping excitedly. 

Life is in the very air. 

You smile to yourself, silver eyes moving as a nearly ancient-looking spark flares to life in them—a long breath entering your lungs. 

Gaz’s face begins to heat as he watches, his heart pounding with something he can’t understand. He stares at your bright face before his fast-blinking eyes move to the grass growing all around; the bushes dancing, flowers opening up and turning to you. Birds gather on the edges of this verdant and fertile land, darting one by one to the fountain and to the trees. Singing.  

The knight steps back, feet dancing over the ground with an airy laugh stuck in his throat. 

“Holy hell…” he breathes, nearly panting. 

Wide eyes move back to you, expression open, innocent. This was a moment when you truly believed you’d never seen a face more bare than this; more giving. 

“You…” He laughs. “You’re tellin’ me you could always do that?” You chuckle, and it is a sound that could make roots grow in his heart, flowers bursting from his lungs. “I…I’m speechless, really. This is,” he laughs once more, turning a full circle, with his hand going to the back of his neck in shock. It was entirely new—all of it. Ivy climbed the stone, and the animals spoke and flew in the air; excitement something that transcends species. “This is extraordinary.”

You were something incredible. 

Chuckling, you raise a slow brow, feeling a foreign heat move over your cheeks. It’s a moment before you speak, taken aback by the reverency.

“My thanks, Knight,” your head nods his way, a simple dip of your chin and nothing more. “But this is only a small courtyard. A fraction. If I so wished, forests could grow from ashen ground.”

“How?” He asks you, eyes glittering more than the moon. 

Smaller birds join Lysander on your head, finches, perhaps, and sparrows. They tweet and chip, speaking their thanks. You reach up and let one move onto your finger, bringing it back to eye level as you move to softly connect your forehead to its own. Moving back, you hum and watch the bird fly off.

“Ages of practice,” you elegantly tip your head his way, careful of your cargo. “Quite verbatim.” 

Gaz is speechless, unable to recall something in his life that had made him feel so special to be able to witness it. Magic to humans was a dying thing—you’d be surprised if he’d ever even seen it in this magnitude before. 

“...Amazing,” he utters under his breath, smiling like a fool.

For all of your Fae trickery, your games, you had to be honest. “I don’t believe I thought you’d be this moved by it.”

“Really?” He blinks at you, a boyish twist to his face. “How could I bloody not be, Love?”

Your air gets stuck in your throat, eyes minutely widening. 

Gaz quickly comes back to himself, straightening and clearing his throat as your face suddenly blazes in a way that startles you. Heart pattering like a horse’s hooves not only at the…different title but his awe at your magic as well. 

“Forgive me, My Lady,” you choose not to correct him. “I overstepped.”

His body bends forward in a deep bow, hand to his heart, resting over his armor as the cape drapes its crimson fabric to the now vibrant grass. 

It had briefly eluded you that you were to be married soon. A comment like that could get the Knight and his tree-bark brown eyes put to the sword. You hold back a long sigh, eyelids fluttering shut softly. 

“Is he kind?” Your question is small, but it moves like a knife.

Gaz stares hard at the ground, once dead and nothing but a reminder of nature. He clenches his jaw, a worry swirling in his gut. The man knows who you’re asking about, and he holds the same dread he did in the Great Hall as you were led like a sacrificial lamb to the altar. 

Maybe the Knight was broken, but even if he’d never met one of your kind before, he knew that no person deserved to be bartered for the illusion of peace—forced to give children like they were only objects. But maybe he was also just a man not meant for this lifetime.

It was the way of things.

Gaz swallows the tension in his shoulders. He will not lie. 

“...No.”

—

This tall knight had become a constant at your side. Officially, he’d been placed for your protection, but you knew it was because the King didn’t want you to cut and run. 

But unless there was a very good reason to, he should have known that you were not the running type. It was a battle of wits, and even into your marriage, you would always come out on top.

It started easy enough—Michael would invite you for tours of the castle ‘making it a home’ he’d said in front of his court. It was a power trip. 

He’d talk about his wealth like it would make you swoon; like you cared at all. You could only hide your sneer for so many hours, even with your infinite amount of patience. Time had mellowed you like the rocks of the ocean, but even they cracked when the storm was strong enough. 

Yet still, you considered yourself too intelligent for baseline insults.

“My palace was much the same, your Highness. Our towers rose high—nearly gracing the clouds themselves.”

“Oh, lovely, my King. Pray tell, do you also have pet dragons? Oh…unicorns, perhaps? My, I had the most lovely unicorn companion when I was just shy of my two-hundredth birth year. A little thing—all legs and neck. Beautiful creatures.” 

“Gorgeous little trinkets. Tell me, do you have a coffer for fallen stars? They create the most magnificent illumination for late-night reading.”

Gaz nearly lost his composure at times, even if no one else could tell except for you and your pointed ears; twitching at every breath that was fought to keep still. The over-the-lip huffs and chuckles. In fact, you found yourself perpetuating the back-handed insults just to hear those noises. Such small and meaningless things, in the grand scheme. 

You took…enjoyment from it.

Seeing the effect it had on the King was also a bonus—his raging eyes, snapping tongue held back for only his reputation and little more. He wanted to take you by the arm and shake you, you knew, yell in your face. 

Kind, King Michael was not. Gaz had been correct. 

In the nights, you would discuss with the Knight—sitting in the dense and growing courtyard with your body comfortable on the grass; Gaz’s on the fountain’s edge.

You have much of the same confidence in one another as you do tonight. 

“Do knights marry for love?” Your voice wafts out, petting Lysander with a single finger in your lap; itching at his neck as he coos. “Do they get to choose?” 

Gaz fiddles with his cape’s clasp, fingers dancing over the silver make. He has made a motion to always take off his ring when it’s just the two of you, easily slipping it away until he was forced to put it back on. He doesn’t know if you feel it, but he believes the two of you to be well-off acquaintances—perhaps even friends. 

The man enjoyed speaking to you. He reveled in the limitless knowledge that spilled from your tongue, your stories and tales. Gaz, unlike so many others, enjoyed your company not for the power that it offers in a physical sense, but for the words that you freely give. Often your sentences were like honey to him, seeping into his head.

A princess speaking with a knight? Unheard of. A Fae princess? Blasphemy. 

It was easy to forget that you were older than many generations of his family line. 

“No,” he says, glancing over. “All knights take a vow of chastity when they commit to service. None of those alive in this kingdom will wed unless they willingly break their oaths.” 

Your head tilts, crown resting comfortably a small distance away on a rock.

“That sounds lonely.”

Gaz smiles, “Worried about me?” 

You stare, eyes traveling the little deaths on his face—the lines, the scars. “If it’s what you wish to do with yourself, who am I to tell you any different?” 

The man’s face softens, lips pulling as his cheeks heat under the moonlight. “Figured you’d have some opinion of it.”

You hum, raising a brow. “It’s your life—it’s so fleeting. Tread it as if water between your fingers. Before you know it, it’ll be gone.” Lysander leans into your flesh, shivering. “Live it.”

“For someone who says they don’t know humans that well,” Gaz grumbles, though his chest is light. “You sure know a lot about them.”

“Intuition,” your mouth twitches in a smile. “And a bit of reality.”

Delicate looks are shared. 

You do admit, you liked these conversations with Gaz. The long nights and the feeling of grass under your flowing dresses; the horrid contraptions that your betrothed had tried to make you wear stuck far back into the wardrobe of your room. Heavy items—suffocating corsets, unlike the simple but elegantly sewn one you wear now. You could feel it trying to sneak in when the days drew on. 

Control. 

It was all becoming more and more apparent. You did not want to live like this. 

Your face goes troubled as the calm silence moves over the Medlar with its reaching branches. Fireflies hang like miniature stars as you take your crown and slip it back on; to feel the comforting weight of antlers. 

The knight pauses as he slips his cape off of his shoulder, blinking over at you in a slow confusion. You look troubled. He’d never seen that expression on your face before.

“Stag?” Your head swivels, as if in another world.

“Just thinking,” your voice moves into his ears, making them hum with energy. Gaz’s brows furrow, a frown taking over. After a second, he stands, moving closer on quiet feet. 

You watch him as he goes to kneel near you, one arm moving over the bent nature of his leg while the other holds fabric—letting it cascade over the earth. Brown eyes narrow, and a joking tease moves with the undertone of slight concern.

“I’m usually the talker, I know, but when you look a bit like that it makes me nervous.”

You frown. “Look like what?”

“Like someone’s got a sword to your neck, Princess.” The air is cool here, the deep throws of night taking you by the breath in your throat. A smooth smirk. “It’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen, yeah?”

If you leave, if you find a way out of this…the war will never end. It will go on until stone cracks like glass and generations forget why it even started in the first place. 

But why were you put to the axe because of it? Why must you take the blade to the stomach—an object of greed? 

Gaz’s amused voice moves lower at your immobile lips, going serious. 

“Hey,” a hand outstretched to your arm, hovering. “Really, is everything alright?”

“Gaz,” you pause, voice still level despite your heated pulse. It’s like a snake curls itself in your guts, roots growing in your veins. The courtyard seems to shiver all by itself, leaves curling into themselves from bushes and trees. Lysander’s feet shimmy, head moving about. 

This knight had been kind to you as well as honest about his intentions. Chivalrous. Such qualities are hard to come by anymore.

“I don’t believe I want this.” It’s a breath more quiet than a lapping of waves. Gaz stills, fingers above your flesh twitching. “I can’t live in a cage. I refuse.”

Silver meets brown, holding it firmly. 

“I will not be a prize to be chained to a birthing bed.” 

The man’s face pulls at that, tightening. 

You don’t know what to expect. It isn’t fear in you—no, nothing like this could make you afraid. Apprehensive? Perhaps. Age made you cautious. At any moment he might flip his tune; run off to tattle to a King he, seemingly, likes just as much as you. Which is to say, very little. But there’s still the possibility, the knowledge stacked over ages and ages of strategy and mind games. 

A knight of a tension-ridden kingdom, swearing fealty to a King whom you’re betrothed to. You’d just expressed treason, in a way. It could put you to the sword; to the rope. To irons. Your mind runs through the millions of possibilities, not able to settle on a single one before—

A cape settles over your shoulders, startling you. 

Hand snapping to grab the front, your head snaps up, eyes wider than you can remember them ever going. 

Soft browns meet you, a thin smile. Fireflies buzz about, and a dove sits under your still finger, watching with beady orbs intently at the scene. A Medlar quivers. 

A stag and a knight breathe the same air. A godly creation and a saint ensnared in a song far larger than they intend, as the world shifts past all around them. Silver starlight leaves long reflections breaking from the hanging glory of your gems, but the patches of light on Gaz’s face capture yours in that instant far more than they should have. 

Impossibly so. Unnaturally so. 

Does this mortal have magic of his own, perhaps? You have to ask yourself. There was no other possibility. 

And when he speaks…it’s like whatever ice has been layered over your antediluvian heart breaks into fire. There wasn’t even a fight from him.

“Then tell me what you need.”

TAGS:

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#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #cod mw22 #call of duty x you #mw2 #mw2 2022 #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #gaz x female reader #gaz x reader #gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod x female reader #female reader

[morallyinept]

UNWRAP ME - A Frankie Morales Christmas One Shot

Summary: You gift yourself to Frankie as his early Christmas present, and he can't wait to unwrap you.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. Images just for aesthetic, no reference to Reader.)

Word Count: 4.1k

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral F receiving/Frankie's curls are let loose.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Hot, spicy Christmas fun to kick off my 12 Days Of XXX-MAS, with that hot, spicy tamale, Frankie. 🥵 There is some Frankie Spanish, I've not provided translations as it's easy enough to Google if you're curious, but you can probably figure it out. 😉

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

“I’ve got you something for Christmas, baby. But I want to give it to you a little early.” You call out to him.

You can hear the familial heavy padding of his feet up the stairs, as you slick on a coat of matte lipstick in the ensuite bathroom.

You pucker into the mirror over the sink regarding yourself, and smile at what you see with that devilish glint lingering in your eye.

You can only imagine what he’ll make of it, and that thought pulses hot through your veins in wanton excitement.

You spritz on a faint mist of your favourite scent - one that you know will make his mouth water too - and linger discreetly in the doorway, watching Frankie now rifling around in the wardrobe, completely oblivious. 

He has his broad back to you, and you can see him putting laundry away in neat piles on the shelves inside the doors. His grey t-shirt rides up as he reaches into the furthest crevices of the wardrobe, revealing the tanned, fleshed divots of his lower back.

His worn, scuffed jeans are slung low on his hips and those muscles flex and ripple under his skin as he stretches, and your own mouth begins to water. 

“Did you do the ironing?” You question, perplexed. 

“Yes, I did the ironing,” he grunts, in a voice lazily mimicking yours.

You see him shake his head; those wild curls growing unruly at the nape of his neck. The faded blue cap is slapped on his head in a regular trademark manner. Even when indoors, Frankie can’t abstain from plonking it on to keep his waves under check. 

“And it’s not Christmas yet. So, don’t think by giving me a present early that you’re going to get one early, hermosa. Sé lo que estás haciendo.” Frankie confirms, his voice being absorbed into the clothes, but you can hear him smiling as he says it, and that soft snort as he chuckles to himself.

“Are you sure about that?” You question, smirking. 

“Si, bebita. I’m not falling for it. You’ve just gotta wait until-”

He glances over his shoulder, stops instantly as though you’ve put him on pause, and then does a slow full turn. His face is unreadable; his lips pursed as his eyes seemingly cloud over for a few moments. 

Grinning, you beckon him over, but he’s rooted to the spot; his legs suddenly feeling that if he takes a step forward he’ll collapse prone into the carpet.

Frozen in all the possibilities of what’s unfolding in front of his eyes as he looks you up and down, and his cheeks start to glow brighter than Rudolph's nose. 

Frankie swallows, his mouth suddenly very dry and claggy like he’s been licking said carpet all night. Your eyes lock onto his; just as cavernous and darkening, feeling like you can fall right into them as they drink you up.

You study his face; like a chameleon camouflaging against its surroundings, Frankie’s face works through every single shade of shock, astonishment and heated lust there is on the colour scale.

“Well, shit...” He baulks, tossing the wardrobe door shut behind him. “¿Es todo esto para mí?” Frankie questions, barely able to take you all in.

You can see him visibly sweating.

“It’s all for you, baby. Feliz Navidad.” You smile, stepping fully into the bedroom from the ensuite doorway.

“Fuck.” Frankie remarks with a look like he’s just been punched in the scruffy jaw and can’t quite comprehend the audacity of it.

“Are you going to unwrap me?” You ask, with a villainous smirk and he’s utterly lost for words.

Your body is wrapped in scarlet silk and velvet lingerie. Your breasts are sculpted to perfection inside a corset-style basque; the front lined with several velvet bows in the same colour that holds it all closed around your ample mounds.

All tied up neatly and tightly that you’re threatening to spill out over it at any moment.

You’re wearing a matching red thong, along with red lace-topped stockings, and your satin heels that match. A real candy cane dream, all shimmery and scrumptious before him as he licks his lips.

Your eyes sparkle at him through subtle, yet smokey make-up and red lips.

He perches clumsily on the end of the bed, somewhat remembering where it is from muscle memory, and equally missing as he stumbles, sinking backwards, legs buckling underneath him.

His hand navigates over his mouth, scratching at his grey-speckled beard and looking you up and down like he doesn’t know where to start.

Like all his fucking Christmases have just come at one.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Frankie questions, his eyes moving between your breasts and pussy each time he looks you over. Shit, he doesn’t even know where the hell to look. 

You come and sit beside him on the bed, resting back on your elbows so he can run his shaky hands up and down the velvet and silken ensemble.

He tweaks at one of the bows, smoothing it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Well, you did do the laundry.” You chuckle, and he tickles across your stomach with those roaming, thick fingers.

“You look-” He stutters out a sigh, eyes big and a smirk on the cusp of cracking his face. He’s staring you down as though you’re a piece of meat he can’t wait to tear into, salivating. 

“I know.” You wink at him.

Frankie leans in and kisses you, his lips running over yours smoothly and softly. Soft, gentle clicks fill the room as he kisses all along your bottom lip; suckling it gently before running his mouth across your cheek and towards your neck, inhaling your perfume.

The soft nips in between his lingering kisses from those puffy, pink lips of his begin to engulf you, and your head lolls back as he kisses along your jaw and throat, planting carnage inside your pores.

“Fuck, I’m so hard.” Frankie whispers, looking into your cleavage and then up at your eyes.

His dick, throbbing and swollen, feels like it'll fire off and fly round the room at the sight of you swathed in all this sumptuous velvet and lace, all just for him. 

Your hand slips down to his crotch and squeezes gently over the denim. “Mmm... yeah you are.” You grin.

“You kill me, hermosa.” He whines, almost payhetically.

Your heart’s beating faster and louder inside your chest as you lean up towards him slowly; zoning in on his mouth and crush your lips against his. Groaning at the feeling of the way those fuzzy lips graze against yours, coursing electricity through your arms and legs like you’ve stuck your wet fingers in a socket.

You can taste his tongue and the remnants of coffee beans and spearmint gum, as he slips it into your mouth and massages it with his deliciously.

Fuck.

Taking his sweet time, Frankie starts pulling on the top two ribbons, slowly revealing more of that soft, supple skin that smells of flowers and fruit; thoroughly enjoying unwrapping his gift as your breasts spill out at him.

His dark, brown eyes flit up to your face now again to read you, to relish in the feeling of what he’ll find underneath it all; the reward of your perky nipples waiting for him, and that sopping, wet pussy that he can bury his face into for hours and never get bored.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Frankie murmurs into your face; the warmth from his breath settling into your pores. "All for me, all for me..." He sighs, beside himself.

You smile; a slow, insidious beam unfolding on your lips much like The Grinch. "All for you, baby."

The ribbons are undone and your breasts revealed to him fully; it’s like he’s seeing them for the first time all over again, and Frankie could just weep at the sight of them.

He runs his fingertips across them, and you’re watching as they circle tantalisingly around your nipples; the calloused pads of them feeling the tiny bumps rising around your areolas as they harden.

He smooches over them, slipping his tongue around the peak where he sucks it into his eager, hot mouth.

You watch as he flicks that wet, fleshy muscle in his mouth back and forth over it, biting down on your lip as he gropes and squeezes the other inside his hand.

He manoeuvres himself between your legs, sliding carefully on his belly like he would creeping up on the enemy, with a mouth full of your tits. 

You pull off his cap and toss it across the bed, running your fingers through his mussed hair as he suckles on you, pulling a little tighter with his teeth, making you hiss. 

"Mmm," you sigh out at the feel of it. It tingles all the way down into your clit.

He crawls further up you, running kisses up your throat and the side of your face as he gets close. His long, thick fingers claw up and down your inner thigh, skimming his thumb across the lace at the top of your stockings.

He hums out in dreamy satisfaction and it’s warm inside your ear. You love him like this, free to roam your body and play with it. You’re unapologetically clawing at him and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer. 

You can feel his cock, straining inside the stonewash denim to be freed, pressing heavy against your thigh. Hear how he groans with need as you grind against it.

Your mouths run all over each other; absorbing those sounds he makes snuffling out of his nose and from the back of his throat, creating plentiful melodies inside of your ears that you can tune in to all day. Frankie FM. 

His hands are roaming your body, squeezing, kneading, pinching. His lips part and his eyes open up as he stares at you as you feel his fingers trail down to your centre.

You can see the subtle gold flecks inside of his chocolate irises and can make shapes in them; find yourself lost in the galaxy of them, that’s how deep they pull you in when he’s this close and on top of you.

He glances down at his fingers pulling against the thong, and wrenches it upwards. You buck and groan as it grazes against your swelling clit. 

“These, are the tiniest fuckin’ panties I’ve ever seen.” Frankie husks as he nips on your lobe.

You giggle. 

“I could literally tear them off.” 

“I’d rather you didn’t, they’re brand new.” You playfully scold. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” He growls as he breathes against your cheek. Momentarily you feel a sharp tug and hear the lace tear with ease. “I’ll open my gift how I want. Esto es todo mio.”

“Mmm,” you whine.

He rolls onto his side and smirks propping himself up on his elbow and pulls a piece of the shredded thong out from under your ass. He tosses it over his shoulder casually and smirks accomplished. 

"That's better," he says.

You’re spread wide for him, feeling the yummy tingles of his fingers blaze trails down your body, stroking along your arm, over your hip and teasing around your pussy lips; barely touching them each time he ventures there between your legs.

Ghosting over your labia and avoiding your clit; the tiniest of skin-on-skin contact that makes you shudder and claw at the duvet in anticipation.

"Frankie..." You hiss as the goosebumps flood your skin.

Breathing heavier into his mouth as his tongue swims around yours when he leans over and finds your lips again.

His index and middle fingers split across the outside of your cunt that you can feel is slick and warm, and then when he sweeps back up again, he gently nudges your clit this time, sending your body into a rhythm of tingles and shocks.

“You like that, huh?” Frankie croons in delight at your reaction, he watches your face as he begins circling his middle finger over your swollen clit; tapping at first ever so gently and then rubbing in tantalising circles and applying a little pressure more and more each time he does a three-sixty on it.

"Baby... ah, feels so good." You whine.

You marvel at how he can simply play you like an instrument, plucking your stings, eliciting different tones out of you. 

You watch him bring his fingers to his mouth and suck them before he slides them back between your sticky folds.

“Frankie…” You're fisting at his t-shirt. 

“What? What do you want, hermosa?” He teases as he probes against your hole, barely dipping in and then withdrawing and rubbing your clit again. 

“Fuck, please…” You husk. “Need your fingers inside me.” 

“Like this?” You feel him breach, a lone digit sliding all the way in, up to the hilt of his knuckle and then retreating. 

“Frankie!” You grab at his wrist, but he subdues you easily, pinning your hands above your head and clutching them together in his other hand. 

“Stay still, baby.” He smirks. 

He slips his fingers inside you again, pumping in and out slowly, grinning at you with the lewd, wet sounds they make echoing around the bedroom.  

“So fucking wet for me…” 

You can feel it, the warmth prickling at your limbs as it starts to spread through your bloodstream. He’s stroking deep; you can feel it bloom deep inside your belly, that delicious pressure as he curls his fingers. 

It’s beginning to get too much; the intensity of the deep finger fuck pulling and unravelling your seams slowly as you brew and bubble around the edges whilst Frankie stares you down like a lion stalking its prey in the tall grass.

He goes faster, the squelches louder, as he pulls your pleasure out of you with skilled ease. 

“That’s it, baby. Come for me… Quiero que acabes para mí,” he soothes. 

Your thighs shake as the pressure builds and then erupts, flooding your body with warmth and a tingly glow that makes you giggle through your pants. 

He pulls out his fingers and taps against your clit with them as you come. A little trick he likes to indulge in now and again to watch your thighs go berserk as your orgasm is torn from your core and shunted into your clit.    

“Oh fuck!” You cry as you shake and gasp. 

His other hand on the back of your neck, massages into the skin as your own hands run the length of his tan face and around the back of his head. His middle finger keeps nudging and rubbing on your sweet spot that's buzzing and tingling wildly under his touch.

He then dips his finger inside your hole, drenching it in your slick and back out again, lubing it up and rubbing it over the nub with a slick, circular movement.

Your thighs are constantly quaking, pushing you towards overstimulation as he builds you up again. 

“Frankie…” You gasp out on a muted whisper, the sound of your squalls getting lost somewhere inside your throat.

"You've got another one," he husks.

Frankie kisses down the side of your neck and collarbone, before reaching your nipple again and takes it in his mouth, flicking his tongue around it like his finger is with your clit, matching the tempo.

Your hips press up into his fingers, winding around and jolting as he works that magic spell on your happy button as you come again, muttering incoherently into his mouth.

"Si, hermosa..."

He then stops and squeezes both your tits together with his hands, and tongues and sucks the warm nipples inside your swollen areolas as he nestles himself between your legs.

“God, you’re fuckin' hot,” Frankie whispers. You see him reach down and adjust himself over his jeans, and you can see how hard he is for you by that familiar, ominous shadow. 

He pushes both your legs up, holding them under the back of your knees, and it pushes your ass and pussy up to his face.

He wastes no time in running his lips over your wet, sticky flesh and tasting you.

Letting his tongue circle around your clit then dip inside your cunt where he can taste that delicious honey pot centre, before suckling back on your clit again.

He licks long, fat stripes up your seam and eyes you darkly whilst he does it. 

“Mmm, baby.” You whine, fisting into his messy hair. Curls splay over his forehead and you grip onto his tufts behind his ears, tugging his face further into your pussy.

He groans out contentedly - he fucking loves it when you do that.

You can hear him breathe and pant around your slit drenching him, quenching his thirst. Warm air from his mouth is blown onto it as he looks up at you with those dark eyes as he feasts.

Your fingers weave through the soft silk of his hair, petting him and stroking as he feasts expertly without coming up for air. Your fingers tousle it before you twist it around your fingers.

You tug harder on his silky roots and he grunts in response as he gnaws on your clit, making your legs judder.

“Mmmmaaahhh!” You whine out, your back arching and your body twisting.

His lips are clamped around you; his tongue lapping ferociously, and as you’re coming, he make delicious sounds in satisfaction too.

“Mmm, mmm...” He ribs through his lips.

Frankie clutches onto your stomach, keeping you as still and anchored as he can whilst you thrash about; his fingers slightly pressed into your gut and making you ride that wave and feel it all.

He licks up and down, as one of your hands goes to your head like you can’t believe it; the other still gripping inside his hair and pulling him further onto you, sending your body into a sweet dance of convulsion as he delves deep with his relentless tongue fucking.

“Oh, ohhh… fuuuccck! Frankie!”

He reaches up and grabs your hand as your body trembles and begins shaking about under him; he grips it tight, locking his fingers around yours, and watches from between your legs as you come hard around his mouth, filling it with sweet nectar he drinks down.

The lace from the stockings graze against his scruff and get caught in it as you try to crush his head. It’s a spectacular show of fucks and oh God’s thrown into the air as your body succumbs to his tongue.

"Baby, you're so good at that..." You look down at him smiling, and beside yourself as he fumbles with his belt, pushing his jeans down.

"I know," he replies, smugly. He crawls up your body, his cock dragging against your folds and smearing himself against your skin. 

You reach for him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he buries his thick, hard cock inside of you.

That single sheath of him into you takes your breath away, and for a moment it’s like you can’t breathe. All oxygen stripped from the room and floating in a void of nothing where it’s only Frankie.

"Oh my God!" You pant.

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip and you kiss it delicately as he slowly builds his pace; fucking into you with deep, grinding movements so that his cock can savour every inch of your cunt that feels implausible around him.

You cling onto him, feeling his skin burn under your fingertips; the muscular curve of his arms; the smooth paunch of his stomach under his t-shirt as your hands run across him.

You can hear his breath pelting inside your ear as he trails his mouth up to your earlobe before taking it between his teeth and biting it gently, sending your pussy to its knees in subjugation of him.

"Frankie, fuck," you groan.

"Feels so fuckin' good..." he agrees.

You feel those little butterfly kisses from his eyelashes where he blinks against your skin; the soft graze of his patchy scruff catching against your throat.

You both moan out in sweet relief; your foreheads pressing against one another’s, as you’re reconnected, feeling like you should never be separated again.

The tip of his hawkish nose brushes against yours; his mouth crooking into a smile as your pants increase again, and he feels that yummy tightening around his dick, thoroughly enjoying the show of watching you come undone around him.

“Harder,” you whine to him, as he dives deeper into you, feeling every inch of him pack you out; lighting up those sparkly neurons inside your head like triggers leading to an almighty explosion of Christmas glitter and embers. 

He pins your hands down above your head, resting his full body weight on them as his hips pummel into you, becoming more intense with each deep stroke.

“Fuck, Frankie!” You cry out as he breathes with you, trying to keep himself under control as you call out his name, but it’s useless; he craves everything you’re giving to him right now - the looks, the sounds, the feel of you tightening and squeezing around his cock.

“You wanted it harder.” He puffs with that crooked grin you want to taste. 

Your back arches again as he brushes against the sweet spot inside, and makes it vibrate heavily within you.

Your legs wrap tighter around him, cinching him into you deeper; your fingers reach for his as he lets go of your wrists, interlocking with his digits as he kisses you once more, your mouths exploring each other all over again.

He growls out as you lock your feet together at the ankles as he ploughs deeper and harder into you; the bed creaking and squeaking under you both.

He reaches down, thumbing your clit as he thrusts harder into you. Heels pressed into his butt cheeks as he works you up again, never really letting you wander far from the midst of another enticing, sweet orgasm.

You can hear the sound of his cock inside you; that wet, heavy slapping noise as he fucks harder, works his hips faster.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you, staring at your body cinched up in the basque; all those curves and angles of you accentuated by it, tits bouncing over the top of it.

You gasp, biting down on your lip, your head straining back into the duvet as he feels you explode around his cock again; those little tremors around the head before he feels you squeeze tight around him and then release again.

"Yes! Frankie!" You call with a dying voice.

He wants to come inside you, wants you to feel what you’re doing to him. What you always fucking do to him. 

You can see the need he has for you inside of his eyes; frantic and desperate. You push him onto his back and sit on top of him, lowering yourself slowly onto his thick cock.

"Yeah, baby. Like that... oh fuck." He groans as you rock up and down on him, his hands gripping around your hips, moving you into a steadily, deep rhythm that makes him bend and break.

“Ride me, querida!” Frankie hisses, encouragingly. Unable to comprehend that this could ever stop feeling so good.

You twirl and grind down on him as he pushes up with his hips, pulling you down onto his chest so he can kiss you again.

He crosses his arms over your back and hammers up into you. Heels of his feet pressing into the bed as he fucks you hard.

"Oh shit, shit!" You groan.

He ploughs in faster, feeling your slick walls tighten around him and making him work that bit harder to press on through into your cunt as it strangles and contracts around him.

He’s insubordinately beautiful, clutching onto him as you call out his name again and again with each hard stroke that he delivers inside of your squelching hole.

"I'm gonna come, fuck... I'm gonna come!" He wheezes.

Groaning loudly, Frankie’s lost as he comes; like he’s been tossed into a new dimension where nothing makes sense or is recognisable.

He forgets how to breathe for a moment; all he can see is you pulling him back towards you, saving him and rasping out with him as you both combust in tune with one another.

His cock is still twitching as he pulls out, you take a hold of it, pumping him a few times and making him groan and smirk in delight as you feel his spend dribble out of you and seep into the messy, creased duvet.

“Holy shit,” Frankie chokes on a throaty gasp. 

He runs his hand around his throat a few times, beside himself before you lean down over him; his body weak and shaky.

You nuzzle into him, planting kisses over his cheeks as his fingers fiddle with the velvet bows on your basque.

His eyes are sleepy looking, like he’s dosed up on some wonder drug called pussy and he never wants off this high. 

Frankie pulls you further on top of him; crushing you agaisnt his chest, his cock nestled nicely between your thighs. Sweaty curls are stuck to his forehead and he's never looked so good.

He spends the next few minutes just lost inside your mouth, holding you tight and letting his hand reach down and have a generous squeeze of your ass cheeks.

“Gracias por mi regalo, hermosa.” He sighs, contentedly. “Best gift ever.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” You smile, running your lips over his cheeks and fuzzy whiskers.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales triple frontier #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #jett's writing #christmas stories

[maggstar]

𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐞

───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+, mni DNI!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 365 days since the incident, in which Heeseung's life turned upside down, is today. Will he be able to save her this time?

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, hard angst, veryyy emotional, trauma bonding/coping, cop!Hee (injured reader, guns, shooting, kidnapping, violence, death) kissing, biting, marking, handjob, oral (f. receiving) , fingering, vanilla, very intimiate and loving unprotected s3x, missionary, spooning, lotus.

!!!TW: ED, suicidal thoughts, mentioned attempts, s3lf harm (both characters)

𝐖𝐂: 21k+ (ehm..., yea)

𝐀/𝐍: Finally. It is here. this one is for ♡ anon. ily. I want to say I loved writing this whole fic even though it was emotionally difficult. I wrote about heavy topics, so please be aware before reading as this might not be everyone's cup of tea! Both characters are in pretty messed up mental states, but their love to each other is what keeps them going. I hope you guys enjoy this fic as I never put this much effort into any fic before.

Please leave any sort of feedback: reblogging and commenting is the best for me, so let me know!! ───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

As Heeseung approached the town, he immediately recognized the steep, rocky road that led to the street of his most ominous memories. Despite the passing of a year, everything remained the same. The familiar layout felt like coming home after years of being abroad. In a way, he had been. 

He found it amusing how visiting his past brought such mixed feelings. Given how messed up things were before his departure, he was afraid to face all the negative emotions. Merely thinking about the events crawled an uncanny sensation. 

Yet, here he was, letting the comforting sentimentality alight on his heart and beam at the faint breeze entering through his window as he soaked up the evocative atmosphere. It had a hint of gloom as the rain amplified with his reappearance, making the ominous night colder than usual. Goosebumps took over his body, observing the surroundings while the car shifted its gear to neutral. 

The park was abandoned at this time, reminiscing on the children's laughter in the evenings, playing for hours without a care. He liked to come there after work, sit for a few minutes, and listen to them. They still had the monkey bars and pirate-themed wooden ship in the middle of the playground, which he helped paint. 

He examined the residences next to his old one, all appearing the same. Looking at the colorful houses with picturesque gardens pierced an arduous nostalgia. A few had undergone reconstructions as the previous owners seemed to have parted. 

Some even had new furniture or repainting, their garages containing bigger and more luxurious vehicles. New additions like swings or slides for children were also notable. A small number of areas were also seemingly building new homes for the future, expanding the population in the tainted town.

With a glance beside, he examined the house he spent his student years in. 

"Would you look at that," he scoffed, studying the untouched exterior, still covered in that sensational buttermilk paint. 

Even the pecan concrete tiles on the roof were there, with additional solar panels. The current owners also installed a masonry chimney to the side - something he had always wished for but couldn't afford. 

They were definitely more knowledgeable in Botanics than he was. The garden looked completely different. The condition Heeseung left it in was atrocious, with dead flowers and dried weeds scattering the place. Zora Neale Hurston once quoted: "Trees and plants always look like the people they live with." He didn't know if this disclosure was comical or tragic, heavily soughing instead. 

Currently, the place had more of a Japanese style: a little lake in the middle underneath beautiful white lotuses. Oak and cherry trees surrounded the layout, whereas perfectly cut bonsai trees greeted passers-by in the front. The family likely had their roots there because it was uncommon to opt for this type in this area. Yet again, he was inexperienced in this topic, so who was he to say anything? 

He sighed, lowering his head to take a deep breath to process all the garnering memories reaching the surface from the seabed. It was bound to happen, and he still didn't manage to prepare for it. 

Back then, there was too much weight on his shoulders. From college to his family, there was only so much a teenager could handle. 90% of his memories were the ones he sincerely wished to omit evermore. He didn't want to rub salt into his wounds by reliving them, aiming to concentrate on the better side.

After all, it was this place he achieved and lost everything at once. The city that welcomed the lost pup with open arms after the death of his parents, soothing with empty promises and fraudulent head pats. 

Back then, he was too naive to differentiate malicious intentions, foolishly jumping onto every proposition. He thought people wanted to help and not take advantage of his incapacity, that they would aid the broken one with the loving words he needed. 

Fundamentally, he was an emotional wreck, emptiness and numbness following him all day. 

There wasn't anyone left in his life, just miscellaneous pictures gathered in a photo album and recollections of happy moments in carton boxes. Going through their belongings hurt more than anything, smudging their smiles with tears and repeated callouts to which no one could respond anymore. 

In other words, it was the worst period of his life.

His nights were established on puffy eyes, a terrible headache, and a stuffy nose, suffering in silence for months. The money he was supposed to spend on food went to tissues, trashing the whole place. Getting up in the mornings was incredibly demanding, failing often at convincing himself. Staying in and laying in his PJs permanently tolled more promising.

No one seemed to care about his late arrival to classes anyway. The teachers were the exclusive individuals, questioning his defect of attendance and interest. They often came to various false conclusions. They didn't consider asking for the real reason behind his struggles at handing in assignments and essays on time without lying to dodge admonitions. 

In the same way, no one doubted the sunglasses he wore every day. They assumed it was part of a fashion trend when, in reality, it was an excuse to hide the redness and semicircle exhaustion. 

The clothes that fit him weeks ago began loosening, appearing enormous on his underweight body. When his friends pointed out his lack of appetite during lunch, he put it behind him and led the conversation in another direction. That way, he felt he had control over reality. 

In reality, he knew it was avoidance. He wasn't ready to concede he was struggling. Something wasn't alright, and he deteriorated with each passing day. 

Reminiscing on the past, optimistic Heeseung wearing a warming smile mirrored the numb motionlessness, not containing enough confidence to face the drastic and tragic change.

The only courageous people were the Choi family. 

He turned his head to the left, catching a glimpse of the elderly couple sitting at the table inside their closed terrace. They were laughing and enjoying dinner, accompanied by two other people, handing out the freshly grilled food on their plates. A little boy was attending the meal as well, gesturing widely. He leaned forward to examine the guests, scanning their faces. For some reason, they were so familiar...

"No way," a gasp forsake, realizing that turn of events. 

The handsome, tall young man with an athletic build was no other than Choi Hyun-woo, the son of the married pair. Heeseung facepalmed himself for taking so long to figure out his identity, doubting his dexterities.

His parents had introduced the two after a few weeks of Heeseung visiting. Around that time, he was in a custody battle with his dangerous wife. That adjective was an understatement when considering her malicious threats. They were predominantly about hurting their son if he didn't leave her alone or running away with him.

That wasn't the only crazy part. The more unsettling information he learned, the more he feared for the safety of the small boy. Besides being mentally unstable, she also struggled with psychosis. The doctors warned her countless times, but she didn't reflect on any of their words when entering a new relationship. If anyone was the victim in this situation, it was Hyun-woo. 

Seeing them reunited was all he could have ever wished for them, smiling at the cheerful sight. 

"Thank you for being here for us, Heeseung. We just want you to know we're also here for you," he could hear the oldster sighing while patting his back, sensing the weariness from the mere flicker.

"We're all humans in the end. Even the strongest ones cannot lift the weight the world pushes on us." The stogie burned further whenever he would take a whiff, passing it on for a moment of peace.

"Life hasn't been easy on you, has it?" the bearded man turned to face the youngster, quietly sitting and observing the night sky. 

"No, sir, it hasn't," he took the long roll of tobacco to try it out, analyzing its shape and thickness.

"Pretending to be happy when you're in pain is an example of how strong you are as a person, Lee."

"Never doubt your strength, you hear me?" he repeatedly swung his index finger to reprimand him. 

"Yessir," Heeseung nodded before inhaling the cigar, not foreseeing its power. On the other hand, the veteran couldn't help but enjoy the outcome, laughing as he expectorated. 

"How can you smoke this?" he punched his chest numerous times to get the bubble of smoke out of his system. 

"Times were different back in my days. We had nothing else."

"Still..."

"Do one thing for me," the senior flipped the page, taking another load and slowly exhaling a white cloud into the cold fall night. Heeseung faced him after successfully getting rid of the awful irritation in his throat. He sat there, waiting for another round of sagacious words from the wise man. 

"Don't give up. Whatever it takes, don't give up, son. Even when you feel like there's no purpose, don't because nothing lasts forever. It will get better."

It was those words that made Heeseung push through the days. It was almost unbelievable how much of an impact it had on him. Never in a million years would he have thought a motivational speech could get him back on his feet. Then again, he never gave anyone a chance to see behind his facade.

Although they were the ones who required assistance, Heeseung ended up receiving all of the help. 

"Have you eaten? No? That's unacceptable! Come over as soon as you're done with school!"

Mrs. Choi's disappointment still rang through his ears, envisioning her in her French kitchen with a spatula in her hand. It was a vista he missed, alongside the delectable smell of her exceptional cooking.

She constantly checked on him, calling once his school was over and asking if he needed anything. Cooking him meals became a habit whenever he stopped by to help in the garden, practically shoving packets of food into his chest. She knew it wasn't much, but for Heeseung, it meant the world. Knowing that someone actually appreciated his company and cared about his well-being without solely thinking about theirs was unknown. 

So unknown that in the beginning, he assumed the lunch boxes in his backpack ended up by accident and that Mrs. Choi had mixed it up. 

That's how messed up people have been to him that his mind found it unbelievable. Every bit of aid had to have a twisted meaning behind it because why would anyone care about him? No one was there when he was bereaved. No one came to say their condolences or ask if he was alright. It was just him in the columbarium as he placed the ceramic pot with the last remains of his loved ones into the repository. The sole visitor on his free days, leaving the deceased ones' favorite snacks underneath their memorial. He was the boy the guard always had to wake up and send home. 

"It's just thee, thy, and thou, huh?"

"Yes, Mr. Choi."

It is how he achieved his dream and became a successful officer and the person he is now. 

All the hardships and woes he underwent in his early adulthood built up the future he worked for without resting. The mornings and nights would meld into one, struggling to distinguish AM from PM. Around that time, his coffee intake started slipping out, and he tried out every possibility to stay awake and finish everything. 

So much he had to do in such little time. Heeseung didn't understand how he finished it, but his body did. It was giving up, slowly but gradually, because he wouldn't stop pushing the limits. He thought he could do more each time, twisting the meaning of "just a bit more."

One day, the strings finally tore off, and his body had enough. 

Without looking back, it gave in. It handed in the shattered pieces of his soul to the unknown, streaming down like a feather. Nothing had left within, no recollections to reflect on his actions. All his hopes had dashed, molding his fears into a vase of entrapment. The more he tried to climb out of the well, the deeper he fell back, the walls elevating. He screamed into the darkness, the exclamations reflecting due to the scarcity of allowance. 

The next thing you know, he woke up in an unfamiliar and cold environment, with doctors coming in and out. They kept asking various questions and filling out some forms before leaving. The 

He expected the nurses checking up on him now and then to answer the question marks in his head, watching them flush the tube in his nostrils.

It was when he opened his mouth to ask about it that one of the nurses responded, explaining its essential purpose.

She called it "Nasogastric tube feeding". A line delivering nutrients directly into his stomach through his nose. Heeseung kept listening while the woman cleaned the skin around his nose with a warm washcloth, describing his situation. 

Apparently, he had been in the ICU for a few days, and the doctors ran various tests to unravel his deficiencies. The stats showed the deceleration of cardiac activity, leading to low heart rate and blood pressure. They also mentioned low body temperature, which Heeseung had been battling for centuries. It exemplified why he felt faint and weak all the time. Maybe it even answered his apathy toward life.

The results of his BMI indicated severe underweight, whereas the blood test showcased micronutrient imbalances. Heeseung couldn't fathom all of the details his doctor kept streaming, closing his eyes in a vain attempt to ignore the consequences of his stubbornness and lack of eating. 

Not only did he have to wear a plastic tube, but he also had to talk with dietologists and healthcare professionals to make changes in his life.  

Heeseung loathed it and didn't listen to anything they had to offer because, in his mind, he had already decided what was best for him. Suggestions like attending occupational therapy gave him a laugh, not comprehending the reason for such an absurd and useless alternative. There was still a belief that everything was alright, and the situation was being blown out of proportion. 

Even after all that information, he refused to accept reality. If he did, he would have to reconcile with his aggravating condition and shape. He would have to acknowledge how bad the situation was. That if he didn't take action now, it could end terribly. 

And Heeseung wasn't prepared to admit it aloud. Admit he had been suffering for so long that he lost track of days because they began blending into one endless loop where he couldn't live in peace. Confess the terrible feelings of hopelessness, loneliness, and emptiness. The feeling that he woke up to bypass that motivating bright sun hiding behind those dark, self-destructive clouds. The ones which slowly perished his soul.

Disclose the deep yearning for love, tenderness, and affection lingering in his sore throat. Reveal the hope to knit his tattered heart, wrapping around his neck so delicately that he didn't want it to stop. Divulge the need to end everything trussing in the back of his head, increasing whenever an obstacle occurred, doubting everything about himself. Concede the crossing between life and death, questioning the meaning of existence. 

Relent that the word suicide kept repeating in his mind like an old cassette player, seeing the curse inscribed over everything. Allow the guilt to take over and condemn him for leaning towards the balcony whenever it whispered the word "jump". It conveyed it so alluringly that it made him go crazy, holding onto the railings in pure despair. 

Describe how sharp blades appeared veracious. Explain why he deleted the Google search history to hide the questions on overdoes. 

He wasn't ready, but he had to be. Otherwise, he would ultimately lose himself in the hollowness and disperse forever. 

So, he decided to bite the bullet and push through by turning the page.

Thanks to his determination, he could now sit in a police car and help those in need. Do a job where he could be the person he needed others to be at his lowest. 

There had been one. However, Heeseung was forbidden from ever thinking about that person. 

Why? Because he made the biggest mistake of his life, which he atoned for till today.

A beautiful mistake that he deeply missed every hour, every minute, every second.

"Dispatch to Patrol One," the sudden statistic transmitted through the two-way radio, pulling back the officer from daydreaming. 

"10-04," he quickly responded, grabbing the transmitter and acknowledging the callsign. 

"Are you alright, sir?" the worry conveyed, belonging to none other than Seo-Jun. 

"Yes," He sighed, resting his head on the steering wheel. 

"Sir, pardon me, but you don't sound like it," the young officer evoked, tentative about probing her senior. 

She could hear him repeat the proverb: "Curiosity killed the cat." It wasn't her best trait, and she knew it. It was always these times she couldn't help but push it forward and let concern get the better of her. 

After all, it was Lee Heeseung, the guy who managed to turn her life over. 

If he hadn't helped her escape from her toxic ex-boyfriend last summer, she wouldn't be sitting in the obsolete office now. She was lucky to dial 112 in time and come out alive. If he had been a few minutes late, she could have suffered to death from the undying abuse. The memory was deeply engraved in the depth of her heart, recalling him standing by her side during the hospital procedures. He never wanted to admit it, but he was the town's hero for saving the mayor's daughter. 

Therefore, her gratitude towards him was prodigious. And for the same reason, she wanted to be there for him during tough times. No matter how hard she tried, her approach would emerge unsuited and unfit each time. People told her to get ahold of her steps countless times, and she still made the same slips every time. Nevertheless, she didn't give up and reached out to dial the official. 

"Seo-Jun, I-"

"My apologies, sir. I've crossed my line," she hastily tried to cover up her actions, slapping her forehead for being nosy and pushy. 

"I'm not okay," the voice on the other side emitted into the discomfiting silence, a heavy sigh following the statement. Seo-Jun opened her eyes to perceive the sentence, staring at the floor beneath her as the declaration reiterated in her brain. She widened her pupils when she finally realized what he had uttered, almost falling off her chair after swiftly turning and grabbing back the radio. 

"Sir, is this about the note you've received?"

"What note?" he frowned, backing up. 

"Well, you've got a message on your account, and you know it goes through me first, so I might have accidentally read what was on it-"

"What note are you talking about?" The stern change in speech startled her, contemplating if it was due to her admitting her horrible demeanor or the want of information. 

"The one that states: Broadway 123, 11:30 PM," she reread the email, stuffing her mouth with another strawberry-flavored lollipop. At this point, it was a miracle her teeth hadn't fallen out yet. 

"Any signatures?"

"Just two initials: K.J."

Heeseung's stomach dropped at the revelation, which only confirmed his prior thoughts. It was the 13th of March, after all. What was he thinking?

He looked at the time on the display, typing in the coordinates to the navigation. It showed an estimated arrival in 15 minutes. His jaw clenched, attempting to pulverize the inexhaustible alarm ringing in his skull.

"Fuck, why didn't you tell me earlier?" his panic disseminated into anger, hastily starting up the car. He grabbed the gearstick, his leg pressing the accelerator. 

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought you knew about it."

"You know goddamn well I never check my email," he shifted to 3rd gear already, turning on the emergency lights on the car. They switched from one color to the other, the sound of sirens following right after every blick. 

"I'm really sorry, sir, but what does it even tell? It sounds dangerous."

"Cause it is," Heeseung cut her off, "and that's why you should have told me earlier." 

Seo-jun's voice went quiet, the time on the call prolonging without either side speaking. 

She had nothing to say, as she realized the severity of her actions. 

Frankly, she had difficulty understanding the whole situation and why it aggravated Heeseung this much. She stared at the email, trying to find a hidden clue or something that would cure her curiosity. 

Despite her attempts, she ended with disappointment, leaning back on the chair with a loud sigh. 

She turned her head to the side while Heeseung turned his back on the road, which was moderately clean, with no traffic jams preventing him from reaching his destination. Most cars quickly reacted to the situation and pulled to the side of the road. 

He looked in the rear mirror, seeing a silhouette sitting in the backseat with blood all over her face, a faded smile visible. 

"Help her, I beg you," The voice echoed in his ears as he made a left, entering the mentioned street. 

He fought the unwanted shakiness in his body, the sentence replaying like a broken cassette, causing him to break down the walls he had built in the past months.

He had to be more collected. His duty was to stay calm under pressure and not to invoke panic, but here he was, gripping the wheel too much. His nails began to hurt from the prolonged force, eyes ungluing from the road for a split second. He looked at his image in the mirror, sensing a faint taste of blood. There, he could see the deep cut on his lip, his teeth responsible for choosing the wrong coping mechanism. 

He could also see the same hopeless look as the one on that day, anger building up from within to curse him for being a wreck in such a crucial situation again. The consequences of it taunted him, internally punching him for his incompetence. An officer who couldn't control his emotions was the same one trying to rescue someone. He couldn't even stop himself from deteriorating, and here he was, seeking to thwart others.

It was all foolish, just like he was at this moment. 

What a fool he was for wanting a chance to right the wrongs. 

Without a second thought, Heeseung immediately parked near the reported location, practically jumping out of the car. He checked if his gun was locked and loaded again before heading out. 

He looked around, eyes looking for potential gang associates in the surroundings. He expected at least some bodyguards or watchdogs near the building, but no one was around. Grabbing his flashlight, he took an overhand grip, shortening the distance to the building with each cautious but fast step. 

The residence was outdated, definitely abandoned by the looks of its upkeep. What seemed like a factory was now an empty, deserted residence. No one had visited this place for a long time. 

He approached the door, reaching the porch to see if anything was happening inside. 

The front door was locked from the other side, the darkness concealing the image inside. Heeseung had to go through the back to enter, listening for any noise on his way. It was too quiet for his liking, not a single peep emanating from the residence. He climbed over the wire fence, sucking up the pain the metal left after puncturing his skin. 

Nothing was more important than reaching inside.

He did suspect the message, wondering if it was another prank pulled by the bored teenagers. Sadly, it happened quite too often, with them lining up the emergency number and creating false stories to bring out the hirelings for their entertainment.

Still, none of them knew about his past, so the chances were nearly impossible. Not even his colleagues knew why he decided to take a day off today. They had zero keen on why this day was so important for him. They had no idea it was this day that turned his life around.

He took a position behind the wall as he glanced for the back door, peeking out carefully. To his surprise, it was wide open, bestowing him an entrance. 

He approached it slowly, looking out for a possible intruder since the unusual stillness wasn't preventing the tension in his muscles from stiffening. When he met no obstacles, he determined it was clear to proceed, stepping inside.

The uneven concrete underneath welcomed him back, permitting a path towards the middle. Just like last time, he thought to himself, before approaching the cursed center. 

Here.

It all happened here.

It was where he found Seo-Jun. Right here. 

He could see the silhouette in the wooden chair, bound by duct tape. He could still feel the hopelessness and helplessness.

A supposed rescue mission turned into a shootout, in which he had zero back-ups to overcome the opponents. 6v1, and Heeseung barely came out alive, with one bullet shot in his right arm. The female he was supposed to save bled out on the spot because of fatal injuries, and there was nothing he could do to help her. He tried so hard to stop the bleeding and apply as much pressure as he could in his injured condition. All just to witness her slowly part away in his arms with a painful "thank you".

Heeseung blamed himself for her death till today. After all, he was the one to blame for it. That's what her parents kept repeating.

"Murderer! It was your job to protect her!"

"She's dead because of you!"

"It should have been you who died, not her!"

They were right. 

He agreed with everything they said. It was the truth. He had failed, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. 

Nightmares of the terror night practically became the fairytale of his sleep. He would wake up drenched in sweat, pushing himself to successfully save her in his dreams. He was so close but so far away at the same time. 

It was all humorous. How returning to this unfortunate place stirred the wrong memories. How it managed to discern the familiar gut-wrenching feeling in his system. The one he had to take medication for every day to keep his head clear. To stop seeing the silhouettes of her everywhere. 

"Seo-Jun, don't do this to me," his head dropped to his feet, refusing to reexperience his trauma. 

"You're not here anymore," he bit down on his lip, gulping down the ascending guilt.

"But it's not me, Heeseung." 

His eyes rose, staring at the silhouette. They struggled to decipher the person in front of them, barely having the energy to stay open. 

He stepped closer, his heavy steps echoing through the enormous vacant room. He was expecting it to disappear as it was a part of his imagination. However, it stayed there, clear as a day.  

It was her.

Not her her, but her.

The voice that haunted him every night in his nightmares. The one that begged him to save her sister from those psychopaths, putting the last bits of hope into him. The screams replayed in his nightmares when he had come out with her sister in his arms, barely holding the victim as he was close to passing out himself. They soon turned into weeps, coughing up the pain in her system, unable to stop her body from shaking at the sight of her sibling in agonizing pain. 

He remembered the way she looked up at him while the paramedics carried her inside the ambulance, face covered in shock and desperation. 

It was as if both knew the outcome awaiting them in the hospital, not prepared to admit the painful reality. They wanted to pretend like they didn't know, even if it was only for a minute. 

He recalled her running after the car, legs giving out in the middle, getting up over and over again without thinking twice about the damage on her knees. 

The same pain he felt back then kicked in right now, pounding into his stomach because despite disappointing her, she was the one who checked up on him in the ER. She was the only person who turned up. The only one worried about his condition, holding in the tears.

"I know my sister was glad someone tried. That someone cared and wanted to save her."

"I'm happy to know that the last face she saw was yours and not those bastards'."

"Mr. Lee, thank you. Thank you for everything."

Despite everything, she said those words to him, managing to smile at him before leaving. He felt her release the painful ache through the door, mourning for the lost one as the hospital tiles created a path stained with sorrow. 

"It's your chance, Heeseung."

"To do what you couldn't with me."

He looked around to glimpse a ghost of Seo-Jun, to believe it was all real and not a part of his disturbed imagination. 

But she was nowhere to be found. 

It was Y/N instead, encircled by the cause of her sister's death.

The same person he stopped visiting every day after the incident, too thoughtless to leave her all alone in that big city while the perpetrators roamed around freely. 

He thought it would have been for the better to give her space to grieve properly, without him appearing at the door to remind her of the incident. 

She never complained, though, but rather showed her gratitude for the concern, not managing to function alone with her parents passing on their sadness to her. 

It was a difficult time for her to be in, especially alone. That's why Heeseung's presence brought her the peace and comfort she needed. He helped her move out her sister's furniture, going as far as to seclude a deal to sell the apartment so the family could have a proper funeral, which he ended up attending himself. 

Her parents weren't exactly hiding their anger at his presence at such a personal event, holding him accountable for the happening of the ceremony. 

However, she was the one who had invited him. She chewed their disapproval and asked him to stay beside her. She needed someone to hold on during the event, both mentally and physically, thankful for his hand lingering on hers as she watched her other half disappear into the ground. 

He stayed with her for a long time after that, coming every morning to help her get out of bed and get ready for the day, becoming her caregiver for the following weeks. 

She was suffering inside, and he could tell by her blankly staring into the walls, movements so slow it looked like it hurt. It was difficult to convince her to eat, noticing the loss in appetite she kept ignoring, blaming it on her stomach troubles. 

Nonetheless, she never protested when he wanted to feed her, always cooking or ordering something from outside. She felt like a baby in those moments, with him practically begging her to open her mouth, putting a smile on her face instead. 

They talked a lot over those weeks, with Heeseung opening up about his past and traumatic childhood, sharing the fragments of his parent's death and how it has affected him. He talked about the car accident, the one he was also in. He was the sole survivor, the sole person to exit the hospital and not be transferred into the morgue.

He had never told anyone before, and conveying the lingering heartache was such a relief that he couldn't stop talking, gathering up every detail he had in his memories. 

In a way, it connected the two more, having gone through the tragedy of losing a loved one. Y/N couldn't help but notice the feeling of safety in his company. The more he transmitted, the closer she felt, like she could trust him with her whole life.

While she was fully aware of the effects he was having on her, Heeseung was too busy focusing on her condition to catch the sparkles of joy. 

Whenever she opened the door to him, he couldn't help but beam. His heart would fill up with contentment, dopamine levels increasing at the brief touches they shared, hiding the butterflies amassing inside. It was wrong for him to catch feelings after everything he caused her, and the guilt expanded in his chest at the realization.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who had caught up on the situation. Soon enough, her parents personally contacted him and asked to meet without their daughter's knowledge. They were the real reason for his departure, the why for abandoning her when she needed him the most. 

He never had the opportunity to tell her the truth, to tell her he didn't go on his will but was forced into that decision. He wished he could have told her he was threatened with being sued and losing his career forever due to their belief about his negligence on the mission. Either that or he had to leave her alone and go as far away as possible if he didn't want his life to be over. 

That is what he meant when he said he was a coward: a coward who couldn't even tell the truth. It followed him wherever he went, the mere image of her constantly transmitting in his thoughts.  

And now, the image was trapped in another nightmare with little time, falling into his hands yet again. 

This wasn't how he wanted to meet up, but fate had its way of managing things. The only thing Heeseung knew was that he couldn't let her down again. 

She had to come out of here alive.

No matter what it would take.

"You came," a raspy voice loomed from the darkness, causing Heeseung to hastily stand up and point his gun at its origin. 

His stomach dropped when he locked gazes with the criminal. 

"Kang Joon-Woo."

"It is I indeed," he fixed his tie covered in a fleur de lis pattern, showing off his wealth in the black tuxedo. His auburn slick hair drew attention to his green eyes, which turned stone cold once his gaze landed on the officer in front. They were empty, vacant, without any emotion. It was like staring into a deep well at night, manifesting fright and unpleasantness. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Lee." his silver crown shone as the moonlight sheathed his face, lowering his head before looking back at him again. He exuded the same stare that day, slicing through deeply and threatening with its lethal power. 

Kang Joon-Woo, one of the lead rings of the cooperation of Kang Holding, was the chairman and the mastermind of the whole operation a year ago. Kang Jun-Seo was his right hand, more like a lap dog. 

They were both known criminals in the district he used to work in, successful businessmen who led one of the most influential companies in the city. They ran many hotels scattered over the country, using them as a front to conceal their actual intents by managing and commencing new deals. 

Beneath the surface, they hid several classified secrets, ordering various exchanges between dangerous parties. Some reports revealed drug usage and distribution, contacts with the black market, and even active participation on the deep web.

However, their main focus was on sex trafficking, exploiting young women for their income. It has been going on for many years, with the two predators selling out females to different countries, motivated by the big numbers on the cheque. They were both aware of how these girls would end up, forced to become objects for whoever had bought them. That was the twisted part in itself. The fact that the two went off to doing this.

He found out himself when he got ordered to take over one of these cases since the department had a lead and had a high chance of uncovering the trafficker's location, hopeful about the retrieval. So was Heeseung, especially after the Chief of Police had picked him out personally for the case along with two other ambitious corporals as the sergeant was sick that week, unable to operate. It was his biggest chance to prove himself and stand out amongst his coworkers. 

"Months of searching, and now I have you both at my feet," the snarky laugh punctured through.

"What have you done to her?" Heeseung looked back at Y/N from the corner of his eye, unable to bypass her drugged state. He knew he had to act before it was too late, struggling to piece a plan together at the revelation. 

"I just gave her some candy. You know the ones that bring you to another dimension?" he pulled out a pack of Arrirangs from his pockets, finding the whole situation hilarious. It was uproarious to watch the terror in Heeseung's eyes, darting from the girl back to him. 

"You fucker," Heeseung quickly hovered over her, checking her pulse and breathing. 

"Calm down," he scoffed in amusement, taking a whiff of the toxic elements his body lacked. "I need her to be alive as well." 

"What do you want?"

"Come on, Heeseung. You're smart enough to know," a sigh parted in the heavy ambiance, playing with the cigar between his fingers.

"You know goddamn well someone has to pay for the losses you caused on that day."

"Leave her out of it. She has done nothing."

"Who called you on us?"

"She did the right thing. They just chose the wrong officer."

"Fucking pathetic indeed. You couldn't even save her in the end, could you?" the man burst into laughter, brushing back his hair. He was loving every second of this.

"Since you failed to save her. Now, we need someone to replace her place."

"Jun-Seo was thinking about this beauty right here, but I told him it was too dangerous. Didn't I, brother?"

Heeseung froze at the callout, feeling the mentioned one's presence behind him. He also felt the weapon pointed at his head, threatening to be blasted at a slight movement. Every possible curse flashed in his mind, all pointing towards him.

He was screwed.

"Drop it," the baritone ordered. 

Before he could even look at the famous criminal, the man punched him in his back, amplifying his directive. Heeseung had no other option but to comply, slowly placing his gun on the floor. The guy immediately kicked away the weapon, far away from their reach. He stood there with his hands aloft, looking back at the man ahead.

"And what did I also say?" his tongue clicked, putting on a pair of black leather gloves.

"To have her, we must get rid of the cop."

"That's right." He snickered, approaching the injured girl. 

"Poor girl, she has no idea what's happening," his fingers wrapped around her neck, snickering at the beauty. He turned her face to the side, his filthy eyes scanning her features.

"Don't touch her!" Heeseung shouted, attempting to step closer.

"You better calm down." 

"Or do you want my brother to pull the trigger already?" her hair twirled around his finger, "I want her to see it first." He quickly pulled onto it, causing her head to fall with the snatch.

"No, she has nothing to do with this. I killed your men, not her. Let her go, now!" 

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Heeseung. My client wants a replacement for his previous loss."

"And we decided to give him the other sister," the twin snickered, licking his lips. 

"You're fucking sick." Heeseung looked at the man above Y/N, passing on a distrustful smile. 

"I think we have waited far too long for this one," The snarky laugh punctured through, running his hands on her exposed thighs. 

"I said don't fucking touch her!" 

The delinquent just laughed and took a knife, putting it under her neck. He played with her hair, leaning closer to her ear, whispering something, and smirking right after. Whatever it was, Heeseung was sure it was appalling and lewd. 

"So," the edge of the weapon traveled down her T-shirt, "I'm going to have my fun." He sneered as its sharpness cut the clothing in two, exposing her body to the filthy losers. 

"And you're going to watch."

"You fucking piece of shit!" he jumped the guy, not thinking twice about it. They both rolled down the floor, one trying to keep the weapon, whereas the other risked to grab it. 

"I'll kill you. Right here, right now," Heeseung hissed, head-bumping him as soon as he had the opportunity. 

"You fucker," Joon-woo immediately covered his nose, staining his hand with his very own blood. He was sure it was broken, but it wasn't enough to stop him from returning the favor. 

Heeseung looked back at the other brother, who attempted to shoot the man in black, raising his arm to carry out the movement. 

However, Heeseung was quicker, avoiding the fatal hit by rolling over in time. He still had Joon-woo on his back, getting on his hands to perform a leg sweep. With that, he fell on his back, pushing all the air out of his lungs with a curse.

"You are dead meat, Mr. Lee," the man coughed out, barely having the energy to properly look him in the eye.

Heeseung knew he was minutes away from another blast from Jun-Seo's gun. Without wasting time, he quickly stood up and ran into the other perpetrator with full force. He successfully knocked both of them over, the firearm vanishing in the far distance. The stunt in the movement allowed him to yank and throw the firearm into the far distance. 

"Get him!" the other twin ordered, quickly taking out his Glock 19 to point it at Heeseung. Jun-Seo got on his feet again, shooting a death glare. Despite not having anything to defend himself with, he relied on his strength, rushing to him. His arm extended toward Heeseung's direction, and a sudden hand appeared in front of his face. 

"I should have killed both of you when I had the chance," Heeseung panted, evading each punch like a pro. It was too easy to fight with such an incompetent loser like him, managing to switch positions in the meantime. 

"We should have gotten rid of you two sooner," Joon-woo yelled, shooting into the brawl. He only didn't predict Heeseung doing the unthinkable by pushing the brother in front of him. The bullet entered the wrong body, disappearing in Jun-Seo's chest with a loud gasp. 

"No!" The shooter yelled at the turn of events, watching his twin fall to the ground right next to his feet. He panted in pain and brought his hands to the wound his sibling unintentionally caused, his eyelids losing their tension as his pupils dilated. 

"You piece of shit!" The scourge unleashed from between his lips, a pair of heartless eyes darting back. He looked back to see the cop with his gun right back where it belonged, pointed at him, the main suspect.

"You did all of this just for this stupid bitch!" He raised his arm, turning in the direction of the abducted innocence. 

"Step away from her," Heeseung yelled, blood rushing through his veins.

It was a relief to have taken down one of the obstacles in his way without getting his hands dirty. Nevertheless, there was still the main problem standing in front of him, aiming to assassinate his victim. 

He knew the sicko could pull off a dangerous stunt since his actions were unpredictable, scanning the expressions on his face. He was expecting furrowed brows, hands clenched into fists, or a death glare at least. 

All he got was a loud sigh, followed by a prolongated laughter. The kind of laughter you would hear The Joker do in a quarrel with Batman whenever the two would argue. It was almost as if he was amused or pleased with the outcome, even though his brother was lying inches away in a puddle of blood, practically minutes away from dying.

"You really are a jokester, Mr. Lee," he lowered his gun, ignoring the confusion on the cop's face.

He just passed on a stare and a scowl, fidgeting with the weapon in his hand like it was a toy with no bullets in it. His behavior was so bizarre that Heeseung couldn't help but stare at him in confusion. 

The thing was, the stare he carried didn't belong to someone who had just given up. It wasn't of someone who just surrendered and accepted his fucked-up fate. 

It was the complete opposite of what it was supposed to be -malicious, daring to some degree as if he was taunting him with his capability. He challenged him with a gradually growing smirk. 

At that moment, Heeseung realized it wasn't a renunciation but a part of the plan. The plan that had been constructed from the beginning. Composed to every little point to lure out the enemy. She was his weakness, and they damn well knew about it. They were cruel enough to use it against him. 

With another look, he noticed the turnabout in Joon-Woo's glare, the shade of wrath igniting. 

"For thinking I would let her off so easily," the loud bang emitted through the silence, a sharp "pop" following right after. The noise yielded Heeseung to register the situation, his eyes widening as they quickly scanned for the landing. His gaze landed on the girl in the chair, uncovering a bullet point of entrance on her chest. 

Heeseung's heart dropped as he looked over to the side. 

His eyes widened in horror, staring blankly at the injured girl.

His body went numb, but he still tried to remain as stoic as possible.

All he could do was stare, frozen in fear, as the girl's white shirt slowly turned red.

Heeseung knew he couldn't repeat the same mistake, not hesitating to respond as he pointed his gun directly at the shooter. It was what had to be done. Jun-Seo was going to die today, next to his brother.

His heart skipped a beat as the adrenaline rush towards his veins intensified. He pressed the trigger, watching the evil twin staring back at him in shock, falling back. 

The loud thud confirmed the man was no longer alive, the bullet in his head adding to reason. 

Heeseung slowly approached the corpse, looking at him one last time to ensure himself. 

At that moment, he indeed felt the unbearable weight on his shoulders falling off, all of it evaporating in the air. 

Heeseung finally exhales, dropping his gun to the floor. His heart rate slows down, but the poundage in his body becomes heavier, almost as if the world was collapsing in on him.

"Where-" he quickly turned around at the origin of the sound, his eyes meeting the girl's.

Heeseung instantly rushed to her side, trying to assess the damage.

Her blood flowed onto his hand as he pressed it on the entrance wound, attempting to stop the bleeding.

"I'm going to save you, just hang on..." he whispered, applying pressure after dialing his collegaue. 

As she struggled to remain conscious, her eyes locked into his.

She was unable to express her gratitude with words, so she gave his hand a light squeeze, letting him know that she understood his intentions.

She trusted the man for some reason, even though she couldn't see his face. Everything was pitch dark.

She hoped for the misery to end soon, letting her eyelids rest.

She only waited for the moment to end, for the afterlife to welcome her.

Heeseung was overwhelmed with worry and fear. He knew how close she was to dying, watching her breath grow shallower and more shallow after each passing moment.

He saw her eyes flickering in and out of consciousness, but all he could do was gently stroke her hair away from her face, hoping and wishing for a miracule. 

His hand rested on her chest, feeling her heartbeat. He desperately implored it to keep going, pleading with the higher powers, begging them not to let her slip through his fingers.

"Don't leave me, please," he whispered, kissing her hand.

Heeseung noticed her breathing pattern becoming erratic, her pulse slowly becoming weak, indicating that she was losing the battle for her life.

"Don't go," he whispered, placing his face closer to hers, willing her not to leave. The tears rolled down his cheeks, shaking his head in denial. He desperately tried to keep them from falling again.

"Please stay with me," he beged, unable to handle the thought of her dying in his arms. He continued to caress her cheeks, his voice muffled as his face grew redder and redder.

"Please..."

He recalled all the memories they encountered, the bad and the good, and burst into tears again. He didn't even try to stop them, unable to hold it in any longer.

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you..."

Heeseung's voice filled with anguish, and ha piece of his heart ripped out of his chest. 

His desperation grew as her heartbeat grew weaker and weaker. Her chest rose and fell, labored. 

Each breath was battle for her life, and her body was not winning the fight. It started to grow cold, and her heartbeat became even fainter, as if it was trying to slip through his grasp.

"I'm so sorry." 

"I should have protected you," he cried, pressing into her chest. 

"I love you, Y/N."

Her hand rested on his, a faint smile spreading across her face. 

---------------------------------------------

"Y/N," 

"You-"

"It's you?" her brain refused to believe the alternative, pacing back and forth, forth and back, like a spectator at a tennis match. 

Lee Heeseung? 

Her Lee Heeseung?

No, that's impossible.

She foolishly wanted to hold onto the strand of hope even though it was perilous. She knew it would relish on painting her walls within in qualm, scribbling various disquietude lines, and doodling frightening visions.

It appeared so compulsive, eyelids concealing the water amassing beside. The droplets traced her rubicund cold cheeks, reaching the corners of her quivering mouth. She tasted the woeful hopelessness accumulated over the past months. 

How hopelessly she wished for it to be real.

For him to be with her. 

If there was one thing she had been yearning for, it was his return. 

Somewhere deep down in her shattered soul, she dreamed of a reunion. A reconvene in which she could hold onto him without fear. Without having to worry about him letting go once she would look away. Without being afraid of falling asleep because he wouldn't be there in the morning. 

It was the only thing she had been longing for. 

"No. You're not here. I'm seeing things again, right?" She looked around, laughing while groping the mattress. Doing so, she failed to detect the unknown material, repeating the same motion. It wasn't the same at home. It wasn't the latex filling she was used to. 

She swiftly looked around, eyes darting around the unknown layout. They glanced over its walls sheathed in snow without a single trace of a painting, the dim lamp gleaming in the corner. It smothered the gloominess in a soothing tint of beige, strangely comforting. 

It was so familiar, yet so unknown. 

Was it because this wasn't her first time being in this room?

"Why am I here?" Her rapid breathing complicated the question's delivery, hands clutching onto the duvet to prevent them from shaking even more. 

You fool.

She looked down, studying the IV line inserted in her vein. Her eyes popped out of their sockets, desperately trying to recall what had happened to put her in this situation in the first place. 

"Calm down," the man beside appeased, holding her hand. 

Compared to her ice skin, he was a burning flame. 

He wanted to believe it was because of his anticipation and not because of her declining health. 

He didn't want to be attentive to her paper skin or her bones visibly sticking out. Oh, how much he wanted to believe her knuckles weren't poking out next to his hand. 

However, he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to denial when these were all the signs he harbored before. 

The last time he saw her, his thumb couldn't reach his pinky finger. When he wrapped them around her tender wrist now, they managed to join. 

All of these signals were so familiar that he couldn't ignore them. They weren't normal and he knew from experience what effects it could have if not properly treated. Consulting with the doctor during her sleep was a necessary procedure, but he couldn't tell her everything now. 

For God's sake, she couldn't even acknowledge it was him caressing her hand. 

He felt like a stranger sitting there, with a worried expression and no response. He didn't know what to do. The only thing he wanted was to hold her and tell her everything was over. That he had finally accomplished what he should have done a year ago. Something he owed her from the day they met.

Where was the feeling of joy he was supposed to encounter? First and foremost, he executed an outstanding performance on the job tonight. Thanks to him, the case that was open for years had finally come to an end. It was due to his commission the two criminals now lingered behind bars.

"Is this one of those dreams again?" she suddenly grasped his shirt, unable to distinguish fantasy from reality. She held on to the cotton fabric with dear life, knuckles beginning to hurt as the grip amplified. The oaky fragrance disbanded into the air, entering through her nostrils to allow a segment of remembrance. 

Her fingers slid against the black clothing, studying the outlines of it, tracing down and up again. His chest rose with each unanticipated touch, brows sliding upwards to inscribe a few lines. Worry was written all over them when she gaped at him in confusion, refusing to accept his existence.

"Where I hopelessly look for you and never manage to find you?"

The headache was overlapping her brain in confusion, and she struggled to fathom her surroundings. She didn't comprehend the quick change of emotions on his face, looking at her as if she had announced the death of a close relative. In the end, she went through these nightmares almost every night. So, it wasn't abnormal to her. Yet, his stare was intense and frightened, screaming in concern, the complete opposite of her disclosure.

It wasn't.

It couldn't be after all.

He left a long time ago.

"I'm tired of those dreams," her voice broke down, replacing it with a weep, "because I never manage to find you." She broke down, releasing the suppressed pain gathered in her system. 

The mere thought of them ran shivers down her spine, completely despising the state they left her in. The number of times she woke up crying, desperately trying to hold onto the comfort beside was too much to count. The way she would open her eyelids only to realize there was nothing but a cold and untouched bedside. 

She would always look at the empty spot with hope. 

Hope he would come into the room with that dazzling look and hop back in the bed to hold her tight in his embrace. She wanted him to say everything would be okay, just like he used to. She wanted to hear his smile again, see his laughter, and feel his love in her hands. 

Was it that selfish to ask for the undoable? 

It was.

After all, he had always been a far stretch - an unreachable beauty, like a star in the sky she could only admire from afar. Too unreal to be authentic. Too perfect to exist. Too good to be true. Just like their relationship. 

Even stars die eventually and gradually start fading away. It was simply natural for them to end as well. 

So why was it so hard to say goodbye?

Over 365 days have passed since the day, and Y/N still stood at the beginning of the road. It was as if her feet were glued to the floor, trapping her in the moment she desperately tried to eradicate. 

If a samurai's katana could slice through her stomach now, it wouldn't manage to do more damage. Nor his bow stricken to embed in her lungs. It would simply sting for a second before disappearing into the mist, just like everything else in her life. It would form a pool of blood beneath, assembling a shattered reflection. A reflection she would reach for and fall into its never-ending well of hatred and pangs of conscience.

"I did something wrong, right? That's why you left. I was so annoying with my constant mood swings, wasn't I?" 

Heeseung closed his eyelids to prevent the accumulated sadness from firing, trying to stay collected so as not to evoke more sorrow. 

His hands turned into fists, aching to swing on the coward's head.

What a selfish idiot he was. 

He was going to cry? Him? When he was the reason they were both in this room right now?

It was his decision that caused all of this. He wouldn't be right back at the start if he hadn't given her up for his stupid career. If only he had just listened to his inner heart, things could have been different, better.

It was like someone was ripping him open, cutting and slicing with the sharpest blade, puncturing endless rebukes. Not only was he screaming from the pain, but also from witnessing Y/N uncontrollably crying in front of him. 

Her petite hands held onto her hospital gown, slanting over to let out all the misery he had caused her. She couldn't stop herself from wailing in agony and torment, feeling so hopeless and confused with him reappearing in her life. It was a hard pill to swallow. The kind that gets stuck in your throat, and water cannot drown it. 

"I'm so sorry I couldn't control it," she sniveled, clutching her hair tightly and pulling it to inflict more pain on herself. 

"I'm so sorry," she screamed into the duvet, countlessly snuffling. Her cries were muffled, the airways between her lungs and nose becoming tighter with each one. She was practically yelping for air, hyperventilating. 

"I love you, Lee Heeseung. I love you so much that it hurts," her trembling index pointed towards her heart, repeatedly tapping her chest.

At this point, she was out of breath, wailing and gripping her clothes as if they could release the painful embrace around her chest. She lifted her gaze to meet the apples of his eyes. They were glutted with sorrow and guilt, heartbreak and commiseration. They were merely reflecting his feelings - complete hopelessness. 

"I can't live without you, Heeseung. I can't-" Her sob got cut off by his sudden maneuver, palms gently cupping her cheeks before drawing her face closer to him. Now, he stared into her chocolate eyes, gazing at his hickory ones with surprise. 

"I love you more, Y/N." His nose rubbed against hers, foreheads aligning with one another to create an intimate moment between the lovers. They used to do this often, almost every morning, just holding each other and laughing in joy. It was like a routine, something mandatory before getting out of bed.

"More than anything else in this world," his tears caressed hers, tracing them upwards with his lips. He replaced the traces of sorrow with caring pecks, making sure to collect every drop. 

"Heeseung," her hand clutched his shirt, trying to stay sane even though, deep down, she was melting in his touch. 

He lightly tilted her head back, gaining access to her quivering mouth. She had it slightly ajar, huffing the compressed air through the small gap. Waves of electricity were dashing down her cells, causing an upheaval of homeostasis. The more he looked at her, the harder it got to breathe without a strain on her lungs. She had no choice but to say, "Please, just kiss me."

There was no time for that request to have been adequately thought through, as the circumstances deemed the opposite effect. For once, Y/N didn't want to think over her decisions. She wanted them to happen and worry about the consequences later. 

"Can I really?" his hand slid back, holding her head to grant her maximum relaxation. 

"You fool, I just told you to do it."

"I only want to make sure," he murmured, his lips automatically attracting with hers, like two magnets of opposite poles. 

Perhaps it was a lofty comparison, but the way neither side hesitated before carrying out the deed proved otherwise. They have been yearning for this moment ever since they have parted ways. 

Hell, they spent all of their time convincing themselves they weren't a match made to last for centuries when they were. Their love was so powerful that the glue in their bond never dried out. 

Even though they were two completely different people, it was their love that brought them together. No one could change that.

"No one."

"Not ever," he whispered while he damped her lips with his wet and warm tongue, panting with each smacking sound.

It was like entering heaven. 

He could almost feel the bright rays of happiness encircling them with its mighty power, not to mention Y/N's whimpers, which were like music to his ears.

Or maybe it was his poetic description of this incredible ecstasy that made it appear so illusory. 

He felt like a teenage boy again. His hormones were all over the place, and his heartbeat was agitated with an uncomfortable tension in his boxers.

God was cruel for putting his body into this state, especially in this situation. However, he couldn't control it. A whole year without Y/N meant a year full of bottled-up pain and tension. He never went out and slept with someone else because he knew too well no one could compare to her. 

Fuck, no one could be her, so there was no point in doing anything reckless. Plus, his heart wouldn't be able to do something so dishonest. It was loyal, unlike him, and it never erased nor forgot the name of his soulmate.

"I missed you so much," she cried, her grip around him tightening, so afraid he would let go and the feeling of safety would disappear with him.

"I know, Y/N. I missed you, too." Heeseung's hand slid up her arm, then her neck, until his hands rested on her cheeks, and he gently pulled her closer.

"But I'm here now," he continued, his voice filled with tenderness and affection. "And I don't plan on leaving your side ever again."

She looked up with red eyes, swollen and aching from the pang inside her heart. "You promise?" she asked innocently, not ready to receive a no for an answer. 

"I promise." His voice was firm, his words soothing. 

He kissed the top of her head, feeling her grip tightening around him while tears still ran down her wet, rosy cheeks. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, refusing to let go. 

"I'm not going anywhere. Not this time."

As if by instinct, she buried her face in his chest yet again, breathing in his scent and feeling his warmth as he enveloped her petite body in his warm embrace. 

Y/N felt her heart beating faster, the rush of emotions overwhelming and confusing her in the process. God, how much she has missed this. Being held, taken care of, and loved. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel vulnerable and let out a pained sob. She had held it for so long.

"Breathe," he whispered in her ear, noticing her shallow breath in a poor attempt at composure.

Her body couldn't stop shaking in his arms, the waves of emotions and shock deluging her.

"I'm here." The man of her dreams whispered, his words soothing out the bump of worries in her head. He stroked her lusciously dark hair once again, caressing her cheek as she leaned her head on the crook of his neck.

"I've got you."

That was all she needed to hear. 

They both remained in each other's arms, the silence broken only by their heavy breathing. At the same time, Y/N leaned in for his hands, holding them in hers. They were big and mighty next to her small and delicate ones, swallowing them in his palms. She played with his fingers, wrapping her digits around each one like an adorable baby. 

She has done this so many times before. It felt so natural each time as if their hands were sculpted to fit between the gaps of their fingers. Every insertion and removal was smooth like butter. She repeated it over and over because she couldn't get enough of it.

It was his hand she was holding and her hand he was kissing.

"Is this alright?" he asked foolishly.

She replied with a passionate kiss instead, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling the strong man as close as possible. Her body pressed against his, so gentle with each movement that it made him shiver. He leaned into the squeeze, letting go of his worries once and for all, only focusing on her warmth blending with his. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, the heat of her against his own sparking lascivious ideas. 

Her lips pressed softly against his skin, enticingly murmuring her name as a result. 

"Y/N..."

"I missed hearing you saying my name," she whispered into his ear before gently biting onto its helix.

Heeseung closed his eyes and exhaled a deep and long breath. He leaned closer and caressed her chin, tilting it upwards so he could meet her eyes again.

"I want to be with you forever," he said softly, hand gently caressing her hip.

"I want to wake up next to you every morning and sleep with you by my side."

"I want to hold your face and feel your lips on mine every chance. To feel our love growing more and more each day."

"I want to spend my life with you. To know you're my home, my heart."

She gaped at him in shock, not expecting to hear such a meaningful trail of confession after everything. It contradicted his ambiguously lengthy absence in which Y/N went through hell thinking about what she had done wrong. 

Now, he sat before her, eyes full of ardor and sincerity, brushing his devotion on her like a naked canvas. 

"I've made the mistake of letting you go once," he held her hand, placing it on his chest. She felt his rhythmic heartbeat gradually increasing with each prolonged second of his speech. 

"I won't make the same mistake twice, Y/N." 

Heeseung's voice is filled with sincerity and truth, determined to finally carry through his feelings to her like he should have done. 

"I can't promise I will always be perfect," he expressed, his hand intertwining with hers. "But I promise, I won't let anyone tear us apart again."

He squeezed her even tighter as if she was the only thing holding him together.

"What do you mean? Who tore us apart?" her face changed instantly, confusedly staring into his apprehensive eyes. The cat was out of the bag, and Heeseung finally had to face the harsh side of reality.

Instead of answering, however, his gaze drifted away. 

His expression became darker, pupils dilating from the rise of anger within. It wasn't directed towards the reason, but himself. He was furious for preserving this crucial information from her for so long.

He looked away, his hand still over hers as he tried to find the words. He took it and brought it to his lips, gently kissing it as he spoke.

"Your parents..." Heeseung said quietly.

"They never approved of us, and I knew."

Heeseung paused, unsure of how to proceed or what to say next. He didn't want to ruin her relationship with her parents or affect their reunion. Telling the truth was the best choice, but he wondered if she would forgive either side.

"They threatened to sue me and ruin my career. They said I was negligent on the mission. That I wasn't a good enough person to be with you."

He stared at her, doubtful of how much information to share. 

"They didn't want me to talk to you ever again," he disclosed, his tone guarded. "They told me either I stayed away from you or they would ruin my life."

He sighed and looked down at the ground, a slight sense of shame on his face. 

"It was their disapproval, combined with the threat of losing everything, that forced me to leave."

"So you chose your career over our love?" she scoffed, pushing his arms away.

"Your career was more important than our relationship?"

She shook her head in disappointment. 

"No..." Heeseung quickly replied, stunned and hurt by her sudden change of attitude. "You know I'm not like that."

The truth was that he completely understood her reaction. He responded to his terrible decision the same way, turning against himself for being such a selfish prick. 

Nevertheless, so much was at stake that he couldn't have done it differently. That's what he wanted to explain. To make her see his point of view and hopefully make her understand. 

"You're the only person who knows what I had to go through to become an officer, Y/N. You know what kind of future I envisioned for myself, for us."

He wavered, rethinking his wording so as not to make it sound wrong. His voice slightly trembled, incredibly scared of what might come after all of this. "It would have been my entire future they would have destroyed."

She shook her head in denial, not wanting to believe her bloodline would stand in the way of her happiness. She couldn't believe her mother and father put her into that misery and pretended to be clueless. 

They blamed him for everything, constantly pointing out how right they were about him from the beginning of their relationship. They kept telling her that he would eventually leave and never look back when, in reality, they were the ones who would cause it to happen. They were pulling the strings behind her back. 

This whole time, while she deteriorated from the uncontrollable pain all alone, they were the culprits of her suffering. 

"I," she covered her mouth, the urge to vomit intensifying at the repulsive revelation. 

"Why," she looked up at him, anger and resentment burning in her eyes. 

"Why didn't you tell me right away?" she whispered, her voice hingeing from the lack of power.

Heeseung shut his eyelids, unable to speak at first due to the words choking him up. He couldn't even look his love in the eyes as he lowered his face in remorse.

"I thought you wouldn't believe me," he replied calmly, his voice full of emotion. "They are your parents, after all."

Heeseung searched for the correct words to express what he felt in those moments right before he took the decision to leave her for good. 

"I thought me leaving would be the least painful, the least harmful choice. I didn't want to ruin your family for one incompetent coward like me."

"Bullshit!" she yelled, throwing all of his attempts away. She was so angry at him and her parents all at once that it molded into one tangled wool of wrath that gushed obstreperous amounts of ire. 

"I would have believed you, Heeseung. These are all just excuses-"

"How can you say these are just excuses," Heeseung oppugned, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

"You think I liked being forced to make that decision? You think I liked seeing you in pain because of me?"

He sharply inhaled, almost hissing when exhaling. The words were pouring out of him as fast as a waterfall, and no one could stop him from speaking his mind now.

"Don't you think I regret all of it? Don't you think that I wished every single day that I had just told you the damn truth?" he snapped back, his tone rising at each word. 

"Do you have any idea what I went through this last year?" she shut him down, firmly pushing him away.

Do you have any idea what I was thinking this entire time?" she panted, the wrath inside her escalating through the roof.

"I thought I wasn't good enough for you, that I couldn't even make you happy, that you left because I only rubbed off my bad mental state, and you couldn't handle it anymore. This entire time, I thought it was MY fault you were gone, and I wanted to die." The curses escaped her chapped lips, fists hitting the mattress out of frustration and lack of control over her emotions. Her eyes burned with ire and disarray, quivering from undergoing sudden shock.

"Every day, I dreamt about dying. Every night, I hoped I wouldn't wake up the next day and that I would just die." She shouted into his face, her yells soon enough turning into painful sobs. 

"After you left, Hee, there was no point for me to live anymore."

Heeseung stared at her, totally awed and stunned by her words. He was blind this whole time, ignorant about what was happening behind the curtains.

He couldn't form a sentence, experiencing such strong and intense emotions that he couldn't even find the words to describe them.

"I tried to end my life so many times," she cried, covering her face with trembling hands, entirely losing control of her body.

Chills ran down his spine at the weight of the last sentence, which unraveled the extent of her suffering. 

His worst fear became true: she was hurting because of him. 

From the start, he tried to do what was best for her future. Yet, he only made it all worse. He ruined her and became the cause of her nightmares, of every second of her affliction.

His heart broke into a million pieces. The amount of guilt he had never experienced before struck him intensely, leaving him breathless.

Tears slowly rolled down his cheeks as he realized he had worsened her depression. 

First, he took away the person who loved her the most and then disposed of the one she loved the most. All at the same time, because of him. 

He wanted to shout, to kick himself for being so oblivious. He wanted to hug her and hold her, cry with her, and beg for forgiveness.

But all he could do at that moment was stand like a deer caught in the headlights, completely speechless.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured.

"I never wanted to cause you... pain." His voice broke as he said those words, the guilt eating him alive.

"I-I should have been there for you, I-" Another sigh parted away.

"I failed to protect you."

"Yea, you fucked up. Now, go," her tone drastically changed, sitting up as she crossed her arms, head turning towards the window.

The world outside seemed so much calmer than the one in the room, the tension sticking on the walls.

Heeseung didn't know what to say. He tried to protest, to say something, to do anything to fix things, but after your dismissal, he knew he had to accept the fact that he had messed up beyond all reasoning.

He walked towards the door, waiting for her to change her mind and ask him to stay. 

However, his wish was replaced by a soft "go."

No other words were necessary for this goodbye.

He turned to face her one final time, his eyes full of regret and misery. They couldn't even match hers for more than two seconds before a tear rolled down his cheek.

He had to look away, refusing to see the pain in her eyes and her trembling face.

"No," he said, turning around.

Heeseung was frustrated and felt misunderstood, lost in the words of frustration and anger thrown his way. 

It broke his heart to hear her say these things. Although he expected the worst possible scenario, he couldn't come to terms with this alternative. There was no way he would let her go again. 

He paused, taking a deep breath to process what he was hearing.

"I failed you as a lover and a friend," he whispered, the tone in his voice filled with sorrow and disappointment. 

"I should have been there for you, I should have stayed and fought."

Her stare was still focused outside, refusing to communicate with him further. There was a lot of bitterness and pain inside her to pursue a polite conversation. Any minute, she would go off like a bomb. He was pushing the time until detonation.

Heeseung took a deep breath yet again, looking around the room in disbelief.

He had never seen her so angry before — not even when she was angry with her parents. This was a whole new level of anger.

He couldn't bear the thought of leaving in such a condition while being furious and hurt. Even if he thought she no longer wanted him around, he needed to prove that was not true. He wanted to prove to her his love was real and was not as shallow as she thought.

"Don't make me call the staff and get you kicked out," the threat set a foot on the floor, directly aiming at him.

She finally made eye contact, handing a cold glare, her brows furrowed and her nostrils flared.

For a few seconds, Heeseung was utterly stunned by her sudden threat and the intensity of the stare. Once she made eye contact, he saw deep down the pain and hurt that she was frantically trying to mask.

"I just want to say one more thing before I leave," he whispered, his tone gentle and apologetic. He looked away, unsure if he was doing the right thing.

"I don't want to hear anything from you," she sat up and got her slippers, aiming to stand up and walk him out.

However, a sharp groan escaped instead, her hand automatically positioning on the ache in her chest. His heart sank once again as he noticed the sudden wince in her facial expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of worry and concern.

He wanted to reach out but knew he did not deserve to comfort you in such a critical moment. It was all his fault.

Therefore, he remained standing, but only a meter away, as his worries grew over.

"I just need you to leave me alone." her expression changed nattily, practically hissing out the sentence.

He remained silent, not saying a word.He could hear her breathing and the slight wheezing with each inhale. Other than that, there was only the silence of the room.He couldn't find any words to say in such a situation, not when her voice bore hatred and disdain.

Slowly, he backed away from her, his feet making light sounds on the floor, almost unable to hear them. She winced when attempting to slightly move, each muscle in her body tensing at the unexpected action.

Tears summon in her eyes, crawling back from the overlapping ache and sorrow combined into a deadly mixture. Heeseung noticed how her body reacted, recalling the doctor's orders. He couldn't hold back anymore. He couldn't stand idle.

"Wait," he said quickly, his tone filled with worry and panic. He rushed to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from getting up.

"God, you're such a-" Her whine swallows the curse word, shutting her eyelids due to the ascending pain.

"You can hate me as much as you want, but you must lay down this instance," Heeseung sighed, noticing her effort at resisting his actions even if it was all for her safety. He tried to lay her down slowly but firmly, making sure he didn't hurt her any further.

He gently pushed her backward on the bed, hoping the pain from the movement didn't worsen.

"You're a pain in the ass," she coughed, eyes still closed to avoid any form of direct eye contact. His presence beside was enough to rile her up and clench her fists.

He had to hide his smile as her attempts to push him away and the occasional bursts of insults were adorable. She might have been furious at the moment, but her actions gave away the small hint of weakness underneath.

It made him want to apologize for coming back at the wrong time, but he remained silent and waited by her side for the pain to subside.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window with a heavy pang in his heart. He stayed silent for a while, content with sitting in silence, even if she was still furious at him.

He occasionally glanced at her with a sorrowful look, as if he was sorry for causing you so much pain and distress.

Slowly, he turned his head back towards the window and exhaled, the only noise he made for the following minutes.

"I should be furious and mad at you for everything," she whispered, "Yet, I can't because it hurts even more."

Heeseung's eyes widened once she spoke up. She might have not looked at him, but he heard her perfectly.

She still sounded angry, but it sounded more like regret than anything else. It was the first time he saw her defenses crack, and he was starting to wonder how long until she completely broke down.

"I prayed every night to see you again, to be held in your arms," she paused, suppressing the wave of tears from flushing down her face.

"I-" she put her arm over her face, fighting herself from speaking up further.

He remained silent, watching her struggle with her emotions. He couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart seeing her trying so hard not to break down in front of him.

With a light, tender gesture, he wiped the tears away from her cheeks and put his hand over her fist, trying to hold her fingers while remaining careful about the injuries.

"I hate you," she whimpered.

"I hate how much I love you after everything."

Those words hit him like a knife to the heart.

Hearing her confess her love and hatred towards him was a bittersweet feeling. Although her words still harbored anger, there was no denying his heart was aching for her.

He looked at her, not saying anything, just staring, his eyebrows furrowing, waiting to hear what else she had to say.

"You broke me, and somehow-" she lingered on her words, snuffling, "you're the only thing I think about."

Heeseung's heart ached with each word she spoke, hearing the emotional confession.

He didn't quite know what to say. Her love for him seemed just as conflicting as her rage and hatred as if both were trying to take the throne as the primary emotion in her heart.

Her tearful, trembling voice made him feel vulnerable too, his entire being consumed by the emotions that made him want to hug her so tightly, wanting so desperately to make everything better.

"You turned me into a mess," she covered her face with her palms, refusing to be seen this vulnerable and weak again.

He couldn't even argue with that statement because, at that moment, he knew she was right. He had turned her into a mess. He had left her without a single thought about if she would be alright, what it would do to her given her psychological condition. 

He had forgotten how much she loved and needed him and how his sudden disappearance would affect her. He was unable to stand her vulnerable state any longer.

He grabbed both her wrists, pulling them away from her face, letting his eyes meet hers.

"Look at me," he said in the softest way possible.

He was doing exactly what she didn't want him to do.

She was concealing her reckless emotions from him, forbidding him to see her like this any longer.

At his words, she reluctantly let go of and slowly lifted her face. She didn't want him here, but she did. She craved, no, needed him.

She looked directly into his eyes, feeling her heart ache, not wanting this moment to end but also wanting to escape it. His orbs had the most solemn expression, looking at her with sorrow and empathy.

He couldn't help but feel how her emotions were constantly switching between rage and sadness, and although she didn't say the words, his heart was still willing to believe that she still loved him.

Because she truly did.

And that's why she hated herself so much.

Heeseung's heart couldn't take it anymore.

When she looked away from his eyes, he saw how much she was still struggling to keep her emotions from breaking down completely. He wanted to help her, he wanted to make everything better, but he didn't know how.

With a light tug, he pulled her close and tightly hugged her. The warmth from his body spread to her, the smell of his cologne filling her nostrils.

As if the whole world had turned upside down, she had officially reached her limits. There were no barriers in her way anymore and she let her emotions burst out.

At last, she allowed herself to cry in front of someone again. In front of him. In his arms, in his embrace, in his chest.

With the sound of her trembling breaths, Heeseung could feel how real this moment was. Every tear falling from her cheeks, every sniffle, and every sob.

He didn't mind one bit. He didn't care how vulnerable she was right now or how weak this moment made her look. To him, her hugging hugging him back and feeling her body pressed against his was all that mattered right now.

She was finally home.

She was finally safe again.

She was where she was supposed to be all along.

With her lover, her soulmate, her other part.

She could finally smile again.

Heeseung tightened the grip on her body, wanting to bring her as close as possible to fill the space of loneliness in her heart.

The feeling of her warm body against his was all he needed to feel complete again. It was like he found the last missing piece of the puzzle. With it, the picture was complete. His heart was finally beating again. 

He kept his arms around her, not letting go of her for a single second. He hoped that this was just the beginning of their second chance.

Her hands rested on his chest as she lifted her head, inches away from his lips.

He brought her closer, making the space between their faces even shorter. He slowly lowered his head to meet her lips, his breath slightly trembling as his heart pumped rapidly in his chest.

She moaned into the kiss, closing her eyes and letting him take control. She was so tired, both mentally and physically, but craved him intensely.

Their tongues collided against each other leisurely and intensely at the same time, desperate to have one another as close as possible. 

The kiss was hungry, both despairing for each other that they were practically devouring each other rather than just simply enjoying the moment.

Heeseung's arms tightly wrapped around her, holding her firmly against his body, his lips moving with a steady pace alongside hers. There was no need for any words, as their entire bodies had already expressed everything they needed to.

His hands ran under her hospital gown, sliding upwards on her back. She arched her back at the contact, moaning and lightly biting onto his lip.

Heeseung couldn't help but moan at her reaction. The feeling of his hands on her skin sent shivers down her spine, his fingers feeling like little sparks of joy spreading through.

He moaned against her lips again, wanting this moment to last even longer.

She was all his, and he was all hers.

There was nothing that could stop them from being so intimate and together right now. All the anger and hatred that lingered inside was washed away by the sheer joy of being reunited.

He began tracing her spine with delicate, light touches, sending a chill down her back despite the warm sensations that the gesture caused.

When his hands moved further up, her back began to arch involuntarily, breathing becoming heavier.

His fingers found themselves tangled in her hair, pulling back as the kisses became even more passionate.

"Someone could come in any moment," she panted as he pulled away for a minute, gripping his shirt for stability since she was in a daze. Any hospital staff could barge in, and she certainly didn't want anyone to catch her engaging in lewd activities...

Heeseung let out a chuckle at her reminder, still feeling his heart pump and his lips vibrating with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

"I don't mind," he whispered, his lips hovering near hers again, teasing.

At that moment, the kiss felt so perfect for him, so right that he didn't care if anyone saw them in such a vulnerable state. He looked around the room and back at her, a small, mischievous grin appearing on his face.

"You're crazy!" she wanted to protest, but he kissed her again, sliding his hand behind her neck so she could fully transfer her weight onto his hand.

"Don't worry," he said, getting up and heading towards the door, getting a "do not disturb" sign out of the shelf and putting it on the door's front handle before locking themselves in.

He was glad he had decided to take her to a private hospital, not only because the surgery was done quickly, but he could also stay the night with her.

She couldn't help but feel a little bit of relief wash over, knowing that they wouldn't be interrupted by anybody walking by. The two of you could finally have some privacy to let the passion and desire run free.

With the heat between both of them building up, Heeseung returned to the bed, this time straddling on top of her.

"Oh," she gaped at him from below, her hands holding onto his arms next to her.

Her gaze landed underneath his shirt as he hovered over her, allowing her to fully see his abs. They were still as sculpted and defined as she remembered, perhaps even more visible now. Her mouth slightly hung loose, biting her lip to conceal her arousal.

He looked down at her, seeing the intent stare at his abs as her finger lightly trailed towards the edge of his shirt.

With a soft smirk, he lifted his arms, letting her expose his entire upper body, the abs, and pecs flexing slightly as he moved. He let her admire and touch every inch of his muscle, even letting her trace the veins on his arms.

For some reason, seeing him suddenly topless caused a couple of fireworks to set off in her stomach, immediately looking away to hide the wave of heat mantling her cheeks.

Heeseung couldn't help but giggle softly at her shyness, finding it utterly appealing. He still got butterflies each time she blushed like this, finding it to be one of her most endearing characteristics.

He leaned closer, lifting her hands off her face and caressing it with his own hands.

"So beautiful," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Don't be shy. You can touch any part of me you want."

"Hee," she panted, feeling breathless from the lewdness of his words.

He chuckled, noticing how overwhelmed she got.

"I can't believe how easily flustered you get."

He paused for a few seconds before placing one of his hands on her pink cheek.

"It's okay to be touched like this, you know," he whispered into her ear.

"You've touched my heart so many times already, you can touch me as much as you like."

"If you keep talking like that, I'll melt," she sighed, placing her hand on his face as his gaze only evoked more attraction.

Heeseung laughed, finding her response to his comments sweet. He could see her already trying not to blush and feeling quite embarrassed, which made him want to tease her even further.

"Is that so?" he inquired, looking at her with a teasing smile on his lips.

"Well, maybe it would be better to see you in liquid form. Then I could at least drink in your beauty all at once."

"What are you even saying!" She widened her eyes, slapping his arm and covering her mouth out of embarrassment.

Heeseung smiled and played with a strand of her hair.

"Am I making you upset?" he teased, "and there I was, planning on making you melt all over me so I could lick it all up." With a smirk, he brought his face closer to hers, letting her feel his breath against her lips.

"You're such a pervert," her head turned to the side on the pillow, closing her eyes as the tip of her ears began to redden.

"You like it, though," his voice was tinged with a teasing undertone, almost daring her to deny it.

"Is this making you nervous?" he asked lusciously, "maybe I should keep kissing your neck until you can't take it anymore."

She moaned and grabbed his back the moment his lips brushed against her neck, breathing heavier than before.

He knew damn well how sensitive her neck was, and he always used that against her. He smirked at her reaction to his kiss, noticing how her body tensed up.

As he continued kissing her neck and leaving hickeys all across it, he could hear how she was trying to repress her moans.He didn't plan on going too far with this, but he was incredibly tempted to make you her out with his touch.

She pushed him away for a minute, her whole body practically shaking from the stimulation.

Heeseung smirked, knowing he had pushed her limits with the kiss.

Still, he didn't hesitate one second to get close to her again and place light kisses across her face.

"Is that too much?" he asked, his voice still maintaining that teasing tone, "I could do even more you know. We have a whole night ahead of us."

"I hate you so much," she grunted, letting him peck her face with smooches.

"Such harsh words coming from such a cute mouth." Heeseung laughed as she kept resisting his kisses, only making him want to tease her more.

"You can hate me all you want, but you can't escape my charm," he grinned at her, kissing her forehead and letting his fingers trail downwards.

"You could have gotten me naked instead of blabbering on."

Heeseung raised his eyebrows and smirked at the straightforwardness of her comment.

"Is that an invitation?" he inquired, "cause if it is, then I accept it completely." He brought her close to his body again, still keeping a firm grasp around her waist.

"Let me make your desire come true."

"Be careful, it hurts," she sat up, holding onto him.

Heeseung smiled softly at her actions, letting her sit up and gently lifting her onto his lap. He saw how tired she was, the exhaustion of the surgery still weighing in on her.

"Are you sure you want to do this right now?" he inquired in a concerned tone, "we don't have to do anything, and still…"

He wavered for a moment, leaning her body against him.

"I still want to be near you."

She nodded, running her hands on his bare chest before giving it soft and tender pecks.

He let out a soft groan as his chest was bombarded with so many kisses, his body feeling warm at the spot her lips placed on. He let her body lean on him, enjoying the softness of her skin on his own. He couldn't stop but smile at how soft and gentle her every gesture was, making him feel the need to protect her.

She traced upwards, bringing her lips to his neck. She soaked up the smell of his scent, letting her lips slowly brush against his honey skin, licking and biting occasionally.

After kissing his cheek, she let her face rest on his shoulder, sighing at the warmth they were passing onto each other.

Heeseung cuddled her, running his hands through her silky hair as he enjoyed the closeness of her presence. They were both lying in silence for a couple of minutes, letting the quietness of the moment envelope them both. He felt content, and so did she. She floundered to explain it, but being in his arms made her feel safe and protected as if she was in a cocoon away from the outside world.

"Help me take this off, please," she pointed at her gown, slowly kissing him one more time.

"You don't have to say it twice."

He paused for a moment, feeling her tongue gently slide across his lips. It was as if she couldn't wait to feel his warmth all over her body. The thought made him eager to get rid of the clothing, so he began pulling the strings to the side, slowly untying them before she could slip the dress over her shoulders.

She looked down to see her chest wrapped with bandages from the surgery, sighing at the sight. Her eyes darted away, slanting a bit.

Heeseung's eyes followed her gaze, realizing how uncomfortable and self-conscious she must have felt about it. Wanting to ease her tension, he smiled and placed his hands on her shoulders before whispering next to her ear.

"You don't have to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. I am your lover, and nothing you show me will make me love you any less."

With those words, Heeseung's voice was tinged with kindness, as he wanted to make her feel at ease and wanted.

"I'm sorry for looking like this," she lowered your head, trying to hide her chest.

Heeseung gently caressed her face, lifting it so he could stare directly into her eyes.

"Never be sorry for something you have zero control over." He lifted his hand and placed it on top of her chest, his thumb running across the bandages.

"I was here to support you during the surgery, and I'm still here now to support you through your recovery, and no matter what, I will always love you."

She felt her eyes watering, sobbing as his kind words caressed her soul with love.

He didn't hesitate to pull her in a tight hug, soothing her as he cradled her in his arms.

The comfort of his touch was evident, not only from how her body quivered from the sudden embrace but also from her sobbing. It was clear as a day that she was going through a lot, but the thought of being in his arms was enough to calm her nerves and soothe her soul.

"I love you," she whispered, looking for his lips with hers.

"I love you more, Y/N."

Heeseung brought their bodies closer. It was a tender moment, full of affection and love, as they shared a deep kiss full of care and adoration.

"So you still want me? Even though I look like this," she foolishly asked, worried he could be less attracted to her after the surgery. Not only that, but she had lost a lot of weight, and she wasn't comfortable in her skin.

Heeseung was instantly alarmed at the comment, well aware of her insecurities. The way she was concerned was the last thing he needed to see right now.

"Don't ever think like that again," he placed his forehead against hers, wanting her to understand how he felt.

"Nothing will ever make me love you less. You've been through this surgery and lost some weight, but have I ever told you how beautiful you still look? How much I still want you?"

"Please tell me," she hiccuped, getting goosebumps when he cupped her cheeks and softly caressed them in his big hands.

Heeseung smirked softly before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"You are incredible to me. Nothing has changed how I feel about you. In fact, I feel that my love for you has multiplied, and I want you more than ever."

He waited for a minute, letting his words sink into her heart.

"You've gone through so much today, and all I want to do is take care of you and help you recover fully..."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing from receiving so much care and affection. She had gotten used to being alone and not having anyone for so long that she forgot how it felt to be loved.

Heeseung saw how his behavior was having a huge impact on her, and although he was touched by seeing her reaction, he also felt a certain joy in it, since it meant she was letting him into her life. The more she let him in, the more he felt satisfied, seeing how she accepted his protection. 

"Let me cuddle you again," he smiled, caressing her hair as he pulled her closer to his body.

"No, make love to me, please," she leaned back, letting him gently hold her close.

"I want you so badly."

Heeseung was a bit taken aback by the suddenness of her demand, but the tone of her voice was tempting and irresistible.

He let his hands crawl down her body until they ended up resting on her hips and butt.

"Are you sure you're feeling good enough to do something like this?" he whispered into her ear, not wanting to do anything that could potentially hurt her.

"As long as you're gentle," she smiled, caressing his face in her palm.

Heeseung let out a low growl as she touched his face, delicate yet sensual, enough to make him harder. The more she touched him, the more he felt his heart racing and his breath speeding up.

He moved in closer, their bodies touching from head to toe as her breath hitched.

"I'm all yours," she whispered.

Heeseung was speechless the moment he heard those words leave her mouth. 

It was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine. 

Someone who truly loves him and wants to be with him.

He looked down at her, letting his orbs get lost in hers.

"Do you mean those words?"

She nodded, pressing herself onto his erection.

"My heart only beats for you and you only," she smiled, intertwining her hands with his.

He let out a low gasp upon seeing her take control, feeling some blood hastily flowing to his lower regions.

Her words were like music to his ears, and he kept grinning like an idiot. He was so happy she felt this way about him. He lowered his head, kissing the small space between her shoulder and neck.

"Take off your pants, Hee," she grabbed his belt, trying to take it off.

Her command had him on edge. He was so eager to obey that he didn't waste a second and quickly complied, undoing his leather belt and taking off his trousers as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Seeing him completely naked in front of her made her nervous, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while looking over to the side.

Why did he have to look so ethereal and luscious?

The moment she averted her gaze to another direction and started playing with her hair, urging him to be even closer. He let out a slow breath and took in her appearance from head to toe.

She always had a way of looking vulnerable yet seductive that made his heart flutter with every heartbeat.

He leaned over, gently laying her back on the bed, getting on top. 

She gasped quietly, having him this close making her feel some type of way. Her hand wandered on his neck, pulling him lower to get a taste of his luscious lips one more time.

Heeseung moaned as she tugged him downwards and let her explore his body. It was a feeling that left him with no words.

He let his body rest on hers, making sure she was in a comfortable position as his hands roamed around her flawless body, trailing upwards until they ended up on her breasts.

She hitched once his warm palms held them, cautiously caressing them. Her hands rested upon his, guiding them to cup her breasts a bit more.

His touch was tender and careful, making sure not to hurt her while molding his hands to fit her curves. Her hands encouraged and guided him more, immediately tightening. Nevertheless, he made sure to keep the pressure at a minimum.

The feeling of the heat between their bodies, the sensation of their fingers running over each others' bodies, and the delicate kissing was enough to make his breath pick up pace as he groaned softly.

"You're so beautiful," she breathed out, every bit of oxygen getting cut off in her system whenever he looked at her with that dazzling gaze.

He sensed a deep level of contentment, letting his lips brush against hers. They were warm, and the feeling of her soft body under him left him feeling so excited that his heart would burst.

The fact she even wanted to be with him in that moment made the experience more fulfilling to him, the love only growing with each passing second.

He guided his mouth lower, from her neck to her collarbones, until he had reached her petite breasts, rubbing his face against them. He couldn't get enough of her scent and warmth, kissing and licking her nipples.

The tingling sensation of his tongue made her body shiver, bringing a rush of excitement. Her hands moved upwards to his hair, letting her fingers run through it. She failed to hide her moans, a few escaping, causing a surge of ecstasy to run to her toes, which curled in response. It was quite difficult to maintain her composure.

Her whimpers drove him crazy, glazing her teats tenderly like they were his favorite type of ice cream he couldn't get enough of.

She looked down at Heeseung's erection, grabbing it in her hand. Her fingers wrapped around it gradually, her heart rate racing, mind all over the place. She was lost in passion and had a hard time believing this was happening.

He leaned to her ear, his breath brushing over her after whispering her name. Her touch sent shivers down his spine, but he was also excited at the same time. It's been a while since the last time he had felt the sensation of a woman's touch on him, and he liked it.

She kept guiding her hand, traveling up and down his shaft. He continued twitching in her hand, overstimulated by her touch and existence. She struggled to properly inhale, the intensity of their activities sucking in all the clear oxygen roaming around the room.

Heeseung was going crazy. He was shivering and jolting, all his sensations heightening, and his body was becoming a little sensitive. She didn't have to touch his sensitive area to make him squirm. The way she used her hand to stroke him made any self-control he had left fly out of the window. The pleasure of her touch was overbearing.

"I missed you so much," she confessed, her thumb pressing on the head of his member, causing him to hiss in pleasure.

"I missed you too, Y/N," he whispered, letting a low moan slip out of his lips. She had his full attention. Not even his breath would slip away.

The way she took pride in making him squirm and moan, the way she traced him like a paintbrush across a canvas, made his heart skip a beat, wanting more of her.

He slowly thrust his member into her hand, practically using her to ease his arousal. She guided her palm gently down his shaft, letting him pleasure himself using her body. She kissed his neck, gently biting it. It was fun to care for the dominant one in the relationship.

Heeseung groaned as her lips kissed and nibbled on his neck. The feeling of the kisses left the blood running hot through his veins, sending a rush of heat through, slightly spasming below.

His hands moved down her body, one of them grasping her hips. She groaned as he felt his fingers circling her sacred part, spitting down for easy access inside.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he panted, his index playing with her clit.

"I should be the one pleasuring you," he stopped her from doing anything more, not wanting her to feel as though she needed to compensate him in any way.

His hand moved down to her body, skimming over her skin and body before settling down between her legs. His fingers caressed her folds, sending shivers.

"But I want to," she pouted, attempting to close her legs when his face was inches away from her exposed lower part.

"I know you do, but it's time that I got to return the favor to you," he cupped her thighs, squeezing them gently as he lifted her legs over his shoulders.

She covered her mouth, closing her eyes the minute his tongue brushed over her woman parts, causing her to throw her head back from euphoria.

Heeseung's touch was gentle but firm. He wasn't being forceful, he wasn't being rough, he was merely enjoying the moment of watching her body shake and tremble.

His hand moved lower and lower, his finger tracing your entrance.

His spit slipped inside, alongside his fingers, moving them in and out with ease while licking her clit. He pushed his fingers in more, curling them upwards to hit that sweet spot that would make her moan and groan in pleasure.

"Hee," she panted, drooling over how good she was feeling, tugging his hair since she needed to hold onto something. After all, she was going through cloud nine.

His touch left her gasping for air like a dying woman. She had no choice but to squirm and moan, letting a wave of ecstasy take over. It felt like she was in another world, the feeling extremely intense.

Heeseung's fingers circled and moved inside her, causing her to dissolve. She gritted her teeth, hands forming into fists as the pleasure overstimulated her.

His were moving slowly and methodically, focused on her that the world around him almost didn’t exist anymore.

It was as if the both of them were in their little worlds, enjoying the feeling of being together, their breathings syncing, bodies blending into one blossom. His hands slowly picked up the pace, going slightly quicker while remaining gentle.

"Hee," she called out softly, fighting to contain her lewd sounds, legs shaking slightly as the stimulations were overlapping. She felt like she was going to explode any second.

He knew what you were going through because he could see her expressions rapidly changing with each lick and curl. She was reaching that point where she couldn't hold it in anymore. It made him happy since this was proof that he was capable of pleasuring her to such an extent.

"I love you," she cried from the pleasure, arms crossing over her face to hold it all in. His fingers were quickly moving deeper and faster. He wanted her to experience as much as she could right now.

The words of affection got Heeseung feeling all mushy inside. He wanted to please her, to make her experience everything he could give.

"I-" her mind went blank, turning your head from one side to the other, feeling her climax building up inside. She was so close, and she couldn't hold on anymore. Her hand immediately grabbed his free one, tightly gripping it.

Heeseung didn't stop, speeding up to drive her over that edge.

"Hee-" she called desperately, legs shaking as he kept licking and moving his fingers quicker.

"Relax… Just relax, Y/N… Let go, let go for me," he said, his voice soft but commanding.

Without another minute, her nails dug deeper, her body shaking and tugging rapidly as she reached her climax, completely covering his fingers in her arousal. Heeseung smiled, licking all of her cum from his fingers and entrance, edging her with his kitten licks.

"Fuck," she cursed, overstimulated by everything.

She felt like all the tension had left her body - as if gravity had let go, and she was floating in the air. Her mind was blank, body trembling, breath quick and shaky as the feeling of pleasure was running all through your system.

"Heeseung," she whispered, pulling him closer.

He smiled a little as he moved his hand up to her cheek.

She wrapped her arms and legs around his body, kissing his neck over and over again.

"Please, put it in," she begged, resting in his embrace.

The moment she spoke was almost like music to his ears, and Heeseung knew exactly what you were asking for.

He gently pushed her down onto her back, leaning over with his hand trailing down her shoulder and chest to her neck. He let his other hand move lower slowly to touch her properly.

"Are you ready?", he whispered.

She kissed him, letting her actions speak. Her tongue immediately slid inside, breathing and moaning into his mouth.

He matched her energy, his tongue fighting with hers. He wasn't being gentle, neither was he being a beast. He was allowing the moment to unfold, not rushing it. The wet kisses were leaving them yearning for more.

"I don't want to wait anymore, Hee," she conveyed, wholly resting her body on the bed. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, putting her arms above her head.

It was her way of letting him know that she was ready. That she needed him, now.

Those words sent his blood boiling, causing his member to twitch and jolt from the feeling of wanting her so badly.

He looked down at her marvelous body, noticing the position she had placed herself in for him - the invitation he saw in her eyes made him go wild.

He leaned down to her, his breath handling her with every word that came out of his mouth.

"Are you sure you can handle me?" he whispered, his voice a little low and husky from the intense moment.

"Stop talking and just do it already," her patience was getting thin, rubbing her lower part against his.

He grinned, unable to hold back the smile on his face after she snapped at him. With his body resting over hers, his hands went to the back of her legs, squeezing them slightly.

He looked into her eyes once more before pushing his body forward, aligning his shaft at her entrance. It wouldn't have been Heeseung if he hadn't teased first, rubbing his member against her slickness. He enjoyed watching her whimper in agony and frustration.

Her mind went blank the more he teased, swept away from his touch. There wasn't one single thought in her mind, merely focusing on this moment.

Her hands gripped his muscular arms, moans getting louder with each moment he rubbed against her beautiful body.

Heeseung's mind was on nothing but giving her satisfaction. Her legs gripped his back, voice becoming more breathy and soft as she wanted him to ease her arousal.

He smiled, and without a warning, he put himself in, his dick sliding inside her smoothly, causing both of them to moan loudly.

Her slippery and hot walls trapped him inside, trying to soothe his tugging and jerking shaft. He groaned, his abdomen drawing in at every push, shaking his head from the vigor of pleasure. She was unreal, her beauty, her body, just all of her.

Heeseung opened his eyes after calming down, his breathing deepening. His lips agonized for hers, huffing his compressed desire and longing into a powerful and passionate kiss. It was the longest one of today, sucking her lips in his mouth, his tongue grazing over, between, or under them continuously. He couldn't get enough, cursing at how unbelievable this was.

Her heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her ears, not believing that this was happening to her right now.

"H-Hees…" she could barely say his name as her voice quivered. He was using one hand to hold her against him, his other moving down to her hand.

"Y/N…" He breathed out, his voice husky and shaky. His thumb rubbed her hand, squeezing it gently to the point she could feel his touch.

The feeling of him being inside was a mix of many things, but the main factor was that it felt right. His body fit like a puzzle inside, like two pieces finally joining together.

She had used this expression before, but there was no better way of describing this bliss. It was too perfect to be true.

She was losing her mind, forgetting to breathe.

“Take a deep breath,” he whispered, the words barely audible from being so lost in the moment.

His hips slowly moved alongside her, their bodies now both thrusting together, absolutely lost in the moment.

All of his thoughts disappeared, the rush for pleasure consuming him. His lips met her shoulder between kisses, his tongue licking along it.

She did as he said, inhaling and exhaling filthy noises, turning him on even more. Her eyes were teary, not because it hurt, but because it felt too good.

“Good girl,” he whispered, caressing her hair.

His hips kept moving, taking longer, his back arching as he did. It took everything in him not to lose himself in the pleasure, to hold back and make sure that this was a long and enjoyable experience for both sides.

"Don't ever leave me again, please," she pleaded, realizing how emotional she was getting with each thrust. The fear inside was climbing over her walls, ready to ambush.

"Never," he vowed, kissing her with such desperation that he couldn't control himself any longer. It was like he was craving more of her.

Her hands held onto his hips, nails digging into his skin for support. Her legs were starting to give up, shaking from the intensity and ecstasy of their lovemaking.

Heeseung noticed her legs, moving his hand down to grip her thigh and hold it up slightly. He knew that he had to make adjustments to take it slower and not wear her out so quickly.

“Heeseung,” she breathed out, watching their bodies moving together with every single thrust. How he slid inside her and pulled away, completely disappearing inside her while hitting her hallowed spot. She threw her back, the image sending goosebumps all over.

He watched her body twitch and shiver, nails digging into his back. His breath was growing shaky, incapable of thinking about anything but being inside of her, enjoying the moment when the two of them were connected completely.

She looked at him through her droopy eyelids, toiling to look straight as he kept pushing himself deeper. Her mouth was drooling slightly, a light string of saliva tracing down her neck. This had to be what they meant by being fucked until your brain was empty.

"I love you," he moaned, his voice shaking and his breath increasing in speed. He could barely keep himself from falling in that moment; he was trying his best to keep a steady rhythm.

Her eyes rolled back, completely deteriorating in his thrusts. The deeper he fucked her, the more her insides quivered.

Heeseung pushed even deeper, his mouth open and his breaths coming out in small puffs of white air.

Her nails left long scratches on his back, losing control over herself.

"I'm here," he whispered against her neck. "I'm not going anywhere." Every word he said had a sense of urgency and determination to it. He was there, in her arms and he wasn't leaving her.

"I love you so much, Hee," she sobbed, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Her moans occasionally slipped out due to his magical thrusts, becoming one with him.

"I love you too," he said quietly as he raised his other hand to her forehead and gently ran his fingers through her bangs. His hand came down to caress her cheek and he looked directly into her eyes. The passion he felt for her was overwhelming, and he couldn't think of anything at this moment but her and the wonderful moment they were sharing.

Heeseung moved his mouth back to her neck, kissing and nibbling softly. This feeling of belonging and unity between the two of them was just incredible.

His thrusts were longer but at the same time slower, his hand moving down her thigh and moving her legs down to his, he needed more grip for the both of their pleasure.

She bit her lips, eyes shutting at the phenomenal experience, throwing her head back and slightly arching. Her chest started hurting a bit, as their intercourse was getting a bit intense.

"Hey," he breathed, pulling himself out for a moment from your body. "Are you okay?"

It seemed that he caught on to the fact that she was beginning to feel some pain. He moved to the side and looked down at her, his face concerned.

"Sorry, it just," she pointed to the wound, exhaling loudly.

He realized that he made her discomforted. He couldn't stop himself from frowning, his face looking concerned.

"Don't apologize," he said, his voice a little low. "Just tell me what I can do to help relieve the pain, alright?"

"Maybe if we lay on our sides," she proposed, struggling to make herself turn

"That's a good idea," he helped her turn, leaning behind her and putting his arms around to help her stay in that position. His body eased into that position, laying his head behind her, arms holding her, and his chest touching her back.

"That's better," she smiled, breathing a bit easier now.

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I was enjoying the moment so much that I got a little carried away…"

"No, it's ok, I was enjoying it as much as you," she turned her head back a bit, grabbing his hands and putting it on her stomach.

Heeseung's body relaxed after her reassurance, leaning in more to wrap himself around her, the top half of his body covering her while the lower half pushed deeper into her.

She whimpered when he slid back in, squeezing his hands with a resonant sigh. This time, he was slower and more gentle, kissing from her nape all down her spine, leaving a lengthy trace of ardor. His mouth traced slowly down her back, turning his adoration into a sensational experience.

It was different this time because his concerns about her comfort were clambering. He never wanted to hurt her, only aiming to give her pleasure. Hence, he grabbed her leg, putting it over his so he had more space to enter deeper, to hit that spot that sent her through the roof.

As expected, she let out a deep gasp, the sound escaping from her almost involuntarily. Heeseung's tongue traced another slow line down her spine and back up again, savoring her taste.

He caressed her inner thigh, moving his hand back to her chest to play with her teats. His thumb and index grabbed them, twisting them around. He loved her appearance, but her breasts were the real treasure he never got enough of.

Words weren't able to describe how incredible this moment was, how their bodies connected and merged into one blossom of fervor.

His hands trailed up and down, drafting her marvelous curves. His touch felt light and gentle, yet there was still a sense of urgency and power behind it.

"You're so fucking beautiful, it's driving me crazy," he cursed, squeezing her breast.

"You're… you're so perfect," he spat out in between kisses, his body getting comfortable and used to this position. He bit down more forcefully on her neck, his kisses leaving more and more red marks.

"Hold me close, please," she whimpered, looking for his hands on her body.

"I got you," he said, body shifting to fully align with hers, arms gripping her from behind to tighten. He brought his face into her neck, his breathing speeding up with each kiss he gave her.

"Never let go," she sobbed, squeezing his hands with her trembling ones.

"Never, I promise," he pledged, holding her close to his chest.

She could feel his heart beating in time with hers, both sounding like they were about to explode.

"Never," she repeated, praying it was going to become true.

Heeseung kissed her deeply and passionately, pressing his body up against hers.

He was aware of her intonation, the worries raking in her head. Every kiss was stronger, more intense, and hotter than the last as he had to destroy all of them, one by one. His lips moved along her neck, tongue encircling on her neck, licking along it as he left no spot untouched.

She sat up, pushing him back on the bed. Heeseung's eyes widened, his reflexes quickly grabbing her wrists to prevent her from falling back.

She slightly groaned, lowering her head a little to catch her breath.

"Can you also sit up?" she proposed, wanting the two of you to make love while hugging each other.

He did as she asked, lifting himself a bit, leaning his back against the bed as he sat up with his legs spread. His hands held her back, one of his hands moving down to hold her leg as the other rested back on his. His mouth met hers, giving her a long kiss, not letting go of her in any way.

"I wanted to look at you," she voiced as she guided his shaft back inside her, scrunching her face.

"That's fine," he breathed out, his voice hoarse from being in her again, the constant switching driving his member to aggravate.

His eyes looked at her while her body trembled and twitched, his body feeling incredible. It was almost like being high, heavenly, and divine.

"I can feel your heart beating against mine," she smiled, her chest brushing against his, her perky nipples stimulating themselves.

Heeseung's heart beat faster every time she did that, her soft hands tenderly caressing his body, as if it would break in her delicate touch. She went over the muscles of his leg, his stomach, his chest, and eventually his arms. Her touch sent shivers down his spine and made him moan and sigh, realizing just how much she was driving him crazy.

"I missed you so much," she chuckled, masking the pain in her voice by cupping his cheeks.

"I missed you too," he breathed out, his lips locking with yours, making sure to kiss her deeply to show how much she meant to him.

Every kiss and bite seemed to drive a feeling of euphoria through his body, like every time he kissed her, a wave of happiness and satisfaction coursed through.

She closed her eyes when he caressed her back, circling it with a tender push. He made her feel so comfortable and safe, all with just one look, one touch, one kiss.

His kiss was the sweetest thing, his hands and lips exploring every inch of her. He wanted to feel all of her curves and touch every inch of her skin.

Her fingers wandered into his hair as the kiss deepened, huffing into his mouth while gently moving up and down, making both of them feel the most wonderful fractions inside.

He pulled her closer, their bodies wrapped around each other, unable to let go of one another. Their hands rested along each other's sides and their legs slightly entwined underneath.

Heeseung's tongue slid in and out of her mouth, exploring all of the areas he had already tasted before. He licked her upper lip after moving his hands down her hips.

He firmly gripped them, guiding her up and down his cock while he sucked on her neck, leaving trails of hickeys.

His breath warmed her icy skin and his lips kissed and nibbled along. Her body was starting to tremble and shake, his tongue returning to her lips. His kisses were extremely passionate, the ones where she forgot to breathe or think.

She pulled away, staring into his eyes through her lax gaze, mouth slightly agape, lips covered in their saliva. Her brain was empty, not thinking about anything but his presence and being inside her.

It felt like a deer caught in the headlights, clueless and innocent.

Heeseung smirked, watching her stare back but not knowing what to say. She appeared so pure it made him want to kiss her over and over again, fully swallow her in smooches and happiness.

He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her face towards him again, this time gently kissing her neck.

Her wet lips brushed against his neck, quietly puffing and huffing. Her saliva was pooling on his shoulder since she rested her face on it, unintentionally drooling from the sensation.

Neither of them had any intention of stopping, wanting this moment to be eternal. When he saw how much she was enjoying herself, when he felt how aroused she was and how much he was giving her pleasure his lips curled into a satisfied smile.

His hands moved back from her cheeks to her hips again, squeezing her waist. His kisses still moved along her neck, his tongue occasionally nibbling at her collarbone and leaving it slightly red from the small love bites. 

She was drunk-dazed from his love and affection, from his kisses and touch, from his presence. One man was enough to wreck your entire world over and gather it up back, and that was Lee Heeseung. 

"I love you," he muttered. 

Nothing else was on his mind other than how gorgeous she looked, how incredible she felt, and how good it was to see every expression on her face from pleasure to satisfaction.

"Say it again," she murmured into his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You want me to.. say it again?" he asked, his voice a bit playful, yet his smile warm and genuine.

He moved his tongue to the side of her neck, running it from her ear to her collarbone, kissing it softly.

"I love you."

"Again," she smiled, closing her eyes from the exhaustion.

Heeseung chuckled, caressing her cheeks and running his fingers through her hair.

"Hmm, should I?" He teased, his voice mischievous.

"Should I say it again?" His breath and hand fondled her neck with marks.

"Mhm," she nodded, lazily dragging her lips on his neck.

"I love you..." he breathed out, moving his lips down until they reached hers.

"How many times do you want me to say it?"

"Until the day I die," she mumbled, eyelids shut and mouth still drooling, body completely relaxed and leaning against his.

"I love you," he repeated, giving you a light kiss.

"I love you." Another kiss

"I love you." Another one.

"I love you." The last one, slightly rougher than the rest. 

"How much, though?" her eyelids open a little, giving him a tired, but extremely seductive look, the one he lost himself in each time. 

"Hmm.. let me think," he chuckled, feeling the hotness mounting in himself from her look alone.

"If I could, I would take all of your pain away and replace it with the happiness you deserve. I would give you the whole world just to see you smile in my arms every day. I would give my life to make yours wonderful. I would sacrifice anything just so you can feel safe and loved. "

She whimpered at his words, eyes watering and insides rolling over. Her nails dug into his back again, hiding her flushed, red face in his shoulder.

"I would fight for you and protect you with my life, not allow anyone to hurt you ever again. I would fondle you in love and affection, from the moment you open your eyes till you close them," Heeseung breathed out, her scent intoxicating him.

"S-stop," she whinced in pleasure, eyes rolling back. The more he spoke, the closer she was to cumming, his words messing up her insides.

"You're my world, my life, my home, my reason to breathe every day. I want to take care of you and protect you, make you happy, and keep you warm every single time you feel cold or sad," his breathing shallowed as he spoke, feeling incredibly turned on by her reaction.

"E-enough," she pulled back, throwing her head back. He grabbed her wrists, not allowing her to escape his love.

"Never," he responded, pulling her back into his arms.

"I want to be with you all the time, I want to feel your body against mine, I want to make you feel loved, I want you to be mine and me to be yours until we die."

"S-shut u-up," she stuttered out, knowing she was minutes away from her orgasm.

"Why would I stop? " he asked, moving his thumb over her shoulder, circling and brushing her skin with the slight graze of a nail, leaving little marks on her skin.

He was also close to his climax, so he was more determined to finish the job than ever. His body tightened around her and his kissing became more profound and stronger.

"You need to hear the truth," he hissed in her ear, clasping her buttocks in his hands, pushing her onto his dick. 

"H-Heseung, I'm gonna-" she trembled, biting onto his shoulder to keep her loud moans in.

"Don't hold it in," his mouth ran along her shoulder and her arm, the marks getting darker with every kiss.

"Cum with me, please," she pleaded urgently as if her life mattered to it. 

"I will, don't worry," he kissed her cheek, caressing her head. 

Without another minute, her nails dug deeper, her pussy trapping his shaft in her fully. Her walls spasmed in a periodic pattern, sucking him in. Her clear cum glistened his shaft, wrapping him in its warmth and comfort. 

"Good girl," he whispered, his jaw twitching slightly. He wrapped both of his arms tighter and pulled her into a messy kiss.

His release followed up right after, managing to pull out just in time to cover her abdomen in his crystal white load. He panted as his fingers traced his cum on her stomach, spreading it all across her. 

His other hand gently laid her down, licking all of his mess off of her, the same way he did with her own. 

Perhaps it was the overstimulation he loved to observe on her or the fact that she clung to him more after cumming. Either way, he didn't stop rolling his wet tongue along her body. 

"My good girl," Heeseung whispered into her slick hole, pushing his tongue inside to slurp up all of her cum like it was a treat. 

Did he love her? Yes.

However, was he a bit of a sadist? Yes.

A low moan escaped his lips as he felt his mouth filled with her cum, his free hand gripping hers tightly. 

"H-hee."

He lifted his stare, landing on her adorable one, beseeching him to hug her. 

"You look so cute when you’re all tired like this, Y/N," he smirked, a faint peck landing on her cheek. His hand intertwined with her, the other playing with her hair. 

Sometimes, the amount of love he harvested for her managed to surprise him, finding himself falling apart in her touch and gaze. 

"H-hee," she whispered, closing her eyes. She tried to fight her exhaustion, but it was starting to get to her.

He saw how drowsy she looked, so he pulled her tighter to his body. 

"Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up," he kissed her, his voice very relaxed and comforting.

"You promise?" she murmured, half asleep on his chest. 

"I promise," he assured, kissing her forehead and tucking her against him, pressing her body against his.

His hands stayed on her side, keeping her safely in his warm embrace.

"Until the day I die."

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Taglist: @end-hyphen, @hee-pster, @jakeswifeyy, @gegeetime, @heerated, @jayked, @forjongseong, @enhastolemyheart

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ^^

───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

@maggstar

#minors: dni #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen headcanons #enhypen drabbles

[inamagicalhallucination]

so it happens on a mission that aku gets hit with an ability

he didn't meant to be hit

he honestly wasn't in the range to be hit, it was just... well he saw it go towards the jinko and his body just reacted. it was just practical that someone without anxiety got hit, yeah. that's what he was sticking with.

-

he wakes up in a room not his own, wearing kitty pajamas he does not own

he reaches for rashomon, she does not reach back

he grabs something as a makeshift weapon and walks out, ready to claw his way away and-

"ryuunosuke you... you wear the pajamas i got you?" atsushi

he whirls, atsushi is standing there with coffee cups in his hand, one he's sipping from and one he's holding out to aku

he makes no comment on akutagawa's makeshift weapon

akutagawa, from pure confusion ends up spilling, in his "what the fuck is going on jinko"

he's a college student here, roommates with atsushi -- they've been friends for two years now... atsushi, though confused at first and offering to call his doctor friend who's "only scary when she wants to dissect you!!" but eventually he decides that it must be true becuz this aku is very different from his own aku though his personality is still pretty cute -- like when they got in a fight and aku slapped his hand away and atsushi said "ow" cuz it hurt and he just stopped and apologized for the whole day -- seemingly surprised that it would hurt him at all

a few days in this dimension though,

-

akutagawa wakes up in another bed

he's not traveling to another dimension -- he's travelling through multiple dimensions

this one he wakes up in a small apartment, he looks around for atsushi but he isn't there -- he's confused and disoriented and he gets dressed, is extremely lucky that this aku's phone has the same password as his own, and tries to follow this aku's steps int he hopes of gaining some balance

this aku always visits a coffee shop -- it's written into his calendar and schedule

aku considers ignoring it -- but a flash of white catches his eyes and he walks in, and there behind the counter with a pleasant smile

he doesn't know why atsushi turns red when his face unwillingly melts into something at someone familiar or why he stumbles and trips when aku calls out to him (careful not to use jinko when last atsushi didn't have powers and just Stared at him)

he stays at the cafe wondering if its a coincidence that both universes had atsushi this close

probably

he watches atsushi anyway

a day into this universe and then

-

he wakes up in a warm bed, comfortable, the sun on his skin from the window, a warm body behind him, an arm over his body-

he jolts up

atsushi jinko

blinks awake, sitting up and with him asking whats wrong and aku's eyes land on a ring

a ring on atsushi's finger "YOU'RE MARRIED???"

"uhh yes dear, we're married um are you sick?"

akutagawa does not faint

a week of domestic bliss

-

and he wakes up to a pleasantly aching body and atsushi sitting on the bed reaching for his shirt

he hides himself under his blanket, face red as the dots connect

and muffled under his blanket he asks if theyre dating

theres a heavy pause

then

"ask me when u havent just had an orgasm... when ur serious"

and a few minutes later the door clicks shut

akutagawa pulls himself out of his blanket

lays there

and in a moment of something strange, writes down a note for this dimension's him to ask again

and then over and over again from one reality to another

for weeks or for a few hours

one atsushi to another atsushi to another-

every universe that he goes in, in some he's happy, in some he's about to reach happiness, and in some he has nothing -- and its all because of atsushi

and at some point he gives that universe's akutagawa's number to atsushi becuz he knows it'll bring light into this miserable reflection for him

or he leaves a note to try try try

but over and over

until he wakes up with a teary eyed atsushi

how has he never realized...

all the atsushi's were lovely and pretty and perfect but his... this atsushi

he sits up to reach over the bed and melt into a confused atsushi's arms

just for a moment

/

now did various aku's pop up in canon verse aku's body leaving a confused atsushi wondering if this is another aku and aku has to like convince him that he's actually his aku lmao

/

also it was

college/roommates au

cafe au

married au

fwb au

and a bunch more but i got tired of thinking

#sskk #shin soukoku #bungo stray dogs #atsushi nakajima #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs atsushi #bsd atsushi #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #akutagawa x atsushi #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa ryuunosuke #ryuunosuke akutagawa

[dungeonpuppykai]

|| Magnum Opus ||

Summary: She was like a Delta kite; created for flight and triumph. Only her line was wrapped around the fingers of her Boss.  

Pairing: Dark Mob Boss!Pete Brenner | Naive Mobster!Reader. 

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Pete Brenner. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), innocent!reader (as innocent as can be), boss!Pete, assassin!reader, corruption kink, age gap (reader is early 20's, Pete is late 40's), Daddy kink, pet names, fingering, p-in-v penetration, thumb sucking, biting, possible degradation and humiliation, power imbalance, boob play, slapping, dark themes.

Note: Yes, I am obsessed with this handsome jerk. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

MASTERLIST

Naturally, Boss was very pleased. 

"Good job, everyone" Pete was leaning against the edge of his heavy work table in his home -that was a literal mansion- office, hands resting in the pockets of his grey dress pants. A long mission that had run the course of half a year had finally concluded tonight at the hands of his ace assassin, Y/n, with the assurance that it was going to earn him millions. 

"Okay…" He nodded at the team that had been involved; a line of stern faced cruelty hardened men staring back at him. Some had beards, the others hair that touched their shoulders and the few left still the pinkness of early youth in their cheeks. "Dismissed, drinks and dinner are on the house… You earned it" the parting announcement made the younger members, namely Jake, Syd and Bryce, cheer as they turned to leave but not before the dark haired boy with the long hair reached out for the quiet figure that was still in a corner of the dimly lit room; engulfed in darkness. 

Pete was quick to notice Syd beckoning Y/n to join them. When the girl made no movement to accept or reject the offer, the Boss half-smiled to himself before he broke up the rising chant of the boys that meant to urge the girl to join them.

"Y/n, stay behind" he pretended not to have noticed the commotion, acting like it was pure business as always. Though his words caused Curtis to tense up and pause mid-turn, bearded jaw clenching as all of them had at least a faint idea -the older members more than that- of what went down when the Boss made the young girl stay behind. Though a quick look from Ari and a quiet arm squeeze from Steve had the man force his feet to move with much will but only after he had closed his fists in tight balls to endure his growing rage.

The younger boys deflated as Jake pouted at Pete, but a challenging eyebrow raise from the older man made all three boys cower before they dragged the one with the spectacles away. And now the room was empty. Pete looked up at the shadowed figure and smiled, holding a hand out invitingly as he awaited obedience. 

Y/n had been trained not to move a single muscle until the Boss ordered it, and so she finally moved now. Beginning to close the distance between herself and the only semblance of family and belonging she had, the girl felt her eyes flinch a little when the light hanging above Pete's head hit them. A reciprocative smile made its way on her face as she fished a hand out of her jacket pockets and placed it in his bigger one. 

As the Boss' eyes traveled from her pretty face to the hand, the man's widening smile suddenly declined and turned into a scowl instead. He now held his other one out with a stern expression. Pete had heard Fowler had recently hired himself an assassin who was as good as Y/n, but he hadn't believed it until now that his sweet girl's scratched up hands lay in his. It wasn't usual for her to get injured in any way. 

Taking care of business unscathed was her specialty. 

"Aw, babygirl" crumbling up the digits streaked with red in his palms, the man raised them to his lips and began to pepper kisses all over them. "Oh… Daddy is so sorry…" Her head shook on instinct. 

No. 

Daddy could never hurt her. 

It was forbidden for him to apologize, always.

Because he could never be in the wrong.

"It's not your fault, sir." Y/n replied defensively. "It wouldn't have happened if I had practiced well. I have gotten way too confident recently. I am the one who should be apologizing– in fact," she was on her knees in an instant. "I am sorry, Boss. I should have been better" Pete couldn't help but crack a smile at his Magnum Opus. 

"I am sure you will be," He sickly widened his legs and bit his lip when the girl responded by crawling in the space gladly. "Now that you know what went wrong… You'll definitely fix it, hm?" The girl nodded as she resisted the urge to give in to instinct and nuzzle her face in his crotch. But Pete liked it so much when she did so! "You took an oath after all… remember?" Manly fingers slipped into soft hair and short nails scratched against warm scalp.

Y/n's eyelids fluttered as she felt him guide her head closer to his nether regions. "Y- Yes, sir–" the clicks of his tongue signalling disapproval stopped her.

"Now, now, sweets. You can do better than that~" Pete cooed as he hooked one foot under her ass and caressed the cheek. 

The girl pinked at that and the man smirked upon noticing it. "S- Sorry… I meant… meant…" Pete hummed as he nodded encouragingly. "Meant… Daddy…" Desperate for cover, she turned her face to the side and nuzzled it in his thigh as her hands hung above her, still clasped in his. 

The word always made her feel silly. She wasn't little anymore and Pete wasn't her father, yet he insisted she call him that whenever they were alone. 

Because you will always be my little girl no matter what. A flashback of when he had taken her on this very table with her legs bent over his shoulders answered her question. 

And then…

Daddies take care of their little girls and since I take care of you, I am your Daddy, aren't I? Another one pooled before her vision. Her pussy clenched as her teeth pulled her bottom lip between them. He had made her sit on his cock when he had taught her that one. The VIP room of one of his many clubs had been dark and his guests for the evening had entered right after. Oh, how her Boss had cruelly made the girl serve drinks to all of them. Every movement, every reach, every friendly chuckle had thoroughly tortured her aching core and had left her unbearably sensitive where their bodies were connected. It was a punishment, after all. For questioning the Boss and objecting to her Daddy's wish. 

"There's my girl~" Pete unsnaked his fingers from her hair now, patting her cheek praisingly before cupping the back of her head. "You did a really good job today still" kissing her fingers one last time and making a mental note to tend to them after he was done with her, he let go. "And I think my sweet pup has earned herself a little reward still, what do you think?" 

Y/n's eyes lit up with the excitement of a child walking into a candy store. She looked up at him and eagerly nodded, bouncing on the heels of her feet in exaggerated enthusiasm that she meant with all her heart. This girl kneeling in between Pete's legs and kissing all over his thighs and crotch with hopes of appeasing him was the stark contrast of the unforgiving, numbed out cold blooded killer that had flooded the Fowler mansion with guts and flesh by her blades tonight.

But that was exactly what she had been brought up to be. Taken in by the then Boss Brenner at a very young age after her whole family had been massacred due to a blood feud and thrown in the lowest ranks to frankly be torn and devoured by the predatory ambition filled trainees of what was Pete's mob now, she had fought her way up until she was one of his top people. 

Though she had retained her femininity -as the superficial men of the group liked to call it-, the girl had the menace and cunning of a viper. However, Y/n's only mental development had been in the realm of survival; her sole art mutilation and horror. Taken in and under the protective (though only physical) wing of the warden overseeing the training house she had grown up in, the girl was naive to everything else other than the above.

It was ironic how she had mastered what most people fear and refrain from knowing anything about but was a stranger to everything that is basic knowledge to the normal person. 

So when she had caught Pete's attention at the ripe age of 19, the Boss had taken it upon himself to first test and then teach her all she was ignorant to. 

Although in his own way, of course.

When Pete's veins had warmed up from the soft kisses Y/n was pressing all over his nether regions, he gently stood up. The sound of his blood pumping audible in his ears, the man used his crotch to push her face away with the full intention of doing so and then smirked when her eyes crinkled shut at the impact, causing the tip of her nose to rub against his hard-on. 

"Come on, little pup." Looking over his shoulder, the mobster held his hand out for the eager girl to take. "Let's go" he spoke after she had obeyed, staggering a little in her attempt to stand up as the man had started to walk already. Pete could imagine her sexy chest jiggling in her tightly zipped leather jacket as she jogged to match his pace. 

"Missed Daddy…" Now her voice was a tender whimper as she rubbed her cheek against his arm, tightening her hold on his hand. She had a habit of getting sensitive after a relatively dangerous mission. Yearning for Pete before walking into a job was instinct at this point, the longing to crawl back into his arms a drive and the need to feel him all over her body again a motivation. He was her home and world alike. 

Nothing else mattered to her, not really. 

After years of everyone breaking, beating and scarring her, Daddy was the man who had finally praised her for her efforts. He alone had treated her like a person and not an attack dog. Instead of making her feel sub-human due to what was between her legs, he had made her feel special; needed. Pete was the one who had taught her that she could be held, caressed, kissed, complemented, rewarded. He had shown her that she deserved more than being slapped and slashed.

Though she was to receive this treatment only by his hand, for any other man trying to treat her in even a similar manner to his could only mean ill. As the world was ugly like that.

But Pete wouldn't. Because he loved her and only meant well. Even when he punished or berated her it was for her own good.

Because he cared. 

"Hmm, you did?" When she nodded and began to climb the stairs that lead to his master bedroom beside him, he raised an eyebrow. "How…?" A giggle escaped the girl when the man playfully leaned in. "Where?"

"E- Everywhere!" Her face flushed as she pressed herself in his side shyly, whimpering out her next words. "A- And…" The fingers of her free hand raised to touch her neck. "H- Here…" Now they hovered over her covered nipples as she blushed harder. "Here…" Pete's growing smirk made her whine under her breath before she spoke again. "A- And here…" Her fingertips pressed against her clothed crotch. 

"Mmm…" The man felt his adrenaline increase with every step he took towards the room. "What about… here?" Images of everytime he fucked her face and throat raw flashed before Y/n's eyes when his fingers grazed against her lips, a devious grin spread across his handsome– smug face. 

"DADDY!" The girl squealed and the man chuckled, coming to a halt when she shyly jumped in his size to conceal herself from his eyes. "Y- You're so… bad…!" Pete let out a comically evil laugh as he bent to scoop her form up against his shoulder before he started to basically race to the room.

"Oh, yes! And now the big bad monster will eat his little puppy up!" The sounds of her shrill giggles bouncing off the walls could easily fool a stranger. Going off of this sight alone, they would never be able to guess just what kind of cruelty was about to take place in that bedroom. 

Hell, not even one of the two parties had the faintest idea. 

Which was why a furious Curtis who was ready to charge his way back to the Boss all the way from the foyer was dragged away and out by a grunting Ransom and one struggling Ari. 

Y/n landed on the King sized bed with a thump but before she could let out an oof her hands were prying at her clothes to hurriedly peel them off much like the man in front of her. The sight of Pete's shirtless body caused for a shiver to rise between her moist folds.

The girl couldn't help but bite her lip as she let her eyes savor the sight. His body was perfect; nothing more and nothing less. Not too soft and not too hard and ripped like those of many of her coworkers, the Boss was the most attractive man she had ever seen. Widening the space between her legs, the assassin laid back as she reached for her core as nothing turned her on more than a sweaty and breathless Pete furiously ripping his expensive clothes off for her, dark eyes watching her form like those of a predator. The dim lights bounced off the sharp edges of his body and hugged the softer parts such as his stomach in the most ethereal way. 

Though her descent into the ultimate condition where her mind shut off and senses heightened was cut short when her fingers that were toying with her clit were smacked away. The Boss clicked his tongue in disapproval as the girl furrowed her brows in lust driven confusion. 

"That's Daddy's to play with" his voice was husky as he wrapped his fingers around her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed with a rough jerk, the sudden movement causing the girl to gasp in shock. "Bad puppy" putting emphasis on his disapproval at her prior actions, Pete kneeled in front of her and started to kiss her thighs that were coated with evidence of arousal. The man smirked to himself when Y/n whimpered sensitively from where his goatee tickled her tender skin, a jolt exploding in her spine when he suddenly bit down in the junction between her thigh and pelvis. 

"Daddy!" Scratched fingers desperately reached for light brown hair that was sleeked back. "Sorry, Daddy!" Rough, manly hands squeezed and pulled at the greatest ass Pete had ever seen. An open mouth kiss from him caused another explosion, although this time in her loins. "Please… please… Oh!" Y/n was definitely the louder lover between them. 

"Please what, hm baby?" Licking his pre-cum coated lips, Pete moved her hands off his hair to lean back and connect his fingers to her core this time. "Tell, Daddy what you want. He can't know otherwise" softly cupping the curve between her legs, the man let his thumb lazily drag against the thick folds in a continuous vertical motion that was too slow to do anything for the hot blooded girl. 

"D- Daddy…!" Y/n's toes twisted as she tried to grind against his finger only to fail due to the iron grip he had on her ass. 

"Yes, puppy?"

"Daddy… Daddy…" His dark and stern gaze was making her heart pound harder. She wanted– needed him everywhere all at once. Against, inside, outside, above, below, front, back, up, down… and any other way possible. 

"You can do it, puppy." Pete encouragingly urged her on while he caressed her thigh with his other hand, thumb now prodding at her weeping entrance. "Come on… Do it for Daddy…" 

"N- Need you so bad, Daddy!" The girl finally willed herself to cry out, cursing and arching her back only to whine in frustration when she realized that he still wasn't letting his digit penetrate her where she wanted him most. "Please, need you e- everywhere… A- All over… please… Please!" 

Fuck. 

Pete briefly chewed on his lip before continuing to enjoy the sight for as long as possible. "How about we start off slow and safe with my fingers?" He had never really expected her of all people and girls to turn out this needy and desperate for him. But here she was; leaking and writhing. Begging and panting like a whore. 

She was so much worse off than him.

"A- Anything! Please, sir! Anything– everything! Just please fuck me!" The girl spoke like she had been trained to do so, hissing in a breath as her eyes clenched shut when the man finally let his middle finger glide down the length of her core before it found its rightful place inside her awaiting entrance. 

Her walls squelched as they unwillingly parted to accommodate his thick digit, hips slowly moving to get used to the invasion as she gasped out loud and reached to squeeze his other hand that was palming one of her boobs now. Pete winced as he felt his rock hard cock graze against the wooden side of the bed, teeth sinking down into one of her thighs to withstand the stimulation. 

"Oh… Oh, Daddy! T- Thank you so much…" Y/n moaned out loud as she felt his hand release her tit only to reach for her mouth and circle her lips before slipping inside. "Mowe, Dawddy… Mowe…" The thumb hurdled her speech and she gave in, clasping her lips around it the way she had been taught and got to sucking. 

"There's my little pup" Pete praised as he pumped his finger in and out of her at a steady pace, peppering kisses and tiny bites all over thighs. He sucked some spots to leave marks and nibbled on a couple old ones. It made her cry out before clenching around his finger. "Now be a sweetheart and show Daddy how you'd like him to take care of those slutty little fat fuck handles" he was readying his index finger that was presently swiping against her clit for penetration now. "Geez, all that tit and for what? You wanna open a milk bank or some shit you slutty little puppy?" The girl could only clench harder as she reached for her chest. 

Even his degrading words made her feel awfully sexy. 

Y/n was convinced that she was the luckiest little girl ever.

Her Daddy was the best. 

"I- If ith pweases you, Dawddy~" Pete couldn't help but smirk at her unwavering obedience as she continued to suck at his thumb, hands clasping around her tits now. 

"Atta girl" his second finger pushed and forced its way inside her tight and hot cavern, the sensation making her almost bite down on the digit that violated her mouth. Y/n's hold on her breasts tightened. "Hm…?" Tilting his head to the side at the sight, Pete began to pump his thumb in and out of her mouth, also speeding up the invasion of her petals. "That all, pup? Sure ya don't want Daddy to do anything else to those sweet little titties?" His own speech was being impeded by his increasing need to mount her like a wild animal. 

The young girl shook her head vehemently as she whined at how fast he was finger fucking her sensitive little pussy now, the loud squelching sounds of flesh rubbing and slapping loud in the otherwise quiet room. Twisting her toes to withstand the pounding she was being subjected to, Y/n jerked her tits up and down before pinching her nipples in a manner that made her moan amidst everything and then pull them as far as her skin would allow, moaning all the while as she imitated the man's treatment of them. 

Pete snickered as he made use of his thumb to flick her clit before he added a third finger to her hole that was beginning to get ready for his cock. This precaution was necessary, as the organ had messed her up in more than one way on more than one occasion.

Perks of a virgin, he humorously supposed. 

"Dirty, dirty pup" depriving her of his thumb with a pop, Pete softly smacked her cheek before cursing at the way her head lolled to the side. His hand now reached for his swollen and crimson cock to aid the ache thumping in his balls, biting his lip at the sight of her own thumb slipping in her mouth. Just how he liked it.

The man wondered what her Robinhood of a fuck father would have thought if he was to see her now. 

Pupils blown, nose flared, face flushed, tits perked and pussy clenched as her screams bounced off the walls, chest rising as she orgasmed. Her thighs tightened around his shoulders to try and brace herself for the mind shattering orgasm that was flooding through her body. 

As Pete flipped her over and unplugged her quivering hole with a loud plop only to quickly plunge it back shut with his cock so he could enjoy the post-climax hypersensitivity before abusing it in every way he desired, the man snorted under his breath. Wrapping all the hair he could gather around one hand and pushing his cum coated fingers into her mouth before pulling it open from one side, Boss Brenner watched his mob's former rival's daughter arch her back as she stared back, eyes drooping and lazy as she willingly let him blow her back. Inaudible praises and pleads spilled from her flushed mouth.

It was no use pondering the what ifs now for Pete had mutilated Boss Y/L/N and his entire family himself that one eventful night decades ago. It was the same night his father's men had taken Y/n, now his precious puppy but then only a baby, to his father to decide what to do with her because the girl was far too young to be subjected to the same fate as her siblings and parents. Lucky for Pete who neither cared nor really knew of your existence back then, his father had shared the mercy of his top men. 

Well, the man decided there was no way for him to ever know what his puppy's father would think of what had become of her. Or rather, what old Boss Brenner's son had made of his daughter. 

For better, or worse. 

Mostly better, he decided as he pulled all the way out only to smash his cock back in, causing the tip to hit the girl's spongy bundle of sensitive nerves as she let out a final cry before her arms gave out and she collapsed.

#pete brenner #pete brenner smut #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #pete brenner x you #pete brenner x reader #pete brenner x female reader #pete brenner x y/n

[saintship]

🍄 ‘s Request

Synopsis: Reader seems perfectly fine with the rest of the 141 being touchy-feely, but not with Ghost. He wants to know why.

I loved this request it was so detailed!! I hope you like it! -S.S.

Simon Riley x f!Reader - I don’t bite

“Soap, if you keep chewing your gum like that for one more second, I’m going to lose it.”

You sat over a few sheets of paperwork in the common room, Soap at the windowsill tracing patterns in the fogged glass while he waited for the kettle. Unfortunately, a concentrated Soap is also a very loud chewer.

“Haud yer wheesht, yer across the room!” He retorted.

“You’re going to be flying across the room in a minute!” You stood, huffing and walking over to observe his work. He’d drawn a little cartoon ghost with angry-looking eyes.

“Guess who?” He grinned as you rolled your eyes.

“Who’s drinking my tea?” Ghost’s steady voice carried through the tiny kitchen area as he picked up the box of teabags Soap had set down.

“Aye, it’s this one.”

Soap placed his hands on your shoulders. “Wearin’ a mask and all, she’s trying to be like y-"

Soap was cut off by your smacking him with a nearby dish towel, at which he yanked on the end of the cloth and stole an over dramatic kiss to the forehead. You groaned in annoyance, but dissolved into laughter when he attacked you back.

“Get away!” You laughed brightly as Soap snapped the towel at you, turning to spot Gaz walking in, still in his tactical gear from a stakeout.

“He’s insane!” You dodged another one of Soap’s attacks before making a run for it, only to be caught and lifted by Gaz, rendering you immobile.

“You guys suck!” You laughed through your words before breaking free, going back to the kitchen and snatching back the dish towel on the way.

You looked up to see if Simon had snagged Soap’s hot water, but he was gone, the box of tea left discarded on the counter. The lightness in your chest dimmed a bit as you realized the room had carried on with its action and disregarded him.

It wasn’t the end of the world. He was a grown man; he didn’t need to be entertained or catered to at all times, but for some reason it stuck. Like a stone that sank to the bottom of your stomach and remained for days. What that heaviness was, you couldn’t say.

Not two days later, the team was at a dive bar, traditionally following a short and successful mission. You joked with Soap and Gaz that they’d ward off any leering figure. Even though you could defend yourself effortlessly, they were men, and they loved you, so they couldn’t help but edge a bit closer or stand a bit straighter in that sort of environment. At the pool table, Soap was nearly always behind you, warding off any bold patron from “giving you a few pointers”. You barely noticed it now, just continuing in your brazen promises to destroy Gaz at his favorite bar game.

You didn’t see the calm eyes watching you, Simon’s glass being lifted to his lips as the bourbon slipped past his throat and, it seemed, straight into his heart. Your smile, the way you moved, the way you just existed, made him slip into a daydream of kissing you right there at the billiards table, the Task Force both irritated and touched by the display. His balaclava rested just above his nose, his stubbled jaw revealing the faint shadow of a week’s neglect.

It occurred to him that he had never actually attempted to initiate what you had with them.

Sometimes, he would talk to John in his office over a fancy bottle, and sometimes his tongue would slip. On one of those occasions, his Captain couldn’t stand to stay silent.

“Do something about it, Simon.”

Seeing Simon’s state, it was clear the problem wasn’t the conflict of interest, it was him. He wasn’t afraid of Narcos, or sprinting toward gunfire, or any of the things that made his job horrifying, he was afraid of showing you who he was and being laughed at.

“Maybe I will.”

He was drunk and snarky in that moment, but now he’d barely had half a glass, and he still felt that pull toward you. He felt the same ignition in his ribs that he felt in boot camp when another recruit challenged him. His competitiveness, his ambition, it never left. It only simmered, slowly and consistently, until you came along and sent it boiling over.

You were coming over now. He lowered his balaclava, the contact of fabric easing his battering heart.

“Had enough of them?” He murmured. His voice scratched from underuse, and he cleared his throat irritably.

“Always..” You thanked the bartender for your drink, not sitting at the bar but not turning back to the game quite yet.

Simon cursed his own body for the swarm of nerves intersecting in his stomach. Just the sight of you taking off your jacket was forcing him to stay in place instead of bolting to the men’s room and squeezing his eyes shut, raking his hand through his hair and forcing his nervous system down from its overdrive.

He tried to sound casual.

“You winning, then?”

“I plead the fifth..”

“Can’t do that in the Queen’s land, can you?”

The joke slipped like a sleight of hand, and your huff of laughter made his chest warm.

Maybe he could just..

“Least’ you get to show off your artillery.” He tapped a gloved fist on your exposed bicep, the muscle lean from your endless unpacking and carrying of equipment. The touch was hardly even an exchange, a tap to the side of your arm by the side of his hand. It was safe, he figured. But you straightened up and inched away.

His mind blurred your words as you excused yourself back to the pool table. He fucked up. He fucked up.

But you were thinking the same. It had taken nearly ten turns before you gathered enough courage to return to the bar counter, and when he spoke to you first, every faux bit of confidence crumbled to the floor. You saw the shine in his eyes when he made his little quip, and wondered if they looked like that when he cracked those stupid jokes over comms. You wondered what his smile looked like, and then his hand touched your arm, and you inhaled sharply, removing yourself in fear of what you would do, what you would say, how your face looked, how your voice wavered. You fucked up.

Over the next week, somehow you combated your feelings of guilt by doubling down. It pained you to no end, but you didn’t know what to do besides continue what you’d started. You weren’t ready to tell the truth, even to yourself.

You figured the universe decided to punish you for your cowardice by giving you this mission. You and Simon camped on the side of a shallow valley, the foot of the snowy hills harboring a warehouse that a sensitive target was tracked to. The mission was over quickly, but by the time the target was dead, the snow had gotten so severe that the warehouse door was under too much pressure to open. It was safe enough inside, but there was nowhere to go.

“We’ve got to wait it out.” Simon conceded after several attempts of escape.

“It’s definitely below freezing in here..” You grunted as you moved the body to a sealed container.

“He’s not complaining.” Simon nodded to the corpse, making you roll your eyes as you latched the container shut.

After some searching, you started a fire underneath a vent, the wind disturbing the flames but also preventing the smoke from choking the room. The two of you had the brain to pack up your camp before descending the hill, so you laid out what you had and rested on your back. Simon sat on his own bedroll, looking at the flames.

“You’d be warmer if you were closer.”

“I’m right next to the fire.”

“Closer to me.”

Your breath hitched as you avoided his eyes, forcing a sigh. “I’m fine.”

“You know something?”

Your jaw twitched; he saw.

“Cupid could stick an arrow in your back while you stare at me, and you’d still fall for a rock on the floor instead a’ me.”

You adjusted your weight, covering your legs with your thermal blanket. Your heart began to hammer again when you noticed his nose and mouth were exposed. He’d shaved since the night at the bar.

You didn’t reveal a thing.

“What’s the difference?”

But then he laughed, and you saw one of his canines was pointed a bit. You saw he had dimples. You saw the smooth contours of his smile, and it was like your head was fastened irreversibly to look his way. His tongue appeared to wet his dry lips briefly and your cheeks burned. He spoke evenly. You studied how his mouth moved when he talked, following the inflections of his accent with your eyes.

“We’re stuck here, Sergeant. So I’ll be straight. What’s the fuckin’ deal?”

If anyone else swore that way, you’d take it as unnecessary aggression, but his eyes told you he just wanted an answer.

“Not everyone you meet is going to be infatuated with you..” Your words intended to bite, but they fell from your lips like dead leaves.

“Not everyone I meet knows how I think like you do.” His tone dipped with sincerity. “Not everyone cracks filthy jokes and doesn’t care what looks she gets. You’re not everyone, love.”

Your eyes met his at the nickname. “Simon..”

“I don’t bite.” He murmured. “So come get me.”

“Come get..” you breathed, and he nodded.

You sat up, facing him and shifting closer.

“S’a bit cruel, you know..” The quieter he got, the more gravel lined his words. “The other boys gettin’ your lovin’. Leavin’ me out, babe?”

His hand trailed to your jaw, his fingertips traveling from the skin behind your ear until the side of his knuckle held your chin.

“It’s not the same, they’re not.. they’re..”

He was so close now, the breath of his words almost right against your lips. He lifted your mask until he could watch the way your lips parted.

“They’re not me..”

He nailed his words in when he kissed you, slowly and with a confidence you did not expect. He pulled back for a moment, likely to ask if it was alright that he’d practically confessed for you, but you were pulling him back into your arms before he could get a word out. His arm held you upright and close to him, not wandering, but instead soothing up your back with gentle movements, his other hand carefully holding your face and occasionally brushing his thumb over your cheek. The howling of the wind outside seemed to quiet; it was just the sound of his breathing, the faint, intoxicating noise that murmured from his chest. He took a fragment of your lip between his teeth before soothing over the intrusion with his tongue. He was impossibly warm.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate..”

You drew back roughly, Simon grunting in surprise before noticing what had startled you. Gaz stood with the warehouse door pried open, panting from exertion.

“Didn’t know you got down like that, Lieu-"

“That’ll do!”

#cod requests #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x female reader #simon riley imagine

[miasmaghoul]

Nun forced fem on either SwissDew or Raindrop

yeah sure here

(idk what this is its barely nsfw lmao uhhh warnings for forcedfem, religious fuckery, mention of safewords without use of them, mostly implied corruption kink)

"It suits you."

"Does it?" Rain smooths nervous hands over the front of his habit, flattening imaginary wrinkles. "It feels so..."

"Pious?"

Rain gives a hum - it's not the word he had in mind, but it isn't wrong. Rain adjusts his veil as he takes in his reflection, turning to take in every angle in his floor length mirror.

It's odd how bare he feels considering how little skin he can see. His face and hands stand out beautifully, pale and sharp against rich black wool. That's all the uniform reveals, though. Nothing about this ensemble could be called flattering, and yet Rain can't stop looking. Can't stop tracing the shape of his sleeves and frowning at the one stubborn curl poking out behind his ear. The rosary hanging from his belt clinks when he moves to tuck it away, silver and red beads glinting in the firelight.

"I was going to say severe," Rain murmurs, fingering the inverted silver cross hanging around his neck. "But...I suppose that works too."

He feels the need to speak softly like this, to keep his voice low and his words gentle. He isn't a particularly loud ghoul as it is, at least not often, but something about seeing himself look so...reserved demands it.

Rain licks his lips, and finds the sight of it in the mirror to be borderline obscene.

"And how does it make you feel?"

The words are followed by the creak of a chair and steady footsteps on hardwood, a confident but easy stride, and Rain's heart skips against his ribs. The footsteps stop beside him, in what should be his periphery, but their owner remains hidden by the starched edge of Rain's wimple. He can't make himself turn to look, occupied instead by watching splotches of pink bloom on his cheeks.

"I...I don't know," he admits, and it's the truth. There's an odd stew of feelings swirling around in his skull, a bizarre blend of shame, discomfort and the most blasphemous sort of pride. His fingers tremble as he tugs at the knot binding his belt, a mindless distraction.

"Take your time," flows into his ear, velvety smooth, "but I want an answer."

Rain nods, sighing as he lets his eyes slip shut. Just for a moment. Maybe two.

He really didn't think this would be so hard. He knew it would be different - how could it not be? - but the heaviness in his gut is so much more than he was prepared for. He's been dressed up a thousand ways from Sunday; lingerie, pretty dresses, elegant gowns and the sluttiest costumes Swiss could get his greedy hands on. He's worn makeup and press-ons, learned to walk in the highest heels and had his waist cinched by corsets until he was ready to faint.

It all pales in comparison to the simple garments he wears now.

"...small, I think," Rain practically whispers, once the words find his tongue. It's the closest thing he can think of to describe the tightness in his chest. "It's like..." Rain wrings his hands together, the motion obscured by his oversized sleeves. "It's like I don't belong in this."

"That's because you don't," comes his very amused reply, and a gentle weight settles against his forearm. Rain stares at that elegant hand in the mirror, wide eyes caught on the place skin turns to fitted sleeve. "That's part of the fun," that hand thightens, a rough thumb arching over the inside of his wrist, and that voice feels like a red hot poker when it adds, "Sister."

The word makes him gasp, makes his stomach flip, and Rain wobbles in place. Has to reach out to catch himself on the body beside him, and he earns a soft chuckle in response.

"Easy, easy."

Rain feels the words as much as he hears them, radiating through the palm he's planted in the center of a lightly muscled chest. He shivers when a warm hand rubs over his spine, a familiar motion that has completely different connotations right now.

"You're safe," he's promised, quiet and serious. "I've got you."

Rain nods, takes a deep breath as he pushes himself upright, but he can't make himself open his eyes. He knows what's waiting for him when he does, and some part of him doesn't want to see it. If he sees it, it's real. A fantasy made real - not his own, but one he's been eager to help fulfill for ages now. Ever since the night he wrung this desire out of the ghoul supporting him, had pulled the words from his throat with precise rolls of his hips and a perfectly placed hand on a long throat.

"I've got you," he's assured again, and it's so genuine that Rain can't hold back his whimper.

"Sorry," he huffs, shaking his head. "It's...it's a lot."

A hum answers him, a warm palm cups his cheek, and Rain leans into it easily. Soothed by familiar skin and spiced cologne that settles flayed nerves.

"Rain," he says, and it's so gentle that he almost cracks an eye open. Almost. "We don't have to do this. You know that."

He does. Of course he does. One word and he's out, done, able strip himself of fabric that feels far heavier than it truly is. It would be easy, and there's a first time for everything. The word sits on the tip of his tongue, just behind sharp teeth.

"I know," Rain breathes instead, finally straightening up and crossing his arms over his stomach, "I know."

The hand on his spine remains, grounding, and Rain focuses on the feel of it. Breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth until the tangled mess in his belly unravels, until the pressure in his head subsides. Until he can face the body beside him and brace himself for what he's about to see. One hand fiddles with his rosary, nervous energy poured into a silent prayer he says at every midnight mass.

He can do this.

He can do this.

When Rain opens his eyes, it's as devastating as he thought it would be.

"Oh," he sighs, hot from his scalp to the soles of his feet, and the soft smile it earns him makes Rain's chest hurt.

He doesn't know where to look, too many details for his already frazzled brain to absorb; the shiny tips of polished loafers, a perfectly fitted black cassock, a blood red stole embroidered with goat heads and a sharp collar. Rain's eyes stick there, glued to that simple white square, and every inch of him tingles in a way he can't explain.

"Satanas," he says without really meaning to, and Rain is immediately rewarded with the warmest chuckle.

"Blessed be," Dew replies, and Rain feels more of the tension drain from his shoulders. He tears his eyes from that little white square with great effort and finds the other ghoul's face lined with mirth. His copper eyes sparkle in the glow of the fire, and something about it makes Rain shiver.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, taking in every inch of that handsome face. Dew's pulled his hair back, tied it into a tight knot at the base of his skull, and all it does is make him look more authoritative. "I didn't -"

"Stop," Dew orders, one palm raised, and Rain has never fallen silent so quickly. That one little moment makes something familiar start to bloom at the back of his mind, and suddenly it's just a little easier to deal with the invisible weight on his shoulders. His eyelids feel just a little heavier.

"Sorry," Rain mumbles once more, but it's only out of habit. Dew ignores it, tips his head, and then that warm palm is back on his cheek and Rain has a fleeting thought about what his habit will look like once he's inevitably tenting it.

"Tell me you want this," Dew says, voice even. He strokes Rain's cheekbone with the tip of his thumb, and Rain wishes he would push it between his lips instead. "Tell me you want it," he says again, fingertips tracing the edge of his coif, "or we'll change and -"

"No," Rain interjects, more sudden than even he expects, grabbing at Dew's outstretched arm. The cassock feels so soft, somehow plush and warm against his fingers. "No, I - I do," Rain promises, too flustered to keep his voice from shaking, "for you, I - I want to -"

He's silenced by the pressure of one long finger against his parted lips, by a soft shushing noise, and then Dew's close enough that Rain can feel his warmth. He tilts his head up, gives Rain a hungry look, and Rain can't describe how miniscule it makes him feel.

"You'll tell me if that changes?"

"Yes," Rain promises, breathless, and he nods so urgently it nearly dislodges his wimple. "Yes, I promise."

As soon as the words escape him, as soon as Dew nods his acknowledgement, Rain swears he feels the air shift. That warm hand leaves his face as Dew backs away two steps, head held high. Rain feels unbearably cold in his absence, but he knows Dew will have him hotter than he can handle soon enough.

"Look at yourself," he instructs, nodding towards the mirror. "Tell me what you see."

Rain turns on autopilot. Swivels on his heels until he's facing himself once more, all harsh lines and dark fabric. He straightens his cross, his veil, and wonders how much redder his cheeks will be by the end of this.

"I see..." Rain licks his lips again, but he can't watch it this time. "I see...purity," he supplies at length, the word syrupy thick on his tongue. "I...I see innocence."

Rain wonders if Dew will make him look at himself like this afterwards too. Once he's been used up and drained dry, left woozy and weak and with nothing in him to argue. The thought makes him queasy as much as it makes him throb, and Rain stares at the spot on his habit that he knows his cock is starting swell behind.

"Do you?"

Footsteps again, intentional. Slow. Stalking up behind him, teasing fingers trailing along the edge of his veil just enough to feel. Dew appears in the mirror beside him, and the sight of the two of them together makes Rain's knees weak.

He's starting to get why Dew wanted this.

"Yes," Rain huffs, nodding once. There's a tingle caught in his spine, between his shoulder blades, a shudder he can't quite shake out.

"Yes what?" Dew asks.

"Yes, Father," he replies, a swift exhale, and Dew looks so very pleased at the way he sways.

"Well I've heard otherwise, dear Sister," he lilts, and then he's moving. Stalking slow circles around Rain a fox ready to tear into a particularly fat hen. "In fact," he adds, coming to a stop right in front of Rain. Reaching out to slip two fingers under his chin. Lifting his gaze so all he can see is Dew's neutral expression, wild eyes and that fucking collar. "There's a rumor going around that you're a regular Jezebel." Rain winces, and Dew gives him a falsely sympathetic smile. "A common whore masquerading as a lost little lamb in need of guidance."

"N-no," Rain whispers, giving his head the tiniest shake. "I - I promise, Father," he manages, already starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges. "I'm - I'm pure, I'm -"

Dew shushes him, and then he's gone. Floating away on sure feet and gliding back to his chair. Rain watches the way his cassock billows around his legs, catches glimpses of tight-fitted black slacks beneath it, and when Dew snaps his fingers Rain follows with silent obedience.

Dew looks positively regal in the oversized armchair he's pulled in front of the fireplace. He sits with his back straight and both hands folded on his lap. Rain doesn't think he's ever seen him look so powerful, so commanding of attention, not even on stage.

"Kneel, Sister," Dew commands. "Kneel and confess your sins." He tips his head and Rain's breath catches in his throat. "Kneel," he says, "and let me decide if you deserve forgiveness."

Rain drops so hard the floor shakes.

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dew/rain #dew x rain #raindrop #cw forcedfem #cw forced fem #idk what this even is you guys let me knkw if i need to add tags idk what people expect here anymore

[bupia]

8, 31, and 40 with Mountain and an afab reader? Please? I'm very happy to have found you, by the way. I'm going to do my best not to send a lot of these.

SHOWER SEX

"I've been wondering how it feels like..." "I'm worried I won't be good enough." "I have no idea how to go about this."

There's a smut under the cut, +18 only, please.

(AFAB!Reader: dirty talk; swearing; unprotected sex; p in v; breeding)

Available on AO3

Day 15 | Day 17

After each ominous black mass, the only thing that beckoned to your weary soul was a soothing hot shower and the embrace of rest. It wasn't that the ceremonies were particularly intricate; typically, the first week was more talk than action. No, the real issue lay in their timing. They commenced far too late in the night, a cruel coincidence following a taxing day of ministerial duties. You had grown tired of Papa Emeritus III's lengthy sermons; in fact, you suspected that he, too, harbored a desire to be anywhere but there. His distant gaze often hinted at better things he could be doing.

But in that moment, nothing else held any significance; it was time for a hot and soothing shower. You had already made your way to the bathroom. While at the ministry, all the siblings typically used the communal showers, fortune favored you that night as you found the room to be empty.

You began to undress, taking off your habit one piece at a time, and neatly placing them on one of the sinks. The sensation of finally shedding those layers of clothing after a long and grueling day was pure relief.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, finally removing the last piece of clothing. With a towel in hand, you were just about to head into the shower when an unexpected noise at the door startled you. Frustration welled up within as you couldn't fathom how your precious moment of solitude and relaxation was about to be shattered by the intrusion of some fellow sibling.

Quickly, you unfolded the towel and readied yourself to cover your body, but before you could do so, you found yourself locking eyes with the unexpected intruder. It was Mountain, one of the Ghouls from the ministry. In that awkward moment, as his gaze met your naked form, everything he held in his hands fell to the floor with an audible thud.

For what felt like an eternity, the two of you remained locked in a silent, intense gaze, as though time had come to a standstill. It could have been mere seconds, or perhaps a minute, before the tension finally reached its peak, and you let out a piercing scream that would have alerted anyone nearby.

Mountain swiftly closed the distance between you, his hand clamping down firmly on your mouth to stifle the scream. His eyes were wide with alarm, mirroring your own. In this peculiar moment, neither of you could tear your gaze away from the other's eyes.

As your frantic heartbeat began to slow, Mountain cautiously withdrew his hand from your mouth, the silence between you still heavy with the weight of what had just transpired.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," he stammered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "I thought no one would be here at this hour. I was planning to use the Ghoul's communal bathroom, but it's a complete mess in there right now."

Reassuringly, you responded, "That's okay, don't worry. It's completely fine. I'm the one who should apologize for screaming; I didn't mean to."

A faint smile crossed Mountain's face, and he chuckled, "I don't blame you. I'm guessing you weren't expecting company either, were you?"

"Not at all!" you exclaimed.

"If you'd prefer, I can wait outside or wander around the ministry for a while and return later." Mountain offered.

"No, please, you're already here. It's perfectly fine with me!" you quickly responded.

"Okay," he said, turning his back to you and walking back to where his belongings had been scattered on the floor.

He bent down, starting to pick them up one by one, a slight hint of frustration in his movements. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. To be honest, you did have a bit of a something on him, or maybe it was more than that. Perhaps it was his height, the tenderness in his voice, his smile, his eyes, his hands, or simply him. As you continued to watch him, a smile crept onto your lips, making you momentarily forget about the awkward situation.

But from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your own naked reflection in the mirror. Cursing under your breath, you swiftly grabbed your towel, wrapping it around yourself.

"So, are you really okay with me staying?" Mountain asked once more, concern etched on his face.

"Absolutely," you assured him with a warm smile.

"Thank you."

He moved to the sink, placing his things on its surface. Slowly, he removed his mask and ran his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. You observed him with keen interest; it was a rare privilege to see the Ghouls without their masks, and being in their presence during such moments was almost like a special treat. Mountain placed his mask on the sink and cast a warm, gentle smile your way through the mirror. Your cheeks flushed deeply, and you managed to return his smile with one of your own.

As he began to unbutton his clothes, your mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts. You swiftly made your way to one of the shower stalls, stepping inside and taking a deep, calming breath. You couldn't help but be tempted to sneak a peek at his actions, but you knew you shouldn't – it wouldn't be right.

With determination, you hung your towel on the stall door, placed your soap and shampoo on the little shelf and turned on the shower, adjusting it to your desired temperature. As the water flowed and embraced you, you let out a relieved sigh. Your hands reached into the cascading stream, and slowly, your entire body was immersed in its soothing embrace, washing away the lingering tension.

You closed your eyes, allowing the warm water to envelop you in a soothing, comforting embrace. It was precisely what you needed after the unusual encounter. But then, the sound of another shower turning on broke your reverie, causing you to open your eyes and stare at the stall's door. You had nearly forgotten that you weren't alone.

With a slow, cautious turn of your head, you glimpsed Mountain standing under the shower's cascading water, his eyes closed and a serene smile gracing his face. Somehow, he looked endearingly cute in that moment. A giggle escaped your lips, drawing his attention as he opened his eyes. Quickly, you averted your gaze and turned your back toward his direction, making your way to your soap, attempting to regain your composure.

"Thank you again for letting me stay," Mountain expressed his gratitude.

You continued to rub the soap between your hands, your focus shifting to the suds forming in your palms. "You don't have to thank me that much, Mounty," you responded, still not meeting his gaze.

"Mounty?" he questioned.

As he repeated the nickname, your soap slipped from your grasp, landing with a soft thud on the shower floor. Quickly, you bent down to retrieve it, placing it back in its designated spot.

"Y-Yeah," you stammered, feeling slightly flustered. "I'm sorry, I tend to give people nicknames sometimes."

He chuckled softly, making your heart skip a beat. "I liked it."

A surprised smile broke through your shyness as you turned to look at him. "You did?" you asked, your curiosity evident.

Mountain nodded and smiled back at you. With renewed confidence, you picked up your soap once more, this time focusing on washing yourself.

"So how's your shower going?" Mountain inquired, his eyes fixed on you.

You continued to lather the soap on your skin as you replied, "It's fine. And yours?"

Mountain nodded, a serene smile on his face. "It's good. I needed it."

The idea crossed your mind – what if you took a chance and said something more? What if you tried to flirt a little? But should you? He was there, you were here, and you could make a playful attempt to flirt with him. After all, you were alone, and no one would overhear your subtle advances toward the intriguing Ghoul that had captured your interest.

"It would be better if you were here," you blurted out, surprised by your own words.

Mountain's expression shifted to one of curiosity. "What?" he inquired.

"What?" you repeated, feigning innocence.

"You said something. What was it?" he insisted.

"I said nothing," you attempted to brush it off.

"No, you definitely said something."

"Did I?" you stalled.

Mountain chuckled, turning off his shower. "You did. What did you say?"

With a deep breath, you confessed, "I said that... It would be better if you were here."

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I see... So you want me to come over?"

"Only if you want to," you responded, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

"I want to."

He exited his shower stall, and you watched him with anticipation as he made his way to your stall. He stopped in front of it, and you unlocked the door for him. He opened the door, revealing his tall, wet, and naked body. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red as your eyes took in the sight before you. Mountain took a step closer and closed the door behind him.

"Hi," he greeted with a playful grin.

"Hi," you replied, feeling a rush of excitement and anticipation.

"Feeling better now?" he asked.

"Extremely," you admitted, a bashful smile gracing your face.

Mountain's giggles reverberated in the shower stall as he leaned against the wall. "Thank you for the invitation."

"You're welcome," you replied, your voice tinged with shyness.

He nonchalantly gestured toward his own shower. "I must admit, the view from here looks better than from there."

"Could you see me from your shower?" you asked, curiosity piqued.

He shrugged. "Not entirely, but from here, I have a more privileged view."

A hint of a smile played on your lips. "And are you enjoying the view?"

"Very much," he replied, biting his lower lip, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You placed the soap back in its spot and took a step closer to him. Extending your hand, you reached for him, your fingertips tracing a delicate path from his belly to his chest. His skin was warm and smooth beneath your touch. His breath caught at your touch. You smiled as you felt him contracting his body muscles beneath your fingers.

"Are you not going to take a shower, Mountain?" you inquired, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his eyes locked onto yours, and he replied, "I will, but that's not what I'm thinking about right now."

You swallowed nervously. "Oh? So, what are you thinking about right now?"

With a seductive grin, he confessed, "Kissing you."

"You want to kiss me?" you inquired, your heart racing with anticipation.

Mountain's gaze bore into yours, his eyes filled with desire. "Yes, but only if you want me to."

With a whispered affirmation, you confessed, "I do."

Mountain lowered his body, his hands gently cradling your cheeks, and he closed the distance between you two. Mountain's kiss was intense and passionate, igniting a fire within both of you. As his arms enveloped you, drawing you closer, your own arms found their place around his neck, pulling him nearer. Your bodies pressed together, melding in a heated embrace, and you kissed each other with fervor. Your tongues danced, exploring the depths of each other's mouths, and joy and desire coursed through you.

His hands moved up and down your body, skillfully touching you in all the right places, sending shivers down your spine. The kiss grew increasingly fervent, stoking the flames of desire within you. Your hands roamed over his shoulders, back, and hips, as the sensations intensified.

The water from the shower continued to cascade over your entwined bodies, soaking you both. As you pulled away, your breath came in rapid gasps. With a swift and decisive move, Mountain turned you around, guiding you out of the shower and pressing your back against the stall wall. His eyes were filled with desire as he gazed down at you, and a devilish grin curved his lips. You bit the corner of your lower lip, your heart swelling with happiness as your body tingled from the intensity of the kiss.

"Is it okay if I want more?" Mountain whispered, his voice filled with desire.

"To kiss me?" you asked, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He shook his head, leaning closer to you, pressing his body against yours. Your eyes widened as you felt his hardness pressing against your thigh.

"It's totally fine," you whispered, brushing your lips against his.

"Are you sure?"

You nodded, your desire and longing clear in your eyes. "I'm sure."

You wrapped your fingers around his hardness and gave it a gentle squeeze. He moaned softly and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. You continued to stroke him, feeling his arousal grow beneath your touch. You could feel his heartbeat thumping in his member, and you smiled as you thought of how good it would feel inside you. You stroked him faster, and Mountain gasped out loud. He opened his eyes and looked into yours.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked, his voice raspy.

You nodded and bit your lip. "Yes, please."

Mountain leaned in to kiss you once more, a sense of urgency driving his movements. His lips met yours with a burning need, and he pressed his tongue against your parted lips, exploring the depths of your mouth. His hands moved up and down your body, each touch electrifying and sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

His hands reached for your face, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. The air was thick with a mix of ragged breaths and soft moans that escaped both of you. Your leg roamed along one of his, eventually coming to rest on his hips. The physical contact was electrifying, sending sparks of pleasure shooting throughout your body. Your hips started to grind against his erection, and you felt his hands sliding across your ass, pulling you closer to him.

You broke the kiss and stared deep into his eyes. "Please," you breathed, your voice barely audible.

"Turn around," he said, his voice gruff with desire.

You did as instructed, turning around, facing away from him. He grabbed your hips, and you placed your hands on the wall. He slowly began to push his length into you. You let out a soft whimper as his member entered you, stretching you open. He paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. Then he slowly pushed himself further into you, inch by inch. You gasped and moaned, feeling every inch of him filling you.

"Oh..." you groaned, grinding your hips against his. "So big..."

Mountain groaned loudly and began thrusting into you. He moved slowly at first, but soon picked speed. Pumping into you harder and deeper. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts.

"How can you be this wet?" he inquired, with a mischievous smile. "Did you want my cock that bad?"

"Yes..." you purred.

He moved his hips, sliding his length in and out of you. You moaned loudly, your pleasure mounting as he thrust into you faster and harder. Mountain reached up and grabbed your shoulders, pulling you close to him. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, as you felt his member sliding in and out of you.

"Mmm... Mounty..." you growled, biting your lower lip. "Yes, fuck me, yes-! Oh! It's so good, fuck..."

"Is it good?" he whispered, lowering his face to your neck, pressing hungry kissed on your skin. "You like my cock inside you? Does it feels good?"

"Feels amazing! Ah... M-Ohn... Don't stop, please!" you cried out, your body writhing in pleasure as Mountain pouded into you.

The water splashed over his body, drenching you both. You cried out again, louder this time, as Mountain slammed into you, his length hitting your right spot over and over. He grunted, wrapping his arms around you, pressing your back onto his body. His teeth biting gently your neck, as he picked up speed on his pace, slamming into you, hitting your cervix over and over.

"So tight... Ah! So tight and hot for me, what a good pussy to fuck," he whispered, breathing heavily close to your ear.

"Mountain, Oh my Satan! You fuck so good, yes, yes, yes!" you whimpered. "Oh! You fuck me so good."

Mountain withdrew and turned you to face him. He bent down, kissing you deeply, his tongue dancing inside your mouth, causing you to moan with pleasure. He then slid his length back into you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily. The connection between your bodies was electrifying.

Breaking the kiss, your bodies pressed together, and Mountain gazed at you with a smile. His hands reached for your legs, lifting them onto his hips and holding them firmly. You wrapped your legs around him, locking your ankles behind his back. Your arms held him tight, your fingers intertwined in his hair. Mountain began to thrust into you, and you moaned, your head falling back.

"Yes-yes-yes-yes! Oh, my sweet Mounty, you fuck me so fucking good!" you screamed out.

The tip of his member brushed against your cervix, and you gasped. Your walls tightening around his member. Mountain smiled at you and thrust into you once more, your body squeezing his tight. He quickened his movements, and you squeezed your legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper into you. Your breathing became ragged, your body trembling with pleasure.

"Your pussy takes my cock so well," he said looking straight at your eyes. "So fucking good, it feels so good... You have no idea how good your tight pussy feels around my fucking cock... Fu-! Ah!"

"Mounty... I- I don't think I can... Ah!" you moaned softly, rolling your eyes in pleasure. "I don't think I can hold anymore..."

"It's okay, I'm going to cum soon too, cum with me," he said, panting heavily.

He growled softly, and you felt him press his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in small circles. Your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat. You felt yourself building up towards an orgasm, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold off much longer. His fingers moved faster, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.

"Mountain!" you screamed, your orgasm bursting through your body like a dam breaking. Your entire body tensed, as his thumb kept rubbing your clit fast.

"Yes! That's it! Cum for me, yes, just like that!" Mountain groaned and held onto you tighter. "You came so good, I'm going to fill you, I'm going to cum inside of your tight pussy," as he said it, his member pulsed inside you, spurting his hot seed into you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your body convulsing, clenching your walls around his member. You cried out as you milked his member, wanting every last drop. Your wall pulsing around him shaft, feeling him filling you deep inside.

You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You felt him wrap his arms around you and kiss your forehead. You sighed contentedly, slowly releasing your legs from his grip. Slowly, he untangled himself from you, causing you to shiver as you felt his cum dripping out of you.

Mountain's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroking it. He leaned in, placing a delicate peck on your lips. A smile graced your face as you reached out, caressing his wrist with your hand.

"Should we stop wasting water now?" Mountain asked in a playful tone.

You chuckled and nodded. "Yes," you agreed with a teasing glint in your eyes. "Next time, we should turn off the water."

Mountain leaned in, whispering, "Or maybe we can find another place," and then claimed your lips in another passionate kiss.

#kinktober #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost the band #smut #mountain #mountain ghoul #mountain smut #mountain ghost #mountain x reader #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoul smut