#but for now they are being kissed and cherished and gazed upon

[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ, ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ..."

Word count: 3,800.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

MEETING - 1. Her.

Her legs, without any command and with an unstoppable determination, set off through the labyrinthine corridors of the red keep towards her mother's chambers long before the phrase fully reached her ears, the one she had so longed for: "The baby has been born, my princess."

Her family was her most loved treasure and when her mother announced the big news, time seemed to slow down. She couldn't wait to have that baby in her arms and cherish every second the gods, those she fervently prayed to, would allow her to spend with him.

Every night, in silent prayers, she repeated to any who would listen: "Please, let him be born healthy. Please, take care of my mother."

Rhaenyra painfully held in her heart the memory of her mother Aemma's early departure from the world. She wanted to shield her little ones from all fear and anguish, so she didn't dwell on details about that traumatic episode, one that, despite the years, remained as a deep and open wound. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop the whispers, those that seeped into her daughter's ears, creating such intense fear that she barely had room to breathe during those long nine months.

She felt a smile so wide it would ache her cheeks later and feet that weren't fast enough. Upon reaching the large wooden door, she took a few seconds to take a deep breath, calm her racing nerves, and finally push it open with determination.

Her entrance went unnoticed, as all eyes in the room were on the small human being now peacefully resting in her father's arms.

Except hers, no, those were on the woman sitting on the couch. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, her hair tousled and a tired expression adorned her face; yet never, in her short years on this earth, had she seen her so beautiful.

"Mother" she murmured almost voicelessly, taking her hands in hers and seeking her gaze. She felt her eyes sting, tears threatening to spill, and a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to speak again, but her voice got lost along the way. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary; Rhaenyra knew her as well as herself and could read her like an open book.

"My love, please, have no fear, we are okay" with those simple words, her lungs filled with air, swelling her chest. She let out a sigh, laden with relief, laden with love. She could only nod in response.

"Sister, look!" Jacaerys exclaimed, drawing her attention. He lifted the lid of the large steel chest, releasing steam and revealing a dragon egg. 

"We choose an egg for the baby" Lucerys added.

"That looks like the perfect one, brothers" she said with a smile, though a bittersweet taste filled her mouth. Unlike her brothers, her own egg had never hatched, a disappointment she carried permanently with her, though she tried not to show it in these moments of happiness.

"I let Luke choose" he said, she messed up the younger one's hair and planted a kiss on his head.

"Thank you, Jace."

"Not every day an egg leaves the dragonpit, my princess, I thought it best to escort the lads" intervened Harwin Strong, adorned in his imposing armor and golden cloak. It didn't surprise her seeing him there; in fact, despite having a different last name, she considered him part of her family.

He was her protector, who always escorted her to her room, pampered her with luxurious books, and listened attentively to every word she said. She had more memories of him than of her own father, but she didn't complain; she knew he was a busy man. Harwin had tried to teach her the art of the sword, insisting on the importance of knowing how to defend herself, but she always found herself more interested in books. Besides, she had the feeling that he would never neglect watching her back.

"Laenor and I thank you, Commander" she heard her mother say.

"Father, may I see it?" she asked. Laenor knelt down, allowing the three of them to meet the new member of the family. It only took one look for him to completely captivate her. She mentally swore that nothing would ever harm him as long as she breathed. "What a fine knight you are going to make, eh?"

"Another boy, I heard" Harwin cleared his throat. "Might I?" he asked, seeking her mother's approval. She thought she saw a glimpse of the same relief that filled her eyes.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey" she said, smiling. Upon hearing that name, her lips formed another smile. Of course, she would have been equally happy if it were a girl, but she was glad to still be the only one. It had its advantages.

"Of course" Laenor agreed. Rising, he gently placed Joffrey in Harwin's arms.

"Joffrey, is it?" her father nodded in agreement to the question.

"Mother, please may I hold Joffrey?" she asked excitedly, reaching out her arms towards him. A futile attempt, of course, the man in front of her easily doubled her height.

"No, mother, let me go first! I'm the strongest, I won't let him fall!" her twin brother vociferated.

"I won't let him fall either!" she countered.

Her younger brother joined in the pleas, arguing that he had the right because he was the youngest. Soon, the words melded into an indistinguishable uproar, as all three clamored in unison.

"No, no, no" her father hastened as Harwin turned his back to them, trying to prevent the disturbances from reaching the ears of the newborn.

"I think you left your septa waiting, my little lady, and back to the dragon pit for you two, before they send out a search party" he ushered the three younger ones out of the room, and gently pushed their shoulders, guiding them down the hallway. First, towards the room she had left only minutes ago, where her septa awaited along with Helaena, her mother's younger sister.

Her father left her at the door, and the expression on her face, the one she believed she was successfully hiding, betrayed her. Laenor crouched down to her height, gently taking her cheeks in his hands, making her look at him.

"You know, Leana had an egg that didn't hatch... and she didn't ride a dragon until she was five and ten. Now she rides Vhagar," he tried to cheer her up, "your time will come, dear daughter, I promise."

She was filled with hope at her father's promises. He always had the right words. She thanked the man she loved so much with a kiss on the cheek, and now with renewed energy, she entered the room.

Despite the repeated complaints from the septa, they remained on the floor; she leaned her back against the wall, while Helaena rested her head on her legs. She explored the pages of the book while playing with her hair, and when a passage caught her attention, she read it aloud to her aunt, who entertained herself by watching a long insect walk on her hands. They didn't share the same interests, not even could it be said that they understood each other, but they enjoyed each other's company and were grateful of having another princess of almost the same age as a confidante.

"This one has 60 rings and two pairs of legs on each. That's 240" remarked Helaena.

"Yes, you're right, I think... Did you know that Vhagar is 170 years old?" she responded, her eyes widening at the new information. "That's exceptional."

"The last ring doesn't have legs," Helaena pointed out, overlooking her niece, more interested in the insect "it has eyes, though I don't believe it can see."

She furrowed her brow. "Why is that so?"

"It's beyond our understanding."

She didn't know how much time they had spent in that position, but when she shifted her attention from the book due to noises approaching from the corridors, she noticed that the septa had already left and in her place was Alicent. The new companion was sitting a few meters away from them, holding a cup of tea and with her gaze lost in the window.

Suddenly, two king’s guards burst into the room, each holding one of Aemond's arms, alarming her.

"Your grace" they left without waiting for any response, closing the doors behind them.

"Aemond, what have you done?" Alicent approached him quickly, scrutinizing him, and exclaimed exasperatedly while gripping his shoulders firmly, "after how many times you’ve been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?"

"They made me do it!" the young prince shouted in his defense.

"As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding" she furrowed her brow again upon noticing the same phrase that had come out of Helaena's mouth minutes ago.

Returning her attention to the argument in front of her, she noted that the prince's platinum hair and his green garments were stained black. Realization fell into her, she widened her eyes, astonished. Had he really ventured into the dragon pit? Alone?

"They gave me a pig!"

"A what?" the queen asked.

"They said they found a dragon for me, but it was a pig" detailed, his voice breaking slightly.

She knew Aegon and she knew her brothers, and even though she was certain the last two had only been pawns used in the prank, a mixture of anger and disappointment washed over her. How could they tease and deceive the good prince in such a way? Worse still, with something that was also the cause of her tears.

"If he wants one, he'll have to close one eye" the princess beside her said, her gaze still fixed on the tiny entity. She spoke loud enough for only her to hear.

Her words were puzzling, and she didn't know how to interpret them. They could either indicate that she was still in her little world or suggest something deeper; it wouldn't be the first time for either option. She had heard her say... things before; at first, they seemed like mere nonsensical words, and suddenly something happened, something that reminded her of her words, something that led her to believe that her aunt had some kind of magic. No one had paid much attention to her when she shared her theory, dismissing it with disdain, saying they were just coincidences. But to her, it seemed like more than mere chance connections.

"Everyone laughed" Aemond murmured, trying to hide his sadness. Her anger now replaced by deep empathy. Alicent wrapped her arms around him, stroking his back.

The prince looked just as distressed as he left the hug and walked away as he did when he entered. It reminded her of her own feelings of desolation and loneliness, and she thought that there was no one in the kingdom who could understand her like he did. Not really.

She always had a special connection with Jace, a twin connection, as they enjoyed calling it. They understood each other with just looks, laughed at the same jokes, and shared the same tastes, except for the obvious; he loved his sword, she preferred her books. On the other hand, Luke had always been her little and spoiled one, her sweet and innocent child. That's why the situation had affected her so much. She didn't believe her brothers had meant to hurt Aemond, but they did anyway. They were insensitive, and she didn't want to see them grow up like Aegon, who with his character showed that he didn't know the true meaning of consequences.

It had been a few days since the incident in the pit and the birth of her brother, who was under the care of Diana, her mother's lady-in-waiting.

She tried not to lift her gaze from her plate and ate in silence, ignoring her brothers, offering them only monosyllabic responses. She was furious and intended to make it obvious. She huffed in frustration, trying to get her mother's attention so she could bring up the issue to the table.

"My dear, what troubles your mind?" she heard her mother ask as she gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"Mother, have you heard about the incident in the dragon pit?" noticing her mother's concerned and confused look, she hurried to reassure her, "no one is hurt... not physically, at least."

"What happened?" her mother looked inquisitively at her sons, their heads looking down, ashamed.

"Jace, Luke, and Aegon played a prank on Prince Aemond. They told him they had a dragon for him and gave him a pig with wings, they even named it! Pink Dread." The children couldn't contain their laughter at the memory, which only made her angrier.

"Is that true?" her mother asked, wiping the smile from both their faces. It wasn't common to hear her upset or see her with a serious expression.

"It was just a joke!" Jace tried to justify.

"Aegon planned it!" Luke interjected.

"I don't want to hear justifications" she silenced them. "What if that joke had been towards your sister? Would you still be laughing?"

"It's different" Jace muttered, while Luke's lip trembled in a pout.

"No, it's not. Tomorrow during training, you will offer the appropriate apologies. From the heart. Aemond is family, and we must look out for each other. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, mother" they chorused, serious and repentant.

"Now you may retire to your chambers and think about what you've done," their mother pronounced, and before they could respond, she added, "no complaints." They nodded and left in silence.

"I think Aemond could use some kind words, don't you agree?" Rhaenyra suggested minutes later, breaking the silence. She responded with a smile, thanking her for understanding the importance of this to her. "Who better than you to do it?" She rose from her seat and embraced her gently, for she could see her still in pain. She planted a kiss on her forehead, the kind she cherished so much.

"Rest, mother. I'll ask the maester to make you some tea."

She smiled after hearing her daughter, thinking that any pain felt and to be felt would be an insignificant price to pay considering all she had gained. Jace, the next heir to the throne, who would reign with peace and intelligence; Luke and Joffrey, who would be the greatest and most honorable knights; and her daughter, her eternal and sweet companion.

There was no need to ask questions; she knew where to find him. A few floors up was the library, her second room, her refuge, where the world became a little quieter and she could transport herself to other times, places and lives.

She ascended the long stairs quickly, and within minutes, she stood at the door. This hallway had always been one of the least traveled, practically deserted, except for them and the king’s guards. It seemed there weren't many avid readers in the keep.

They used to be at opposite ends of the table, immersed in each of their books. She had always wanted to talk to him, ask him what he was reading and maybe ask him to teach her High Valyrian. However, she never did; she had been too shy in his presence, and Aemond's distant form didn't help. Perhaps he was shy like her.

Or perhaps he simply didn't want to talk to her.

She tried to push those thoughts to the back of her mind as she entered the library. She smiled to herself when she saw she hadn't been wrong.

"Good morrow, uncle" she announced her arrival as she headed to the usual shelf and picked up the book she had left halfway through a few days ago.

"Good morrow, niece" he responded with his usual seriousness.

She walked to the table and hesitated. Should she sit closer to him this time? She didn't want to invade his space, but she also didn't believe that a conversation should start at a distance.

She arrived at the table before deciding and stood there for a few seconds. She ended up placing her book at the usual spot and sat down, feeling uncomfortable.

Why was she feeling this way? She wasn't the one who played a distasteful joke, besides, he was family; they had grown up together in the castle, it shouldn't be so difficult.

Suddenly, she felt warmth engulf her when she noticed Aemond looking at her, puzzled. With the book still closed, her cheeks turned red as she realized she had been staring at him all this time, lost in her thoughts. She mentally cursed herself and searched for the page she was on. He looked away, not saying a word.

Her mother had asked her to talk to him and she had really wanted to, so she didn't understand why she found it so hard to approach him.

She audibly sighed and abruptly closed her book. He did the same seconds later. As always.

It was curious; every time they were here, they seemed… united, connected in their readings; when she finished, he did too, shortly after. They put away their books, and he walked to the exit, hurriedly, and then held the door, patiently waiting for her to exit. They parted ways upon reaching the floor of their chambers, all without exchanging a word other than greetings or thanks.

The king and the queen did a good job with him and Helaena. She couldn't say the same about Aegon, unfortunately.

She knew it was only a matter of seconds before he got up from his chair, so she cleared her throat and, with her book in hand, marched towards him.

Aemond furrowed his brow; he didn't seem upset, rather bewildered by the new proximity when she took the seat to his right and opened her book again, an action he imitated seconds later.

She found it impossible to read; she observed the page, but the words blurred together as her mind was occupied with something else. How should she start? It was clear they had something in common. Two things, in fact. Long conversations weren't necessary to know it, so she ventured there.

She cleared her throat, trying to get his attention, without success. Then, timidly, she placed her hand on his, causing an immediate reaction.

He remained still, stunned by her movements. He just looked at her, with eyes wider than usual. It was then that she realized how different they were from the rest of their family. Her grandsire, her mother, Aegon, Helaena, they all had eyes as clear as the sky on a sunny day. But not him, his were darker, bluer, with a trace of purple in them. As deep as the sea, and as beautiful as a sapphire. His hair was straighter, platinum, and even softer, she would dare to say.

How she wished to have the Targaryen attributes, just as distinctive as they were beautiful. Another one of her biggest insecurities and sorrows. It wasn't uncommon for people to be surprised when they saw her and her siblings next to their parents, as they hadn't inherited such beauty. They were equally pale, but with a tumultuous mane, full of curls, of the darkest black and eyes sometimes green, sometimes brown.

Once again, she felt the red fill her cheeks, her gaze lost in him as her thoughts swirled.

"Do you know that my father's sister also had an unhatched egg? Just like us," she said, softly, looking him in the eyes and trying to comfort him, "now she's the rider of Vhagar, the oldest, largest, and most feared dragon in the entire kingdom." 

She waited for a response that didn't come. "I like to believe that our wait will be rewarded, don't you?" then added. He only nodded, almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes off hers, "I wanted to apologize."

Now with a confused look, Aemond finally decided to respond, "why?"

"They shouldn't have done it... It was cruel." Understanding dawned on him.

"No need to apologize for something that you did not do, niece." She couldn't help but smile at his words. Was he always so serious and formal? She thought he was like an adult trapped in the body of a little boy. An old soul.

"Can I ask you something?" she inquired.

"Yes, of course."

"Did you really enter the dragon pit? Alone?" she asked, curious. She noticed his face changing, a smirk of pride forming, his lips curling up into a small smile as he straightened up in his chair, now more upright.

"Yes, I did."

"Did you see any?"

"Yes, but it was too dark to know which one..." he began, with a spark in his eyes, and noticing her attentive gaze, he decided to continue "it throwed fire in my direction" he added, her eyes wider than before, conveying her astonishment.

"Gods! You must have been so terrified."

"Not really" he simply responded.

"That was... you're incredibly brave, my prince. I wouldn't have had the courage" she said and received a wide smile in return. She had never called him "my prince" before and she had never seen him smile.

She continued to listen attentively. No history book had ever excited her as much as the prince's adventures, and seeing him so enthusiastic about telling them filled her chest with something she didn't know how to name. Something warm. She liked it.

Despite it being their first real conversation, and the first time they looked each other in the eyes, there was a mutual understanding, a connection, different, special. One that went beyond being dragonless riders or relatives raised under the same roof.

It seemed to her that only a few minutes had passed when she felt a knock on the doors and a voice announcing that it was supper time and Alicent awaited for her son's presence. Both of them showed disappointment at the interruption; he seemed to have so much more to say and she hadn't had enough of his words. She thought she could listen to him for the rest of her days.

"Forgive me, niece, I must have tired your ears," he said before standing up, "and I didn't ask about your stories; you must think me rude." His words elicited a laugh from her lips, as it couldn't be further from the truth.

"Not at all, I would have liked to keep listening to you. Besides, I don't have stories as brave as yours, and I wouldn't want to bore you to exhaustion" she replied.

Once they had put the books back in their place, they walked to the door.

"I do not think that's possible" Aemond communicated with his hand on the doorknob. There was silence as they descended the stairs with the guards behind them.

"Goodnight, my princess" he said once they reached the floor, calling her that way for the first time.

"Goodnight, my prince."

"Perhaps tomorrow we could... continue?" It came out almost as a whisper from Aemond's lips. A smile on hers.

"Nothing would make me happier."

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #house targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fluff

[remyfire]

Feeling incredibly enamored with my lil guys today!! Gorgeous work done by @saltseashark as always. It's a delight to have some of your art in my home. Oh my GOD I cannot wait to put them in all kinds of situations!!!!!

#why yes i DID have to make an impromptu setup for them just for a gay little photoshoot #please ignore the cat hairs i live with a yeti #am considering just stabbing my mash wall and hanging them there until i have a better solution #but for now they are being kissed and cherished and gazed upon #gifts for me #art #until i can decide if i want them in the character tags or not

[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. 12k words

AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.

Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.

Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.

In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.

From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.

One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.

“Minho, this is important.”

“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”

His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.

“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”

At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.

You gulp.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.

Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.

Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.

Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.

According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.

Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.

At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.

“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.

Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.

Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.

Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.

Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.

A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.

“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.

If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.

Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.

And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.

They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.

Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.

Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.

A devil, dressed as an angel.

“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.

Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.

It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.

Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.

“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.

Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.

“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.

“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.

Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.

“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”

Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.

“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.

Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.

“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.

“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”

About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.

“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”

You shiver.

Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.

The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.

What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.

“Do you know what he does?”

Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.

“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.

“The King, what does he do all day long?”

One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.

Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.

“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.

“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.

“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“

“Tell who?”

You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.

A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.

Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.

You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.

Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.

You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.

And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.

Pleased.

King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.

Vile.

Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.

“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.

Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.

“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”

Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.

“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.

“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”

“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.

In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes. 

Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear. 

King L/N, written in that same, cursive font. 

Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.

Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.

“He won’t bite y’know.”

“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.

Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears. 

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears. 

You won’t bleed without biting back. 

Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer. 

The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.  

His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.

“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”

“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”

Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.

The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger. 

“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“

“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.

Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.

Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.

“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”

Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.

Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.

“Excuse m-“

“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”

Ah. Right.

Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.

Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate. 

The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.   

“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.

Salve. What salve?

Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.  

“You smell.”

Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.

Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.

“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”

You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.” 

To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.

Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.  

Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.

What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight. 

The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past. 

Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead. 

Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest. 

Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified. 

“We’ve arrived.”

Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.

And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.

“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side. 

The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.

“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar. 

“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.” 

Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.

“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”

Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness. 

“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.

“..He forgot something again.”

Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent. 

Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions. 

Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.

This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.

From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.

A short term fix.

“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”

Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.

“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.

“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”

Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—

‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’

Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin. 

..End already? The endless winter.. ending?

“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.

“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes. 

Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?

“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”

Seungmin grins.

“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident. 

“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”

Marriage. 

What.

“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”

Seungmin clears his throat.

“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”

Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?

You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation. 

“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”

But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts. 

“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”

Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.

“Your scent.”

Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”

Oh.

That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.

Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.

“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?” 

Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.

However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.

“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”

And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.

If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.

Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.

An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.

Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.

Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.

No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to. 

He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.

Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry. 

Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.

Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.

You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.

Run away. 

Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable? 

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison. 

Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.

Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls. 

Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan. 

Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.

Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.

If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.

Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.

Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors. 

Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight. 

You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.

Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly. 

Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.

Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across. 

Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.

And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there. 

But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.

For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.

Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.

Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.

Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway. 

Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.

Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous. 

Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.  

I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.

Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.

Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.

Enough thinking. You have to go. 

Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.

That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.

The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent. 

Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.

Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.

Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.

You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.

“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”

A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.

Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve. 

Gone.

“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”

He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear. 

Deer caught in headlights. 

A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.

He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.

This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please. 

As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.

A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face. 

In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.

King Bahng. 

He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.

So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face. 

Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.

Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience. 

Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.

“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement. 

Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom. 

Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something. 

“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter. 

“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you. 

Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon. 

Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.

“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”

Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal. 

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately. 

The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed. 

Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway? 

You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears. 

“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”

Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are. 

“I promise.”

Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron. 

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.” 

Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.

However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.

All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow. 

It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck. 

Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.

To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.

Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.

This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch. 

Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.

“Hey Minho?”

Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.

“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”

He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest. 

No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge. 

Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower. 

“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”

The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.

Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“

“When do you want to train.”

All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.

“Tomorrow?”

Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.

Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting. 

Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet. 

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle. 

Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.  

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”

Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.

Wait.

Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.

“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”

A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.

“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”

Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead. 

“Isn’t that unfai—“

“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”

He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances. 

“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”

Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.

Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus. 

Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable. 

Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.

Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils. 

Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.

“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”

There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.  

Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.

“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”

You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it. 

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.

Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.

Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.

You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.

Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.

“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”

Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.

Deception is your greatest weapon.

Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now. 

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle. 

The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.

In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.

“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”

Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.

“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”

Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.

“One more match?”

You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open. 

Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing. 

He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.

Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.  

“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“

“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.

Huh?

What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?

Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage. 

They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.

If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.

Lies.

Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.

No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible. 

No weakness, no mercy. 

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”

Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.

However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.

The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.

Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.

You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief. 

Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.

Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing. 

You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.

This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme. 

Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.

In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held. 

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty? 

Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.

There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.

No escape. 

Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.

“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer. 

“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”

He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.

Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold. 

Inside lies a gown.  

A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.

Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.

You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well. 

If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.

And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.

Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.

What awful circumstances.

“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.

Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.

Of course you had to choose now to try it on.

His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.

Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.

Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.

He clears his throat.

“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“

He sounds timid, like a child.

A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode. 

“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.

Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.

As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.

Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.

“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks. 

“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.” 

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”

Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.

A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”

Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.

What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?

Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud. 

And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all. 

You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.” 

Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.

“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact. 

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter. 

“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”

You scoff.  

“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“

“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail. 

“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.” 

He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.

When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.

“And why is that?”

Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.

He’s right, in some way. 

You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep. 

Yet, you aren’t. 

You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.

But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours. 

You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.

An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.

“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”

For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”

“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”

“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.

You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.

You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether. 

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”

Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.

“I want to see spring again.”

Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.

“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.

For now, you’re indifferent.

“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.

“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”

All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait? 

Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you. 

Oh Felix.

His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”

You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.

“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?” 

His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.

“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.

You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.

If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.

On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.

And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you. 

She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.

Your stomach wrenches.

By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended. 

The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.

You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.

Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.

As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.

“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard. 

Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.

“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.

Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips. 

“Then before I die, let me have this first.”

And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.

Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.

Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.

“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“

You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking. 

He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things. 

The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.

He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.

But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.

Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.

After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.

Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.  

Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on. 

However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.

“Could be better.” 

He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.

Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.

Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room. 

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that. 

Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you. 

He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.

“You kept the ring on?”

Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest. 

“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”

He grins, giggling childishly. 

“Is that the only reason?”

Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.

You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance. 

Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.

The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.

“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.

He perks up.

“Hm?”

You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.

“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”

“Care to tell me the other reason?” 

Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him. 

“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?” 

Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution. 

Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet. 

You clear your throat.

“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”

Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone. 

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night. 

Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.” 

He sucks in a breath.

“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”

It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space. 

“Chris, do you love me?”

You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him. 

Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever. 

This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him. 

“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”

How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power. 

Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.

“I hate you, so much.” 

Then another kiss.

His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back. 

“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.

“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard. 

Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.

“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”

You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.

What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink. 

You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.

“I’d be honored.”

FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2

sunboki, may 2022 ©

#skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #straykids x you #straykids x reader #straykids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #bangchan x y/n #skz x y/n #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x you #bangchan x reader #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #bangchan fluff #bangchan angst #bang chan angst #bang chan comfort

[poeticallyspiteful]

hiii! could you please write a regulus black x potter! reader? maybe something like reg and reader secretly going out and getting discovered by James?

thank you!! have an amazing day 💗💗

his muse (pt. one)

regulus black x reader

fluff / angst

cw: unedited as always 😌, a sex joke but it’s a titanic reference lol, marauders being overprotective, kissing, cuddling, someone may threaten to pull out someone’s teeth and put them on a necklace (it seemed like a very regulus threat), artist!regulus because 🥰

summary: you’re the honorary little sister of the infamous marauders; what happens when they catch you with a certain someone?

notes: hey love, thank you so much for the request!! just so you know, i don’t like to write readers to be related to another character, because i want my readers be able to relate to the ‘reader character’ without altering their preferred fancast for another one based on things like race or ethnicity. that is totally on me for not putting that in my request post and i will do that asap, but i hope you enjoy this anyway <33

more notes: i did get just a tad bit carried away and decided to divide this request into two parts, just to make it less overwhelming for me and y’all as well. anyways, enjoy <333

“oh reggie, paint me like one of your french girls,” you giggled, draping yourself dramatically across regulus’ pristine sheets.

he looked up from his sketchbook, brow furrowed in a way that made you want to kiss him until you both passed out from lack of oxygen.

god, you loved him.

“what?” he asked.

“nothing.”

evan and barty had both left the slytherin dorms, off to some place or another, giving you the perfect opportunity for some alone time with your lovely boyfriend. you’ve made sure to do this at least once a week since you started dating in your fourth year. now that you’ve reached sixth year, the tradition had only grown more cherished; precious were the moments spent with someone you’d been otherwise forbidden to see.

“he’s dangerous, (y/n),” sirius insisted, only just finished with his dramatic act of fake vomiting. you had made the grave mistake of assuming your friend would have a normal reaction upon hearing who had asked you to the yule ball.

“a slytherin, (y/n), how could you?” james moaned, collapsing onto the auto-man like he was faint in the heart. “you have been my little sister all my life—”

“you met me when you were twelve and we are not related,” you corrected.

james feigned offense. “how dare you question our bond? blood does not matter! we are family and that is that, young lady.”

“leave her alone, the both of you,” remus laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you to his chest. “our little girl had to grow up someday.”

sirius looked appalled. “not with my bastard, slimy, death eater of a brother—”

“he’s not a death eater, we’re fourteen!” you exclaimed, pouting dramatically at the older boy. “just one dance, i promise padfoot, if it’s that weird to you, i’ll never see him again.”

you lied.

sunlight peaked in through the curtains, the golden rays hitting regulus in such a way that made him look angelic. so focused on his sketchbook, glancing up every few moments to gaze at you like you were something to be revered.

you sat up in his bed, fiddling with the hem of his sweater that lay around your mid thighs; though you loved to, you rarely got the opportunity to wear reggie’s clothes, given sirius would recognize them in an instant. so, you took advantage of these moments whenever they came your way.

you loved wrapping yourself in the soft, strong, warm smell of him: minty cologne, sea salt, and pine trees. the scent was practically woven in the fabric, making everything feel so much softer, so much more him.

you did have a couple shirts and sweaters you’d stolen over the years, but they remained in your dorm at all times.

well, mostly.

it was a moment of stupidity. a dreary saturday morning, a hogsmeade trip, and you had slept in. naturally, you had to rush out of your dorm to get to breakfast in time; but, you didn’t need to change, did you?

why not wear the sweater you had slept in and save yourself a little time?

so, after changing into more appropriate pants, you made your way down the breakfast and sat in your regular spot; in between remus and james, and smack dab across from sirius.

he noticed his brothers favorite sweater the second you sat down.

“what’s that?”

you’d barely sat down by the time sirius spoke and continued making your morning coffee as the group grew silent around you. finally looking up, you glanced between your friends in confusion.

“what’s what?”

you lifted your sleeve to rub your nose, breathing in quickly through your stuffed up sinuses; stupid fall allergies.

you froze as the familiar sent cooled your insides, eyes darting over to the slytherin table across the great hall.

oh.

that’s ‘what’s what’.

“who’s jumper is that, (y/n)?” james asked, arm draping over your shoulders to tug the sleeve on the other side. “doesn’t look like one of mine—”

“or mine,” sirius chimed.

“or mine,” peter chirped, though you hardly stole borrowed his sweaters anyways (too scratchy).

“it’s mine!”

you were surprised to hear remus’ leap to your defense, as you knew damn well the sweater wrapped around you wasn’t his— still, you weren’t about to question it.

“mhm,” you hummed, taking a sip of your coffee, hoping the boys didn’t notice your shaking hands. “i don’t know what all that third degree was about, but i stole this from moony a month ago.”

“what’re you thinking about, lovely?”

regulus was suddenly just inches away from you, sketchbook tossed to the side, instead opting to look at his muse more close up.

“nothing,” you mumbled, smiling as he dipped down to kiss your collarbone, working his way up to your lips with featherlight kisses that made you wish you could stay with him forever.

though at this point, everything he did made you wish you could stay with him forever.

“you’re beautiful,” he whispered, eyes scanning every curve and point of your face like a work of art; his work of art, his muse.

he’ll never get tired of that word.

you breathed in deeply, the smell of him practically making you glow like some sort of protection charm; you’d never felt safer than you did with regulus near. you felt untouchable with him, like nothing could ever hurt you.

“what are you doing here?”

lovely.

a grating voice to disrupt your already terrible day.

“hey,” severus called. “i’m talking to you.”

you spun around, glaring at the greasy haired boy across from you with as much contempt at you could muster. “piss off, severus!” you shouted; you’d never bit back like this before, but the shocked look on his face was worth it. “really, cornering a younger student in an empty hallway? pretty cowardly, don’t you think?”

before you could debate the consequences of your actions, severus’ hand was gripping your cloaks and you were shoved up against the wall.

“you filthy little—”

just as quick as snapes hands were on you, they’d been torn off, and you scrunched to the ground. regulus shoved him up to the wall opposite you.

“defending your little mudblood, huh?”

“shut your filthy mouth about her or i swear on merlins grave, i will rip every single one of your teeth out and put them on a necklace like a string of fucking pearls,” regulus bit, baring his teeth like an emphasis to the threat. “you got that?”

that night, you ended up in a very similar position to where you were in now; wrapped up in your lovely boyfriends sweater, curled in his arms, and having sweet nothings whispered in your ear.

“y’know, i mean it when i say you are beautiful,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your temple as he spoke, breath fanning over your face. it tickled, but you didn’t care; you just wanted to hear his voice. “breathtakingly gorgeous, inside and out.”

“really?” you teased, nuzzling your nose further into his chest, arms wrapped around his torso.

“really,” he laughed. “i could stay like this forever.”

you pouted, pulling yourself half on top of him. “but my daft friends just have to get in the way, don’t they?”

you hear a gasp from the doorway.

“did you just call us daft?”

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders x platonic!reader #harry potter #regulus black imagine #request #regulus black request

[kazenomegaminowanpisu]

Op boys seeing their s/o sings a lullaby for their baby

warning:SFW, Fluff

Feat:Luffy,Sanji,Zoro, Law, Kid, Killer, Marco Ace

LUFFY

Luffy would be completely captivated by the scene, his eyes widening with a mix of wonder and tenderness. "y/n had a beautiful voice" he will have a wide grin on his face as he watches you gently sing your baby a lullaby.

SANJI

Sanji would be instantly touch, his heart melting at the sight of you singing for the baby to sleep. He would lean in closer, his eyes softening as he listens to the soothing melody. Sanji remained silent and calm as he watches that tender moment, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and protectiveness for both of you and your child.

ZORO

Zoro would be unable to resist the warmth and sweetness of the thing he was seeing right now "is she singing?" He said to himself . He would sit nearby, his usual fierce and serious expression softened, as he watches you sing for the baby to sleep. Although he might play it cool on the outside, inside he would be touched deeply, grateful for the love and care you showers upon your child.

LAW

Law would put on his serious face at first, but deep down, his heart would be filled with warmth "Is she singing something for the baby?" He said to himself as he slowly lean against the wall, observing on how you sing a song for the baby to sleep with a faint smile on his face. Law would appreciate the tenderness and gentleness of the moment, feeling a sense of contentment in witnessing such a heartwarming scene.

KID

Kid, known for his rough and fierce. But he would have a difficult time hiding his soft spot for you and your child as He watch from a distance, his stern expression softening as he sees you singing for the baby to sleep. Kid may act nonchalant, but secretly, he would be deeply moved by the love and care you were giving for your child.

KILLER

Killer, being fiercely loyal and protective, would be pleased to see you soothing your baby with a lullaby. He would sit quietly beside you as his gaze fixed on your peaceful interaction. Although he might not say much, the slight smile on his face would reveal his happiness and pride as a loving parent.

MARCO

Marco would find the sight of you singing your baby a lullaby to sleep, sweet and cute. He would sit beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, also pressing a kiss on your head, enjoying the serene atmosphere. Marco would be filled with joy and contentment, cherishing the love and harmony within his little family.

ACE

Ace filled with warmth and affection, would be instantly touch by the scene. He would lean in closer, his eyes fixed on on you as you sing a lullaby for the baby. The sight would bring back fond memories of his own childhood, and a broad smile would spread across his face. Ace would be visibly moved by this beautiful moment, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude, he is thankful that you and the baby came into his life.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x s/o #one piece x y/n #one piece scenario's #one piece canons #luffy x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #law x reader #kid x reader #killer x reader #marco x reader #ace x reader #kazenomegaminowanpisu #hannaemeraldwhitedragon #writing #anime

[whalesforhands]

holding gojo’s face in your hands

It’s soft. Pleasantly so.

Your hands are practically holding the world in them as thumbs press into the soft squish of his surprisingly plush cheeks, smooth skin tender under your palms.

There’s a look of haughty confidence in his gaze that is trumped by the utter gentleness as he watches you go about your administrations, feeling you shake his head about, watching as his hair sways with every movement you make.

He’s all yours to control, if that’s what you want.

His once limp hands reach up to place themselves over yours, never minding the way your palms are slowly rubbing into his face, feeling every soft groove, admiring how squashy he is with your touch, how he’s practically melting right now in your presence.

Gorgeous, pretty, adorable Satoru.

“You’re so cute, Satoru.” It’s the first few words that breaks the silence between you two, less of a statement, more of a hidden thought you’ve always had about the man.

Even his name tastes like sugar sweetness on your tongue, with the way it lolls out so easily candied, and so satisfactory.

“I know~” The way words form from his mouth sounds like a melody, a pleasant hum that’s low and akin to the purr of a cat.

Soft, squishy Satoru who is so pliant in these intimate moments, who reminds you of the fluffiest of cakes, the chewiness of cookies.

It makes you kind of want to bite him too.

He’s still humming, so at ease and so relaxed even when one of your hands loosens its hold, begetting his pretty head to loll and place its weight on your remaining one, his cheek squishing with the pressure he applies upon your palm that makes you want to squeal.

Even you can’t tell what you’re about to pull. A lean forwards that makes him think you’re going in for a sweet kiss to his face, his eyes closing to bask in the warmth of the closeness of your body, before he only feels your forehead against his own, your hands making their way downwards towards his to entangle your fingers together.

You’re cute too. One of the most adorable he’s seen. With how much you cherish the soft intimacy of being close to him, how you treat him as nothing but Satoru. He doesn’t want to be anything else but him when he’s with you.

Problems can be dealt with another time, issues can be thought about another day, Suguru can spend his time with you later.

Because right now, in this moment, he is all yours as you are his. And he never wants to leave.

masterlist

#stt au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[sl33paholics]

Nicolas Brown Valentine's Day Headcanons!

Warning(s): None!

— Celebrating and spending the day with Nicolas is very interesting.

You'd wake up to the smell of breakfast. As you look rub your eyes, you see a plate in front of you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers laying right next to you.

As you look to your right, you see Nicolas sitting on a chair with his head resting on his palm with a small smile on his face.

Thank you. You'd gesture to him as you watched him chuckle, as your hand and fingers intertwined with his. Nicolas would soon move your hand towards his face, giving your back hand a smooch You couldn't help but smile sheepishly.

Since he is deaf, Nicolas would leave little notes or poems around for you to notice and read. Expressing each reason as to why he loves and cherishes you dearly.

Throughout the day, the silence between the two of you is golden. Nicolas doesn't seem like the type of person to do big celebrations. Simply being together and understanding one another is enough without sharing notes.

Nicolas would even take you back to places the two of you went out / first met. A trip down memory lane for the both of you, as the two of you guys get to reminisce the glorious days before making it official.

COOKING. TOGETHER. Words cannot describe how much I see Nicolas enjoying making your favorite meals / snacks. Feeding each other as the once cleaned kitchen is now a mess.

Nicolas would surpise you with some gifts! Gifting you items that could represent or reflect a certain moment in your relationship and possibly the near future between the two of you.

It'd even be a bonus if one of the gifts were handmade. Such as the big heart-shaped floral wreath that he handed over! Now, whenever you pass the door, you can admire the time and effort he put to make it beautiful.

Photo Album! You showed Nicolas all of the photos you took on your camera. Whether at the park, in the crib, or at your dates.

He really loves picnic dates. They're so simple, unlike having to stress yourself for arranging fancy dinners. Why not just go to a park and enjoy the outdoors while eating while displaying affection to the love of your life? Perfection combination.

— During the evening, a pampering session WILL be happening. No questions asked. Cuddling. A massage. Taking a bath together. Playing a game of cards. Anything! It's a good thing to help Nicolas unwind after doing jobs with Worick or the mafia.

Slow dancing. Even though he cannot hear, he can definitely feel the vibrations coming from loudspeakers as the two of you dance in your small shared bedroom.

Nicolas is the type of guy who doesn't seem to stay asleep. He HAS to venture out somewhere just because. It'd be the middle of the night, and he'll wake you up to come join him. At least the two of you get to enjoy an gaze upon the quiet serenity.

Coming back from the midnight stroll, he's instantly cuddling with you. Making sure the covers are shielding the both of you from the cold wind coming from the slightly open window.

Nicolas would kiss your forehead, as a sign of goodnight, watching you drift off to sleep. His arms around you tightening up. Nicolas swore to himself to protect you from any danger coming your way as he slowly fell back asleep. ❤️

#anime #black writers #female writers #poc writer #black reader #x black reader #fluff #wholesome story #headcanons #gangsta anime #gangsta #nicolas brown #worick arcangelo #gina paulklee #valentines day #Valentine's day special

[hidden-snow]

❣┈⋆ ⋞ 〈 Ｐｅｅｋａｂｏｏ， Ｉ Ｓｅｅ Ｙｏｕ 〉 ⋟ ┈⋆❣

(For everyone tagged to this pic: This isn't a bot or accident. It's me, Hidden Snow. I got a new account. ^^)

Characters:// Adult! Neteyam x Adult! female Na'vi Reader

Warnings // P in V, dirty words

Word count // 1,908

“Peekaboo, I see you.”

You couldn’t help but giggle softly as Neteyam swooped in, pressing a soft peck to your lips, a gentle smirk on his face.

“Oh, my mighty warrior,” you hum softly, allowing the male to pull you into his broad arms, caging you in his embrace. Pressed against his warm chest, you can’t help but draw in his scent, rich with the forest despite years of living at the reef. No amount of salt water and marine life could seem to wash away the scent embedded deep in his very being.

“You always seem to catch me.”

“How would I not? You pick the easiest places to hide.”

It was true. You did pick the easiest places, knowing that he would come upon you in a matter of moments. They were private places, hidden enough so that you could steal a quick kiss here and there from your future mate.

“One more round?” you can’t help but ask, batting your eyes at him and he chuckled softly, pushing you back so that your skin brushed against the tree.

“And if I catch you, what do I get?”

“Catch me and find out!”

You dash off, finding the perfect hiding spot for him to come and find you. Secluded in an area of the beach that not many people wander, it’s a small clearing with plenty of shrubbery to hide in. You don’t care about hiding, though. Not anymore. You just want Neteyam to find you. And find you, he did.

“Found you again.”

You squeak as hands snake around your waist, pulling you against his chest, and he ghosts his lips against yours, smiling at the way you instinctively move closer to deepen the hint into an actual kiss.

“Slow down, y/n. We have all the time in the world.”

“I don’t want all the time in the world,” you whisper as you brush your lips against his once more. “I want you. I want you now.”

His face softened, a smile pulling at his lips, and you can’t help but be reminded of the first time you saw Neteyam, standing beside Lo’ak and behind his father as the Sullys arrived at your village. The way he mimicked his father’s stance, arms raised in a sign of peaceful intentions, as well as how innocent he had been, sweet and gentle, with a backbone made of loyalty to his family.

“I don’t want to waste anymore time, Neteyam,” you murmur, your fingers grazing the scarred pattern on his chest, gained from a bullet wound that had occured when the sky people had come to hunt the tulkun.

You could still remember that day like it was yesterday, gripping his hand tightly and crying softly as his father pressed cloth to his chest to keep him from losing blood. That had been the day that you were both destined to fall in love. As you gripped his hand, you couldn’t help but spill out your feelings to this boy. Just in case. And his large golden gaze had locked with your blue eyes, and, despite the pain that he was suffering from, he had smiled a soft smile, all while promising that once they were home, he would take his time getting to know you better. He promised he would take his time falling in love with everything about you and with you. So that he could always cherish what he had gained from the Metkayina.

His little treasure.

You were impatient. You’d always been impatient, unable to sit still for even the most simplest of tasks, and waiting on him to make the first move was torture. Especially now, when you knew just how dangerous it was to wait for something as special as this.

His hand gently cupped your own still resting on his chest, navy skin against teal, and you look back up at him.

“I know, y/n. I know,” he murmured softly, cupping your cheek with his free hand, his thumb gently brushing against your lips. You kiss his thumb and he smiles again.

“Come here.”

With that one order, he’s sweeping you up into his arms, kissing you gently, but you want more. You want him. You only had eyes for him.

You deepen the kiss, running your hands up and down his back as he picked you up, swinging your legs over his hips so that they could clasp behind him.

Something rough scrapes against your back but you pay it no attention, too focused on Neteyam, too focused on kissing him until your lips were bruised and puffy. That was your favorite part of your little make-out sessions, walking back to the village hand-in-hand with hickies littering your skin and lips red from being ensnared in his abusive attention.

His hand slid down your back to land on your ass, gripping the plush of your cheeks, squeezing and kneading them with his fingers.

You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips when his thumb ventures further down to press against your tewng, rolling your clit with the pad of his finger, the thin layer of cloth between your bare body and his fingers causing a beautiful friction.

You moan softly against his lips as he grinds his hips forward, his cock straining against the fabric of his own tewng, the covered tip brushing against the growing wet patch below your pussy.

Soft gasps and mewls tumble from your lips with each movement of his hips, and you push your lips back against his, hard, teeth scraping against teeth as the kiss grows rather heated, passionate, and hungry.

You don’t know when he discarded his tewng, nor even how he’d gotten yours off. The feeling of his head brushing against your soaked folds has you whining, falling apart with the desire to have him filling you to the brim with himself.

He chuckles softly as he continues to grind his hips against yours, soft grunts being pulled out as he moved.

“What would your parents say, my love? What would the people say if they saw you like this?” he whispered as he nipped at your ear, drawing a soft moan from your puffy lips. His words send shivers of anticipation up your spine, the idea of being caught giving you a thrill you hadn’t known was possible. 

Years ago, you would’ve blushed at the idea.

Now though?

Neteyam has taught you many things and one of your more favorite of the lessons was that living on the dangerous side of things could sometimes be quite exciting.

His tip teases your entrance, a promise of something that you want desperately, and his movements cease as he looks straight into your eyes, half-lidded with desire.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl. Let me know what you want. Use your words.”

“You,” you whine out, pushing your hips down to try and get that feeling of satisfaction that you so desperately crave.

“I want you, ma ‘teyam.”

He nodded, satisfied, before pushing in slowly, watching your face as you struggle to take him on. It wasn’t that you were too small or he was too big. It was more or less the fact that you had never been breached before, saving yourself for him and only him.

His movements are gentle and slow, making sure that you’re adjusting to his size before he pushes in any further. You can tell he’s struggling, from the sharp hitches in his breath as he slowly sinks into you, as well as the strangled groans, hiding the fact that he was straining hard against his urges just to keep himself under control.

As you take him fully inside of you, you can’t help but moan, the stretch satisfying within you, the feeling of his tip brushing lightly against your g-spot and kissing your cervix as he stood there, waiting.

After a couple seconds, you look up and nod. It’s small and hesitant. But it’s there and he sees it.

He pulls out, leaving only the tip inside of your hole, before he snaps his hips forward, sinking deep within you, drawing out soft sounds of pleasure from your lips. His pace is slow at first, careful not to hurt you, but as you grow used to the stretch inside, he begins to thrust quickly, ramming into your g-spot repeatedly and with such precision that you wonder if he’d ever done this for someone else before. Almost as soon as the thought pops in your head, his rhythm pushes it away.

No, of course he hadn’t. He’d only had eyes for you since that fateful night.

You gasp softly as he lays you down in the grass to change positions, able to push himself even deeper inside of you, to the point you begin to wonder if you have any space left inside for him to reach. The pads of his fingers graze your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger, and you can’t help but lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you, your breath shared with him as his lips hovered just above you.

You can feel the approaching climax, can feel yourself being pushed closer to the edge by each perfectly-angled snap of his hips, and the noises you make become sloppier, even more lewd, and he smirks at the flushed appearance of your face, your jaw dropped open and eyes lidded with lust.

“I wonder what your parents would say, y/n. What would they say if they knew you could make such a face as this.”

If you’d been more coherent, you’d blush. But you weren’t. So instead, you just moan at his words, your silky walls tightening around his girth. He groaned softly, cussing at the feeling that almost nearly pushed him over the edge as well. His fingers remove themselves from your nipples, sliding down to your clit to play with it again, and you let out a sharp exhalation, your knees tightening against his waist.

“Oh yeah. Bet that feels good.”

He can tell you’re getting so close just by the way your inner walls seemed to flutter and contract around him, and he leans down to whisper dirty words in your ears, testing to see what you did and didn’t like.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

His words, along with his gentle touches and the slamming of his tip against your g-spot, make you gasp, your back arching as that warm coil within your lower belly snaps, tightened to the point that it’d been painful to deny the release. He keeps pounding into you, even as you slump down, still stuck in your high. He’s chasing his own release, movements erratic and sharp, and he’s getting close.

With the powerful fluttering of your walls, clamping down around him, he’s being provided a satisfying friction that helps him quickly hit his own orgasm, filling you up with his sperm. Panting softly, he pulls out of you, a wet “pop” that spoke of just how full and wet you were. He lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms, your tails intwined as you purr softly.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers to you, running his fingers up and down your ribs. “Such a good girl for me. You know something?”

You hum questioningly.

“I’m starting to really like this little game of hide and seek that you’ve made.”

Taglist// @aconstructofamind / @kaistarzs-blog / @truebluehue / @sussybaka10 / @taleiak / @justsomerandompersonintheworld

#avatar the way of water #avatar #neteyam #neteyam sully #atwow neteyam #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #avatar fandom #avatar fics #neteyam fic

[chiikasevennn]

More Than You Think

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader imagines 🫰🏻🫰🏻🫰🏻

Warning: NSFW AFTER CUT!! Belly bulge RAAAAHHHHH, mating press, I love this man please help me, OOC I THINK MAYBE YEAH DEFINITELY BUT IDRC I JS WANT HIM SM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 nothing violent, this thing has fluffyyy, couple problems? Idk her I'm happy with my man!! My writing is shit. Not proofread.

—

Imagine Miguel O'hara ended up developing deep feelings for you. Initially, you believed your relationship with him would be short-lived, perhaps lasting only three months, given your past experiences with partners who tended to be temporary. None of them could evoke genuine love in you. However, to your surprise, your relationship with Miguel endured for ten months, and now you found yourself wishing it would never end.

Imagine Miguel O'hara feeling like you were the last and missing piece to complete him, like you were the calm in his storm, a safe harbor where he found solace and peace. He encountered you on the outskirts of town while heading to a renowned library brimming with knowledge. At first, it seemed like a mere coincidence, but as time went by, he found himself anticipating more chance encounters with you.

Imagine Miguel O'hara being a caring partner to you, but god, you were on another level. You were truly lovely. Your authenticity, rationality, and kindness shone through. He adored your sense of humor, finding joy in your quirky jokes even when you dismissed them as corny and laughed at your own silliness. You're cute, like really. That was what he thought.

Imagine Miguel O'Hara growing to love you even more, reaching a point where he thought he couldn't possibly love you any deeper, only to find himself continually surprised as his love for you intensifies beyond what he thought was possible. You weren't only those qualities; you were also nurturing, encouraging, and remarkably affectionate. Although you displayed hesitancy frequently during your time together, once you became more comfortable, you cradled him like a baby.

Imagine Miguel O'Hara growing more at ease as well, you created a safe environment where he felt free to be vulnerable, unafraid to reveal aspects of himself he once considered weaknesses. You consistently emitted an aura that he couldn't deny was soothing and captivating. Many times, he'd be enveloped in your embrace, comforted by your affectionate whispers, growing more attached as he welcomed your love. Your gentle caresses on his scalp, coupled with tender kisses on his forehead, made him feel cherished and complete—truly, you meant the world to him.

"I love you," You murmured softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, convinced of his slumber as you felt his body unwind within your embrace. With a serene exhale, you shut your eyes, surrendering to the peacefulness enveloping you.

Miguel embraced you tighter, mindful not to overwhelm. Drawing nearer, he took in the fragrance of your presence.

NSFW!!

Imagine Miguel O'Hara gently sweeping your hair aside, leaning in to place a caring kiss on your forehead, whispering sweet words into the stillness between the two of you as he pounded drastically into you. He had you in a mating press, legs spread just for him, holding and touching you everywhere his hands could get.

"Shit— shitshitshit," a kiss to your lips, "—you're doing—" another, "—such… A good job, m'love," In that moment, his lips met yours with an intense passion, delving into a profound kiss. He let his sperm leak inside you, his cock hitting your cervix that sent you to heavens. Miguel's mouth watered as he gazed upon the unmistakable swell of your belly.

That was all his inside you. His cum. The input that would soon become a wonderful output. Miguel teetered on the edge of primal instinct. He cursed before He swore under his breath before fiercely capturing your lips, relishing the flavor of your kiss as he slammed back into your cove, cumming so deep inside of you. You couldn't moan anymore, for you were already stuffed way too much—from your mouth and to your hole. Your mind went numb, only wanting Miguel and nobody else as he kept fucking you so hard that if anyone would come in, it'd immediately be assumed that he hated you.

Your tears continued to stream down your cheeks, your emotional dependency on Miguel akin to that of a child, craving more of him with every fiber of your being.

Just as you felt on the verge of passing out from the lack of oxygen, Miguel reluctantly withdrew. Both of you gasped for air, breathing heavily, while love marks adorned your bodies in abundance.

You embraced him back against your body and kissed his neck. "... I l—love you," voice hoarse due to the amount of noise you had freed.

With a smile, Miguel leaned in and pressed a long, tender kiss to your temple.

"... I love you, too."

Your smile mirrored his own gentleness. He loved you. Of course, you were well aware of his love for you, hearing those words, so seldom uttered, left you feeling both physically and mentally weak. And Miguel? He melted. Shit, you were so shockingly beautiful. He'd been pounding into your poor pussy for what seemed like hours, and here you were, loving him throughout the process, basically just so so in love.

Miguel may not say it verbally, but he loves you. More than you think.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spider-man #miguel o'hara smut #smut #atsv #lmao

[myvampyrez]

sephiroth felt your hands grip the sheets, stirring in your sleep as you tossed and turned. he blinked the remaining sleep left in his eyes, adjusting to the darkness of the room as he finally felt you jolt up.

a hand flew to cover your mouth in a weak attempt to hush your ragged breathing. it was like barbed wire coated your throat as you tried to keep your sobs in, a flow of hot tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

you knew he was awake, he always was a light sleeper. and with that knowledge, you draped your arm over his as he laid on his side— and you pressed a chaste kiss to his shoulder, now bare in the comfort of his bed rather than being armor clad like usual.

he can feel your eyelashes flutter against his arm while you press soft kisses against his skin, your hushed hiccups breaking the silence of the room. every broken sigh you let out to try and regulate your breathing made sephiroth’s heart pain even more, a sharp pain in his chest as he resisted the urge to sit up.

your gaze fell on his face, mako eyes standing out against the darkness of your bedroom as they turned to look at you, silver hair framing his face. he said nothing, merely reaching his hands towards yours and interlacing your fingers in a gentle grip. you cherished the moments where you did not feel leather on his skin, but instead the softness of his own hands.

and when you reached for his face in the dark, free hand stained with tears and the guilt of your own sorrow, a wave washed over both of your bodies. it’s hard to accept love when all you’ve known is hate, but that’s okay. he eased into your touch the same way your voice lured him into your web of a loving embrace, taking him into your arms as you whispered promises and affections soon to be fulfilled. all the memories you two shared were half-yours, because in this life, it’s a loop. and a loop is a circle, meaning there are two halves. half of this love came from you, too.

and that made sephiroth tear up a bit, knowing you just want to help people even as you’re crying yourself. in the morning he won’t ask you why you cried, he won’t ask about the nightmares you had and the terrible things you’ve faced on your lonesome. instead, he’ll wrap you into his arms the same way you did for him, and he’ll hold you for as long as you need. you’re okay with that, you thought, as your shoulders heaved with sobs that had yet to hit your ears, only focusing on your sephiroth’s heartbeat while you rested on his chest, reveling in the feeling of the familiar calloused hand that came to rest upon the back of your head.

#i’m just in a silly sephiroth mood guys #don’t worry about it #feel free to request for him tho #i love writing him #i just love him #why are his lashes so majestic #final fantasy 7 crisis core #final fantasy 7 rebirth #final fantasy vii x reader #final fantasy 7 x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy fanfiction #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #ffvii x reader #ffvii fanfiction #ffvii crisis core #ffvii #ffvii rebirth #ffvii remake #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy vii remake #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #sephiroth ffvii #sephiroth ff7 #final fantasy sephiroth #ODOTTIE *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.* #kiss kiss

[vampzyke]

fluff hcs for syzoth and raiden ? 👉🏼👈🏼

୨୧ ,  fluffy headcanons

syzoth &  raiden  x  GN!reader.

tags,  inexperience, fluff, self confidence

. . .

syzoth,

he is definitely inexperienced when it comes to relationships of any sort! so the fact that you and syzoth have entered the romantic stage, means quite a lot. he wouldn't ever be so intimate with just anyone.

during the beginning, syzoth tended to shy away from you even more than before. sure, you two were 'dating' as humans like yourself called it, but that term just made things much more complicated for the man.

he would often hesitate before touching you, liking holding hands or grabbing you by the waist. before he'd speak, he would swallow his words right up when your eyes met his! he was super self conscious of himself.

before you confessed your feelings to him, johnny had actually gone on a whole rant to the poor guy about how complicated romantic relationships with humans were! syzoth was shocked to be frank, he liked you a whole lot. but if what johnny said was true, how could he ever hope to be with you? surely you'd reject him just for being 'different'.

later, syzoth had of course accepted your confession with hearts in his eyes. though the feeling of dread still lingered at the back of his mind. you knew this, it was quite obvious by the way his hands would carefully hover over your skin just for a second, before he would retract it back just as quick; his eyes would hold this heavy longing when gazing upon you, you could feel it even from afar; he would always bite his lip at the thought of you, canines so sharp they would draw blood (to which you would rush to his aide while he stood embarassed). 

it would take cherished time for syzoth to slowly become comfortable with the relationship, his worries would soon wash away whenever you took the lead during intimate moments. with you initiating the soft kisses to his temple, or the gentle massages from his arms to his shoulders, syzoth would slowly realise that your love for him was very real and true. it came from the heart. 

though it would take time, syzoth will eventually warm up to you and disregard his inner conflicts as you would show him your heart fully! eventually, he wouldnt hesitate to give you a cheeky smooch to the lips for all eyes to see; or the way his hand would trace your spine all the way down where it would linger for a second too long (his growing smirk said it all). 

syzoth would love you as long as your heart stayed true to your feelings.

raiden,

though he may not seem like it, raiden would definitely be the one to pursue you.

at first, his affection to you would be so subtle you wouldn't even notice! it would be light touches when he moves past you; the grin he sports whenever you're in his field of vision or whenever he's back from  venturing outworld and into the warmth of you arms, you'd always find him offering you a unique gift with kiss to the temple.

that kiss, exactly. you'd never questioned it before and why should you? it's nothing but platonic between the two of you, of course. as soon as his soft lips met your forehead, they'd be gone as soon as they arrived. why question raiden now when it's been so long?

though you couldn't help yourself, of course. why wait when you could just ask kung lao to spill raidens peculiar behavior? the man had just giggled in response before shooing you off, muttering how raiden should just 'hurry up' already. you weren't at all dumb, you knew what kung lao meant.

and well, if raiden wouldn't make a more explicit move, you'd just have to!

luckily for you, the opportunity to confront raiden came just as quickly as you'd decided to do so.

with a kiss obviously! though rather a gentle and tame one to your temple, this one was rather hasty and and all teeth, right on your lips. raiden had heard overheard you and kung lao and decided to make his move first.

raiden kissed you with all the passion he could muster up, and and when he leaned back you couldn't help but laugh at how flushed his face was. 

now, raiden was all kisses and hand holding and piggybacks and whatever else he could do to always be touching you. physical touch is a must for him and it was never enough. raiden always had to be in your personal space and though he worried he was coming off strong, you'd quickly reassure him with a sweet smile. 

being with raiden was similar to how flowers yearned for its sun. it was warm and gentle, just how you'd imagine it.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 raiden #mk1 syzoth #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #syzoth x reader #syzoth x you #reptile x reader #raiden x reader #raiden x you #syzoth #raiden #gn reader

[azullumi]

Adopting a Kitty with scara???

Take your time, and thank you.

(may i ask, do you allow anons like "🛌 anon"?)

summary — you tell him about your wish of adopting a kitten.

pairing — wanderer/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff, could be modern au but also could be not, established relationship ; scenario/headcanons

words — 782

note — i didnt know if i should go for a headcanon or scenario format so i ended up doing both. anyways, to answer your question, yes i allow anons like that! :DD

“It looks grumpy.”

He says as he stares at the dark-furred kitty paired with dark eyes which also stared back at him. It just feels like the two beings are having a staring-contest and seeing who will dominate in terms of not blinking for a long time and the sight for you was quite… amusing and entertaining—seeing the seemingly mature man fight an animal that is significantly smaller than him.

You couldn’t help but sigh at puerile antics being displayed in front of you.

What made you end up in this situation? Well, it all happened like this—

"Let's get a cat."

When you brought up the idea to him, he was bewildered—leaning more on confusion—because why? What made you suddenly decide to get one as you two are cuddling up in bed while the night is silent and the cold is loud?

“Why?”

Going into a brief silence, you thought of what your reasons were for bringing that subject up. Honestly, you didn’t have anything in mind, maybe it was just a spur of the moment thought but your desire to get a cat is really taking over you. Small paws, fluffy tails, cute ears, images of adorable kitties formed inside your head which amplifies your reasons and love for them.

“I don’t know, do I need a reason? I just find them cute and I want one.” You say, shrugging your shoulders before snuggling closer to him. “So, let’s get one. Let’s adopt a cat, please?”

Your voice, pleading and soft against him, made his heart flutter and seemingly turned him into mush. God, how could he even deny you? Who even in their right mind could turn down someone like you, beautiful and lovely? Definitely not him, completely not him who cherishes you so much he would do anything that will make you happy.

“...You know you didn’t have to ask for my permission or anything, right?”

“I was just making sure.” You couldn’t help but smile once you got his approval, raising your head to look up at him with eyes glistening and sparkling with delight, and you didn’t notice how his face softened and how adoration seeped into his features once he gazed at you.

“Even if I say no, you’ll still probably get one anyways.”

“You really do know me but still, I just wanted to let you know and ask you at the same time. I don’t want you getting angry or anything just because I didn’t get to tell you.” You caressed his cheek with your hand and he leaned against your touch, feeling the lovingness your touch emits more closer to him.

“Why would I even get mad? I could never get angry at you, always remember that.”

“Swear?”

He presses a kiss on your lips, a quick and fleeting one before responding, murmuring against your mouth as he leans his forehead against yours.

“Swear.”

—So now, you are here in this situation, amused by the behavior of the two in front of you that looks like they are mirroring each other.

“Doesn’t it look like you though?”

“Nonsense,” He says, averting his gaze but looking back at the cat once again who continues to stare at him and he added: “...Nonsense.”

You chuckle upon witnessing his reaction before deciding that this is the cat that you want to adopt, the one that you wish to get for you and for him.

BONUS HEADCANONS

You didn’t expect that the similarities between him and the cat isn’t only limited to their appearances but also in how they act, both of them are moody and grumpy. It’s like you just got a clone of him but in an animal version and you’re not complaining because seeing him and the cat interact with each other is so entertaining.

The name of it? You gave it a cute one and he calls it with an ugly nickname he made up in his head and every time he calls him—the kitten—with that, you just roll your eyes and let him be.

When you spend more time with the cat than him, he gets jealous although you wouldn’t notice it at first up until later when he’s showing signs of irritation and being more clingy to you—it is when you will realize what he is truly feeling and you’ll end up having to placate or appease to him.

He does love and care for the animal though with the way he buys it treats, toys, and everything for it, he just doesn’t admit it to himself. You’ll just have to wait for him to warm up and eventually, you’ll find him asleep together with the cat on the couch, treating the kitten like it's his own child.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

#yae publishing house #genshin impact wanderer #wanderer x reader #wanderer scaramouche #wanderer headcanons #wanderer genshin #wanderer fluff #wanderer #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x you #wanderer x you #genshin x reader #scaramouche headers #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x you #azul.writes

[ecoamerica]

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[sunboki]

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

#stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #straykids x you #straykids x y/n #straykids x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids angst #straykids fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #bangchan x y/n #bangchan x you #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x reader #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bangchan angst #bangchan fluff

[harunayuuka2060]

*Malleus noticed that MC had been smiling more in the past few weeks, but they only displayed that bright smile when they were with Silver or if the topic was about him.*

Malleus: *listening in on MC and Silver's conversation; standing right outside their room*

Silver: I've brought some food prepared by Jamil Viper. He serves as the vice-housewarden of Scarabia, and he's truly a talented cook.

MC: That's quite a generous portion. Wouldn't it be nice to share this with everyone else?

Silver: I see. Unfortunately, Lilia intends to add something to the food according to his palate.

MC: *chuckles* Are you saying Lilia has a weird taste when it comes to food?

Silver: *smiles* Something like that.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *walks away*

Silver: By the way, there's an upcoming event in our school.

MC: Malleus told me.

Silver: I understand it's hard for you to leave Diasomnia. Nonetheless, I'll make sure to remind Malleus to attend the event, so you both can enjoy it together.

MC: Thank you, Silver. I'll be looking forward to it.

Malleus: How are you, my love?

MC: Malleus— *noticed that he's carrying a box*

MC: What is it you're holding?

Malleus: Ah. This is a magical device. It has the ability to display events occurring beyond these walls.

Malleus: It would certainly make things easier for you, as there would be no need to step out of this room.

MC: ...

MC: But Malleus—

Malleus: I'm concerned about your well-being.

MC: ...

MC: There's an event that I would like to attend with you.

MC: I do understand that this method is more convenient.

MC: Nevertheless, I'd really cherish the chance to share this experience alongside you.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Do you genuinely want to accompany me, and not someone else?

MC: *looks slightly confused* *but then nodded*

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *smiles* *sets the box down and sits next to them*

Malleus: ...

Malleus: I'll do everything for you.

MC: ...

MC: *lays their hand upon his* Please don't do it excessively.

Malleus: ...

Malleus: *locks the door with his magic*

MC: Huh—

Malleus: I want to hold you in my arms. With no interruptions.

MC: I understand.

Malleus: *snuggles against them*

MC: ...

MC: *starts to gently rub his back*

Malleus: *smiles in satisfaction*

Crowley: We are anticipating the arrival of guests traveling from somewhere far. Mr. Riddle, would you mind explaining further?

Riddle: I don't mind, headmage.

Riddle: These guests have requested this event for a single purpose and that is to commemorate someone from their lineage.

Idia: A commemoration?

Crowley: Yes. They provided me with a glimpse of their narrative. In times past, there existed an individual within their lineage who possessed the ability to journey through dreams, effectively possessing immortality. However, one fateful day, the body that had been safeguarded vanished without a trace.

Riddle: The attendees will primarily oversee the event, requiring only minimal assistance from our end.

Riddle: Our primary responsibility revolves around ensuring the seamless execution of the event.

Leona: *yawns* As long as we don't need to work, I guess I'm fine with that.

Vil: You never fail to show your laziness, Leona.

Azul: It's a chance for me to expand my business.

Kalim: I am excited for this event!

Crowley: Vanrouge? Will Draconia be attending? He's been busy since he got married.

Lilia: Of course. He has his spouse's approval. *chuckles*

Malleus: *smiles while caressing their cheek and gazing at their sleeping face*

Malleus: *speaks softly as to not awaken them*

Malleus: I never imagined that we would one day arrive at this beautiful moment together.

Malleus: *kissing their forehead* *wrapping them in his arms*

Malleus: My love...

Malleus: Now I will never have doubts that you are mine.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst malleus #twst silver #twst lilia #twst housewardens #twst crowley #in a world of grim

[lilacsandamethysts]

Ragnvindr(s)

Pairing: Diluc x fem!Reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: The Ragnvindr clan is expecting a new addition.

Warnings: pregnancy and mention of kids, characters expecting and becoming parents

A/N: Hi im back, hopefully i'll manage to post more regularly bc I have truly missed this (writing and posting). This is the first fic of my dad!character series bc I have a huge case of baby fever and seeing my favorites as dads satisfies my daddy and abandonment issues.

“Can you please take a seat? Boss is going to kill me if he finds out you’ve been exerting yourself.” Charles could have sworn to any archon willing to listen to his pleas that he had lost ten years from his life during this six hour shift. He was on bar duty this evening, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he couldn’t handle and nothing he hadn’t done before. What he hadn’t done before was have his boss’s pregnant wife on duty with him. “I swear miss, you’re giving me gray hairs.” Funny, now that he thinks of it, he had heard his boss utter the same exact words three hours prior when he dropped her off, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as he had looked at his wife worryingly. She rolled her eyes at his comments going back to cleaning the dried glasses littering the underside of the bar. 

“Barbara said that moving around would do me good. Besides,” she frowned at him, the fire burning in her eyes making it clear to Charles why master Diluc had found his match in her. “I’m feeling peachy.” She wasn’t even that far along, stomach barely showing from under her slightly loose blouse. Diluc, ever since it had been revealed that her sudden unwellness was due to her expecting their child, had become thrice as protective than he already was, barely leaving her out of his sight. Truthfully, as much as she loved and cherished her husband, being under constant surveillance was starting to irritate her. She couldn’t fault him; this was his first time going through such an experience and he was rightfully anxious. A soft hum escaped her lips at the thought of his frazzled gaze every time she shifted in her seat while they went through documents of the winery. Diluc was going to be an amazing father, she knew that from the moment she announced her pregnancy to him. What she was even more certain about was, the gray hairs he was bound to start sprouting by the end of these agonizingly long nine months.

The door to the tavern flew open and in stepped a slightly agitated Diluc, hair sticking out from his usual high ponytail he dawns whenever he works behind the bar and eyes darting all over her figure as she continued to shine the glass in her hand. His shoulders sagged slightly in relief upon seeing her in one piece. With a sigh he shed the heavy layers on his shoulders before walking behind the bar, peking her cheek once with a hand resting on the slight bump of her stomach. 

“Why are you up? Again.” He said, a serious expression engraved on his features, brows furrowing when she simply hummed in response. He sighed again, rubbing at his temples before kissing her cheek again and reaching for one of her glasses. “You two are going to be the death of me.” 

“And they haven’t even been born yet.” She giggled again, leaning into his side, head tilting so it rests securely on his shoulder. Instinctively, he leaned closer, cheek smooshed on her hairline. “Imagine the terror once they start walking or even worse, running.” She swears she could already see the dark circles forming under his eyes which only made her laugh harder. The shift went by calmly with the tavern not being at its highest customer rate. They even got the chance to close up earlier than usual and make it back to the manner before midnight. Once inside, Diluc helped her hang her coat-even though she whined about being capable of doing it herself- and then led her to the kitchen where their dinner awaited them on the counter. Adelinde had taken it upon herself to teach both her masters the art of healthy nutrition; she had tried twice before in the past but they both were too stubborn and drowning in work to keep up a healthy diet, now with a child on the way they were more than willing to listen to her advice. 

Taking a seat side by side they dug in, emptying their plates in a matter of minutes with not even a peep leaving their lips until they were both done. Diluc brought her chair closer to his own, one arm draped over her shoulders while the other traced patterns on the fabric of her shirt absentmindedly, an action he seemed to be doing more and more each day. He had developed a habit of touching her in some way no matter the time or place or who was with them; whether it be his hand on the small of her back or his warm palm engulfing her own, an arm around her waist or merely their pinkies linked, Diluc couldn’t seem to let go of her no matter what. The citizens of Mondstadt would swoon at his blatant displays of affection, eyes full of unfathomable softness whenever they saw the soon to be parents on a stroll through the busy streets. There were still those select few who side eyed the couple -mostly her-, those whose jealousy shown through the happy facade, who sometimes didn’t even hide their displeasure at the fact that the informant who had managed to take Master DIluc off the market a few years prior was now securing her spot further with the birth of an heir. The Ragnvindrs merely scoffed at their sly comments and back handed compliments, Diluc usually making a mental note to have a word with the Knights about their insolent behavior. 

“Our baby is the size of a sweet potato.” She softly broke the silence, hand gently resting on the small sweet potato sized bump. “And in about four weeks they’ll be as big as a pomegranate.” Diluc couldn’t help but place his hand over hers, running his thumb over her knuckles before kissing the crown of her head. 

“Barbara sure has a weird way of measuring the weeks of pregnancy.” He unlatched himself from her, hand still resting over her own, as he examined the curve of her stomach trying and failing to imagine a sweet potato sized baby. Eyebrows scrunched in concentration, he failed to notice the pure disbelief written on his wife’s face. 

“Are…are you trying to actually imagine a sweet potato?” He looked at her sheepishly for a moment, big red eyes filled with nothing but serenity. Laughter echoed through the empty halls as she burst out into a fit of snorts making Diluc join her after a moment. Once calm, he brought her unbelievably close, kissing the tip of her nose before tucking her head in the crook of his neck and letting his eyelids fall shut. 

“I love you.” 

BONUS: 

The sun was at its highest when Katheryn spotted the family enter the city. The edges of her eyes crinkled as she nodded in acknowledgement at Master Diluc, red hair a mess from the strong winds of the city of freedom. Even worse was the mop of red hair in his arms as his daughter played with the ruby pendant around his neck, completely ignoring her hair obscuring her fathers’ vision. Turning around, they waited for their counterparts to catch up as the lady of house Ragnvindr strode up the steps, another mop of red hair in her arms in the form of a little boy this time, fast asleep while clutching his mothers’ blouse.

#master diluc #diluc fluff #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact #dad!diluc x reader #dad diluc #diluc x pregnant!reader #genshin impact x reader

[costinblazetwice]

Early Mornings With Nayeon

Male Reader X Nayeon

Genre: Smut

Words: 5K

There are times when you can just feel someone is looking at you. It’s hard to explain, but you just know. Like your senses are trying to nudge you that something is up.

Well, that’s exactly what happened to you first thing upon waking up. As soon as your eyes saw the ceiling above you had this feeling like you were being watched.

You turn to your side to the only other person in the room with you, and lo and behold her almond colored eyes are directed right at you, eyebrows raised by your sudden movement.

“Ah, Nayeon. You scared me,” you groan groggily, raspiness in your voice pronounced as you lightly flick your girlfriend on the forehead who chuckles in response.

“I should be the one saying that,” she replies, her own voice slightly raspy, a sign that it hasn’t been too long since she’s been awake either.

You lift yourself up so your upper back rests on the bed frame, looking over at the window to see the sun shining through and bathing your cream tinged white bed with its light.

“Why were you looking at me anyway?” You finally ask, curious as to why your girlfriend’s gaze was fixed so strongly on you while you slept.

“I don’t know. You just looked hot.”

Nayeon has a matter of fact way of speaking sometimes. But she’s always honest which is how you know she’s telling the truth.

She crawls herself on top of you, her cleavage noticeable from her light blue top and her bare things rubbing against yours from a lack of covering thanks to her shorts. It helps that you’re in just your boxers as well.

Nayeon places a quick peck on your lips, pulling away swiftly with a giant smile on her face. She comes in again, landing a quick peck again before pulling away almost as if to tease you, Nayeon being a bundle of joy that she is.

You can’t help but feel your heart tug at her cuteness, taking your hand and pushing a part of her behind her ear, happy to see this sight just minutes upon waking.

“You’re so adorable. Really, nothing better than waking up next to you” You say, full of appreciation as you lightly pinch the pale cheeks of Nayeon that are slowly growing more red.

As you say that you see the expression on her face change. Nayeon’s face is adorned with a gentle smile, her lips curved ever so slightly, creating an aura of warmth that emanates from her eyes, which are softened with a subtle glow, reflecting a genuine and inviting demeanor.

She leans in for a kiss, this time more slow and relaxed, not in the mood for teasing but to show you how touched she is by your words.

“Keep talking like that and I might have to kiss ya someplace else.”

“Oh, and where might that be?”

She rests her forehead on yours, a light smile at your response as she plants a quick kiss on your forehead before lifting herself up off of your waist, turning herself around and ever so slowly pulling down her shorts, revealing her bare ass.

You groan as she gives herself a light slap on her ass, the way it shakes in the aftermath causing your own erection to build in your boxers.

“Like what ya see?” She teases as she turns around, not letting you cherish the view of her bare cunt for long as she sits down in between your spread legs, her hands grabbing the waistbands of your boxers and tugging at them.

You lift your butt up slightly allowing her to bring them down your legs before pulling them off and throwing them to the side of the bed where her shorts sit.

Nayeon’s facial expression turns gleeful when she takes in the sight of your cock, slightly erect but not fully, growing slowly in size after being exposed to the open air.

This was something new, you thought to yourself. You and Nayeon have never engaged in morning sex because you two would rather have it when you were washed up than immediately upon waking.

But as Nayeon slowly jerks your now hard cock in her small hands this early in the day you can’t help but wonder why you haven’t done this before. She brings herself down, placing a quick lick your cock, the taste of your skin being slightly more salty due to the buildup of sweat through the night, Nayeon’s subtle click of the tongue being a giveaway as she evaluated the taste.

Nayeon swirls her tongue at the head of your cock, sensation so overwhelming that your body trembles while laying down, spasms shaking the bed. Her cheeks are hollow as her warm mouth heats up your shaft, Nayeon moving at an easy and relaxed pace with her head bobbing up and down slowly, pulling away just to spit harshly on your cock and use it to lather your length.

She makes eye contact with you and smiles, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly and her eyes unwavering in their contact with yours as she once more envelops your cock, saliva slowly running down her chin as you gently grab Nayeon’s head and pull her down deeper. “Take the whole thing, don’t stop,” you grunted, the heat of her mouth warming your length, her wet tongue moving freely around your girth.

You hear her gag on your cock, the sound so erotic and filthy that you keep her there, bucking your hips into her mouth as your cock hits the back of her throat, only letting go when she gives a tap to your thigh signaling that she needed to breathe.

You remove your hands as she springs up with long strands of her drool joined to your cock. She wipes her mouth of her saliva and takes that same hand to again use as lube, your entire length covered in Nayeon’s morning spit. She was teary eyed, taking shallow breaths with her cheeks a rosy pink tinge.

“Does that feel good?” She asks teasingly, knowing the answer from the way your hips buck while you let out harsh groans. You just nod your head, twitching your cock in her hand for further confirmation as she smiles her loving bunny smile with her prominent teeth flashing, coming in to land a peck on your cock for your honesty.

“So honest, baby you’re so cute when you’re desperate.”

She wipes up your tip again before she places her hand on your shaft and slides it up and down, coating it in a thick layer of her saliva.

You bite your lip and sigh out through your nose as your head falls back to the pillow, enjoying her handjob as her fist slides up and down. She doesn’t waste any time to get you riled up, quickly pumping her hand up and down your shaft.

“Such a hungry cock so early in the morning, huh babe? I bet you were expecting this since last night.”

She continues to pump her hand up and down as your tip rubs against her palm, smearing her spit.

“Such a big cock. It looks so good with my spit, Daddy,” she utters in a sensual demeanor, referring to you with that nickname when you know she’s really feeling herself.

She moves her head down, her eyes locked with yours. Her other hand moves to your abdomen, slowly running across it, caressing you gently as she pumps your cock with her spit, aiding her fist in creating a friction that causes a pleasurable heat to run along your shaft.

Her hand stops at the head of your dick, her thumb rubbing your slit as she strokes your shaft, feeling the veins pulse under her grip. She begins to work her hand faster, jerking you off rapidly.

You can only groan in response, hands tightly gripping the bedsheets as Nayeon uses her tiny mouth to bring you a large amount of pleasure.

She brings her head closer to your balls, her tongue moving across your sack and licking up the saliva that had gathered there. She wraps her lips around one of your balls, gently sucking on it, letting her tongue run over your sensitive skin. She moves to the other one and repeats the same process, sucking on it and massaging your sack with her lips and tongue.

Your cock twitches in her hand and she quickly places her lips on your shaft, working her way up until she reaches the head.

“We’re just getting started daddy. This is a morning you’ll never forget.”

Nayeon opens her mouth wide, taking the tip into her mouth. She swirls her tongue around your crown before sucking on it, her cheeks hollowing as her mouth slides down your shaft, slowly taking more of you into her mouth.

You feel the warmth of Nayeon’s mouth envelope your cock and you let out a long moan as she starts to bob her head up and down, working her mouth up and down your length as her hand continues to pump, moving in sync with her movements.

You begin to huff, abdomen rising and falling rapidly as the pleasure grows, her warm mouth keeping your cock heated as her drool drips down your shaft and falls on your pelvis.

“Baby, I’m gonna-“ you’re unable to moan out the remainder of your sentence as you roughly push Nayeon down onto your cock, the sound of her gags making the force of your orgasm that much stronger, feeling your cock twitch in her mouth over her tongue as you release.

“That mouth… fuck your incredible,” a low groan escapes you, your heartbeat thundering but gradually subsiding as you reclaim your breath, removing your hands from atop Nayeon’s head as she lifts her head up, hair a disheveled mess and teary eyed. You observe as her hand, covering her mouth, moves away, holding traces of your recently splattered cum. Within it, your essence lingers, and you witness her take a substantial swallow, regaining composure.

Her eyebrows furrow, nose wrinkles, and lips pucker involuntarily as the bitter taste takes hold. Her eyes squint, reflecting a momentary struggle against the unpleasant sensation coursing through her taste buds.

“Woah, love, did you just?” You ask in awe as you sit up, impressed with the erotic actions.

Nayeon loves pleasing you and loves being pleased in return. She’ll gag on your cock regardless of how difficult it is for her tiny mouth to hold your member. She’s willing to do it all, but you know how your girlfriend has somewhat of a princess complex, wanting you to swallow her liquids while you tell her what she tastes like, but on the other hand she finds the taste of semen too strong, the smell too putrid on her nose to swallow without getting gag reflexes.

But today, early in the morning you watch as she overcomes this as she snaps her tongue, brows furrowed as her eyes are slightly teary.

“Uh, that’s so strong.” She wipes at her mouth several times while you smile in response, complimenting your girlfriend for a job well done.

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet, so I figured I might as well try it since I’ll just brush it off later,” she remarked casually as she grabs the water bottle on the coffee table, taking a mouthful before placing it back. The lingering bitterness is now a thing of the past as she crawls over to you. In an instant, her eyes transition from bunny-like innocence to a lustful gaze, and she reaches out, taking hold of your hand and bringing it to her dripping cunt.

“You got to cum, now it’s my turn,” she says with a smile, bringing a peck to your forehead as you rub her cunt, your cock still soft from the mind blowing orgasm you just experienced but your heart rate increases, knowing it’s only a matter of a minute or so before it’s up railing again.

You push her gently down and hover over her, Nayeon pinned beneath your arms as she giggles, finding great eroticism in being helpless beneath you when you get riled up, her cheeks slowly blushing pink, the milky colored complexion of her body matching the shade of your clear colored bed covers.

The sunlight from the windows peaks through and covers her body in its brightness, a contrast to the rest of the room which was dim without any light penetrating in.

“Make me a mess, Y/N. Please~”

While In admiration of the alluring beauty of your girlfriend you bring your lips roughly to hers, your cock beginning to swell in excitement as it rubs against Nayeon’s bare cunt.

You bite her bottom lip lightly, causing her to let out a breathy whimper as you use that opportunity to introduce your tongue, crashing against hers as your tongues dance in the moment, your cock still rubbing against her slit forcing her to continue to open her mouth to moan in pleasure as you dominate her.

You know how much your girlfriend relishes in the art of making out. She loves to stick her tongue out randomly throughout the day, craving some sort of sensation that she can hold on to, moisten with her tongue. There are many lazy days where she’ll sit on your lap, legs wrapped around your waist as you two clash tongues on the sofa.

“Babe, could you please…” Nayeon whimpers, pushing at your chest slightly so your mouths are no longer connected. Her bottom lip is lightly swollen and the red of the swell more prominent than the natural tinge of her lips.

Tears well up in the corners of her eyes, as her lower lip trembles slightly. Her eyebrows knit together, forming a pleading arch, and her gaze fixates with a vulnerable intensity, conveying an urgent plea.

“…Down there… I need you.” She whispers out, taking pauses in between her words, her cheeks red as your girlfriend in heat wants you to touch her most delicate area.

Her palm rests on her cunt as you groan in response, placing a kiss on her lips before planting one on her collarbone, belly, and finally reach the area where her hand sits.

Slender and gracefully curved, her milky white fingers showcase meticulously manicured nails, their almond-like shape colored a bright pink.

“Just so you know, I haven’t gotten the chance to wash down there yet…” your girlfriend mentions with a gentle smile playing on her lips while her cheeks carry a subtle blush, hinting at her sincere shyness. In her excitement she had suddenly forgotten the fact that you were about to go down on her most raw, most vulnerable pussy thanks to the early morning.

“Come on Nabongs, I just want to taste you. I love how you taste, smell, or whatever, regardless,” you soothed, gently removing her hand which hurriedly covers her face, a whimper escaping her lips.

Getting tongue fucked is one of Nayeon’s most favorite activities. Just in general. On days where there’s no penetration she could just have you tongue fuck her. Reminds you of times when she arrives frantically home, whines escaping her lips as she pulls her bottoms down imploring you to to devour her excited cunt.

She’s not dominating generally, but she has no problem asking you to lap at her pussy all day.

So to see her now so timid when it came to the engagement of her favorite activity was a change of pace for yourself. Usually her hands would serve as a guide, navigating you forcefully to her heat. But that was when her precious area was bathed, or at least bathed earlier in the day if you partake in eating her out at a later time.

As she withdrew her hand, lightly covering her face with fingers spread sparsely apart, she observed your reaction, revealing her bare private area where the heat, swollen with arousal, becomes unmistakably clear.

Enclosed by the outer lips, the inner lips rest within, resembling a delicate petal tucked inside a blooming flower. The outer skin envelops the inner lips, giving a full, puffy appearance and keeping the private area discreetly concealed.

Drawn in by her puffy outer lips, you bring your hands closer, gently parting the folds revealing her inner lips, reminiscent of rose petals awaiting bloom.

The morning scent of her cunt breathes a much more tangy, bittersweetness to it, akin to the ripe aroma of grapefruit, where each breath carries the zest of citrus mingled with the familiar warmth of a musky embrace.

It’s a strong yet enjoyably erotic scent. Nayeon’s scent is typically tangy as it is now but slightly less so, hints of body wash lingering in her areas from her baths. She puts effort into being clean and sanitary, and if anything you’re very thankful for the scent that Nayeon exudes in her nether areas on those days, making your job easier when your face is smothered in her cunt.

Even now as you inhale the aroma of her pussy, the zesty, citrusy scent being erotic and uniquely hers, a mix of her natural musk included, you can’t help but place small pecks on her inner thighs, excitement erecting quickly but you wanting to savor this moment, every sweet second of this worth burning within your memories forever.

As you do you observe her pussy clench, partly from the sudden sensation and partly from the excitement, her visual sign to you that she is in heat.

“Oh~, so good,” Nayeon whispers breathlessly, loosening on the embarrassment from knowing your face is so close to her fragrant lips, the profuse ecstasy tingling within her from the stirring of your tongue.

Enveloped beneath the fullness of her outer lips, the clitoris remains like a mystery, patiently awaiting the tender revelation as the lips gracefully part, unveiling the nerve-rich structure, the small bud responsible for so much of the pleasure your girlfriend receives in this position.

With your face now directly in front of her clit, the scent is slightly more concentrated, natural musk and sweat from her inner regions playing at the nose as you let your tongue flick at the clit lightly, causing Nayeon’s legs to tremble that are now wrapped around your head.

Your tongue flattened, you start at the very bottom of her cunt with your fingers spreading her lips, going in a very slow, controlled manner with light pressure as your tongue moves in straight line until you reach her clit. Once there you repeat your actions, agonizingly slow through the process as Nayeon lets out small whimpers in response.

“Baby, I need you to go faster~” she coos as you chuckle to yourself, deliberate in your actions, riling up Nayeon so her body slowly adapts to the sensation, preparing itself for greater and greater pleasure.

You lap on her cunt once more, tasting her essence is akin to savoring dark chocolate—bitter, yet in a delightfully pleasing way; an exquisite blend of richness and intensity that leaves an indulgent mark on the palate.

Once satisfied you decide to progress the intensity, wetting your lips with your moist tongue and forming an “O” with your mouth and immediately attaching yourself to Nayeon’s tiny clit, sucking on it in the process.

You hear a sharp gasp, and you feel the bed slightly vibrate beneath you.

Your lips are practically wrapped around the entirety of her clit, and you move them in a sucking motion, giving a much needed simulation to her most sensitive area.

You then decide to switch up the movements, lapping at her clit with your tongue in a quick motion, as if you were attempting to get the last drop of honey from the bottom of a jar.

Your eyes are trained on her face, noting every change in expression; how her brows furrow when you lick the underside of her clit, how she bites her lip when you suckle on the sensitive nub, how her eyes squeeze shut when you gently scrape your teeth against her.

Her legs that are around you neck shudder, whimpers of your name escaping her lips as you begin pumping your fingers in her hole, pace slow as you relish in the sensation of her dripping cunt on your fingers and the way she pulls you in, each rhythmic thrust dancing in harmony with the clenching of her pussy.

"Babe," You hear her whisper, a hand gripping tightly on your hair. "Keep doing that— keep— ah!" She throws her head back when you curl your fingers inside of her, the sound of her wetness getting louder with each pump and slide.

"Nayeon," You groan out, the throbbing between your own legs beginning to feel painful. "I need to be inside of you."

She nods frantically, pushing your head away and bringing her legs down from your shoulders.

“Let me do the work baby. You’ve been so good today.”

You pick yourself up and lay back down in the same position as when Nayeon went down on you, head resting on the pillow with your back laying on the bed.

Nayeon stands atop of you, plump pussy with its concealing slit hovering above your stiff cock, waiting for her to mount you. And she then lowers herself slowly, knees out to hold the rest of her body upright as her cunt hovers inches above your cock.

With feet settled into the bed on either side of your waist, her hand fumbles with positioning your cock at her swollen slit, clumsily rubbing the head on her concealed lips that are thoroughly doused in her arousal, causing inadvertent whimpers to gradually escape her mouth.

Her brows knit in concentration with her mouth agape, Nayeon is eventually able to find the correct positioning as a jolt of bliss flows through your body when the head of your cock is engulfed in the warmness of her heat.

“Ah baby~, so damn good,” Nayeon coos, her eyes closed in rapacious ecstasy, cheeks flushed pink and a grin spread on her face as the gradual crescendo of pleasure that was building has now created a masterpiece that overwhelms her senses.

She leisurely lowers herself on your cock, the cold touch of her hands resting on your abs, each second tantalizing as it takes every modicum of self control in order to not shoot your hips straight up in pure ecstasy.

She reaches the base of your cock, cunt sitting snugly on your pelvis, your cock entirely engulfed in the gratifying warmth of the insides of your girlfriend. The inner walls of Nayeon harshly clench on your shaft, as if it was holding on with the complete reservoir of inner strength, eager to wrap you in the tender embrace of its heat.

“It’s time to dance like a bunny, my love,” you groan, a sheen of sweat from your girlfriend’s hands graces your abdomen, a symphony of excitement and pleasure intertwining, leaving her teetering on the brink of anticipation.

“Babe, what was it you called me last time I did this?”

“Oh, I think that was… I’m pretty sure fuck-bunny.”

The moment those words slip from your lips, her gaze transforms, eyes deepening in intensity. Her radiant smile morphs into a seductive smirk, accentuated by the subtle bite of her lower lip, leaving an air of alluring anticipation hanging between you.

The light reaching from the window casts a gleam over parts of Nayeon’s body, her petite breasts with her hard nipples projecting out, the pink summit seductively shining under the rays of the sunlight.

They come closer to your face, as if to tease you with their presence until they’re pushed away, your girlfriends face moving closer instead to the side of your cheek, Nayeon’s face next to yours as you feel her smooth cheeks on yours, warm breath hitting your ears as she whispers.

“I’ll show you, how much of a fuck-bunny I am just for you.”

Nayeon began joyously bouncing up and down your hardened erection, her movements exuding a contagious energy as if each leap held a burst of excitement, rubbing off on you as you begin groaning loudly, Nayeon’s name escaping your lips as her slippery walls touch the nerves of your cock explicitly.

Your length nestled snugly within the tightness of her cunt, creating a sensation of pressure and fullness, as if every contour of its form was intimately embraced. Her cunt was speaking with every clench when she’d hop up and down on your cock, begging you to remain in her rigid embrace.

“How’s that baby, fucking you good?”

“You’re so good Nayeon~, such a tight cunt.”

“No baby, you’ve gotta call me by my name.”

“Fuck.. such a good fuck-bunny.”

As you call her by her beloved nickname you feel her cunt contract on your cock as she leans down so her breasts rest on your chest, knees now touching the bed and her nipples rubbing on your skin as your hands harshly grab onto her asscheeks, spreading them as your cock sits snugly in her cunt.

Her mouth meets yours, saliva pooling between you, forgetting the morning reality where neither of you has indulged in breakfast or brushed your teeth. It’s a moment driven solely by raw, primal desire in the early hours.

She moans into the kiss as you wrap your arms around her slender back, raising your hips to thrust your cock in her. With each thrust the sound of slapping flesh is heard as she moans your name into your mouth, her tongue wrapping around yours in a wet tango as her juices leak on your groin.

You move one of your hands to her hair, grabbing a handful as she moans into your mouth while you pull at her hair, her eyes rolling back into her head as she bites her lip, a red tint remaining after her teeth let go of her lip.

“So good, daddy. Fuck me like fuck-rabbit, please~”

The sight is so erotic that you can barely stand it. Her flushed cheeks, her mouth open releasing soft moans, the curve of her spine accentuated as she arches her back and thrusts her breasts out, her pink nipples bouncing with her body as she gets fucked.

You bring your lips to her breasts, placing small kisses on them softly as she runs her hands through your hair, grabbing onto you tightly as she tilts her head back, a soft, low moan escapes from her lips.

Nayeon had always been so expressive, her face constantly conveying her feelings and her body following suit as she moaned, groaned, and cried out during sex.

Your hands reach down to her plum ass cheeks that are jiggling in melody with your swift thrusting, grabbing onto her just to harshly smack them as her body shudders, both ends of pleasure and pain coursing through her now red tinged ass.

“Fuck Y/N, I’m about to cum.”

You feel the twitching of her cunt, signaling the sign that her orgasm was approaching. At the same time the tip of your cock began to tingle, your orgasm approaching as well.

The touch of her stomach rises and falls with each heavy breath, creating a rhythmic, warm sensation against your own, as if a shared heartbeat pulses through the connection.

“Baby, faster. Let me cum,” she begs, her eyes wide and pleading, her lower lip trembles with urgency, its edges slightly swollen and tinged with a hint of red. Cheeks, now flushed, bear witness to the depth of her desperation, and every feature on her face conveys an earnest plea.

“I want to cum with you, Nayeon, my favorite fuck-bunny.”

“You’re only fuck-bunny,” she reminds you with a whimper, attempting to chuckle at the cute back and forth but the pleasure of her approaching orgasm preventing her from doing so.

Her body shudders as she lets out a high pitched moan, her cunt clamping down on your cock as her legs rapidly shake, moans of your name filling the air.

You continue to thrust into her, prolonging her orgasm as she lets out a series of whimpers, your hands reaching around to grab her breasts and grope them, kneading them roughly.

You groan out her name as you pull her down, your cock resting snugly within her heat as you cum. Your cock twitches as you shoot your seed into her, painting her insides white with your cum.

Nayeon’s body slumps on top of yours, feeling every ounce of sweat from her naked body mingle with yours, proof of the early morning passion that played out between you two. Your breathings are almost in sync, each exhale and inhale in near perfect balance as you place several kisses on her shoulder, an act of love following the act of passion.

Nayeon lifts her hips up, your cock slowly slipping out before being released from the tight embrace of your girlfriends cunt. She sits next to you, legs spread with her cunt pointed in your direction as she watches the cum slowly roll out of her hole.

“This was your second load and it’s still this big,” she murmurs, using a tissue to wipe her cunt clean of your fluid.

You turn to face her, watching her delicate pale fingers and the way they hold the tissue, delicately wiping at her swollen cunt, your cum dripping out of her slowly and trailing down into her ass before she quickly catches it.

“By the way Nabongs, what do you want for dinner?”

She looks at you with mischievous smile.

“I already had my breakfast. It was kinda… salty,” she responds, licking her lips with a smile as takes her fingers and pinches some of the cum that was dripping from her cunt, stretching it with her finger and thumb in front of you, causing a chuckle to escape your lips.

“And what about you babe?”

“Me? Well… I already ate too, funnily enough.”

You think back to the taste of her early morning cunt, the way you devoured her with your tongue and how the flavor stuck to your mouth.

“It was… kinda bitter. Like dark chocolate. Kinda salty in a way and smelled a bit like ripe grapefruit.”

“…Did you enjoy it?” Your girlfriend asks, an eyebrow raised with a small smile.

“Yeah, of course. Best breakfast brunch ever.”

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