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crystallinestars · 5 months

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How They React to Your Death

My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.

This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.

Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.

Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.

Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.

Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism

🎧 Alhaitham

Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.

Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.

When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.

At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.

What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.

No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.

During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.

Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.

What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.

🐋 Childe

You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.

The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.

He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.

Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.

Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.

Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.

Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.

🔍 Heizou

Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.

To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?

The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.

His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.

After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.

Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.

The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.

Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.

🍷 Kaveh

Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.

A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.

Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.

The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.

Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.

Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.

It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.

Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.

Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.

🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.

Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.

Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.

You were dead.

Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.

Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.

He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.

Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.

Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.

⚖️ Neuvillette

You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.

When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.

It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.

When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.

That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.

Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.

Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.

However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.

Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.

🍃 Venti

Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.

Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.

Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.

Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.

Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.

Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.

In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.

Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.

During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.

Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.

☂️ Wanderer

You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.

Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”

He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.

Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.

He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.

He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?

You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.

Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.

It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.

Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.

Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.

Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.

🐺 Wriothesley

You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.

Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.

When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.

There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou shikanoin x reader #kaveh x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #venti x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wriothesley x reader #For some reason Lyney's part is the longest

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idanceuntilidie · 5 months

Note

What about yandere prince over his favorite knight? Male reader ofc :)

I am done I deserve mac n cheese and almonds

Hope this was okay.

Yandere Prince x male reader

tw: yandere themes and being held against will

You were assigned to prince Charlie since you were little, so naturally you were very protective of him.

You two shared a very special bond of course, two best friends since childhood.

But for prince Charlie, it was oh, so much more. At first he didn’t understand it, you were there more often than not.

He remembers how often you clinged to him when you two were younger. You were supposed to be the one protecting him, he didn’t mind that.

As you two grew older, you got braver and stronger. You even spend less time with him. He noticed something was wrong with him.

An unknown feeling blossomed in his chest.

And you made it so much stronger.

It’s not really like you did anything special, you just,

existed.

He started to appreciate your existence more. How when you smiled your cheeks were dusted by pinkish colour and your eyes twinkled with such a happy flame.

How you wielded your sword and how brave you were.

He watched you, heart longing for you. For your little touches, your laughs.

Oh how he wishes you two were kids again, he would protect you from danger and you would cling to him and never let go.

You were so far away but at the same time so close. After a while, just watching wasn’t enough, he needed you back and he would do everything to make it happen.

You noticed a slight change in your environment.

It started small, maids, servants and other knights started to ignore you. They shook when they saw you and ran away.

You weren’t a violent person, so you didn’t understand what was wrong.

It hurt slightly, but you can’t just go around crying. You were a royal knight after all.

Then Prince Charlie requested you must be near him at all times, you expected that since you were his personal knight,

no more strolls through the castle and gardens. No more training. You can’t leave him, not even to eat or sleep.

You feared the last one. You feared you might grow weak, but you can’t let your prince that so you stayed silent.

You didn’t dare to eat, drink or sleep in his presence, much to his dismay. You thought it was disrespectful to even do these things in his presence, EVEN if you two knew each other all your lives.

After some time your body could in fact, not take it anymore so you fainted.

You woke up not long after, laying on the comfiest bed you had ever felt. Stripped from your armour and chained to the bed. Your first thought was that someone broke in and hurt your prince, naturally, you began to struggle. Your body was weak due to the lack of food or sleep.

You didn’t notice your Prince walking cheerfully through the door.

“Oh you are up, how wonderful”

He chirped happily. Your tired eyes followed his figure.

“Your.. highness? What is the meaning of this?”

You asked, voice raspy. Swallowing hurt so much.

“Oh you had fainted my dear knight”

he hummed as he placed something on the table. You tried to move your arms, you felt weak. Chains only rattled quietly because of your movement, it caught Charlies attention.

“Don’t you dare to move y/n”

“Just, just take me to the doctor I will be fine in few days and-“

His pale face turned cherry red in anger.

“No! You are only allowed to see me, only me! I AM taking care of you now!”

His voice boomed loudly in your ears. You winced.

He turned away from you, trying to calm down, then took something from the table, a plate. Charlie walked to the bed, and placed the plate on a nightstand, so he could uncuff your hands.

Your body felt weak, you let him sit you up.

“Now, let me feed you yeah? You must be oh so hungry, and then we can spend some time together.”

he smiled, you were too weak to argue so he took your silence as an agreement. You prayed silently that this was just a dream.

#yandere prince #prince yandere #yandere prince x male reader #yandere prince x reader #male yandere x male reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #male yan #yandere #male reader #x male reader #male yandere x male darling #tw yandere #yandere blog #oc yandere #yandere x darling

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risuola · 8 months

Text

HEADACHE — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN ft. Yuji Itadori

Your head has been killing you all day but you tried to play it off as nothing to not worry your boyfriend, but he noticed and didwhat he could to ease your suffering.

cw: fluff, Itadori is 18 and is a vessel for Sukuna, reader is in pain (duh), things like SA and su1cide are mentioned (nothing discriptive though), there is like, one slightly suggestive joke I guess? it's fluff, let me remind you! — 1,7k words

a/n: yet another fluffed out piece of writing for the king, because I love him struggling to keep his authority, alright? there are also so many fics where Sukuna is just purely violent that I feel like him being everything but violent is very much in demand and I love him more gentle 🖤 i also often get headaches like the one described so it was my inspo, kinda.

It hurt. Your head had been killing you since this morning and slowly it was getting to the point where you couldn't even move. It felt like a storm had been raging inside your skull for hours, you couldn't think, couldn't eat, couldn't concentrate on anything all day, and three painkillers didn't help at all. Your vision was blurry, your balance was off, everything seemed too loud, too close, too bright, too intense. You wanted to scream, you cried, and even begged whatever there is in the universe to just take this pain away.

"I can't," you whispered, crying quietly into your pillow as night fell. "I can't, I can't..." You tried not to wake Yuji, you even acted like it hurt less than it really did, just so he wouldn't worry, but now you couldn't hold it anymore. Your hands were shaking, your vision went black, and you wanted to die.

You got up, quietly and carefully, and slowly padded to the bathroom, feeling your way through the walls because your vision wasn't reliable anymore, and you put your head under the ice-cold water. Unpleasant shivers ran down your spine, your breath came short, but you stayed there, begging the university to ease the agony. And it did, for a moment. It all came back when you threw a towel over your head, unable to withstand the cold anymore. There was no point, you were dying, there was no other way.

Defeated, you dried your hair as best you could and went back to bed, where the moment you laid down, Yuji's arm found its place over your middle. He was still asleep, thankfully, and you pushed a pillow over your face and dived into the darkness.

"Is this suicide?", a voice that you only hoped was the creation of your mind reached your ears and you ignored it for the time being. Yuji was sleeping, he didn't move his hand from over your belly, he couldn't... "It's unwise to ignore me."

"Please, I can't do this now..." you whispered and took the pillows away. It was wet with tears, and so was your face when you looked at him. It was Sukuna, but it seemed like he had very little control over Itadori's body. Or maybe he intentionally kept you close to him so that you would die of a heart attack, but the sudden rush of blood that made your heart pump much faster than usual only made you feel worse.

"You can't do what?"

"Why are you here?" you asked, wiping your face.

"I love watching people suffer, and you seem to be just the kind of show I'd enjoy."

"Of course you do..."

"What is the source of your pain?"

"My head hurts. So fucking bad."

"Poor little human," he chuckled, lifting his head and resting it on his hand for a better view. In any other situation you would have pushed him away, tried to distance yourself, but now you had no power to fight back, so you stayed where you were, in the emotionless embrace of a curse that lives inside your boyfriend.

"If you stepped out to enjoy my pain, please go fuck yourself. Not the best timing, curse."

"How rude," he chuckled, "as if you were in a position to speak to me like that. I can slice you to ribbons before that brat even thinks of taking control back. Oh, imagine how devastated he would be to wake up to the bloody mess of his little girlfriend."

"Oh, sure. How creative, threatening me with death, very original. Perhaps you should surprise me and use your little hocus pocus to ease the pain I feel instead of scaring me."

"You want me, the King of Curses, to heal a human?"

"Kindness would be a good look on you."

"Oh, you're so desperate," he laughed and you covered your eyes with your forearm, already tired of his shit. The silence hurt you, not to mention his amused tone.

"Get lost, Sukuna," you muttered. "If you're not going to help, then stay quiet."

"And who are you to order me around?" his long fingers clawed at your chin, forcing your head in his direction, and you lowered your arm to look at him. Red eyes almost glowed in the darkness of the night, but he looked calm. "Hmm? Little human, have you forgotten where your place is?"

"I know where my place is, but you're in my bed now, so the only rules that apply here are mine."

"What a mouth," he chuckled again. "I can make this headache worse, you know."

"By annoying me to death? You're doing great at that."

It really wasn't wise to push Sukuna's buttons like that, your luck was definitely going to run out sooner or later, and even if you thought you wanted to die because of the headache, that wasn't really what you wished for.

"Sukuna, please, don't be a dick, help a human out."

"Oh, but watching you in pain is so much more entertaining."

"Have you ever tried to be nice, or is the concept foreign?"

"Being nice doesn't hold any power."

"Oh, but it does. When people truly respect you, not because they're scared, that's a different kind of power. And you like power, right?"

"I'm the strongest, I don't care what maggots think of me as long as they kneel in fear."

"If those people are maggots, doesn't that make you like a maggot king or something?"

"Oh, you're pushing your luck."

"Sure, whatever," you smack his hand away from your face and put the pillow back over it. If he's not going to be helpful, what was the point of paying attention to him? Just because he wants it doesn't mean he has to get it.

"And now you plan to ignore me?"

With no answer, you just pressed the plush item harder to your face, hoping that the pressure would soothe you even a little, but no luck.

Sukuna achieved his goal of making your heart beat even faster when he suddenly climbed on top of you, pinning you under his body and throwing the pillow away. Both of your hands he pressed to the bed with only one of his own, and you looked at him with a combination of surprise, confusion, and a glimmer of fear. This was not an ideal situation in any universe.

"What now?"

"Oh, don't be so scared, you wanted me to help you, right?"

"I fail to notice where the helping part is..."

"You humans fail to notice a lot of things."

Ryomen continued to touch you, but his touch felt anything but intimate. It burned, it felt targeted when his palm brushed against your knees or your inner thigh. Wherever he pressed, you felt some pain.

"What on earth are you doin-"

"I advise you to shut up before I change my mind."

And so you did, still unsure of what was happening. Why was this man touching your skin when you could have sworn, he wasn't interested in any kind of human physical touch. He was toying with you, enjoying the way your heart was racing in your chest, how you struggled to free your hands from his relentless grasp, and how you tried so hard to stay calm when he knew your mind was racing 180 miles per hour and off the cliff.

"Such a simple human," he mocked, his fingers brushing way too close to your underwear to go unnoticed, and your hips bucked up to create just a little more distance. This had to be another kind of torture and he was having fun making you so pliable. His eyes never left your face and you struggled to maintain eye contact. "What if I opened a mouth on the palm of my hand right now?" he teased, and you didn't get the subtext at first, but once you did, the vision struck you in a way it shouldn't have.

"Christ, you're more perverted than I suspected a curse would be," you muttered, turning your head to the side, creating an opening for him to kiss the tear off your cheek.

"You don't know much about curses, sweetheart," he laughed directly into your ear, brushing it with his lips as he moved his hand higher, sliding it under your blouse to your hip. "There are some mindless curses out there that only focus on sexually abusing their victims." This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. But his tone didn’t change, he was amused more than anything. "But I'm not a simple, horny curse, don't be so afraid. I'm the king."

"For a king, you do kinda often need to remind people about it..." you muttered, breathing in and out, focusing on this simple thing to avoid turning into a mess.

"Remember my advice?"

"Yup."

You closed your mouth and a wave of pulsating pain washed over your whole body again, radiating from your head as if a bomb had just exploded here. You closed your eyes tightly, tears once again threatening to flow from under your squeezed eyelashes. It hurt so much that you couldn't think straight, everything was blurry and you had trouble even recognizing the man above you. You wanted to pull your hands out of his hold, to put them on your temples, to do anything to ease the throbbing ache, but he wouldn't let you.

His hand pressed against your forehead. A moment later, the grip on your wrists loosened and the man rolled off you, taking a place beside you and pulling you into his chest. When you opened your eyes, no sign of black marks met your sight.

"Did he help you?" Yuji asked, his voice soft and cooing, but with worry clearly intertwined with his words. "Does it still hurt?"

"Huh?"

"Your head, does it hurt?"

"No... You asked him for it?"

"Yeah... I noticed you were in pain today, but you tried to play it off as nothing. And you didn't sleep and cried and I saw how many pills you took and still hurt," he spoke so softly, kissing your head tenderly and caressing your back with care and affection. "I'm sorry, I guess he had to scare you a little because, you know... ego."

"Thank you, baby," you pressed your lips to his chest, nuzzling into him even more.

"Oh, don't be, you know I'd do anything for you."

Next day you noticed that every bruise you had on your body wasn’t there anymore. Every hurt you earned through your every day clumsiness and trainings disappeared.

So that’s why Sukuna was touching you.

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meowpupp · 3 months

Note

could you write hybrid!soap unintentionally being really rough with reader coz he’s so horny please :)

link to og post

tw://dry humping, mentions of denial, "just the tip" trope, hybrid smut, overstim, manhandling, bad editing (by now its my brand)

pup!johnny, who's pent up. his cock aches and throbs from being edged and denied so often, craving the soft, tight walls of your cunt.

it's agonising, the constant dull throb and ache. his skin is sensitive and hot, even just putting a hand on his shoulder makes his dick hard. he can't help it, flushed tip leaking thick drops of pre, staining his boxers as he tries not to moan.

he spends hours rutting against whatever he can find. pillows, blankets, simons boot. but his owner never lets him cum, pushing johnny off the second he gets close.

it's only a matter of time before he snaps. he tried, he did, but the sight of you in those little pj shorts was too much. he has you pinned on the mattress within an instant, growling into your ear.

big, calloused hands force your thighs apart. he cant help himself, rutting his hips against yours, panting into your neck. the friction makes his head spin, cock throbbing in his boxers, almost on the verge of cumming already.

he sounds frantic, a little pathetic as he whines in your ear, begging you like a good boy for just a taste of your pretty cunt.

"m sorry pup, just- fuck, need you s'bad. just be good for me, yeah? be good f'me like you are f'price. I'll make you feel s'good I swear, please, fuckin need you."

his hands reach down, gripping your body a little too tight as he rips away your shorts. the poor pup whimpers loudly, fearing any moment someone will force him away from you.

johnny practically goes feral at the little wet spot on your panties, whines only getting needier and more desperate. his hands shake, dick painfully hard as he pulls it out from his boxers. the tip is an angry red, and he's leaking so much pre he's practically cumming.

"please baby, just the tip, I'll jus' put in the tip." his hips thrust forward, spreading your pretty cunt around him, the friction from your panties making his head spin, "fuck, please puppy, need your cunt, just the tip, i promise."

he almost cums then and there when you agree. he's too lost in his haze to even think, leaving you to reach down, pull your panties aside, and line his tip up. he groans into your neck, body shuddering as he finally gets what he wants.

he tries to stay good on his promise, at first only thrusting the tip. but you just feel so good, gummy walls stretching around him, cunt wet and hot, your little whines and moans making him shudder.

it takes less than a minute for him to break. he forces his whole length into you, his dick stretching you to your limits. his hips bruise your ass with each thrust, nails digging into the fat of your thighs. he can't shut up, speaking so fast you can barely tell what he's saying.

"fuckin hell, god, you feel s'good. such a good girl, my pretty pup. you were made for me, yeah? little cunt sucking in my cock like that, fuck."

it takes less than 5 minutes for him to cum. he holds you down, forcing you flat to the mattress. he buries himself as deep as possible, stuffing your sore cunt full.

but johnny doesn't stop, cock still rock hard. he pulls out, hands gripping your waist as he flips you over. a hand tangles in your hair, the other gripping your ass. within seconds he's buried deep again, each harsh thrust pushing his last load.

he ignores all your pretty whines, body squirming as you almost start to cry. your poor cunt hurts, bullied ruthlessly by him. he shoves your face into the pillows letting out a deep growl as he leans over you.

"told you bonnie, be good. just let me use your little cunt," he presses down, forcing you to arch his back. he fucks you deeper with the new angle, smirking as you gasp, "there ya go, feels good yeah? fuckin hell, bon."

#mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #johnny x reader smut #johnny x reader #soap x reader smut #soap x reader #johnny spap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader smut #johnny mctavish x reader smut #pupjohnny x pupreader #pup!johnny x pup!reader

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fallingdownhell · 11 months

Note

Inazuma men when you walk in on them in an intimate position with your sister/best friend.

YES, some angsty shit again! Uhhh, I like it when it hurts xD

Characters Included: Ayato; Heizou; Kazuha; Gorou

Content: gender neutral reader; she/her pronouns for your friend/sister; cheating; hurt/no comfort; angst and drama; you walk in on them; suggestive on some parts; Gorou being manipulated; non-consent on Kazuha's part, but not explicit!!

Word count: 2,4k words

Thank you so much for giving me an angsty request. Have fun reading!

Ayato

He would think so high and mighty of himself

Like, he was sure that he was hiding it pretty damn well and that you would never find out about his little secret

you have been engaged to Ayato for some time now, the wedding due to happen soon

it has been a marriage of convinience, both for him as well as your family, yet you were relieved when you found out you were going to marry Ayato, having had a crush on him for a little over a year now

you thought that over the time he got to know you, he also developed feelings for you, he certainly did tell you so

for a long time, you were blinded by the illusion you so desperately wanted to believe, ignorant to the sad and sympathatic looks Ayato's staff would give you

You excused his long and late hours away from you, telling yourself that he was just catching up on work and that he was alright

You only started to get somewhat suspicious when you noticed one of your friends visiting the Kamisato estate rather frequently, but only ever staying for a short period of time, while she never even talked to you when here

still, you gave them both the benefit of the doubt, thinking that they might just be working on something together

Thoma, however, knew what was going on behind your back. He wanted to tell you on so many different occaisions, yet he had to think of his own job as well and how his actions could put himself at risk, as well. So, he never said a single word to you, keeping you oblivious

until one day, it was late at night again and Ayato told you he would be working late again

you nodded and let him get back to his work, but later decided to surprise him with some snacks and refreshments you wanted to bring him

you were feeling kind of giddy when you approached his office door with the tray in your hands, as you noticed weird sounds coming from behind the doors

you didn't want to believe your ears, this couldn't be happening.. not your Ayato..

so you pushed open the door slightly, enough for you to peek into the room, only to have your world crushed in front of your eyes, along with all your hopes and dreams for the future

your ears did not decieve you, Ayato was, in fact, cheating on you this very moment with the person you thought to be one of your best friends

what's even worse was that he noticed you, standing by the door, having caught them in the act

and all he did, was smirk at you as he leaned down and bit into the other womans neck to which she let out a loud moan

shocked, the tray slipped out of your hands as you turned on your heels and started running down the halls, tears streaming down your face

you passed Thoma on the way to your room who shot you another sympathetic look.

He knew it... he was in on it..

now it finally dawned on you, and it all made sense.. why everyone was always looking at you like this.. they were all in on it.. you were the only one who wasn't aware..

still crying, you grabbed a bag and took some of your most important belongings as well as some clothes, before you left this estate you once hoped you could call your home

seems like some things just weren't meant to work out in life...

Heizou

he wouldn't want to do it, but he would if he could get some kind of benefit from it

Heizou has always been a very flirty personality, even while in a relationship with you. It caused arguments on more than one occaision

he would always tell you that he would stop doing it.. that promise would sometimes last for a week, often times shorter than that, before he got right back to his usual behaviour

the worst part was, that he saw nothing wrong with this type of behaviour

as long as it got him the results he desired, he didn't care for the method he had to use

it was cruel in a way, but he didn't want to acknowledge that he could do wrong as well

when this particular incident occured was when he finally realized how wrong his attitude had been

he had been stumped on a particular case for a few days now, no new leads showing up and the trail was starting to get cold

it frustrated him beyond anything else and to top it off, he was currently engaged in yet another heated argument with you

you were ticked off by the way he was shamelessly flirting with a shopkeeper, right in front of you while on a date

he tried to explain that he just tried to get some clues out of her, but you didn't seem to want to hear it

after some more yelling, you left the house to catch some fresh air and cool off, while Heizou stayed back

he sat in front of his files again, trying to make sense of all the clues when someone knocked on the front door

he recognised your sister there and while he planned on sending her away at first, she made him an offer he just couldn't turn down so easily

spending one night with her in exchange for the missing clues he needed to solve this case

he didn't think long before agreeing to this deal

she entered the house and it didn't take long before things got heated and they both landed on the bed he normally shared with you

it didn't really feel right to do this, but he was doing it for the greater good. He's sure you would understand that

while they were in the middle of things, with her being on top, riding him, he suddenly heard the front door open and a sharp inhale being taken

he whipped his head around, seeing you standing there, looking shocked and hurt

immediately after that, you turned and ran out the door again, he saw tears beginning to form in your eyes. He wanted to get up and run after you, but.... he couldn't. He had to keep up his part of the deal. He could always talk to you the next day

when he sought you out the next day, you were refusing to speak to him.. and the day after... as well as the day after that

he was getting frustrated, missing holding you in his arms. He grew irritated without you around..

the next day, he saw you in the streets of Inazuma City, so he walked up to you

However, once he reached you, he was met with a slap in the face. It stung, and he looked at you in surprise

tears welled up in your eyes again as you turned and tried to leave again, but he quickly snatched your wrist, trying to explain his reasons to you

you stayed and listened, but your expression was hard and ice cold the entire time

"I hope it was worth it in the end, because you lost me for good now"

that was the last thing you ever said to him again before you left his life for good

and finally, Heizou understood what he had been doing wrong this entire time... and he regretted his decisions like nothing else in his life...

Kazuha

now for Kazuha... he is a very honest and loyal soul

you never would have thought that you had to worry about anything like that with him, already having bad experiences from a previous relationship

Kazuha always made time for you, made you feel loved and appreciated, always told you how much he loved and adored you, whishing you would stay with him forever

you honestly felt the same way about him, already imagining a future together with him

but... we all know how easily Kazuha can get drunk.. and just how drunk he gets from so few drinks..

you were going out with some of your friends to party a bit, and you decided to invite your boyfriend along

he didn't mind it, deciding not to drink anything so he could keep an eye on you and make sure you're safe throughout the entire night

it went well in the beginning. You were moderately drinking with your friends while he was sipping on whatever non-alcoholic beverage he ordered for himself

he always kept an eye on you, but at some point of the night, he lost sight of you

while walking around the vicinity, looking around trying to find you, he ran into one of your friends, who was obviously pretty drunk at this point

she clung onto Kazuha, staying close to him, slowing him down immensely

at some point, she offered him a drink. He refused at first, but she kept insisting, promising that it would be non-alcoholic

being the sweetheart that Kazuha is, he gave in after some time, only to realize too late that she had been lying, it was very much an alcoholic drink

but it was too late already, she forced him to down the glass and then another one right after, getting him drunk

in this state, he didn't have control over his mind or his actions, he just went along with whatever she said to him

so what if she suggested to go into an isolated corner so that they could have some "fun"

in his inebriated state, he didn't realize that the person he was doing it with, wasn't you

only when he heard a gasp and saw you standing there a few feet away from him did he regain some of his consciousness back

he saw the tears forming in your eyes and he tried to run after you, but even in your own drunken state, you were faster than him, he couldn't catch up to you

the next day, he woke up again with a severe headache but still perfect memory from the events of that night

he immediately set out to look for you, finding you rather quickly

you had dark circles under your eyes and they were red and swollen from all the crying

he apologized to you over and over, telling you what had happened. He hated himself for letting this happen to him, yet he was still more worried over you

it is up to you if you want to forgive him or not, he will accept whatever decision you make. Just know that he is so, so sorry and if you choose to give him a second chance, he will make sure that nothing like that will ever happen again..

Gorou

oh, poor little Gorou..

he is soo easy to manipulate.. people can tell him everything they want, and he is prone to believe them until proven wrong

he loves you dearly, with all his heart, but he often doubts himself, fearing that he's not good enough for you

so, when someone else comes along, planting even the faintest bit of doubt in his mind about your relationship, he grows restless and insecure

you, having already a strained relationship with your family, especially with your younger sister, spent most of your free time with Gorou, so normally, there wouldn't be anything for him to worry about, right?

Well, the thing is.. your sister has always had a thing for Gorou, even before you two got together. She neve told you about it, but ever since you made the relationship official, she hated you for it

she wanted Gorou all to herself, yet you were standing in the way of that goal. She had to get rid of you somehow..

the first few months of the relationship went by great, you were both so in love with each other

yet, after that, your sister started to visit Gorou whenever you weren't around him. You could be at work or out doing something.. she would be there visiting him, leaving again before you returned again

at first, it was just normal visits. She would simply talk to Gorou, asking him how his day went, getting to know him better. Though she asked to keep this meet-ups a secret from you, since she claimed she wanted to reconnect with you on your terms alone

Gorou, being non the wiser, agreed to that

this went on for a while until she started to plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Spreading rumors to him how you were meeting up with some other guy, how the meet-ups became more frequent, that you were probably cheating on him, and so on

Gorou didn't want to believe her, choosing to trust you. But, being so gullible, he started to see things that weren't actually there. He imagined you coming home later than usual, thinking you were avoiding his gaze

he didn't want to admit it, but with every further visit from your sister, he believed her more and more, now doubting everything about your relationship with him. Did you ever even love him?

the final part of her plan came, when she convinced him to sleep with her to "get you back for cheating on him first"

it felt wrong to him, but he still went along with the idea. At some point, he did get into it, not noticing how you came back earlier than usual, flowers in your hand..

those flowers immediately dropped to the ground as you realized what you just walked in on..

and in that moment did he remember.. today was your anniversary.. 6 months togehter...

he immediately ripped himself off your sister, calling out your name, but you were already out the door. He quickly threw some clothes over himself to run after you, but your sister caught his wrist, begging him to stay

he paid her no mind and ran after you, yet he wasn't able to find you, no matter where or how hard he looked..

defeated, he returned to his place, curling in on himself.. tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow he's gonna find you and talk to you..

however, the next day, he found out that you had left Watatsumi Island.. you went and found Kazuha, leaving Inazuma with him on the Alchor..

you were out of his reach, forever now, and it was all his fault.. he had no one else to blame but himself for his stupid actions.. he lost the best thing that ever came into his life, and he would never get you back...

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gtgbabie0 · 11 months

Note

ugh the lego spencer fic got me giggling like a little middle schooler with a crush. i need more please 😭😭😭

Total geek

{After Spencer has a tough week you surprise him with the Millennium falcon lego set and he geeks out}

Ack! He’s just the cutest <3 Hope you enjoy lovely!! 💕

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Spencer’s job was nothing short of stressful, every aspect of it was just so taxing. Sure sometimes it could be very rewarding, helping people, bringing justice and whatnot. But for the past week something seemed to sit heavy on his chest, a feeling he couldn’t quite shake.

You could tell that it was bothering him more than usual from the obvious crease that haunts the space between his brows, or how he would stay up late into the night studying cases. He became distant, and it hurt to see how much it was troubling him.

Spencer returned home early tonight, on the order of Hotch. He’d made a silly mistake today, which caused him to mess up on the geographical profile of the unsub. It was eating him alive because Spencer Reid doesn’t make mistakes. He couldn’t get his head around it, why and how had he messed up so bad?

He huffs dropping his brown shoulder bag on the floor after slamming the door shut. A flurry of emotions bubbled around in his chest and he wasn’t quite sure if it was the embarrassment or the frustration that was making him want to cry, perhaps it was both.

He walks further into the apartment, his fingers raking through his wind-tussled hair. “Hey sweetie, you’re home early,” you say, walking over to where he was sitting at the breakfast bar.

He clears his throat, trying to ignore the stinging sensation that’s prominent in the back of his throat. “Yeah, Hotch sent me home,” he tells you, wincing slightly at the memory, and you don’t miss the way his voice quivers with emotion.

You inch closer to him until you're standing in between his thighs and he smiles at the closeness. Leaning into your touch as you tuck his hair behind his ears. His heart swells with love, he hasn’t been this close to you in a while.

“I’m sure it came from a place of caring,” you tell him, sighing as his eyes fill with tears. He rests his head against your chest with a shaky sigh. Your hands soothe against his back.

You were right, even if it didn’t feel like it, you were right. Hotch cared, of course, he did, but that didn’t stop the embarrassment that still pinches at his heart. The team more often than not relied on Spencer and his ‘wonderfully scary brain’ as they put it, so for him to mess up was a big deal, he felt like he’d failed them.

He sniffles slightly, “I made a mistake on the geographical profile, no one got hurt, but I just-” he winces at how small his voice was, “It was embarrassing” he admits, nuzzling his nose further into your shoulder as if he was trying to hide away from the whole situation.

He shouldn’t be so hard on himself, he’s had a horrible week so, in reality, it was only a matter of time before he made a mistake, he was only human after all.

“Hey, look at me” you whisper, your hands cupping either side of his face as looks up at you with a strained smile, “You’ve had an awful week, it’s okay Spence” you reassure him and you can tell by the way he lets out a little ‘mhm’ that he doesn’t believe you.

“You’re only human sweetheart, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” you tell him, and he sighs once again resting his head back against your shoulder.

You smile, excitement tingling through your chest as you think back to yesterday when you brought him another Lego set to add to his growing collection, the Millennium Falcon. You wanted to brighten up his week, so what better way than to buy him a gift?

“Okay, no more work talk” you declare, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he looks up at you with a thankful smile, “I’ve got you something, stay here” his expression changes to a more curious look as his eyebrows slightly knit together.

He doesn’t have time to question you before you’re making your way to the bedroom, reappearing with a huge box in your arms, poorly wrapped in old Christmas wrapping paper. His mouth opens slightly, what on earth have you brought?

He walks into the living room, sitting down next to you on the sofa, the mystery gift separating the two of you. “Okay open it!” You smile, and he’s at a complete loss for words as he starts ripping the paper.

You can’t help but giggle at the way his eyes light up, and the sight warms your heart. He lets out a little gasp, “Baby, you- you didn’t have to” he says, his heart hammering against his ribcage as he scrunches up the remaining wrapping paper into a ball, eyes fixed on the Lego set.

“I wanted to” you whisper, watching the way his eyes brim with tears.

“This- this thing is huge, where are we even going to put it?” He asks, looking around the apartment as he tries to figure something out. You grab his hand bringing his attention back to you.

“We’ll figure something out” you promise as he nods whispering a small ‘Yeah’

He places the box carefully on the floor before wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer to him in a sweet hug. He presses a kiss to your cheek, “Thank you so much” he smiles, his chest bursting with happiness.

“Of course, anything to see you smile” you wink, with a teasing smile as he shakes his head with a laugh.

He sits down on the floor, patting the space beside him for you to sit next to him, and you gladly do so, as he opens the box with an excited smile.

“You know the Millennium Falcon was actually built in several different sizes,” he says, looking over at you with a smile, he watches as your eyebrows lift slightly with surprise as you turn to him.

“Really?” You ask, watching as he nods enthusiastically, pulling out the instruction manual.

“Yeah, the complete models of the Falcon ranged from very small, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand-” he pauses, a warmth blooming in his chest when he realises you’re still listening, waiting for him to carry on, “To- to over four feet and an almost full-size replica of the exterior of the ship, that was made for the empire strikes back, is measured almost sixty feet long,” he says, sorting all the Lego blocks into their correct spaces.

He continues to ramble off facts about the spaceship as you listen intently before a comfortable silence falls on the pair of you, soft music from the radio playing in the background as you both continue to build the Lego set. The minutes soon turn into hours.

“This is going to take weeks” he mumbles, his elbow resting against his knee as his chin sits in the palm of his hand.

You look over at the clock, dinner time. “Yep,” you say popping the ‘p’. He watches as you stretch your arms upwards, letting out a little groan. “I’m gonna order dinner, do you want Thai?” You ask as he nods, continuing to snap the Lego pieces together.

“Yes please, I’ll get the usual” he says as you nod. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before handing him his glasses that were sitting on the coffee table, noticing the way he was starting to rub at his eyes, he whispers a small ‘thanks’ as you stand up to grab your phone.

“Don’t lose any pieces this time!” You shout, giggling at the way he replies with a sarcastic laugh and a ‘Yeah yeah’

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love-hatred-stuff · 1 year

Text

"Doll, don't ignore me, please. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you."

All he heard from you was some unhappy mumbling. You looked at him with annoyance before you disappeared into the bedroom. Something he wasn't used to at all. Something that made him feel like someone you might hate. His heart wrenched in sadness.

There's nothing in this world he could hate more than you being upset with him. It made him feel lonely and even more angry at himself than you probably were. It was torture.

Bucky continued to sit there at the kitchen island, his face in his palms, devastated. He loved you so dearly, you were his god damn life and now you wouldn't speak a word to him. It felt like a knife was stuck in his ribcage and he couldn't seem to get it out as long as you were so mad at him.

He knew a relationship couldn't always be perfect. But with you it was. Nothing was as easy as loving you every step of the way. Sure there were some ups and downs, but nothing that wasn't fast to be solved.

He sighed in desperation. He didn't know how to make you talk to him again. All he could give you was some space. But it was your choice if you wanted to forgive him or not in the end. He knew that.

So he waited. Smoked more than usual, drank more than usual. On a Tuesday? Didn't matter as long as you wouldn't give him another chance.

He wrote you an apology letter, a love letter, bought your favourite flowers everyday.

He was lost without your love and everyone knew that. It was hard to overlook. You two weren't just lovers, you two were partners, friends, soulmates and everything in between. Bucky cherished the ground you walked on. Because you were always there as his emotional support, you calmed him down, made him feel safe and complete. He needed you.

James often worked from home, so he felt your absence immensely since you were always out until noon. And if you were home and not going anywhere else but work just to avoid him, you were never in the same room as him.

He could call himself lucky to still be able to sleep in the same bed as you. You weren't evil, you wouldn't let him sleep on one of your small leather couches alone, those were great for cuddling and taking a nap but not for a seven hour long rest. Besides, you knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if not beside you.

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Everything went on for about a week. Until everything came crashing down on him.

Bucky couldn't sleep. He just couldn't stop thinking how you were slowly but surely falling out of love with him since the day that he decided to use your trust. And he couldn't help but start crying at this heartbreaking thought. First it were just tears that didn't seem to stop flowing but after a few minutes he couldn't stop letting out those heartwrenching sobs coming out of him. Of course you noticed it and it didn't bring you joy or whatsoever. It made you feel like crying too.

"Bucky? Bucky, please." You sat up immediately.

You shoved all those hurt feelings to the side for a moment and moved towards his side. He turned around slowly and looked at you. You couldn't describe how broken the man in front of you looked.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Y/n. Please forgive me. I- I need you. I can't breath-" He broke down again.

You brought him to your chest, letting him hug your waist while crying into your shirt. You shushed him, held him against you and gently stroked his hair. Until he slowly stopped sobbing and crying, though he didn't intend to let go of you anytime soon.

"James, I know you're sorry."

He looked up at you. That's the first words you spoke to him in days and you call him James? Tears were gathering in his eyes once again.

"Oh, my love." You touched his cheek and took a good look at him. Bucky sighed and closed his eyes. That sounded much better.

"Bucky." He snaps back into reality, opening his eyes and seeing your gorgeous face, that he missed so much looking at.

"Kiss me, you moron." And he immediately did, more than eager to rest his lips on yours after such a long time.

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A/n: lol, just felt like breaking my heart again

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 7 months

Text

darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 8: Birthright

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. Your wish comes true.

Hello! Welcome to the FINAL CHAPTER of this instalment, another 8000+ word chapter! Everyone's long-anticipated 'claiming scene' is here, so please give a round of applause to our angryboi, the Cannibal! Keep in mind that I've officially retconned Luke and Daeron's ages (they're 8 and 9 in gevivys now, not 5 and 6 like they were originally - please let me know if I've missed any instances so far!), Thank you to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta-ing this thingo!

TRIGGERS: more abandonment issues, reference to pervy suitors.

Scarcely any time passes between that eve and the arrival of Rhaenyra’s firstborn son, Jacaerys.

’Nyra’s world changes when her baby comes. She is as perfect a mother as you think any woman could be, spending nearly all the hours of the day looking at him or holding him or caring for him. Having a babe has changed her, softened her hard edges and given her a calmness she had once lacked. All she wants to talk about is him. When she is not talking about him or being with him, she is in Council meetings, or she is with Papa performing whatever tasks the heir to the Throne is expected to do. She tries to find moments to spare for you, though it is far less often than it used to be, and she always brings her boy with her.

Jace is a pretty babe, dark-haired and dark-eyed, so unlike either of his parents, and he always seems quite serious in expression—but there is something that holds you back with him. Even though you love him—and he is one half of ’Nyra, so of course you love him—it is like a wall exists between you and him. His mother is your sister, and his father is your cousin, and you… you have no place there. You are on the outside looking in at a life you cannot have.

A part of you wants to stare down at the babe and tell him that you were here first. That you will always have known his mama for longer than he ever shall, that nothing can take away the fact that she belonged to you before she belonged to him. But you don’t. ’Nyra is a new mother, and her child should be all that matters. If you were her babe, that is what you would want. She does not need the petty jealousy of her little sister to ruin things. It is better for you, for her, for him that you find other ways to fill your days.

Daeron’s birth makes it easier.

It is almost like Alicent barely even notices the arrival of her third son, though you do not blame her. She had screamed so loud that even you had heard her in your own chambers. It was not like that with Aegon or Helaena or Aemond. The commotion had been enough to rouse you from your bed to creep toward the Queen’s apartments, to hear Grand Maester Mellos tell Papa that her belly might need to be laid open like—

No. No. The throb of nausea is so vile just thinking of it. You put it out of your mind, doing your best to ignore the prickle of an old hurt and the word ‘Mama’ on the tip of your tongue, hushed and afraid.

Alicent is weak after the birth, and so you take it upon yourself to visit your new little brother, to keep him company where everyone else would have left him to attendants. He is so, so quiet, as though he is ashamed of the way he had entered the world, the way he had hurt his mother coming out. It is like he is an apology for the pain she was made to go through. He is sweet, barely crying though he goes for times without the attention he deserves, and he never fusses when you reach into the cradle to lift him up. You are not quite strong enough to carry him around places, but it is relatively easy to take him to the chair to prop him on your lap in the nursery while Helaena plays.

When Alicent heals, she makes no attempt to disturb your routine, and it is like you have your very own baby to match ’Nyra’s. Sometimes, you imagine that Daeron is yours like Jace is hers and that you are ’El’s mama too, and that you have the important task of being their whole world. Even though the idea of having babies is beginning to scare you a great deal, being a mama is nice. Playing pretend is nice.

But then, the wet nurses come or Alicent comes, and your brother and sister are taken away. It reminds you that you really are alone, after all. ’Nyra giving birth to her next son, Lucerys—Luke—only worsens that feeling. Her family is growingand growing while yours seems to only exist on borrowed moments. Still, you take what love you can and bury the rest of it—the despair, the resentment, the soft tender parts of you that cry out for someone, anyone at all to really, truly see you—far, far below the surface, so deep that no one can touch it, not even you.

You seek solace in knowledge.

Books become your very best friends. The older you get, the easier reading becomes—you leave behind folktales and children’s myths to begin browsing through tomes with smaller letters and larger, more difficult words. Stories turn into histories and treatises on all manner of topics, with dragons, direwolves, men, and the fall of Old Valyria being but some of your preferred subjects of study. You learn the names of the Lannister kings before the Conquest; you gather as many legends on the Age of Heroes as you can; you peruse chronicles detailing the first coming of the Andals to Westerosi shores. Through books, the very land you live upon seems to unfold like a map through time itself, all the secrets of the continent opening themselves up to you through tooled leather and yellowed pages.

It makes Papa immensely proud. “If a woman is to sit the Iron Throne after I am gone,” he says, “then perhaps a woman ought to be her right hand!”

You can tell this makes his other Councilmen nervous by the way they share glances. For all that Rhaenyra has been heir for years now, there are still many among the court who believe your brother ought to succeed him. But Papa does not seem to want to change his mind, for he is as determined to see your sister continue to attend Small Council as he always has been.

Still, you take it to heart. Being Hand of the Queen someday means that you will get to stay with your sister even if you are made to be married. It means you will be important in a way that you haven’t really been so far. But a good Hand has to know so so much about all the lands and people a King or Queen might encounter during the years of their reign. You outgrew Septa’s lessons moons ago, and the more you read, the more it becomes apparent that books aren’t enough to teach you all you need to know. There is no one and nothing that can help you become the cleverest possible version of yourself in King’s Landing—at least, not one willing to do such a task. The maesters would not abide by schooling a girl in the higher arts.

Thus, you firmly decide upon the gift you would like for your name day. Standing in the King’s solar two moons before the occasion is to take place, you impart your desire to your audience of one.

“I wish for a tutor, please,” you tell Papa. “Someone who can teach me anything I wish to know.”

Papa laughs. “And what is it you wish to know, my girl?” he asks. You are unsure if he is amused or delighted by your request.

His question makes you think. What do I want to know? There is no single answer you can produce. How do you describe the feeling of wanting to know something you don’t know enough about to be sure you want to learn it?

“Anything,” is what you reply with. “Everything.”

“Anything and everything.” Papa takes a drink from his cup, his nose scrunching when the liquid inside hits his tongue. You do not think it is wine. He returns the cup to the table beside him, reaching his hand out to you. You move forward to take it. “A lofty request. But you are soon to be ten summers!” He grins. A scab at his temple cracks with the motion. “That, I think, is a milestone worthy of celebration. Very well, daughter,” he says with a grunt. “If a tutor is what you want, then a tutor we shall find.”

He stays true to his word. Not long after you make your appeal to him, all manner of strangers the Realm over make their way to King’s Landing to seek an audience with you and Papa. It is the first time you are allowed to remain by his side in the Great Hall, though it means you must balance atop a twist of melted-together swords to rest your rear against the edge of the armrest, one of the few places upon the Throne that cannot cut you should you make contact with it. Papa insists, however, for these people have gathered to seek employment with you, and so you must be the one to approve them.

There is frightfully little to approve. Several of those who come to answer Papa’s ravens ignore you wholly, their eyes sliding over you as though you are not even there. One of them, a man named Robert, outright refuses to answer your query as to what would make cyvasse lessons so appealing to a girl of your station. It is enough to put you off the game entirely. But his conduct is by no means the worst. There are younger lads who possess no more skill than the average knight’s squire, clearly hastened to the Red Keep by the promise of a lucrative wage and companionship with the King’s daughter. More than one Septon shuffles in to lecture you and Papa on the merits of providing a holy education to the female mind, sinful as it is. Even noblemen like Lord Rosby come to offer to take wardship of you, suggesting that growing up with another girl your age is more than enough learning for a Princess. You suspect his proposal has more to do with the large sum he owes over East.

You and Papa reject them all, sending them away with nary a further glance. Those who grow angered by the refusal are easily frightened off by Ser Criston’s hand coming to rest on his pommel at the foot of the steps. Since Alicent had appointed him your sworn shield some moons after Rhaenyra’s wedding, he has taken to his task with a dedication that would worry you if not for the fact that he is made to take breaks. You think that if he were allowed, he would set up a pallet beside the door to your rooms to keep constant guard over you.

Four days after your tenth name day, someone different arrives. Someone new.

“Presenting Ser Lysan Marios of… er… the Free Cities!” the guard announces.

You crane your neck in curiosity as this Ser Lysan makes his way into the hall. He is dark-skinned, light-haired, and his robes are an odd assortment of various fabrics stitched together. It appears well-made, if unusual, and the colours are bright. Reds, blues, yellows, greens, oranges—it seems as though every shade is represented in the patches making up his attire, though you note that purple is missing. Not a noble, then. The man ambles slowly inside, helped by the use of a cane.

“I am from Volantis, Your Grace,” he says when he is finally within earshot, bowing lowly. His voice is deep and rich; if a hug were to have a sound, you think this would be the closest you might come to finding it. “But I do suppose ‘of the Free Cities’ works just as well as any other epithet.”

“You have come a long way, Ser,” Papa says. He is smiling like he always does when these visits begin. You wonder how long it will take for it to fade this time. “You are welcome here in King’s Landing.”

Ser Lysan laughs. “I certainly feel welcome! Such pleasant people you have here, Your Grace. Not a single one has attempted to steal my books thus far—and I confess I have brought plenty!”

This is what spurs you to finally speak up. “Books?” you ask. “What kind?”

When his eyes meet yours, it is like they twinkle, like stars. His mouth widens, exposing pearl-white teeth. “And this must be the young Princess to whom I would be most glad to embark upon the journey of erudition with! Salutations to you, Your Highness!”

He bows again, attempting to cast his arm wide in a flourish—but it appears he had forgotten he was carrying one of his aforementioned books in hand, for it promptly clatters to the floor when he flings his hand out. You giggle, charmed. You cannot help it. He seems so kindly.

“Oh! Oh dear,” he mutters, crouching to the ground to collect his quarry. “My apologies, Your Grace, Your Highness. Oh dear…”

Ser Criston darts forward as if to help, but the man has already taken hold of his prized tome by the time he is close enough.

“Ah—might I ask what areas you are learned in, Ser Lysan?” Papa asks, clearing his throat. His brow has furrowed ever-so-slightly, which means he finds the man before him a little confusing. It is more than a little funny. “My daughter has yet to decide upon an avenue of study.”

The embarrassment slides straight off Ser Lysan’s face. It is as though a bolt of lightning courses through him, such is the sudden shift of his expression into one of sparking joy. “Oh! What am I not a scholar of? I have studied in the physicians’ arts with the Healer’s Guild of Lorath; I have attended the great histories of Westeros and Essos with the esteemed intellectuals of Braavos; I have amassed a more-than-considerable lexicon of tongues across the known world—”

For a reason unknown to you, this piques your interest. “Languages? You know different languages?”

He nods. “Oh, yes! I am quite proficient in your ancestral tongue, Princess. Valyrio Eglio udrir jaehenka issa.” High Valyrian is the language of the godly. He winks. “I am also well-versed in the Eastern dialects of Valyrian, though admittedly they have not the lyricism of their originator. But I must confess, it is my particular interest to devote my academic prowess to the Lekh Dothraki, the tongue of those who ride.”

Papa’s knee twitches beside you. “The Dothraki? How have you come to make dealings with them?”

Ser Lysan waves him off. “Oh, I would not profess to be so grand as to make dealings with the horse-riders of the East! Ah, but mine wife was a Dothraki woman, who gave herself to me in payment for preventing a Volantene herbalist from poisoning her brother. A strange and alarming custom, I once thought. She was the most marvellous of creatures.” He sighs. For a moment, he is silent—then he jerks nearly full-bodied, as though he is awakening from some reverie. “The Dothraki are a misunderstood civilisation, Your Grace,” he says to Papa. “It is my hope that, in time, I am able to repay my wife’s goodness and bring knowledge to those who are ignorant of their ways.”

“I see,” Papa says. He coughs awkwardly. I don’t think he has ever met someone so inclined to talking, you muse. “And… what of your wife now? I had thought the Dothraki were opposed to crossing the sea.”

“They are.” Ser Lysan’s expression becomes shadowed, drawn. “It is my great sorrow that she has passed on to the nightlands, to roam the skies among the starry khalasar of her people.”

“My condolences.” This sounds more genuine; you know that Papa too still mourns your mother, even though he has Alicent now.

“My gratitude, Your Grace. But”—at this, he lightens, forcing a smile to his face once more—“that is not what I have come to discuss, is it?” He turns to you. “My apologies, Princess! If I am so fortunate as to be deemed worthy by you, you may well find such tangents a price to pay for the lessons I have to impart. I am not well known for brevity, I am afraid.”

He’s the one. He’s my tutor. You know it. The way he speaks so happily about all the things he has learned; the way he cares so much about showing that some people are not always what everyone else thinks of them; the way he talks to you as though you are a person rather than just a means of earning coin or living in a palace. You want to know what it is like to be surrounded by that happiness, to spend your days learning from a person such as he rather than continue to quail under the yoke of Septa Marlow.

You readjust to curl into Papa, to lean forward and whisper into the shell of his ear. “I like Ser Lysan, Papa.”

“You do?” He exhales, a long-suffering sigh of resignation. His stare narrows at you as though irritated, though it slowly morphs into a grudging sort of smile. “Naturally.” If he were ’Nyra, he would be rolling his eyes by now. To Ser Lysan, he projects his voice far louder and says, “It appears my daughter has no taste for brevity, Ser. If you wish to take up this post, we would be… honoured… to accommodate you.”

Ser Lysan’s brows raise in surprise. “Oh! No, Your Grace! The honour is mine!” He bows a third time, and it really ought to be excessive, but you cannot help how amiable you find him. “I pray I will not disappoint you, Princess.”

“I am very glad to meet you, Ser Lysan,” you say, fighting the urge to leave Papa’s side and go forth to follow the man before you wherever he might go, to let yourself be enthralled by his tales and his rambling, half-formed thoughts. “I hope we shall have a very good time together.”

You are not to know it at this precise moment—but you will.

“We have made our introductions, Princess, and I have learned the lay of the land as best I can, so to speak.”

Ser Lysan is settled in the chair opposite you, having just completed his surveyance of the room around him. You have been granted a solar for the very first time, a whole new chamber to fill with the tools necessary to begin your education. It is empty for now, though the bare necessities are present—namely, the considerable size of the bookshelves just waiting for their occupants to rest safely upon their surfaces. These will, in time, be filled by both your own and your tutor’s collections, or so he has assured you.

The crinkle of a page rouses you from your thoughts. Ser Lysan has unrolled a scroll of parchment, the nib of his quill already inked and prepared for some unknown purpose. He stares assessingly at you.

“What is it you wish to know?” he asks, hand poised to write.

It blurts out of you before you can think to stop it. “You can only be called ‘Ser’ if you are a knight, but you have said you are a scholar. How is it that you have come to be called ‘Ser’, then?”

You wince. Your question is far ruder than you had intended it to be. Thankfully, Septa is not here—she has begun spending more time with Helaena as of late. She would surely have reprimanded you. The query only serves to make the man smile indulgently at you, though. He lays the quill to the side upon his blotting paper. The ink pools dark across the fibres.

“If you must know, Princess… I was a soldier in the Battle of the Borderland. The triarchs sent us in to attempt to wrest control of the Disputed Lands from Lys, Tyrosh and Myr. They were once under Volantene rule, did you know?”

Ser Lysan gazes at a spot on the wall just past you, and it is like he is seeing something altogether different. Something from another time and place.

“At first, we were sure of victory. Volantis has long held dominion in the East for a reason, after all. Our armies were larger; our armour finer; our steel sharper. But then…” He sighs. “Those cities joined forces. Formed the Triarchy. No one saw it coming. We ought to have. Such is hindsight, is it not? We understand now the things we missed then.”

Ser Criston shifts by the door, clearly uncomfortable. You wonder when he will interrupt, when he will instruct Ser Lysan not to tell you such dark-natured stories. You can only hope it will not turn violent.

“One morn—the sun had barely risen—our garrison was set upon by the Triarchy’s forces,” the man continues. “It was… carnage. So few of us survived. Of those of us that did, even fewer still were able to stand. The alliance’s warriors enjoyed leaving a rather particular token behind on the battlefield, as we were to learn. Severed legs are quite effective deterrents, it turns out.”

“That’s enough,” Ser Criston barks, face set in a glare. Secretly, you are glad for the interruption. The tale had grown far too frightening for you.

“My apologies!” Ser Lysan says, coughing lightly. “I forget myself sometimes. To answer your question, Princess—I was able to make my way back to the main encampment, to warn the commanders just in time for our troops to pull back from the region. Many a life was lost; but thousands more were saved that day. I was knighted in the field.” A wan smile curves his lips. “That is where my title of ‘Ser’ comes from.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you say. “I… I am sure it is not a pleasant memory. I am sorry.”

“It is quite alright. I became stronger for it. I learned that if I wish to survive, I must fight for it with everything I have in me. The fires of adversity strengthen the spirit.” He pauses, eyes locked onto your own. They are dark, almost black, like all the light in the world has been quenched. “Let this be my first lesson unto you—if you want something, you must do whatever is in your power to achieve it.”

Silence lingers for one moment; two; three. All of a sudden, he is cheerful again, shuffling his papers like nothing of import has occurred. You share an uncertain look with Ser Criston, who looks positively bewildered by the shift. Ser Lysan is an eccentric man, you decide. This is no bad thing.

“Back to my previous question, Princess.” Ser Lysan picks up his quill once more, dipping it in the inkwell and tapping it against the rim to return the excess to the bottle. “I am knowledgeable in a great deal about the world in which we live. What is it that you would have me instruct you in? Histories, statecraft, linguistics?”

Before you is a man who has lived. He has come from a strange land bearing a strange name, learned in all manner of strange subjects. He fought for Volantis. His wife was a Dothraki woman. He bears the title ‘Ser’ and yet wears a patchwork robe. What you know of him is bleak and terrifying, and yet here he sits before you, as jovial as a young man in his cups. There is a steady peace to him despite all he has seen, all he has likely experienced.

How has he come to be so merry? You think about the manner in which he’d brightened at the talk of his learning. Could one achieve such simple tranquillity through knowledge alone? Can books, can foreign tongues and foreign disciplines empower you with that sense of fulfilment you crave, that sense of belonging you have felt absent all your life?

You want dearly to discover the answer. It is this that permits you to finally settle upon your response to him.

“Anything,” you breathe. “Everything.”

You are not as brave as your sister. She is able to stand face to face against even the staunchest of her detractors—as of late, this being your very own lady stepmother, determined to discover what she believes to be ‘the truth’ of Jacaerys’s parentage, for a boy so dark of hair cannot possibly be Laenor’s, by her reckoning—without so much as a quiver in her lip. She can endure shouting, the strike of a switch, the endless train of whispers that seep through every crack in the walls of the Keep with barely a pause in her breath to mark the ignominy of it. She can laugh in the face of humiliation and continue on her way with her head held high and some cutting remark poised on the tip of her tongue like a steel barb waiting to meet its target. These are not things you are capable of. But then, you are only a girl; younger than Rhaenyra was when she was made heir.

Yet old enough to finally—finally—claim your own dragon.

It had taken you years to wear down Papa, the scar on your arm serving as a perpetual reminder of the dangers that lie ahead in seeking out your birthright. Whenever you had made the request—“oh, please, Papa! I swear that I am ready!”—he had only to look upon the mark bisecting your flesh before his eyes hardened, the musculature of his neck clenched and poised to shake in refusal.

Once, his rejection had been sufficient to prevent your asking for several moons’ turns at the least; but Ser Lysan has been of great influence in his two years serving as your teacher, your companion, and your dear friend. If you want something, you must do whatever is in your power to achieve it. These words have remained as carvings in stone within your mind since that very first meeting. It is not within your power to unleash fire and fury the way your sister might—but you have come to learn that such a thing was never in your power. Your strength lay in other qualities. Your courtesy. Your placidity. Your modesty. These are strengths in their own way.

You had continued to ask. Over time, the nature of your appeals changed from churlish, infantile insistence to restrained, unaffected enquiry. Upon rebuff, you had smiled and said, “Very well, Papa. Thank you for listening.” You had repeated this same tactic over and over, sennight after sennight, until, at last, Papa had been worn down to his bones from weariness.

“You’ll not let up, will you, my girl?” he had asked, utterly fed up.

Instead of responding, you had simply maintained your carefully blank gaze, prepared to don your quiet acceptance like armour when his denial should strike. He had sighed; rubbed his eyes. The pull of his skin had cracked open another fissure in the lines of his face, red slowly beading up to the surface.

“Fine!” he had finally exclaimed, his hand thumping down upon the table so hard that you had wondered at his not feeling it. This was before the maesters agreed to remove it from his person, and so the flesh was mottled grey and black from rot. “Do as you will, daughter. Far be it from me to dissuade you.”

Thus, the ravens had been sent to the Dragonkeepers residing on the ancestral isle of House Targaryen; the ship had been made ready; your retinue arranged; and you had been sent off on your first great journey.

The moment you step foot upon the shore in the low light of early evening, you hear it. You feel it. Like a rattling in the core of your bones, or an unearthly siren song catching faintly on the wind. It is not a sound, though, nor a sensation that you can describe in any language you know. All that you are sure of is that there is something here, something… expecting you.

Come, it says. I am waiting.

The Keepers linger past the shoreline, scarcely a stone’s throw away. “Urnēbās, darilaros!” one says, eyes darting nervously about. Be watchful, Princess! “Va īlō Zōbrios issa.” The Dark One is near.

“The Dark One?” you ask, frowning. “Who is that?”

Septa Marlow’s face pales so starkly that she looks like she has applied paints to her skin. She seems entirely distasteful of the island itself, a curl to her lip that she only gets when seeing or hearing something she does not like. Meanwhile, Ser Criston’s fist tightens on the grip of his sheathed sword. He too glances around, tracking the skies like a shadowy shape will make its appearance at any moment. He seems familiar with the name.

It must be a dragon, you think. Very few living creatures reside upon the island, save for those that had been introduced by your blood long ago. Dragons are the only wild things that can weather such inhospitable climes.

The Keeper leans in. “The Cannibal.” He shivers. “He is most wroth as of late. Beware of the beaches—too many of our Order have been lost to his appetites.”

The Cannibal. It is a story you have heard only when one had sought to frighten you—that of a winged beast so monstrous that not even his own kind would endure him. A creature so malevolent that he found his joy through death and destruction, ripping apart the younger members of his species so thoroughly that, at times, it was as though blood rained down from the heavens. The Cannibal, a being so malignant that any man who attempted to ride him had vanished cleanly from the face of the earth, consumed whole or left to rot away in some deep, dank pit below the mountainous terrain.

And yet—for all his supposed cruelties—no cities, no villages, no lands have been brought to waste beneath his flames. It is the one part of those tales that had never made sense to you. If he were as awful as that, surely there would be no one and nothing safe from him?

“Let us not waste our time, then,” Ser Criston says firmly, hand pressed between your shoulders to spur you onward. The weight of it grounds you in the present. He turns to bark orders at the attendants making their way ashore. “To the Keep!”

You are taken past the Great Hall, catching a glimpse of the Painted Table on your way to a smaller chamber. You know the name of Aegon I’s table is not quite correct; that it is made mostly of wood and rock, and that the rock itself is what Ser Lysan has told you is thermoluminescent, ‘thermo’ meaning heat and ‘luminescent’ meaning light. The table glows like lava when you ignite the candles below it, casting the great map of Westeros into fire. You should very much like to see it. But this visit is not to take in the sights of your family’s seat.

Much to the Keepers’ confusion and consternation, you reject the offer to examine the eggs they have concealed within the hatchery. Or rather, you feel that the eggs would reject you if you should try to seek your companion in one. It is difficult to explain even in your own mind, so you make no attempt at voicing these thoughts—these almost-whispers at the back of your mind, like a soft brush of fingers at the base of your skull.

Septa Marlow huffs her displeasure. “This is most unbecoming of you, Princess. You ought to know better than to refuse a gift such as this.”

‘They are not for me,’ you want to say. ‘The thought of them does not rouse me.’

You know not why you feel certain of this—that the mere prospect should stir you beyond simple anticipation. But it is as though you have always known this, for you do not find yourself disappointed by the missed opportunity nor by the censure.

A faint recollection sparks from your earliest youth, an old fear of what should occur if an egg comes into your possession and refuses to hatch, turning to stone over years and years. You do not wish for such a future. No; it is for the best that the eggs are left for another. Another time, another day, another person. Perhaps when it comes time to have your own children, you will revisit the notion.

To make matters even more complicated, however, there are no hatchlings upon the isle. It is what you had counted on all this time, but it seems that this is not to be, either.

“Zōbrios pōnte iprattas,” Acolyte Zūgis tells you, wringing his hands for good measure. The Dark One ate them all.

What a nervous man, you think. Since meeting him on the beach, he has been continuously anxious, ready to jump clear out of his skin at the slightest disturbance. You wonder if his path is best suited to Dragonkeeping if he is so afraid of it.

“Pōntālosa sikagon kostis, yn jēdraro toliot dorolviktys se dorolviktys sittaksi.” His mouth twists. Sometimes they hatch by themselves… but that has become rarer and rarer over the years. Your stomach twists at this. There was once a time where dragons hatched aplenty upon the isle. No more, it seems. “Vermithor dārligon kostā, darilaros. Yn uēpys issa se zaldrīzāeksio bōso jēdo syt mijetas. Qopsa kessa, se avy hinikilāks.”

You can try to claim Vermithor, Princess, he concludes. But he is old and has long since been without a rider. It will be difficult, and dangerous.

Neither Septa Marlow nor Ser Criston understand High Valyrian—but the name Vermithor agitates them nonetheless.

“A dragon of such size and stature is not appropriate for a well-bred lady,” Septa exclaims, fingers like claws clasped together before her. “What of Silverwing? Good Queen Alysanne’s mount? Does it not reside here? ‘Tis far more suitable beast.”

The Keeper shakes his head. “We believe Silverwing is gravid. She has shown much aggression as of late. The last of us to attempt approach…” The silence that hangs at the end of the sentence leaves no mistaking his meaning. He clears his throat. “Well. It is far too perilous at present. Vermithor is the Princess’s best option.”

“The Princess is a child,” Ser Criston says, expression flat and eyes flinty. “Vermithor is a dragon of war. I am sorry, Princess”—he kneels before you, angling his head up so he can look directly at you, and one hand folds around your elbow—“but I cannot let you risk yourself so.”

You know what you are being told, albeit in a roundabout way. The despair renders you mute. What am I to do? What am I to do? You nod, an agreement to your sworn shield’s words, though your heart is scarcely in it.

“Perhaps on the morrow,” the Keeper says, “we may… reattempt with the eggs, then. We have several, though they have been kept for some years now.”

Ser Criston makes his agreements to Acolyte Zūgis, entering into discussion with him and Septa Marlow as to the following day’s schedule. None of them so much as turn their faces to include you, despite the fact that you are central to their plans.

While they talk, another thought comes to mind. You wonder why none have so much as dared to broach another possibility—that there are three wild dragons upon the isle. Silverwing and Vermithor are not your only options.

Sleep is hard to come by, that same, pulsing sensation tingling through your limbs and keeping you awake.

Come, it seems to say. I am waiting.

You rise before the sun comes up. Septa Marlow is likely to be awake at this time, but she will not venture your way until the skies are bathed in light. Ser Criston does not begin his shift until an hour after you rise; his replacement is usually whomever can be spared.

It is even easier than usual to make your escape.

Dragonstone is an old fortress, and so there are a great many secret passages winding between rooms. You need only to check behind the tapestry along the inner wall to determine that an opening has been concealed. Brandishing the candle from your bedside, you slip into the looming maw that awaits.

Inside, it smells of damp and salt, and you can hear a faint, steady drip. It continues no matter which direction your feet take you, and you feel your breath stream from your mouth and nose in a cloud of warmth that gives the skin of your face and neck momentary respite from the wintry chill. The walls are rough-hewn, made for function rather than appeal, so you are careful where you place your hands.

Because you are so unfamiliar with the layout, you wander for what seems an age before you finally surface upon the outdoors, a dim glow emanating from between metal grates at the end of a dark tunnel. The hinges squeak shrilly as you push them open, shutting behind you with a clang. Your slippered feet sink into the sand upon the beach.

You do not know where you are headed—to find Vermithor or Silverwing, to find one of the wild ones, or simply to wander. All you know is that one of them is calling to you through the magic of old, the magic that ’Nyra and Papa have always said lives in the blood of the Targaryen line. It is how Papa knew that he was destined to be Balerion’s last rider. It is how ’Nyra found the courage to mount Syrax when she was so young. You feel it now, singing in your blood as it has since you crossed into the shallows surrounding the island.

Come and find me, it says. I am waiting.

You trudge along the beach, allowing the sand to sink into the opening of your shoes, to fill the small spaces between shoe and skin with stinging grit that collects between your toes and rubs to rawness. The wind whips at your hair and your robe—you did not bother to change from your evening wear—and the sound of the waves crash like thunder.

You walk. And, as you walk, you wait for the purpose to reveal itself, a part of you hoping that whomever you are meant to claim will find you.

You ought to be more careful of what you wish.

A dark shape swoops across the sky above you, casting you even further into shadow, and you hear the rumble of something powerful. The beat of its wings is great enough to be heard from a distance, you think, and stirs up the sand before you into a cloud of dirt and dust. The beast growls, deep and terrifying, raising the hairs on the back of your neck.

It lands ahead.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

The Cannibal.

He is enormous, far greater in size than Syrax, than Caraxes, than any dragon you have ever seen or read about. His scales are black—no—blacker than black, the complete absence of colour or brightness, and each muscle honed from years upon years of eking out his existence ripple below the skin. His lips peel back, exposing at least two rows of sharp, jagged teeth. Perfect for tearing me to bits, your mind supplies in your panic. His stocky frame hunches low, claws sunk into the sand, as though poised to attack, and he hisses, a rattling threat that fills you with the urge to run.

His eyes glow green. You feel it again.

Come. I am waiting.

What is it Ser Lysan said, again? If you want something, you must do whatever is in your power to achieve it.

Come. I am waiting.

It may be courage, it may be madness, but you are moving onward before you realise it. The dragon hisses again as you approach, and any moment you expect to be bathed in dragonfire or snapped up in his almighty jaws, but your footsteps remain as rapid as your heartbeat.

The attack does not come. The fire does not come.

Something more is at play here. You may only be twelve summers, but this you know. A dragon as fierce as the Cannibal would never let a person so close as this under ordinary circumstances. Old magic thrums through the air, a tether forming between you and the form ahead. A bond. A claim.

You reach out a hand. Skin to scale. Heat that ought to burn courses through you, but you are safe. You feel his pulse, your pulse, pounding through dermis, reforming your own to match.

Your eyes well. “Gierior glaeson ñuhon avy rhaenagon jumptan,” you whisper. I have waited my whole life to meet you. In the rumble he releases, you think he must believe the same of you.

Dressed only in your nightgown, you make the climb up his wing. He lets you, chuffing irritably as you seek out the correct handholds and footholds to make your way up. It is entirely different from mounting Caraxes; this dragon is much, much larger, and so you are forced to actively coordinate your movements to ascend the perilous terrain. Still, there is enough of memory remaining to you of that day, years ago, that you can draw some reference from. You rely on those recollections to hoist yourself up. Finally, you are able to settle somewhat awkwardly between the blunted spikes below his neck.

From far off, you can hear faint voices. Atop the crest of the Cannibal’s shoulder, you look to the horizon. The sun has risen. The world is awake, which means that Ser Criston and Septa Marlow will be leading the search for their wayward princess.

It startles the dragon. Before you are ready—before you would even have dared to tell him to fly—he shifts, growling so deep that the vibrations buzz through your legs, your toes. You jostle where you have perched, gripping frantically to the spike in front of you as he sets off on a crawl that morphs to a run, building momentum to flap his wings up and up and up—

“Princess!” echoes through the breeze as you rise. Below, you see the forms of the guards, of Ser Criston, of Septa, growing smaller and smaller as the dragon—your dragon—takes to the air.

You keep hold of the Cannibal’s spike as he soars through the skies, letting the wind billow your hair about. It is both the same and so, so very different from your first flight. It is freezing up here, for one thing, and you can discern no sound but that of the air whistling so stridently in your ears that it is like a shriek, and the dragon below you is warm enough to keep the worst of the chill at bay. Your belly swoops and twists with each wingbeat, the momentum rocking you forward every time, but none of the discomfort is enough to tamp down the sheer exhilaration.

The Cannibal turns, revolving away from the distant line where sky and sea meet toward the island again. The change in direction gives you a momentary reprieve from the rush of air hindering all noise, and you hear something else.

Beneath your legs, beneath your skin, you feel it as the Cannibal bellows to the world, a roar that pierces the still of morning and announces to all that his wait is over. That he has claimed his rider, that you have claimed your mount—that you have done what no one else has been able to and emerged victorious.

That feeling—the one that has plagued you—has changed, you realise. You have found me, it seems to say.

Yes, you think, turning your head to admire the expanse of this creature, this being who is and was always meant to be yours. I have.

When you land, Ser Criston and Septa Marlow nearly shake you from your body with the force of their panic, their vexation, their “You do not ever run off like that, do you hear me, Princess?” and their “Just wait until your father hears of this!” They try to dissuade you from your course, but the Keepers wring their hands and mutter that the deed has been done; there is no unbinding what has been bound by the magic of old.

Still, their refrain is just as shocked, just as bewildered. “The Cannibal, Princess,” they say, shaking their heads. “The Cannibal…”

“No,” you reply. “His name is Athfiezar.”

Dothraki is fairly new to you, ‘tis true, for Ser Lysan did not agree to teach you until well into your acquaintance. And there is a certain irony in the choice; many a person will surely raise their brows in question of your use of such a savage tongue, which is rather best suited for a dragon of his reputation. But the word—the name, for he has long gone without one, and it seems only right that he should have something of his own, free of the censure of old—seems apt enough. Love. That pure, uncorrupted kind, the kind you think you have been searching for your whole life, the kind you find in small moments that are never, ever enough for the gaping maw that is your heart awaiting someone to fill it. You just know the Cannibal—Athfiezar—is a creature with a soul like yours. How long has he gone without love?

Never again, you think. Not with me.

You hold onto that thought as Papa rails at you upon seeing the hulking behemoth touch upon the top of the Dragonpit, heralding your return to King’s Landing.

“You could have died! What in the blazes were you thinking, girl?” he yells.

He has never yelled at you before, and perhaps you might have cried once, but you keep firm to the memory of Athfiezar’s eyes upon yours, the life palpitating through his immense form into yours like some sort of cycle, elemental, mysterious. No matter what Papa says, no matter how he says it, it is as the Keepers said. The deed is done.

The news spreads like wildfire, bringing with it a most unwelcome attention. For much of your life, you had been largely ignored by court and commons—now, with having claimed such a dragon for your own, many a considering eye falls upon you. Their thoughts are louder than if they spoke them: perhaps we have gotten the wrong measure of this one. Perhaps she is worth more notice than we had given her. Invitations to tea come to your door with a regularity that is almost predictable; and, maybe worse, many an enquiring lord approaches Papa with the pivotal question upon their lips: “When is she to be wed, Your Grace?”

Your mother was wed at eleven—it is not impossible that you should be given to some man to settle a treaty or forge an alliance in due course. It is your duty as Princess, after all. One day, yes; but not now. Besides, all they truly desire is the power you have suddenly amassed. They do not want you.

You retreat into yourself, using all the courtesies Septa had imbued into you like plate steel to shield yourself from the worst of it. Save for your two freedoms—your Ser Lysan and your boy, Athfiezar—you commit to being the most polite, the most recalcitrant, the most dull creature you can be. You help ’Nyra with her boys where you can, for a useful girl is best kept than discarded, and your sister is the heir which means her rule will someday be law. You take on two ladies, noblewomen from Houses in the Reach, in accordance with your stepmother’s wishes. You try your very best to devote time to each, spreading yourself between what is rapidly developing into entirely separate factions in the Keep—the Princess and the Queen, the Blacks and the Greens, or so they are called. Such silly names, you think. And, over time, it all becomes less performative and more intrinsic. Your propriety is your defence, and you use it well.

But it will not last forever. One day—one day soon—you will be called in by Papa. You will be told that your life is no longer to be your own, but passed on into the care of a man you will call husband. You will be asked to choose he who will be your master, he who will use your womb to give his House sons and daughters of royal blood, and you will be expected to be glad for the opportunity to make the decision, that it was not taken out of your hands entirely.

You wait for the day, spending what evening hours you can in the Sept entreating the gods for their intercession. Please, you think, on your knees before an effigy of the Maiden. Please. Deliver to me a husband who will love me as I am.

You wait, you hold your breath, and you pray.

“The claiming of the Cannibal came as a great shock to the Realm, not least because of she who had claimed him. King Viserys’s younger daughter by his late Queen Aemma Arryn was by all accounts a diffident, well-mannered girl most unlike her elder sister… Several parties were of the view that the Princess ought to be wed quickly to keep her mighty mount out of the hands of those considered less than desirable. However, it was not until the year of 126 A.C. that the King finally consented to the courtship of the girl, with many a man seeking her hand. Of those suitors, only three were truly deemed worthy—Lord Jason of House Lannister, Lord Denys of House Tyrell, and the Princess’s own half-brother, the Prince Aegon.”

- 'Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros' by Archmaester Gyldayn

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chogiwow · 1 month

Text

for well and for good | park sunghoon

pairing: sunghoon x gn!reader

genre: angst

wc: 1k

warnings: allusions to a toxic past relationship (sunghoon and unnamed ex), crying (a lot), hurt-no-comfort fic, heartbreak; sunghoon realises his feelings for you too late

a/n: all i want is to break hearts <3

a/n pt 2: umm, not a solid plot but more so like a scene building concept?

there wasn’t a more heartbreaking moment than this, not for sunghoon; not even when the consequences of his actions that led him here had played out exactly as you had warned him it would.

now it was too late, and beg as he might, a heavy feeling in his chest slowly settled against his favour, a premonition turning true and cry as much as he wanted, everything was spiralling out of control so fast, he wasn’t sure who he should save first.

“(y/n)...(y/n) please, i can’t do this, i can’t live without you. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, please don’t leave, i need you…i love you.”

the more he weeped for a lost cause, the more it hurt your chest and ripped you apart piece by piece but you made no attempts at stopping the pain.

everyone had always assumed that you and sunghoon would be the endgame. it was so obvious! you both were head over heels for each other, but of course, of course the heart wavers ever so often now and then. sunghoon let himself ignore all the signs, pretend that the affection and sweet words weren’t another ploy for his wealth, his looks, his popularity, the safety and love he was so willing to provide someone, because he was always so very generous. generous and ridiculously naive; always looking to give away a piece of himself to anyone who so much as asked for it.

and a man in love is hard to sway again, especially when the man is sunghoon, with his giving nature and so much love that filled his heart that he couldn’t contain it any longer.

words were said – spit almost venomously at the cost of saving face and pride, and how dare you question his love and hers, when you had no business? how dare you make assumptions about this beautiful woman who loved him – at least he hoped she did – as much as he did?

and then…and then everything you said came true. your warnings carefully etched themselves like knife carvings on a paper – vehemently and so very stubbornly irreversible. now he’s here, after months of grieving not just the loss of his trust in love, but also you. and he had to make things right, but how does one convince a person they've broken and trampled upon so mercilessly, that they are indeed in love with them?

how does sunghoon convince you that he’s so utterly in love with you that he could physically feel the pain of your pointed ignoring and cold looks? how does he even begin to express how sorry he was when the unsaid apology squeezed the breath out of him in aggrieved pants? how does sunghoon not lose you again?

“”i’m sorry hoon, i can’t do this anymore. i can’t love you anymore, i don’t want to love you anymore…you’ve hurt me too much.”

“(y/n) please, please i beg you,”

and beg he did; getting down on his knees on the cold tile floors of your living room, he wrapped his arms around your waist and dampened your shirt with his hot tears. neither he nor you were making much sense of this conversation anymore.

he felt you shake in his embrace, your own tears and gasps of air breaking his chants of an apology, his hands tightening around you to physically feel your touch after months.

“hoon stop it,” a wretched sob, ugly as it sounded when it tumbled out of your lips in pain, like a helpless rotten fruit falling off its branches, makes you whimper and clutch onto the clinging man's hand who refused to let you go.

in a hurried motion sunghoon is up on his feet, holding you by the shoulder that shakes with the cries staining your cheeks.

“i can’t live without you, please give me another chance,” he shakes his head frantically, mumbling out his words in a frenzy as he is yet again painfully reminded of exactly how weighted his words were and how much truth they held in them. it weighed him down, your refusal to look past this, like a sack of cotton drowning in water, and yet he could not bring himself to blame you, hoping against hope that his words would make a change.

his lips find your forehead, pressing down on them in a hot kiss; the trembling of his lips breaks you, you wish would stop – but he doesn’t. he’s kissing your shoulder, your arms, your wrists, your palms and he’s kissing your forehead – again and again and again and again – until you push yourself away, your eyes closed, shaking your head.

“don’t, it’s time we stopped this. we can’t hope for things that were never meant to be.”

sunghoon was standing on the edge of a cliff, and you just pushed him off into a bottomless pit that made his insides curl into themselves, his hands shooting in the air for something to grasp but there’s only air that passes through his fingers like bullets.

in his last attempt he kisses you on the lips. he holds your face so gently and kisses you so deeply and for a moment you feel yourself swaying. you let him kiss you, because you know this would be the last time you would let this happen. you whimper into his mouth and he lets a broken sob tumble on your lips where it stays as a reminder of this very moment, searing you both apart. you don’t kiss back.

“stop it, please. you’re hurting me.” it’s a whispered plea, but to sunghoon it’s a huge boulder that blocks his way from you. you’ve planted it there for once and for all, and he knows that there’s nothing he can do to make you move it.

“i’m sorry, i love you, but i don't want to anymore. i’m sorry.”

sunghoon rests his forehead against yours, your tears mingled and continuous and he knows he’s lost you now, for well and for good.

#enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x reader #enhypen angst #enhy[en x reader #enhypen sunghoon #my writings

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itstheghostofmypast · 13 days

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Lime Milkshake

Non-Idol Choi San x (f)Reader

Summary: Love is not a feeling that comes without a cost, a give-and-take relationship that flourishes if both ends of the line meet at a pleasant frequency. Choi San had yet to understand that concept, especially when he deemed himself to be unworthy of love, in all its forms.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 5.1k

Est Read Time: 25 minutes

Warnings: past relationship trauma, language, ghosting (it triggers me so yes)

Rating: PG-13

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Banner: @cafekitsune

Fate had never been fair, not with anyone who ever dared to dance with it, and luck was often watching from the sidelines, that's exactly how he felt when he saw her walk in with another man that day, watching the way she laughed at something the stranger had said to her- whispered to her, leaning closer to her, who knew the girl he had given his heart to was busy fooling around with it. That day he had stomped out of the shop, making sure to walk past her, feeling her body tense up, breath hitch and eyes widen as she turned her head to face him, locking her panicked orbs with his cold, hard ones-, a look she had never been a victim to before. That was the last time he had seen her, spoken to her, responded to her texts or even made the effort to open the door.

The thing about love is that it leaves a mark, an imprint that one may either wear proudly or cover with shame. She wasn't the first person he had been with, no, he had been in a few other situationships- unfortunately, she wasn't a situationship, she was a relationship, much like his previous ex- the one who had cheated on him with his own best friend, ironically his best friend was unaware of the relationship. He never thought that one night he'd visit her apartment, to surprise her, a day before his birthday, that he wanted to celebrate with his lover, his Bora, his angel, and find none other than Jung Wooyoung with her on her bed. It took Wooyoung four days to force San out of his room and another six for him to actually communicate with him, Bora was already out of the story, someone who didn't even bother calling back San or trying to reach out to him. That day Wooyoung had seen his best friend implode, keeping it in more than his introverted self ever did before, he was shy by nature and was one to put up a strong front to match his physical presence (the current big mountainous one) the old Sannie was as fragile as his porcelain heart, the recent development however was the addition of his nonchalance followed by his tactic to ignore the situation. The younger man had practically broken into his apartment to talk to him, only to find him mindlessly scrolling on his phone, he sat beside him, trying to talk to him but what he had received was a step ahead of the silent treatment- it was as if he was invisible like he wasn't even there. To get a reaction when Wooyoung had snatched it out of his hand and flung it across the room, the man simply grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, mumbling to himself about some movie- it was only two hours in of him sitting with Wooyoung in silence when his head whipped in the direction of his friend, at the sound of a broken sob, he'd never seen Wooyoung cry, let alone sob like that. It was after that when the two finally talked it out, how Wooyoung explained how he never knew San was in a relationship with Bora, and perhaps San shouldn't have hidden his relationship with her if he truly loved her, even if she had asked for it, he should've at least kept him in the loop.

He did thus keep him in the loop, for one fine afternoon Wooyoung had received a text from San, while he was busy cleaning at home,

"It's over, don't meet her anymore, she's just like her."

Her- two years had passed and she still haunted his best friend, keeping him awake at night until he met someone else, Wooyoung was glad he had, for once San had met someone different, someone who would pull out San from the bubble he hid in, she was honest but careful with her words which Wooyoung had noticed, the two had met at a 7-Eleven at midnight, buying a lime milkshake and bonding over how disgusting of a midnight snack that was- though San had told him how she had done most of the talking, even while he walked her home she was talking, they had exchanged numbers because she had suggested becoming "mid-night snack buddies"- initially Woo thought she meant that sexually, but ironically she didn't, there was no other implication, but honest words of sincerity, a range of snacks were exchanged and shared and slowly San had begun to fall again, only this time he knew his mountain of a friend would fall into her arms and she'd catch him. Or so he thought, the text itself was something that had scared him, as soon as he read it, he was quick to leave his home to his friend's side, only to find her at his door, crying and asking for his help. Initially, he had thought she was no different, just as San had suggested, but it occurred to him how Bora had never cried like this, never tried to fight for San- if she truly was different then she would try no matter what, which is why he had decided to stay out of the matter, only advising her to "Don't give up on him." San, at the realisation that this was Wooyoung's advice, was, to say the least, enraged. His now ex would be at his door all the time, he blocked her number and email address, and made sure she couldn't find him on social media, at one point she began to show up at his door, knocking, gently calling him out, "Sannie, please I- I don't know what I've done, but please listen to me or at least talk to me." He'd ignore her diligently, making sure to leave a message, of how he didn't want her, how she was like her, how she was no different and how he was not someone to play around with. This went on for months, five to be exact, not that he was counting, she came to his door whenever she knew he was home from work, gently knocking on the door, "Hey... it's me, I just wanna talk." "Sannie, please, please just tell me what I did wrong?" "I hope you're taking care of yourself..." "Hey...Wooyoung told me about her...I'm not her San, I'm not Bora-"That was the last time he had heard from her, that night, he had almost opened the door, instead opting to lean his forehead against it, listening to her laboured breathing, "I- I don't know why you think I'd ever do that to you...I don't even know what I did to trigger this- please San, I know you're there. I know you can hear me- everyone in this building thinks I'm insane, like I'm a lunatic- I don't care about that but San I- please don't ghost me like that, don't pretend I never existed....just open the door...if you won't I..." he had heard the way her voice had cracked, his own resolve had begun to crack as well, but when he closed his eyes to keep the waterworks at bay, the image that flashed in front of his eyes was not hers- it was of the one who did this to him, he was so distracted by the face of his ex that he had almost missed her final call, "I won't bother you anymore."

It wasn't fair how all he asked was for true love, yet he was given something bitter as this every time he received any, it was unfair how he'd still cling to the memories, onto the habits and the little activities, only to make himself feel better, to feel whole again. It wasn't fair how he was now climbing down the damp, slippery stairs, on his way to have a disgusting, cold, unworthy lime milkshake. It took him a while to come out of the habits he had developed with Bora, but now that he thinks about it, those comprised of usually pleasing his ex, it was different with her, she'd usually look for a middle ground. Scoffing to himself he stuffed his hands in his jacket, what did it matter, he hadn't heard from her since that night, he hadn't heard from her for almost a year, she was no different, at the end it was only-

"Ah!"

His ears picked up a loud thump, followed by the sound of things clattering around, a pained cry had him focusing on a crouched figure, leaning against the wall almost at the base of the stairs- oh no, they must've slipped. Making his way quickly, but carefully down the remaining concrete steps he clicked his tongue at the figure, a woman, "Miss, are you okay?" He asked as she watched her gripping her ankle, and let out a shaky breath, she couldn't hear him. Moving closer he tapped her shoulder, "Miss, do you need.... help..." his words died down as his eyes locked with a familiar misty pair, which widened upon a sudden realisation. Honestly, she was quicker than him, shaking her head and mumbling an, "I'm fine", before trying to reach for her bag and its fallen contents hastily, not sparing him a glance.

Did she change her hair?

Did he change his hair?

Her mind raced with a thousand questions, but she didn't listen to any, quickly trying to stuff whatever she had dropped, back in her bag, her keys, her wallet, her perfume, and her…her phone? A gasp escaped her as she continued to frantically look around, hands slapping against the dimly lit stairs, cringing at the wet dirt that stuck to her palm.

He watched her silently, frozen in the spot as he tried to process what had just happened, how did he not notice her walking before him? He hadn't noticed anyone at all, why was she out at this hour? It was still drizzling a bit; it was cold and- since when did she wear wide-legged pants? Sandals in the rain? His ear picked up her little gasp, picking up her little "Where's my phone...", he saw the glint of the device on two steps below, making his way around her to go down quietly.

She felt his gaze on her, somewhat humiliated, somewhat angry and truly upset. Why was he not helping her? Was he just going to stand there and watch? The San she knew wasn't like this, he was cold-hearted- she saw him crouch down to grab something, her phone- shit- the screen lit up, reflecting off his eyes that had widened for a split second before he closed them, letting out a sigh and locking the screen.

He picked up her phone, pushing the lock button to check the damage, only for his breath to hitch at the sight of her wallpaper, it was the first couple picture they had taken together, one she had coaxed him into after three months of being together;

"Don't worry, it won't have your face or mine." "I... how?" "Watch, just stop walking." She instructed as he stood still, still carrying her on his back, this was a habit that developed when she'd come to the store after leaving work way later than she had imagined, which is why walking back was a bother, so he had brought up this suggestion, "You're wearing trousers anyway." Regardless of how worried she was, he held her with ease, carrying her up the same steps they were now on.

This picture was a shadow of the two, with her on his back, this was the picture she had as her wallpaper when they were dating as well- a year ago. He walked over to her, looking at her face, trying to read through her turmoil, something twisting within him as she stared up at him for a split second before looking away, the familiar words ringing in his ears, "I'm not Bora."

She looked away from his face, chewing on her lower lip, almost ashamed that he had caught her like this, that he had found out how she still hadn't moved on, as she tried to move her leg, only to wince, eying the reddened ankle swelling as the now tight strap of her sandal pressed against the skin.

Crouching down he slipped her phone into her back before gently pulling it out of her hand, turning around before she could protest as he stood there, facing ahead, pondering for a moment, before sitting down on the step after hers, quietly waiting for her to understand the signal.

"I- I'm fine, I can walk-"

He sighed, turning around to look at her with a frown, "You can't walk."

"I don't need your help," she looked away, slowly trying to stand up as she braced herself for the pain, only for him to grab onto her arm and move it around his shoulder, manoeuvring so she had to cling onto him when he stood up at full height, arms wrapping around his neck as he hooked his arms under knees.

"No, you do need my help. You don't want my help." He sighed, as he slowly started making his way down the last step, walking down the pathway, ignoring how she let out a shaky breath, her fingers digging into his cotton shirt when he took a quick step, the jerk causing her to wince, making him mumble a small "Sorry."

"It's okay..." she whispered, her warm breath against his neck causing him to shiver, as he cleared his throat to distract himself, before asking her the real question, "Where were you headed?"

"...7/Eleven."

He stopped walking.

"Oh."

"Yeah..."

"Why?"

"I think you know why."

That's how the two found themselves sitting on the footpath, grimacing at the weird taste of the lime milkshake, watching the once-in-a-blue-moon car pass by, her bag in between them. She didn't know he had finished before her, but he had stood up and walked back inside the shop, causing her to turn her upper body to look at him walk inside, he'd grown prettier since the last time she saw him- well he was always pretty- she quickly turned back when he came outside with a paper bag in hand, trying to act casual, only that failed when he crouched down in front of her reaching for her ankle, "ITS OKAY-"

Clicking his tongue, he glanced up at her, narrowing his eyes when she cleared her throat, letting him have a look. Folding up the wide end of her pant leg he frowned, "This is bad..." he mumbled, undoing her sandal buckle with deft fingers, watching the imprint in the swollen, pink skin, "Since when did you where such pants?"

"I was trying something new." She sighed, placing the empty bottle of her shake next to her, reaching for her ankle, "I-I'll put some ice on it, it's fine."

"Why did you do it?"

His question caught her off guard, causing her to look at him all confused for a second, before pouting "Wear...sandals? Cause they matched-"

"Cheat on me."

"What?" She frowned, "I didn't cheat on you- San, I understand that lady hurt you, but I'm not her and if you weren't ready to move on, you should've said so." She scoffed, amused and angered by the fact that she had been crying each night for a man, who couldn't see past his ex, what was she? Some form of comfort cushion for him to use when he'd miss his ex?

"Then" he placed his hand on her ankle, gently massaging it, though he narrowed his eyes, glaring at her, a contrast between the way he looked at her and the way he was touching her ankle, "Who was that guy? At the cafe? You don't think I noticed how he was whispering to you?"

Reaching forward she slapped his hand, hard, only for her palm to hit her own ankle in the process, hissing in pain as she looked at him tear-eyed.

"OW- WHY WOULD YOU- ARE U MAD?" He yelled, pushing her hand away as he tenderly ran his thumb over the bluish skin, "Why would you hit your own bruise?" He sighed, before pulling out an ointment from the paper bag with his other hand, ignoring the way she was glaring at him, maybe she did lose her mind when they broke it off.

He had begun massaging the ointment on her ankle, not looking at her, though he could feel her glaring daggers at him, watching him work on her, and for some reason, though he didn't care, he didn't mind. It was as if the voice inside of him was berating him, scolding him for letting his insecurities get the best of him, pushing away the only person who had accepted to glue back the shattered pieces of his heart, promising to place in pieces of hers in the cracks that were left by missing pieces.

"I hate you."

His hands paused, one holding her ankle and his other hand holding the gauze, not an ounce in him wanted to look at her, wanted to see the hurt that swirled in her eyes, her words hung in the air, still as the mist on a cold bitter morning, perhaps such as this one, it was already past midnight. Clearing his throat, he continued his work as if nothing had happened, not daring to look up at her. Once he was done, he inspected his work before standing up, ignoring how her head followed his movements, still looking up at him, as if waiting for an answer, though he had nothing to give her, she hadn’t answered his question as well, she had only rejected the accusation. He grabbed her sandals in one hand and slung her bag over his shoulder before turning around and crouching down once more, the expanse of his back at her view, making her scoff, but she slowly got on, mumbling an ‘I still hate you.’

He had been making his way up the steps when he began to feel her tighten her arms around his neck, ignoring her for a minute or two, maybe she was scared she’d fall, so he let it be. That is until it became a bit too difficult for him to breathe for which he wheezed out,

“I can’t breathe.”

She let out a small gasp, “Aww…really?” before her grip tightened causing him to stop on a step, coughing out her name.

“That’s how I felt EVERY NIGHT when you IGNORED ME!”

Her grip loosened to its usual strength as he coughed for air, one of his hands flat against the wall as he tried to steady himself, letting go of her uninjured leg, feeling it wrap around him, wiping away a bit of drool with the back of his hand he hissed in anger, “You still haven’t told me who he was? What do you take me for-

“AN IDIOT, I TAKE YOU FOR AN IDIOT!”

“WHAT?” turning his head to glare at her, he frowned as she leaned over his shoulder to glare back with the same intensity, the volume of their voices wasn’t helping either, if anyone were to see them they’d probably call the cops, though that didn’t stop him from finally blowing up, letting out everything he should have the first time she came over to apologise, “WHY? WHY AM I THE IDIOT WHEN ALL I DID WAS WAIT FOR YOU AT THE CAFÉ LIKE YOU ASKED ME TO? AND THEN YOU BRING OVER SOME GUY AND-

“HE WAS THE F*CKING REAL ESTATE AGENT AND HE IS GAY!”

Just like the previous statement she had bombarded him with, her words hung in the air around them once more, the only sound that was evident to the ear was their heavy breaths, though he could see the way her ears had turned pink, not from the cold nipping at her but the anger that he had caused to run through her veins, “I- I can’t believe you, you walked out on me, you never let me explain and- and all I wanted to do was to surprise you with an apartment we could share.” She sighed, slowly letting go of him, causing him to panic, though she pulled back holding the handrail, “Just give me my stuff, thanks for today, just pretend none of this happened, you’re good at that anyway.”

Turning around to look at her he watched her reach for her bag that he was still holding onto, only for him to pull away, biting his lip to hold back the flood of emotions, especially when she looked up at him all exhausted, “I really did think Wooyoung was right, that you’d give me a chance but- I, I don’t think you were ready for something new and-

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, catching her off guard, eyes widening at the way he looked down at his shoes, holding onto her purse like it was his own, or perhaps he was holding onto something that was hers, the only piece that was not taken away, much like the memories of her, of how she loved him through the darkest patches of his life, how she spent time peeling away each layer with delicate movements, how she spent most of her time trying to understand him, how she’d be there with her melody, trying to soothe his aching soul, only for him to toss her out when the voices inside became so loud he couldn’t hear her’s anymore.

“You’re…sorry?”

“Yeah, I- Hey!” he almost lost his footing when she shoved him, staring at her in shock, for the love of God, they were still on the stairs, “Don’t do that,” he held onto her wrists when she almost shoved him again.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me she hurt you like that, you- don’t you think I would’ve stayed with you? I love you- I- I helped you as much as I could and if I knew you needed professional help I would’ve stayed by your side- did I not love you enough for you to realise that?” her words cut through him, it was as if reality had come and punched him in the face for her, “What’s the point of being so tough of on the outside when you’re hurting on the inside, indirectly hurting everyone who chooses loves you…” He watched her sigh, her resolve breaking as she looked up at him, streaks of fresh tears painting her face, causing his breath to hitch at the sight- no, if he had opened the door on the first day he would’ve cracked, he would’ve crumbled at her feet and to think he didn’t, to think he had let her cry like this at his doorstep for so long, to have her break down, to lose a piece of her every night because he was too afraid to confront her, even though she had come to him, fate was not cruel to him, no, for once fate had pitied him, by sending him a form of compensation he was unworthy of, a form of love that he was unworthy of, for he was unworthy of her.

“I…” his head hung low, fingers tightening around her wrists as he let out a quiet sob, before he slowly sat down, the world around him spinning a bit too fast, though he did not know she had followed after, he didn’t even know when he started bawling his eyes out, his deafening cries were being muffled by her shoulder as she hugged him close, a soothing hand rubbed his back, though she never shushed him, never asked him to stop, in fact, it was as if she was encouraging him to continue crying, to let it all out. Soon his sobs turned into incoherent apologies, which morphed into hiccups of her name, squeezing her close to him as she pressed his face into her neck, whining and mumbling about- honestly, she couldn’t even understand him, she was just glad he had finally decided to let it out, to finally feel whatever he had barricaded away, whatever was stopping him from loving and feeling loved. He doesn’t know how long it took, but he’s sure it was after a solid twenty minutes when he finally peaked up at her, catching the way she gave him a small smile, only for him to whine and hide back in her neck, mumbling, “Do you still hate me?”

“I don’t hate you San, I just hate what you did to me.” She sighed, slowly peeling him off her as she cupped his face, taking note of his puffy eyes and red nose, her thumbs caressing the warm and wet skin below his eyes, “I don’t think I deserved to be punished for something I didn’t do.” He could only meekly nod at her statement, before sniffing and letting out a shaky breath, followed by another apology which she nodded at. Standing up he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, before he picked up her things once more, turning around so she could hop onto his back.

“I can slowly walk there, you know?” she asked only for him to shake his head, not even turning to look at her as he did so, just waiting for her to do as he asked, which she did thankfully.

The walk to her apartment was quiet, though not as tense as the walk to the store was, or before they finally fought, in fact, she felt quite better, she didn’t really know about him, but it had been a long time since she had felt this light as if the weight of the horrid world had been lifted of her shoulders. Ever so often, she’d hear him sniff, but that was all, halfway up the elevator ride to her apartment she felt him gripping her tighter, closer, though she did not say anything.

It was when she was at the door when she tried to move but he didn’t let go, instead stood there facing the door with her on his back, not saying a word or moving an inch.

“San.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t lose you again.”

She sighed at his statement, before giving what was similar to a back hug, placing a kiss on his shoulder, slowly slipping out when he eased because of her antics. Limping over to the door she finally unlocked it, turning to look up at a dejected mountain of a man, holding onto her pink sandals in one hand, while on his shoulder clutched close to his body was her hot pink purse, if this wasn’t a serious moment she may have even laughed. Still, the sight of him standing there, like a kitten kicked in the rain had her gripping the doorknob, wondering what she should do next, was it worth the effort? Was giving him another chance worth the risk of the pain? All that therapy she had to go through when she decided to move on- but had she moved on? Well, she thought she did, until she met him again tonight until he began to carry her down the stairs, until she realised he too was going for that horrid drink, until he sat there quietly drinking it with her, until he began to treat her injury as if nothing had happened- perhaps a part of her did not want to move on, or was she waiting to see if he had moved on?

“I can’t just…forget everything San.” She finally gave into the rational part of her being, “I can’t help someone, who doesn’t want to help himself,” looking up at him she noticed the way his eyes had watered, his lower lip trembling, much like his shoulders, “I need to know if what I’m fighting for is worth it? Are we really worth it, Sannie?”

His ears picked up the little nickname, most people who were close to him would call him that, but when the name slipped off her tongue, his heart grew bigger three sizes, his heart grew braver three sizes, something ignited within his soul, his fingertips tingling with a new found sensation, his eyes met hers, eyes burning with a new found determination, a newfound realisation, “We are. I need to make it up to you, I want to make it up to you, I will make it up to you…” he paused, before taking a deep breath, “Only if you let me.”

She looked at him quietly, taking in his words, perhaps she had woken up someone who lay asleep for years, slowly losing himself within the broken shell of a man who walked aimlessly around the Earth claiming to be Choi San, perhaps this was the real Choi San, the one Wooyoung had told her to fight for, the one Wooyoung had told her would love her endlessly, would hold onto her tighter than she’d hold onto him, the one who was to bring down the galaxy and present it to her on his palm, all wrapped within his love and admiration for her.

“I have to go for talking therapy at 8 pm tomorrow.”

“We have to go for our talking therapy at 8 pm tomorrow.” With that he handed her the purse, leaning closer to the door before opening it and picking her up princess style, her sandals still hanging off his fingers as she scoffed, wrapping her arms around him, “You’re sleeping on the couch though.”

“As long as I still have a date with you tomorrow.”

“Again, it’s therapy.”

“Therapy dates can be our thing.” He smiled down at her, a genuine smile, a smile that she had barely seen, one that came with the dimples and the crinkle of his nose, his teeth peaking out at her, contagious enough for her to morph a similar smile, perhaps not as pretty as his, but for him, it was the brightest, most beautiful, most charming smile he had ever seen, the very sight he would long for each night, when his self-induced state of pity would subside and the kinder, selfless San would resurface, the one who had decided to set the same picture as his wallpaper as her own- that’s why he was so shocked to find out that even though the two hadn’t met for almost a year, or talked to each other, they somehow still happened to have the same wallpaper- guess fate really did know what she was doing, enough to have the two craving the disgusting, ungodly lime milkshake.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky

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joodlepo · 2 years

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Stray Kids Reactions / To Squirting (18+)

Summary / After an intense fucking session, Stray Kids' members are left in a state of post-orgasmic bliss. However, each member is left with their own unique reaction to seeing you squirt for the first time!

A/N / Hello~! I'm very excited to say that I'm officially taking requests right now, so if you want to request something from me, feel free. I'm not a professional writer or anything, but I can try my best! Please make sure to read my requests guidelines first before requesting! Thank you!

Pairings / (Top) Every Member + (F) Reader

Word Count / 11.0k

Warnings / Squirting, Spanking, Bondage, Choking, Humiliation, Fingering, Degradation, Multiple Orgasms, Roughness, Aftercare, Hard Domination,

Bang Chan / A series of hard smacks fell flat against your ass, each one making your flesh ripple and sting. You couldn't help but wince, the pain was almost too much to take in. Chan wasn't going easy on you; and he wanted this as bad as you did, if not more so.

Your body felt like it would burst into flames at any moment, with all that heat rushing through every inch of your skin. He didn't stop until you were sobbing out loud for him to let up, begging him silently between gasps for air to please just give you a break, before you passed out right here. The humiliation that burned inside you was even worse than the fire burning within your cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Chan said softly, once you had quieted enough to hear him over your own breathing. "But, I have to make sure my babygirl learns her place~"

His tone became more gentle when he spoke, and you knew exactly what he meant by that sentence. You whimpered quietly beneath him, while tears began to stream freely down your face. It hurt so badly...

No. You have to endure it.

You loved this man too much to ever tell him no or walk away. Even now, laying helplessly under his firm grip and heavy palm, you wouldn't dream of doing anything other than taking whatever punishment he dished out, however harsh it may be. His love for you was far greater than the pain he could inflict upon you, after all.

So, instead of crying out in despair, you simply held yourself perfectly still and endured his assault without complaint, only letting out soft whimpers of agony whenever he struck a particularly painful spot on your rear end, which seemed to happen often.

"Ahh..." You mewled softly, biting back another cry as yet another slap rang loudly off your butt cheek. "Chan, p-please—"

Chan growled lowly in response, tightening his hold around you, before pounding himself deeply into you with renewed vigor, eliciting a fresh round of cries from both of you. Trembling beneath him, you felt weak and shaky, completely unable to do anything else but hold onto the bedsheets tightly and grit your teeth together as he thrusts into you mercilessly, ignoring how wet he'd made you already.

Every thrust sent sharp bolts of pleasure coursing through your lower regions, making them throb madly and beg for release, though you refused to allow it, at the risk being punished even further.

"Shhh... babygirl." He cooed soothingly, rubbing circles along your backside where he'd hit you most harshly. " It'll be okay soon... Just hang in there a bit longer, alright?"

The thought of enduring more punishment filled your mind, but you forced yourself to nod anyways. You weren't about to disappoint him either way.

As always, Chan's words proved true within moments. He began to slow down, giving you time to catch your breath between each thrust. After several long seconds, he began to move again, slowly at first, then faster and harder as the passion built inside you. Soon enough, he picked up speed dramatically, slamming into you roughly over and over until you cried out incoherently, shaking uncontrollably underneath him.

Each deep plunge left you feeling raw and exposed, causing an intense wave of sensation to wash over your entire body as he plundered you relentlessly, leaving nothing untouched save your poor, abused bottom.

"Ahh! Fuck... I-I can't take anymore!" You gasped, writhing wildly beneath him.

Chan swiftly continued to ignore you, pounding into you forcefully regardless, driving you closer and closer towards climax. With a gasp, you came undone, screaming wordlessly into the sheets as waves of pleasure crashed over you, sending you spiraling deeper into oblivion with each passing second. Panting and trembling, you tried desperately to get some semblance of composure, but found that impossible given the intensity of your orgasm.

All sense fled from you as the blissful euphoria consumed you, leaving only your core pulsating with unending desire, yearning to feel Chan's touch once more. However, one single action stopped him dead in his tracks.

Your eyes shot open wide in surprise as you started to squirt all over his cock, drenching him with your juices. Your legs quivered violently beneath you, buckling slightly as you trembled and shuddered with pleasure. At last, Chan slowed his pace considerably, allowing you to come down from your high slowly. When he finally pulled free of you, you collapsed bonelessly against the mattress, panting heavily and staring blankly ahead.

For a good minute, neither one of you moved. Chan was in complete shock, his jaw hanging slack and his hand frozen halfway toward your ass. On the other side, you were utterly mortified. Not because of the fact that you just orgasmed like a slutty little whore, but rather, the fact that you had done so right in front of him.

The very thought of him seeing your naked body sprawled out across his bed, glistening with your arousal, turned you beet red, despite everything.

"Woah... what happened? Are you alright?" He asked nervously, moving forward gingerly to check on you.

You nodded shyly, blushing furiously. "I'm fine..."

Still unsure of whether he should believe you or not, Chan sat beside you and gently brushed your hair aside. "Are you sure? You uhm... squirted pretty hard there..."

"Y-Yeah, I did. I'm sorry if I had ruined the mood for us," You said apologetically, averting his gaze from him.

Chan's brow furrowed worriedly, and he leaned down to give you a kiss. "It's okay. That was actually kinda hot. Maybe I should start being rough more often..."

"R-Really?!" You exclaimed excitedly, tilting your head up to look at him.

A mischievous grin spread across his face, dimples appearing in his cheeks and causing you to smile bashfully in return. "Mhm. Just as long as you keep squirting for me, babygirl~"

The two of you shared another quick peck, before he began to pleasure your insides with his fingers, coaxing out several small aftershocks from your sensitive pussy.

His thumb rubbed teasing circles around your clit while his finger worked its magic, bringing you quickly back to full strength. As much as you wanted him to continue, however, he knew better than to push your limits any further tonight. Instead, he simply teased you mercilessly, prolonging the inevitable by making you wait for it.

Lee Minho / Minho's moist tongue didn't hesitate to plunge itself deep into your pussy, causing you to gasp audibly. The feeling of his lips on your clit was incredible — almost too much to bear at first. He lapped up every drop that spilled out from between your legs, then going back for more. You were so turned on by the sight of him devouring you like this; it made your insides softly melt away into pure pleasure.

His hands stroked down over your thighs as he ate you, pressing against them in a way that felt quite intimate. Your whole body tingled all over when he did this, especially where his fingers dug into your skin. It wasn't long before you began buckling under the pressure of how good everything felt. You couldn't take anymore without coming...

"Minho," You whimpered softly, "I'm gonna—"

"You better not." Minho threatened darkly, shoving two thick fingers inside you, curving them so they rubbed directly across your g-spot while still thrusting his tongue hard and fast along your throbbing clit. "Don't even think about cumming until I tell you to... or else. Got it?"

He punctuated each word with another lick, and the stimulation sent waves rippling through you, causing goose bumps to break out all over your arms and shoulders. Everything seemed far away now, except for those delicious sensations flooding through your entire being. They grew stronger until there was no stopping what happened next. A sharp gasp escapes, and suddenly your stomach lurched violently.

The room began to spin around you, making your head spin even more than it already had been. But instead of falling off the bed or passing out altogether, something else took control: your orgasmic bliss.

All of it washed over you like a wave, crashing down upon you one last time. This new sensation was close to giving you such an intense release unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. Still, you did your absolute best to hold it back — knowing full well how Minho would react if you didn't, but also wanting desperately to prolong what felt like the most amazing thing imaginable.

"Don't stop!" You cry out loudly, grabbing onto Minho's hair tightly as he continues eating you out rather greedily. "Fuck! Don't stop, don't fucking stop, please just keep going... I can't take no more..."

"Needy little bitch," He growls, continuing to lap up every bit of cum that spills from within you. You're panting heavily, trying desperately not to lose consciousness. "Although, hearing you beg me to do things is kinda hot~"

Minho pulls his mouth away, licking his lips slowly.

He looks up at you with a wicked grin on his face, which only makes your heart skip several beats in response. No doubt, he knew exactly how sexy he looked right now, looking all smug and satisfied after pleasuring you so thoroughly. Then, without warning, he grabs you roughly by the hips and flips you over. You squeak loudly, but only because of the suddenness of it all, otherwise you wouldn't have cared about being manhandled.

As soon as you lay face down on the sheets, Minho sits back up, lifting both your legs high above your head. Before you can protest, he takes advantage of this position and enters, pushing himself deeper each time. With your lower half raised in the air, there isn't anywhere for you to go except forward. And once again, you feel completely powerless to resist. You're held firmly in place as Minho begins pounding you mercilessly, his cock sliding easily and deeply within you.

There's nothing stopping him from doing whatever he wants, and you know it.

Suddenly, you felt your own mind going blank. There's nothing but pleasure. Nothing but Minho. As he pounds into you harder and faster, your body begins to shake uncontrollably. You squeeze tight around his shaft, trying to pull him even further inside you. Every part of you feels hypersensitive, like your nerves are firing off signals at random. Even breathing becomes difficult.

Out of nowhere, you feel a intense surge of juices burst out from between your legs, coating Minho's cock. You gasp aloud, surprised at yourself, but you don't care. Liquid drips down onto your inner thighs, pooling around your knees. Your eyes roll back into your head, and you start moaning louder and louder, unable to help it.

Everything around you seems distant, fading quickly away.

Your whole world is reduced to Minho's cock plunging relentlessly inside you, filling you entirely. Over and over again, he buries himself deep inside you, taking all of your essence and leaving none behind. It's almost painful, feeling every inch of him stretching you wide open. Yet somehow, that pain is turned to pure ecstasy.

All too suddenly, Minho stops, pulling his dick out of you with a loud pop. You let out a disappointed moan, reaching blindly toward him. A second later, though, you hear him laugh.

"Damn," He says playfully, "Look at all the juice you made for me~!"

His words bring you back to reality. Forcing your eyelids open, you look down between your legs. Sure enough, a large puddle of clear liquid has formed underneath you, covering folds of your skin in sticky strands of fluid. You reach down to touch it, then immediately recoil when you realize what you've done.

"Shit," You say out loud, wiping the mess off your hand onto the sheet beneath you. "I'm sorry..."

"Sorry? This?" Minho asks, sounding amused. "You should feel proud. That stuff was pretty much the sexiest thing I think I've seen yet."

"Sexy?" You ask incredulously, glancing up at him. "Are you serious? We were just—"

Before you can finish your sentence, Minho leans down and kisses you hard on the lips. His tongue slips past your parted lips, exploring your mouth eagerly. You whimper softly, still shocked by how quickly everything happened. But before long, you find yourself kissing him back, letting him lead the way. His hands move up your sides, cupping your breasts possessively. They bounce slightly as he squeezes them, causing you to squeal lightly.

"Just what? Just started having sex?" Minho teases, leaning back up and smirking. "That doesn't count."

"Shut up," You reply with an annoyed sigh, rolling your eyes. You glance down at the mess you made, noticing for the first time how wet your thighs actually are. The bedsheets were soaked through, and there's no denying it; you came quite a bit during those last few minutes. Not that you minded, of course.

Seo Changbin / Changbin's hand gently wrapped around your throat, carful to not hurt you. You whimpered and squirmed as he leaned in closer so his lips could kiss yours softly on the neck. He slowly ran a finger along your jawline down, and towards your earlobe, where it would rest for just an instant, before sliding back up again. His breath was hot against your skin, and you shivered from head-to-toe with anticipation of what else he had planned.

Your hands were free now that they weren't holding onto him anymore, but Changbin didn't seem inclined to let go yet. Instead, he began tracing lines all over your body; starting at your collarbone then moving upwards until his fingers found their way under your shirt. The moment he touched bare flesh, you gasped out loud and pulled away slightly - only to have him grip even tighter around your waist, preventing any escape.

"I won't be gentle," He whispered into your ear, sending another wave of goosebumps through every inch of your body. "You're mine now."

He slid both hands up underneath your bra, cupping each breast carefully while keeping one hand firmly clamped around your stomach. Your breathing grew heavier when his thumb grazed across your nipple and sent tingling sensations throughout your entire chest.

With no other option available right now, you simply nodded silently and closed your eyes tight as if hoping this whole ordeal would never end... And fortunately, it seemed like things were about to get much more interesting between the two of you very shortly.

As he continued kissing you passionately, Changbin unclasped your bra completely. It fell off your shoulders and landed somewhere near the bed behind you, leaving you naked and exposed to him once again. With nothing left to hide, you decided to give in fully to whatever was going to happen next.

You opened yourself up entirely to him, giving full reign to do with you as he pleased.

His hands moved quickly after that, taking advantage of how eager you were to please by pushing your pants down further and fumbling with the buttons. After several seconds of struggling, he managed to open them enough to pull down your panties without removing them altogether. They ended up falling to either side of your ankles, allowing him easy access to your pussy.

The second his tongue made contact with your folds, you came almost instantly. A long moan escaped your mouth as pleasure coursed through every single part of your body; causing your hips to buck wildly beneath him. He responded immediately, lapping up everything he could find inside your cunt, making sure there wasn't a drop of cum or liquid left anywhere.

When he finally lifted his face up from between your legs, you couldn't help but stare at him lustfully, waiting eagerly for more.

"Mm..." Changbin hummed happily, clearly impressed by his own work. "That's quite some lubrication I've got here."

"Don't blame me for finishing too soon," You mumbled, still panting heavily. "You're the one who's worked me up so badly."

"And look how well it paid off!" Changbin chuckled, reaching forward to grab your ass cheek and pulling you close. "Now come on, show me what else you can do."

Before you knew it, he had flipped you over onto your back and was hovering above you, smirking smugly as he watched you wiggle your butt around. Even though his cock felt huge compared to the rest of him, it fit perfectly within your slick entrance; stretching you wide and filling every last bit of space.

"Oh fuck..." You breathed out, staring up at him as his dick slowly sank deeper into your wet hole. "So good..."

A low groan slipped past his lips as he pressed himself all the way inside of you. There was absolutely zero resistance whatsoever, which allowed him to slide in easily despite its girthiness. As expected, it caused your inner walls to squeeze tightly around him, drawing out a soft gasp from his throat.

You looked down between your thighs, watching Changbin's shaft disappear into your depths. Every time his thick length hit bottom, a new wave of pleasure rushed through your core, forcing you to bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. The sight of his cock disappearing deep into you was incredibly sexy, especially considering how large his dick was.

It took less than thirty seconds for him to start fucking you. Slowly at first, he withdrew halfway only to push back in harder. Soon enough, he was pounding you relentlessly, slamming his hips into yours forcefully while squeezing your tits roughly. You moaned loudly from the roughness of his touch, gasping whenever he grabbed your breasts too harshly. But the pain only added to the thrill, helping you to forget just how big he actually was.

The bed shook violently beneath you, knocking the pillows off the headboard repeatedly as he fucked you faster and faster. His balls slapped against your lower back with each thrust, smacking your skin so hard that you thought it might leave bruises. Not that it mattered much since you'd already been marked by him many times before.

But even though his size was intimidating, Changbin kept up an incredible pace. He pounded your insides mercilessly until you cried out from the overwhelming amount of sensation flooding your body. Sweat dripped freely down his forehead, mingling with your own glistening sheen. Yet he didn't slow down for anything, not even when you begged him to stop.

Instead, he merely slowed slightly, slowing down just enough to make sure you wouldn't pass out.

"Ahh...Changbin..." You whimpered breathlessly, clutching onto the sheets beside you as he began moving again. "I'm gonna... can't take anymore—"

A sudden sharp jolt shot straight through your pelvis, followed by another and yet another. Your entire body tensed up from the intense bursts of pleasure shooting through you, sending ripples throughout your stomach and making you writhe uncontrollably. Squirts of warm fluid coated your thighs as you squealed like a little girl, moaning louder and higher pitched than ever before.

Changbin didn't stop there however, continuing to slam his throbbing cock deep inside of you. Each powerful thrust sent shockwaves radiating outward from your center, making it impossible to keep quiet no matter how loud you tried. The strings of the mattress snapped under the force of his thrusts, leaving them hanging limply from their posts.

Soon enough, the two of you collapsed atop the bed together, both completely spent. You lay there, unable to move as sweat poured down your naked chest and pooled between your thighs.

"Hahaha...oh my god..." You laughed weakly, trying to catch your breath. "How are we going to clean this mess?"

"We'll worry about that later," Changbin murmured sleepily, resting his hand on top of your thigh. "But... I wasn't expecting you to squirt like that."

"H-Huh?" You gasped, looking down between your legs.

Sure enough, a small puddle of cum rested right below where his dick disappeared inside of you. It was mostly clear, but a few stray strands of white mixed in. And judging by the fact that most of it was dripping down onto the blankets underneath you, it seemed like you were leaking more than usual.

"Wow..." You smiled shyly, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze. "Didn't know you could get me off so fast."

"Well, if you want more..." Changbin trailed off suggestively, leaning down and kissing your shoulder gently. "Just say the word."

Hwang Hyunjin / You couldn't stop yourself from gagging around Hyunjin's thick fingers, as they roughly caressed the inside of your throat. He giggled at how pathetic a sight it was, and began to squeeze harder on each pass until you were practically choking in his hand. You had no choice but to swallow hard or risk losing consciousness completely. It felt like he'd be able to do that with ease if he wanted too... which only made him laugh more.

"Such a good little slut," Hyunjin praised, swirling the tip of his digits around your tongue before pushing them back down into your mouth again. "Suck them, now."

The roughness of his hands against your skin sent shivers up and down your spine; not because of fear, but excitement for what would come next. You sucked hungrily on one finger after another, eager to please him.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you took every inch of his long, slender digit deep within your wet mouth – moaning softly when it hit the very back of your throat. His other hand went between your legs once more, gently stroking your pussy through the fabric of your skirt while making sure you didn't miss out on any action either.

The way he kept teasing your clit without ever touching it directly made all sorts of delicious tingles shoot straight up your body.

Hyunjin leaned closer over you then, so close that his breath tickling your earlobe made you squirm in anticipation. "Mmhmm..." He murmured, licking along its rim slowly. "... I think you're ready for my cock, aren't you?"

His words set off an intense rush of lust within you, sending a jolt of pleasure shooting right to your core. A whimper escaped your lips as you nodded vigorously, unable to speak past the tight grip his fingers held onto your throat.

He chuckled lightly at this response, running his free hand up your neck and tilting your head towards him. Without hesitation, he pressed his open mouth against yours – kissing you passionately as he slipped two fingers inside of your dripping pussy. You moaned deeply into his mouth as he continued thrusting both of his slick digits deeper and deeper inside of you, filling you up until there wasn't much room left.

All thoughts about keeping quiet disappeared under the sheer ecstasy caused by his ministrations, leaving you panting heavily beneath him.

"That's it, slut... take those fingers like a good girl." Hyunjin cooed, nibbling playfully on your lower lip. "I bet you want me to fuck you really bad, don't you? To fill your pretty little pussy full of my hot cum, hmm~?"

"I-I— Mmph!" You mewled against his mouth, struggling to form coherent words due to how turned on you were becoming.

Hyunjin smiled darkly down at you, still fingering your soaking pussy. The heat emanating from his touch made you shudder uncontrollably, desperate for something else to happen soon.

There was nothing better than being taken advantage of, especially when the person doing it knew exactly what they were doing. The idea that he could make you feel this good just by playing with your cunt made you quiver, knowing he must have some sort of special technique to go along with his impressive size. That thought alone almost pushed you over the edge already, but you managed to hold back somehow. For now, anyways...

With a light groan of satisfaction, Hyunjin pulled away from your kiss and moved his face back to yours – smirking lewdly at your flushed expression. "So cute... I love watching you get fucked, little thing."

"Hngh..." You panted, trying your hardest not to moan.

A playful smirk curled across his lips. "Do you want me to finish you off first? Or should we move things along?"

Your breathing quickened as he slid his fingers out of your soaked pussy, making you whine in protest. Your thighs clenched tightly together, squeezing his digits in a futile attempt to keep them trapped within your folds. Even though you weren't getting anything more, it hurt having them removed – reminding you of the fact that you'd been denied for far too long.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward, forcing him to lay flat atop you.

"Oh~?" Hyunjin breathed, staring down at you with wide eyes. "Did you finally decide to let me fuck you properly?"

"Yes, please," You whispered fervently, meeting his gaze with hungry eyes.It only took a few seconds for him to position himself above you – letting you stare down at his huge shaft tentatively.

It looked even bigger up close, causing you to bite your bottom lip nervously. Before you had time to second guess yourself, he gripped his thick length firmly between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a gentle tug. As expected, his dick sprang upright, throbbing eagerly against his stomach.

With a soft grunt, Hyunjin positioned himself further down your torso, resting his weight upon your chest. He stared down at you expectantly, waiting for your permission to enter you fully.

"Do it," You replied simply, gripping his sides tighter.

"Hehe~! Well, if you insist..." Hyunjin said with a chuckle before pushing forwards, sinking half of his cock inside your warm hole. The feeling of him stretching your insides made you gasp, clenching around his girth instinctively.

His tip rubbed directly against your deepest parts, eliciting another low cry from your lips. The sudden sensation made you writhe beneath him, moaning softly as you felt him start sliding deeper. Each inch filled you up a bit more, until his entire length sunk deep inside of you. It stretched you out painfully, burning as he sank deeper and deeper inside of you.

After several minutes spent taking his massive member all the way in, Hyunjin paused – allowing you to adjust to his size.

You moaned in contentment once you got used to his thickness, pressing your cheek against his muscular shoulder as he began slowly pumping his hips. His slow pace was enough to drive you crazy, the friction of his pelvis rubbing against yours driving you wild. Every time he thrust upwards into your depths, you squeezed tight around him, relishing every single moment of pleasure radiating through your body.

"Mm..." Hyunjin hummed appreciatively, leaning down to nuzzle your ear affectionately, while continuing his rhythmic fucking. "It's pretty warm in here, isn't it?"

"Yeah," You gasped, tilting your head to meet his mouth hungrily. "I like it."

His lips met yours in an eager embrace, both your tongues tangling together in heated passion. A shiver ran down your spine, sending goosebumps rushing over your skin. When you broke apart from each other, your breath came out raggedly, leaving you panting heavily.

"Good. Because I'm going to be here for awhile." Hyunjin chuckled throatily. "Don't worry; I'll take my sweet time filling you up~"

You gulp audibly, biting your lip hard as you watch him continue to slide his cock in and out of your dripping sex. You couldn't help but whimper when he hit your deepest parts, making your inner walls clench tightly around his invading shaft. The pressure only made him push harder, pounding his length into you relentlessly.

Every inch of his thick meat forced its way inside of you, spreading you open so much that it almost hurt. Despite how good it felt, it still left you gasping for air. You could feel your slickness coating his shaft as he plunged repeatedly inside of you, filling you up completely. Each plunge made you squeeze tighter around him, unable to stop yourself from crying out loudly.

"Hyunjin!" You cried out, struggling beneath him. "Please, make me cum already..."

"What do you think this is, huh?" Hyunjin asked teasingly, grabbing your ass roughly by the cheeks. "This is where I get to have my fun. So, don't go thinking that just because you're begging, I'm gonna give you what you want... or else you might find yourself regretful later on~"

"Ahh-!" You groaned, digging your nails into his back.

He smirked down at you, chuckling darkly as he continued to pound away. "No matter what you say or beg for...this is mine now."

As soon as he finished speaking, he pulled free from you, pulling your legs towards him. Without warning, Hyunjin pushed forwards again, burying his entire length inside of you without missing a beat. Your inner muscles clenched tightly around him, milking his thick length as he pounded into you.

His hands grabbed onto your thighs, holding them tightly as his cock pistoned inside of you. Your pussy burned fiercely, leaking juices freely down your thigh as his large cock slid in and out of you. The heat intensified whenever he hit your deepest parts, forcing you to cling to him desperately. He kept up his relentless rhythm, plunging into you over and over again, not stopping no matter how much you begged him.

Something new started to build up within you, growing stronger and hotter with every passing minute. Just as you thought you were about ready to explode, Hyunjin slammed his hips forward one final time. His balls slapped against your clit, sending jolts of electricity shooting straight to your core.

Warm juices squirt between your folds as you climaxed on his cock, spasming wildly underneath him.

"Fuck, yes! Hyunjin, oh fuck! You feel so fucking good!" You cried out as the orgasm rolled through you, filling your entire body with light. "Oh, fuck!"

"That's right, scream for me," Hyunjin growled hotly, slamming himself into you over and over again. The combination of his rough movements and your sensitive clit sent you spiralling into yet another mind-melting climax.

Hot waves of pleasure washed through you, tightening your inner muscles around his shaft. With a loud cry, you shattered under him, coming undone entirely. Your eyes closed, your jaw slackened and your voice went hoarse, letting out high pitched whimpers of blissful ecstasy.

Han Jisung / Jisung thrusted into your mouth with such force that you felt the tip of his dick hit the back wall. You were so turned on, and it was only getting worse as he pushed deeper inside until finally all six inches had disappeared down your throat. He held onto both sides of your head tightly while thrusting in and out rapidly like a jackhammer, making sure to keep most of him deep within your mouth.

The vibrations from his hips against yours sent shivers up and down your spine, but even more than that, Jisung's moans made every nerve ending in your body come alive at once. It took everything for you not to cum right there; however, Jisung still wasn't done yet. He pulled almost half way out before pushing himself back in again and repeating this process over and over without any mercy or pause. His cock swelled bigger by the second as precum oozed from its tip each time it slid past your lips.

Saliva dripped down his shaft too, which further added to the sensation of having something thick and hard sliding between them. Your tongue flicked along the underside of Jisung's dick, trying to get rid of some excess saliva coating his length, and then lapped around his balls when they rolled slightly forward into view

You could feel yourself growing dizzy due to lack of oxygen, but you didn't want to stop sucking just yet. The erotic sight of Jisung fucking your face drove you wilder than anything else ever did. He looked like a beast, holding you down against the bed while using you as his personal fuck toy. This was exactly what you wanted—to be used and degraded in front of someone who wouldn't judge you. Someone you knew would never leave you behind...

"Mmm, I love the way you suck on my cock, my sexy little slut," Jisung growled lowly, causing your eyes to widen. "I bet you could do this all day."

His words caused an electric jolt through your entire being, sending tingles shooting throughout your nerves. You'd been craving this kind of attention since forever ago, and now that it was here, you couldn't help but let loose.

Your hands grabbed hold of Jisung's thighs as best you could, squeezing tight enough to cause bruises if necessary. Your cheeks hollowed out as much as possible, allowing his girth to slide effortlessly down your throat, and then you began bobbing your head faster. If anyone saw you right now, they might have thought you were a professional porn star giving one hell of a blow job. But no, this was all real life. All these sensations were happening to you. And you loved it.

Tears stung your eyes from how good it felt, especially knowing that Jisung was enjoying every single moment of it. Even though his cock grew harder and thicker with each passing minute, you continued to work your magic. Every inch of him was coated in a layer of spit and drool, which also helped lubricate things nicely.

As soon as he reached his limit, he pulled away abruptly from your lips. Instantly, you cough and choke on whatever air you managed to catch in your lungs, which resulted in another loud moan escaping your parted lips.

Jisung smirked smugly down at you, wiping a hand across you chin to clean off some of the mess. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

You nodded quickly, swallowing down the last bits of his precum still stuck to your mouth. "Y-Yeah, mmfh, mnph... I mean, no! I'm fine, really!"

The look of concern on his face instantly melted away when he realized you weren't injured. Instead, his smirk returned in full force, followed shortly after by his hungry gaze.

"You're pretty tough," Jisung said, running his fingers through your hair affectionately. "It's nice to know you can take me rough sometimes."

A blush spread across your cheeks as you stared back up at him, unable to say anything. The compliment made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, but at the same time, it only fueled your desire. You craved more abuse. More pleasure. A lot more.

Jisung leaned closer to whisper directly into your ear. "Think you can keep going, baby? Or are you ready to give up already?"

With that question hanging in the air, you struggled to form coherent thoughts. You didn't want to disappoint him, but you also needed to breathe. When you opened your eyes, Jisung was staring down at you intently, waiting patiently for your answer. You glanced over to see his dick still twitching, ready for more pleasure. That alone gave you the motivation you needed to continue. Slowly, you pushed yourself upward until your chest rested on top of Jisung's thigh. With shaky breaths, you sucked in a few deep gulps of fresh air before looking back at him.

"Uhm..." You whispered breathlessly. "N-No, I don't think I'll give up just yet."

Jisung smiled proudly at your response, which caused a rush of warmth to flood your body. It was so easy to fall under his spell. To surrender everything to him. As long as he was there to protect you, nothing else mattered.

He moved his hips upwards again, letting the tip of his penis rub against the roof of your mouth once more. His eyes narrowed as he watched you carefully, waiting to make sure you were alright. After taking several slow breaths, you finally relaxed and resumed your blowjob.

This time, you focused solely on the task at hand; getting his dick as wet and slippery as possible. Then, without any hesitation or shame, you slid your lips up and down the length of him. Just thinking about how hard it had been to get him to come made your heart ache, and you immediately regretted not doing it sooner. Now that you knew what to expect, however, you were determined to bring him as close to orgasm as humanly possible.

Jisung moaned deeply as you did exactly that, sucking on the underside of his shaft while stroking him with both hands. He gripped onto your shoulders tightly as you went deeper than ever before, eliciting a soft grunt from his throat. Your saliva combined with the precum created a thin film coating his cock, making it easier to glide along its surface.

After a few minutes passed like that, Jisung lifted himself off of your head, causing you to gasp loudly. "Hm? What's wrong, Jisung?"

His breathing was ragged as he spoke, forcing you to lean forward slightly to hear him properly. "Bend over..."

Without hesitating, you complied. You bent down further, resting your elbows on either side of the bed, leaving your ass sticking straight up in the air. Jisung wasted no time climbing between your legs and positioning himself behind you. One of his hands grabbed hold of your waist, holding you steady while the other one traced circles around your clit.

Your stomach clenched tight at the sensation, sending waves of heat rushing through your lower half. You bit down on your lip nervously, hoping he wouldn't notice the slight quiver in your voice. Thankfully, he seemed too preoccupied with pleasuring you instead.

Jisung ran his thumb gently across your swollen bud, rubbing it firmly enough to elicit a small whimper from you. Once he felt comfortable, he began sliding his digit in and out of you, slowly increasing the tempo. Soon, your pussy started dripping wetter and wetter, soaking his fingers completely.

Before long, Jisung added two digits to his foreplay, stretching you open wide while simultaneously stimulating every inch of your sensitive flesh. The pressure built steadily, turning your insides into molten lava and your brain into mush. You couldn't help but moan loudly, squirming underneath his touch even though you tried your best to remain calm and collected.

Jisung chuckled softly as he continued playing with your pussy, occasionally tracing a finger near your ass to tease you. Each time he did, you tensed up, unsure if this would be another instance where he'd use his tongue on you. However, each time he pulled away quickly, giving you false hope that maybe, just maybe...

"Oh God!" You cried out sharply as an intense wave of pleasure hit you all at once, causing your knees to buckle.

The sudden gush of clear fluid splattered against Jisung's face, drenching his handsome features in a mixture of warm cum and sweat. It wasn't until after the second spurt that he realized what had happened, pulling back abruptly to wipe it off of his cheek. His eyes widened when he noticed the mess he'd made, glancing up at you sheepishly. You blushed brightly, averting your gaze for fear of seeing disappointment in those beautiful brown orbs.

"Oh wow..." He breathed out heavily, staring at you curiously. "That's something you don't see everyday."

You giggled weakly, nodding in agreement. "No kidding..."

Lee Felix / Your wrists were tied tightly together as you sat patiently in a nearby chair. Large amounts of embarrassment washed over you as Felix looked at the ropes around your wrists with an amused smile on his freckled face. You tried not to blush too hard in front of him, but it was difficult when he stood there naked from the waist up while looking down at you like that. He had just finished showering before coming back out here, so he wasn't wearing anything except for some dark blue boxer briefs which barely covered most of his figure.

The material clung tightly to them and showed off every muscle beneath. His cock poked through one leg hole and hung low between his legs; thick and long enough to make your mouth water even though you'd already tasted what lay underneath those boxers once before. It would be easy to look away if this were anyone else's dick, but seeing how excited Felix got whenever you touched yourself made it impossible not to stare at his bulge all day.

"Sorry. Did I make you wait long?" He asked casually after a moment spent admiring your bound form. "Not that I care much, since my hands are free~"

He walked towards you slowly, never breaking eye contact as he did so. Your heart raced and your breath came short each time he approached until finally he stopped right behind where you sat. With no hesitation whatsoever, he grabbed hold of the rope binding both your arms to the armrests and pulled sharply upwards, causing your torso to jerk backwards into his chest. He let go immediately and stepped back again, giving himself plenty of space to admire your flushed cheeks and pouting lips.

"But, you're happy see me, right?" He asked teasingly, making you shiver slightly despite the warmth of his skin against yours.

"Y-Yeah," You mumbled shyly, unable to meet his gaze.

Felix chuckled softly. "I knew it."

His hand moved forward again then, sliding under your chin and tilting your head upward to force you to look directly at him. That only served to further embarrass you because now he could get a good view down your shirt, revealing more than enough cleavage to drive any man crazy. Even Felix seemed taken aback by it, taking a few moments to study your breasts before returning his eyes to your own.

You gulped audibly.

"Is something wrong? Are these small?" He teased gently, cupping one breast in either palm and squeezing lightly. A shudder ran through you as he squeezed harder, feeling the softness of your flesh through the fabric. "Or is it their color that makes you flinch?"

It took everything you had to keep yourself from squirming, especially when he slid his hand under the edge of your bra cup and rubbed your nipple through the thin cotton. All thoughts of embarrassment fled as he pinched your sensitive bud, sending electric jolts through your entire body. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, trying desperately to ignore how turned on you felt. But it was proving very difficult, especially considering how close he kept getting to touching you...

"Hmhm..." Felix hummed thoughtfully, leaning closer still. "What are you thinking about, hmm?"

You couldn't help blushing hotly at the sound of his voice. And yet, somehow you managed to reply without stumbling over your words or stammering.

"...Well, um.." You cleared your throat nervously, staring intently at his face. "I'm imagining...how it feels to have you inside me."

The corners of Felix' lips quirked up. "...Oh really?"

You nodded quickly, biting your lower lip as his fingers continued to rub circles around your nipple through your shirt.

"Doesn't it feel nice?" He breathed seductively, trailing kisses along your jawline. "I sure hope so..."

You moaned loudly when his tongue slipped past your parted lips and traced its way across your cheekbone. He licked his way down your neck, leaving wet trails as he went, stopping briefly to suckle your exposed collar bone. Aroused murmurs filled the room as Felix worked his way downwards, kissing and licking everywhere he could reach. When he reached your tits, he pushed aside your bra cups and sucked greedily at your nipples, eliciting another loud moan from you.

"Mmph!"

Felix laughed quietly at your reaction, pulling away to watch your chest rise and fall with ragged breaths. Your hands were still bound together, keeping you stuck in place, but that didn't stop you from reaching out to touch him. You curled your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly and moaning as he kissed his way down your stomach. The heat of his mouth was incredible, driving you wild with need for more.

When his tongue finally found itself nestled between your thighs, you whimpered and pressed your hips forwards, desperate to feel more. Unfortunately, your hands remained tied securely above your head, leaving you completely helpless as he lapped at your slit like some kind of ravenous animal.

You cried out wordlessly as his warm tongue swirled around your entrance, dipping deep and pushing just far enough inside to tease the nerves within. His hot breath tickled your inner thigh, sending a rush of tingly sensation down below, prompting you to push your legs wider apart to give him better access.

"Nnggghhh..." You grunted weakly, struggling to keep your focus on anything other than the pleasure radiating outward from your core. "Felix... untie me, please..."

He smirked up at you, watching your face closely while his tongue continued to work magic upon your most intimate parts.

"No can do, babe." He said simply, moving his attention to your clit instead.

You gasped loudly as he circled your swollen nub with his tongue, tracing little patterns all over it. It wasn't long before you began bucking wildly beneath him, crying out incoherently as he pleasured you. Each time you did, he would take advantage of the opportunity to lick you deeper, rubbing his tongue hard against your slick folds until you came undone once again. This happened several times throughout the course of what felt like an eternity, each orgasm stronger than the last. By the end, you were practically begging him to let you cum, no matter how much it hurt.

But, Felix merely smiled up at you, continuing to lap hungrily at your pussy. He slowed his pace significantly though, letting you catch your breath after every climax before starting anew. You tried to fight back the growing desperation building inside you, wanting nothing more than to see him release too. But, it was impossible to resist the temptation of his skilled tongue.

As soon as you started to relax, he'd start to move faster, swirling his tongue around your engorged clit until you were gasping and panting, writhing uncontrollably underneath him. Even then, he wouldn't relent, pressing himself against your quivering thighs and using them to pull you even tighter against him. With each thrust of his tongue, he made it easier for you to grind your soaked mound against his face.

Finally, you gave in to your urges, grabbing onto his shoulders tightly and grinding your hips into his face. As soon as you did, Felix groaned deeply, pushing one final inch further into your needy cunt. You screamed loudly, releasing yourself fully around his eager tongue, shuddering violently as you came all over his face. Squirting your juices onto his chin, he pulled back abruptly, swallowing the sticky fluid off his mouth and smiling wickedly at you.

You panted heavily, trying desperately not to pass out from the intense wave of bliss coursing through your body.

Kim Seungmin / Seungmin chuckled softly, watching you squirm underneath him like a pathetic worm on it's back. He had your legs spread wide and gripping the sheets tightly in both hands, as he slowly fucked into you from behind, his cock sliding deep inside of every time it pushed through that tight opening.

His balls slapped against your ass each time they swung low enough to do so, making you moan with pleasure, even though you knew better than anyone how good this was going to feel when he finally let loose inside of you. Seungmin could barely contain himself anymore either; his thrusts becoming harder and faster until all at once he pulled out completely before slamming back inside again.

Your head fell forward onto the pillow as he continued to fuck into you over and over, his hips slapping against yours with each hard thrust while those thick fingers dug deeply into your flesh beneath. The bed shook under both your combined weight, causing the wooden frame to creak loudly but not loud enough for either one of you to care about right now. It wasn't long after that he grabbed hold of your waist tighter still, pulling down harshly on it whenever he felt like pushing deeper inside of you or giving you more leverage if needed.

"I have to say... I'm impressed." You mumbled quietly between moans. "You being so rough seems very rare these days..."

"You think so? That makes two of us," Seungmin replied breathlessly, pausing only briefly to look up at you. His eyes were bright red with lust, sweat glistening along his brow. Your own body was covered in a light sheen too, despite the fact that you weren't doing much moving around besides moaning and panting heavily.

Seungmin smirked slightly, shaking his head lightly as he resumed fucking you. He didn't bother saying anything else, just grunted softly and kept pumping away relentlessly. Even though you couldn't see what was happening behind you, you heard the sounds of skin smacking together and gasping breaths coming from below you, which told you exactly where he was at the moment.

Your body tensed up slightly each time he slammed home, feeling another orgasm building quickly within you. Seungmin's grip tightened further upon your waist, before loosening up entirely, allowing you to fall forwards onto the mattress without any support whatsoever. You groaned lowly, unable to keep yourself upright due to the intense sensations running through you.

He didn't seem to mind much however, continuing to pound into you forcefully as he did so. Every inch of skin rubbed together sent sparks shooting through your entire being, making you whimper helplessly as your climax began to build ever higher. Just as it seemed you would pass the point where you couldn't handle anymore, he reached up and grabbed your hair roughly by the roots, yanking upwards sharply.

The pain only served to heighten the intensity of what was happening to you, sending jolts of electricity racing throughout your nerves as his dick throbbed deep inside of you repeatedly. All at once he stopped moving altogether, burying himself fully within you as he held you firmly there with just his pelvis pressed against your own. A strangled cry escaped your lips as you came undone, your muscles tightening and clenching around him uncontrollably.

"Oh... oh god..." you moaned weakly, gasping heavily as you tried desperately to catch your breath. "Ahh!"

Seungmin grunted out a few short curses as he began to empty himself inside of you, pumping hot cum, along with several other smaller spurts. Your pussy spasmed violently around his shaft as he kept moving, milking everything he could from you until there was absolutely nothing left. When he finally withdrew, you collapsed onto the bed next to him panting heavily, letting go of the sheet to clutch handfuls of fabric instead.

It took a moment longer before you realized his stamina hadn't waned in any way and that Seungmin had just been holding back for your sake. You lifted your head off the pillow to find him looking down at you curiously. One hand slid gracefully across your back gently, tracing the curves of your spine as he watched you closely.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah," You breathed out shakily, reaching up to wipe some sweat from your brow. "I'm fine."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth briefly before he leaned down and kissed you softly, kissing each cheek and jawline carefully. The sweet sensation made your heart flutter, making it difficult to breathe properly for a brief second. After breaking apart he sat up straight and looked down at you, tilting your chin upwards so he could kiss you again.

This time he lingered, pressing his lips against yours tenderly. Each soft stroke of his tongue brought new feelings bubbling up within you, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded. Even though you should have been tired and sore, you found yourself craving more of his touch. Before you knew it you were sitting up on your knees and wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as best as you could given the circumstances.

After a minute or two he broke off again, resting his forehead against yours as he stared intently into your eyes. He sighed contentedly and nuzzled closer to you, laying his hands on top of your thighs and holding you close to him. For a moment neither one of you said anything, simply enjoying the closeness of the other person. Eventually he shifted slightly, shifting his weight so that he lay on his side facing you rather than face down.

"Ready for round two?" He murmured huskily, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

You giggled lightly, leaning in and kissing him back. "Always."

Seungmin chuckled softly as well, bringing his arm up and looping an ankle behind your knee. With little effort he flipped you onto your front, pinning your wrists above your head with his free hand and positioning himself atop you. You let out a quiet moan when he entered you once more, this time with far less hesitation. As always it felt incredible, filling every part of you and stretching you wide open.

His pace slowed down somewhat compared to last time, taking things slower as he savored the feel of being inside of you. It wasn't long after that before you started pushing against his hips, trying to encourage him to move faster. Seungmin obliged immediately, picking up speed gradually as you began to lose control over your breathing.

With a shuddering gasp you arched your spine upward, crying out loudly as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, causing you to arch your back even further and press your heels into his lower abdomen. His thrusts grew deeper, hitting all the right places at exactly the perfect angle, driving you wild with desire.

Just as your climax peaked another one struck you unexpectedly, you couldn't stop yourself from squirting liquid onto his lap. You cried out in surprise but continued bucking beneath him regardless, desperate for any kind of relief. Seungmin growled deeply, slamming home hard enough to make you bite your lip in response. Every inch of him stretched you tight and left you feeling utterly empty afterwards, which was quickly remedied by the warmth pooling between your legs.

"Woah..." You panted out raggedly, rolling your hips slowly underneath him as if testing how loose you still were.

"Right?" He agreed, stroking his fingers through your hair soothingly. "That's why I love doing this."

You hummed in agreement, staring up at the ceiling and closing your eyes tightly. The heat radiating off of his body combined with the way his chest moved against your breasts sent pleasant tingles throughout your entire frame. It didn't take long for you to start getting sleepy, unable to keep your eyes open no matter how badly you wanted to stay awake.

Yang Jeongin / Jeongin held you steadily above his face, lapping up your nethers with a wet tongue. He was so gentle, but the pleasure he gave you felt like heaven; it made every part of your body tingle and sing as if all its nerves were on fire. You arched over him, writhing in ecstasy at how good this felt – especially when Jeongin's fingers found their way onto your thighs and began to caress them softly.

They rubbed against that spot just below where they joined together, sending waves of heat through your lower tummy and making your hips jerk forward eagerly towards each stroke. His thumb traced circles around the soft skin between your legs until you could feel yourself getting ready for something else entirely, then suddenly his mouth left your folds altogether before returning there moments later.

The tip of his tongue swirled gently across your clit while two more digits pressed into your inner walls, teasingly stroking inside of you without entering fully. It sent shivers down your spine as you gasped out loud, feeling like an animal caught by a predator who wanted nothing more than to be devoured whole.

Your hands gripped handfuls of bedsheets tightly beneath you as another wave washed over you, only now it wasn't quite so much about what you'd been doing. Instead, it was purely about being taken right here and now. The sudden shift from lustful playfulness to raw carnality had you arching off the sheets even harder, moaning loudly into the pillows behind you. You writhed underneath Jeongin's skilled lips and fingers, wanting to feel everything he did to you – every single thing that made you want to come undone completely.

As he worked magic upon your pussy, your back arched higher and higher until finally, with a cry of pure bliss, you came hard against his face.

You bucked wildly atop him, unable to stop shaking or shuddering as the orgasm hit you full force. Every muscle in your entire body tensed up and trembled as Jeongin kept licking away, milking out every last drop of cum within you. When the aftershocks subsided, you collapsed backwards onto the bed beside him, panting heavily.

However, Jeongin hadn't stopped pleasuring you yet.

With one hand still gripping your thigh firmly, he reached upwards to take hold of your other leg instead. Then, using both hands, he spread open your labia wide apart once again before slipping his tongue deep inside you. You whimpered in delight at how good it felt, especially since it also meant you didn't have to move any further to enjoy himself too. All you needed to do was lie back and let him work wonders on your insides.

His talented tongue played along your g-spot slowly at first, tracing little circles around it before dipping deeper into your core. It felt wonderful having him touch you there intimately, especially since the rest of your body was already thoroughly satisfied. But as he continued moving his head rapidly against your sensitive flesh, you soon found yourself coming close to climax all over again.

"Mn..." You mewl out, holding onto his shoulders as you grind your pelvis against his face. "I need...something..."

"I know, baby," He replied, his tongue still going wild against you. "I'm gonna give it to you."

Jeongin moaned deeply as you rode his face, pushing him closer towards the edge himself. Just as you started to get near, he pulled back slightly to lick the outermost parts of your vulva clean, leaving your most tender spots untouched. This drove you mad with desire though, because it meant he knew exactly what you liked best. So when he plunged his tongue right back into you, it went straight for those same places that made you go weak at the knees.

With his tongue buried deep within your depths, Jeongin used long strokes to massage your clit as well as your G-spot simultaneously. He alternated between these motions, alternating between fast and slow. In turn, it pushed you ever closer to the brink of oblivion. However, unlike earlier, he wouldn't allow you to simply fall over the side and tumble into release. No, he would keep you hanging on the precipice, teetering on the very edge of the cliff.

Just when you thought you couldn't possibly endure anymore, he withdrew his tongue and replaced it with two fingers. They slipped inside you easily, gliding smoothly past your spasming muscles. Once he got them nice and slick, he curled his fingers inward, pressing directly against your deepest reaches. A moment later, you felt his thumb press hard against your clitoris. And as he moved his digits in tandem with the thrusting motion of his tongue, you exploded for a third time.

"Does that feel good?" Jeongin asked breathlessly, pushing his fingers deeper into your wetness.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you cried out, clutching desperately onto his shoulder blades. You weren't sure if you were speaking or screaming, but either way, it was enough to make him chuckle.

"I'll take that as a yes," He chuckled, continuing to stroke and suckle upon your sweet spot. "And, I'm guessing you want to cum again? Is that right~?"

You nodded quickly, unable to form words just then. Not with his mouth and fingers working their magic on you. He gave you no chance to respond anyway, plunging three fingers deep into your quivering folds. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your toes curl and your stomach tighten up. You could barely breathe properly, so much was happening down below. Your whole lower half seemed to be filled by a powerful tingle that threatened to send you flying off the edge.

But somehow, despite being wracked with such intense sensations, you managed to stay grounded. Because Jeongin wasn't done with you quite yet. His fingers remained lodged inside you, pumping in and out of your hot core while his tongue licked its way across your swollen bud. At this point, you were beyond ready for another mind shattering climax. One more push from him, and you'd shatter completely.

"Jeongin..." You breathed out softly, moaning his name. "Please, just fuck me. I-I want you inside me..."

He looked up at you briefly, meeting your gaze before looking back downwards. He stared intently at where his fingers had been, watching as they disappeared into your clenching hole. Soon after, he brought them back to his lips, sucking on each digit like it was the tastiest thing in existence. You groaned loudly at that, feeling your legs tremble beneath you. As you watched, Jeongin's cock began to swell even larger than before. It grew longer until it hit your inner thighs, thickening and swelling even more. When it finally burst forth, you gasped aloud.

"Oh fuck!" You squealed out loud, staring wide eyed at the massive erection now standing proudly in front of you.

It was beautiful too, jutting out from his groin and pointing upwards. Its shaft was red, pink, and purple all at once, pulsating slightly. There was an impressive amount of pre-cum oozing out of its tip, which was only further proof how turned on Jeongin really was. The sight alone caused your own arousal to spike, sending wave after wave of heat surging through your body.

Even without touching yourself, you felt incredibly sensitive, almost painfully aroused. As you gazed down at Jeongin's magnificent length, he took hold of your hips firmly, pulling you close. With one hand gripping your hip tightly, he guided his cock towards your waiting entrance. You whimpered softly, shuddering as his cockhead pressed against your tight opening. But instead of entering you, Jeongin held himself there for several moments.

He didn't move any farther, merely teasing your insides with his girthy cock.

"How bad do you want me?" Jeongin whispered huskily, leaning forward so his mouth was right next to yours. "Do you need my dick inside of you? Do you crave it...?"

"I—" You began, but you were cut off when his lips pressed against yours, kissing you deeply. For a few seconds, he continued to kiss you, stealing your breath away with every touch of his soft lips. A moment later, however, he broke apart, leaving you gasping for air.

"Answer me." Jeongin said sternly, his voice low and raspy.

"Y-Yes," You breathed out, panting heavily. "Yes, I want you inside of me!"

His smile widened as he leaned closer still, his face mere inches from yours. Before you knew what was happening, Jeongin pulled you flush against his chest, holding you securely in place. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pinning you between his muscular arms. In response, you laid your hands over his broad shoulders, clinging tightly onto him. After all, you needed something to keep you steady. Something to stop you from falling to pieces. And right then, he was exactly that.

With little effort, Jeongin slid his rock hard member into your slick pussy, filling you entirely. You moaned loudly, buckling as he stretched your tender walls. He paused only long enough to give you time to adjust, before sliding his full length into you once again. Over and over, he pushed his throbbing cock inside of you until both your bodies were covered in sweat. By the end, you couldn't feel anything except Jeongin's hot flesh buried deep within you. Every inch of his length was stuffed inside your wet depths, stretching you wider than ever before.

Suddenly, he withdrew, causing you to cry out in protest. You reached for him desperately, trying to grab hold of his thick shaft. Only to find that he was already gone, having slipped free of your grip. You weren't sure why, but you felt something leak from you. The feeling made you gasp, unable to hide your surprise. However, you soon realized that you were leaking fluid everywhere. Your entire crotch area was soaked, glistening with your juices. Squirting fluids from your slit like some kind of fountain.

"You're dripping honey all over my bedsheets." Jeongin murmured, smiling at you sweetly. "Isn't that cute~?"

The sudden words caused you to freeze. "H-Honey?"

"Mhm. It's pretty amazing, isn't it? That my tongue and cock alone could make such a mess~" Jeongin chuckled quietly.

Your cheeks burned brightly as you glanced down, seeing your swollen sex leaking clear liquid onto the sheets below. Not only did it look obscene, but it also sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. Jeongin must have noticed because he smirked darkly, reaching up and cupping your cheek.

"Don't feel embarrassed. I like watching you get messy." He purred, tilting your head back so he could gaze into your eyes. "Especially since this is just the beginning..."

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids reactions #stray kids #bang chan smut #lee minho smut #lee felix smut #seo changbin smut #yang jeongin smut #han jisung smut #hwang hyunjin smut #kim seungmin smut

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inez-winchester-cameron · 9 months

Text

Run. (18+)

↠Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Reader x Demon!Dean (mentioned Crowley x Reader)

↠Summary: After running into a dark room, you end up in the hands of the Winchesters, one soulless and one a demon (SMUT, WC:3,490)

↠Cw: Threesome, dub-con, rough sex, choking, nipple pinching/twisting, pussy/face/thigh slapping, blindfolding, oral, throat-fucking, squirting, unprotected sex, roleplay, tying up, degradation, hair pulling, cum in places it shouldn’t be, arousal from crying, just very rough sex

↠Notes: I made a vote the other night abt what fic you guys wanted next and this won :) I’ll probably end up doing the other two at some point but this is what ya’ll get for now. Hopefully this makes up for my lack of uploads. Apologies, I’m a loser band kid and have marching band things to do and those tire me the fuck out. Anyways, I quite literally soaked my shorts writing this so hopefully yall enjoy this as much as I did :)

Your heart was beating faster than it ever had before, you could feel it in your head, your stomach, everywhere. Your breathing came out panicked, after running across the bunker. Your legs could only carry you so far before you stopped, looking around to make sure you weren’t followed. Slowly, after making sure they weren’t behind you, you turned the handle on the door and stepped in, backwards.

You were being chased by none other than the Winchester brothers, one soulless and the other a demon. Unfortunately, you hadn’t realized until it was too late and they had you right where they wanted you. You were caged in, no matter where you ran in the bunker they could get to you. You knew you were only delaying the inevitable, they would find you and kill you, for fun. You stepped backwards into the room, slamming the door. You let out a sigh of relief and began looking for the light switch but you ran into something. Someone.

You let out a gasp as you felt a warm tall body, and then the room filled with the deep chuckle of your ‘boyfriend’, Sam Winchester, “Hey baby.” But he wasn’t your Sammy anymore, he had no soul. He took it upon himself to switch the light on and you were met with his sinister smirk. You gasped again and walked backwards but once again you ran into a warm body. This time, arms wrapped around you and you instantly knew they were the arms of Dean Winchester.

“Did you really think you could run from us?” Dean whispered lowly into your ear. You let out a small whimper, as tears filled your eyes. There was nothing you could do.

Sam chuckled at the look on your face and moved closer, ignoring your flinch when he cupped your face, “Aw, baby, we’re not gonna hurt you.” He gently stroked your cheeks.

“He’s right, princess, we have other plans for you,” Dean adds on.

“O-other plans..?” You stutter out.

“Oh yeah, baby, you were bad,” Sam says, still stroking your cheeks, “We’ve gotta punish you.”

Dean let go of you and walked over to the closet. You soon realized it was Dean’s room that you had stumbled into and attempted to hide in. Dean approached the closet, opening it. You couldn’t see him as Sam made you look at him but you could hear Dean russling around in his closet. Eventually he pulled out a box. He approached his bed and pulled out two ropes. He looked to his brother, “Undress her.”

Sam smirked and turned to you, “Just hold still, baby, okay? Make it easy on me.” You whimpered and shook your head and Sam’s eyes got darker, “I said hold fucking still. Do you wanna be hurt? Cause I’ll hurt you, baby.” You whimpered again but held yourself straight. Even though the situation wasn’t ideal, you had to admit, you were kind of into it. Sam undressed you until you were nude and exposed to everyone in the room. This wasn’t a new thing to Sam, you two had sex a decent amount, but the soulless and Dean part was all new. Dean smirked at the view of your backside he got. A whistle left his lips and your face got warm.

“Sammy, your girl’s so pretty. You should share her more often,” Dean said, with a smirk. Sam just chuckled in response.

“Get on the bed,” Sam pushed you forward and you quickly got on the bed, on your back. You didn’t want him hurting you. Dean smirked at the sight of you.

“Fuck, Sammy,” he mumbled, “If I was you I’d be balls deep in this every night of the week.” Dean started tying your wrists to the headboard, not bothering to check if the ropes were too tight before doing the same with your ankles, making sure your legs were spread. Your face was burning in embarrassment, and Dean noticed, “What? Embarrassed? About little old me?”

This situation was still less than ideal, your boyfriend and his brother were heartless. But with how hot the two of them were above you, you couldn’t find it in you to care. Your heart was still beating out of your chest but you found yourself getting into this situation. You slowly nodded, answering Dean’s question.

“Fuck, you’re soaked, baby,” Sam muttered under his breath, running a finger up your slit. You shivered at the sudden contact, his skin was cold. Sam smirked at this and kept teasing your slit, refusing to touch your clit or push anything into your hole. Dean stood off to the side, watching his brother play with you. As he watched, his lips curled into a smirk. You instantly knew he had a devious idea, and the thought of that both excited and scared you.

“Hey princess, why don’t we play a little game?” Dean purred, digging around in his box of toys. Sam watched Dean with curious eyes, wondering what his next move would be.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling a bit uncomfortable. You watched as Dean pulled out a blindfold.

“Shhh, it’s okay, princess,” Dean cooed, coming over to you, “We’re just gonna have some fun with you. We’re gonna put this on you and have some fun with you and after a few minutes we’re going to make you guess who it was. You guess right, you get a reward, you guess wrong? Well you’ll see what happens then.”

“B-But I’ve never been touched by you before, Dean,” you looked up at him, eyes wide.

“But you’ve been touched by Sammy plently, so if it feels unfamiliar than it’s probably me, hm?” Dean explained.

“You’ll do great, baby,” Sam took the blindfold from Dean and covered your eyes. Everything was instantly dark. It was already scary enough fucking the two heartless Winchesters but the added on loss of a sense made it even scarier. Not that you got a choice in the matter, you knew they would be having their fun, whether you were willing or not. It’s not as if you’ve never thought of this before, being completely at Sam and Dean’s mercy. As much as you’d never cheat on Sammy, you have thought about be taken by both of them at the same time. You even found yourself browsing through some of the ‘Dean x Reader x Sam’ written by the Supernatural book community. There was a specific one you remembered that featured Soulless Sam and Demon Dean, and it turned you on more than you’d ever admit. You were brought out of your thoughts by a set of hands on your body, and a pair of lips on yours.

The hands were big, rough, but the lips were soft, gentle. You found yourself leaning up to kiss the man on top of you back. His hands roamed your body, groping your tits, your hips, your ass. A low growl was let out as you opened your mouth to let him explore. Soon enough, he was biting your bottom lip, ignoring the gasp you let out. His hands got more and more rough, squeezing at your tits and ass. You let out a whine as he played with you, and a small smack was placed on your hip, as somewhat of a warning not to complain. After another moment, the man stepped away and Dean’s voice, “Okay, princess, guess.”

You thought for a moment, Sam was normally rather gentle with you, unless you’d pissed him off and he hadn’t been pissed off at all today..It had to be Dean.

“D-Dean?” You stuttered out and a low chuckle left Sam’s lips.

“Nope,” Sam answered, “It was me, pretty girl.”

“O-Oh..” you replied, suddenly very nervous and scared. What were they gonna do? The boys chuckled in unison at your fear.

“That’s okay, princess, you have two more wrong guesses until you get punished,” Dean explained and it went silent again for another few minutes before a pair of lips was on your neck, kissing. The man on top of you didn’t touch your body, he just kissed your neck before beginning to litter hickeys all over it. He was relentless, never letting up for longer than a few seconds. He spent a long time sucking hickeys onto your neck and marking you up. Moans and whimpers left your lips but he didn’t smack you like Sam did. That was what you noticed and decided would be the deciding key. Eventually, after what you assumed to be ten minutes, he pulled away.

“Guess,” Sam said.

“Dean,” you said, confidently and Dean smirked.

“That’s right, princess. Marked you all up so everyone knows you’re ours,” Dean said with a smirk. Another minute passed before you felt hot breath on your soaked core. After a moment, a tongue dipped forward and began circling your clit. You bit your lip and a smack was placed upon your thigh at this.

“Let us hear you,” Sam spoke up, but you couldn’t tell if the voice came from between your legs or from elsewhere. You pondered this for a moment and let your lip go as the tongue on your clit kept going. Eventually the man inbetween your legs leaned in and started to suck on your clit, flicking his tongue over it as he worked. Quiet moans and whimpers left your lips as he worked on you. After just a minute or two, he had you shaking as you came on his tongue, but his didn’t let up.

“Please-!” You called out, pulling out the restraints but the ropes were tight, it just caused a burning sensation on your wrists. You stopped pulling but whined as the tongue was relentless, “Sam, Dean, please!” But neither of the boys answered you, continuing to work you towards the edge. Soon enough, a finger was pushed into your greedy, wet hole. Your loud moan echoed throughout the room as he did. Soon enough you were clenching around the finger, nearing another orgasm, but just as you were about to go over that edge, he stopped. An even louder whine left your throat, as the man got up. You heard the loud sound of one of them sucking their finger clean.

“Such a little slut,” Sam muttered, “Guess.”

Your brain malfunctioned for a second, you completely forgot the point of the game. Shit, who was between your legs?

“Sam?” You guessed, genuinely having no reasoning.

“Nope, was me, princess,” Dean spoke up and a light smack was placed against your thigh, “You better start guessing right or you’re in for a punishment, baby girl.” You gulped, waiting for their next move. After a moment, another man was between your legs and above you. You felt the tip of a cock rubbing against your slit. You let out a whine at the teasing and eventually the man pushed in. You instantly knew who it was, you knew that cock anywhere. You were partially relieved, you wouldn’t need a punishment but part of you was also curious. What would the punishment be? Would they get rougher?

The man bottomed out and just sat there for a minute, before giving a few slow, deep thrusts. The cock didn’t come back out but Dean’s voice came from above you.

“Who is it, princess? Who’s inside your slutty pussy right now?”

You knew it was your Sammy but something compelled you to answer a different way.

“Dean.”

This time both of the boys chuckled in a sort of sick, twisted way.

“Wrong,” Dean leaned down and whispered into your ear. You shivered at this and soon enough the blindfold was removed. Sure enough, Sam was inbetween your legs, balls deep in your pussy, while Dean stood off to the side. You noticed that both of them were fully undressed. Your eyes flashed to Dean’s dick and you found yourself licking your lips. Dean’s hand grapped a fistful of your hair and pulled on it, forcing you to look up at him, “Did ya hear me, slut? You were wrong, you’re going to get punished.” Dean then looked to his brother, “What should we do to her Sammy?”

Sam licked his lips for a second, eyeing up your body, before responding, “It’s hard to pick. We could stick something in her pussy and just leave her here for a while. We could hurt her, I know she’s a little pain slut. We could use these holes until she’s sobbing. We could even call Crowley and some of his demons over, let them have a couple rounds with her.” You made a face of digust, but your pussy told the truth, as you clenched down on Sam’s cock. Sam chuckled, “What do you think, Dean? Wanna let her be a little cum dump for everyone we know?”

“As much as that intrigues me, she’s ours for right now. Maybe we’ll leave her here after we’ve had our fill and let her be used by a couple of our buddies,” Dean said, laughing when your eyes filled with fear, “But for now, I think our little whore deserves to be treated like the little whore she is.” Sam chuckled, reaching forward and pinching your nipples, hard. A yelp left your throat but Sam ignored it, twisting them. Another sick amd twisted smirk formed on Dean’s face as he watched his brother hurt you. Sam slowly started fucking you again, still going in slow, deep thrusts. He kept your nipples in his fingers and he kept occasionally twisting them, ignoring the look of pain on your face because he could feel you clenching down on his cock. You were too focused on the pain to notice Dean speaking to you, “Open up.”

After you didn’t answer right away, a slap was placed upon your cheek and you were instantly looking at Dean with wide, scared eyes. He repeated himself, “Open. your. mouth.” You instantly obeyed, sticking your tongue out and suddenly Dean was forcing his cock down your throat. No minute to adjust, his cock was instantly down your cock. You gagged and sputtered but he ignored it, gripping your hair roughly and making your head go up and down on his cock. Sam sped up his thrusts, continuing to twist and pinch your nipples with one hand while the other came down and smacked your clit.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned out, “She’s such a little whore.”

“I know, man, she thinks I actually like her but truthfully I just like having a little obidient fuck toy. Just an object to help get my dick wet.”

If you weren’t being played with, that comment would’ve hurt but in your current predicament it just made your pussy twitch. Sam brought his hand down onto your clit again and you moaned around Dean’s dick. Both boys sped up their pace at the same time and you were once again gagging on the dick down your throat. Dean didn’t care though, he was getting his fill. You let out a loud moan, nearly screaming as Sam hit your cervix with his thrusts.

“Aww, is my cock to big for your little pussy?” Sam asked, smacking your clit again. You were pushed over the edge at that and started cumming around Sam’s cock. Sam felt this but he didn’t stopped, still thrusting. You whined but they didn’t care.

“Be a good fuck doll, good fuck dolls stay quiet,” Dean commented, wrapping his hand around your throat. He lightly squeezed down and groaned when he could feel himself buried in your throat. He kept his hand tight around your throat and continued using your throat. Squelching noises came from both ends of your body as they used you. Suddenly, Dean pulled out, biting his lip and stroking his cock over your face. Sam watched, smirking. The boys eyes met and they came in unison, Sam in your wet cunt, while Dean came all over your face. Your eyes squeezed shut as cum splashed in them but Dean just laughed, reaching forward, holding one open and purposely getting his cum in it, “Act like a slut, get treated like one.” Tears fell down your face at the cums in your eyes and a choked out sob left your throat. Sam joined Dean in laughing. The boys laughed at you as you kept tearing up, trying to get your vision back to normal. Cum was all over the rest of your face as well, lips, nose, and even your hair. After a few minutes, you sniffled, and managed to be able to keep your eyes open.

“You done bein a baby?” Sam asked, pulling out. The boys switched position and your eyes went wide.

“W-What’re you doin?”

“Did you think we were done with you, princess?” Dean asked, as he lined himself up with your pussy.

“That’s too bad, baby, because watching your little crying fit just got us hard again. Besides, you wanna give Dean a turned with your pussy, dontcha?” Sam smirked.

You hesitated for a moment but silently nodded, embarassed. Sam chuckled, and lined his cock up with your lips. The boys made eye contact before entering you in a swift movement, both at the same time. You gagged on Sam’s cock as well. Sam’s cock was bigger than Dean’s, so it hurt more in your throat but Dean’s didn’t hit your cervix as he entered your pussy. You were greatful for this, as Sam had probably arleady bruised it and it already was sore. Dean set a fast pace, and you moaned around Sam’s cock. Sam set a much slower pace, enjoying watching you choke on his cock.

“Her pussy’s so tight, Sammy,” Dean commented, “You’re a lucky man.”

“I sure am,” Sam said, “I got the best fuck toy of them all. Even if she’s a whiny little bitch sometimes.” You choked each time Sam bottomed out in your throat but Sam didn’t care, whatsoever.

“Ever made her squirt?” Dean asked, smirking

“Once or twice,” Sam replied, speeding up his thrusts into your throat a little bit.

“Wanna see a cool trick?” Dean asked with a smirk and Sam nodded. Suddenly you screamed around Sam’s cock, at the feeling of Dean pushing two fingers into your pussy with his cock, “Come on, slut. Don’t be a fucking baby.” Tears filled your eyes at the stretch, it hurt. But Dean didn’t care. He kept thrusting, and began to finger you at the same time, finding your g-spot and roughly pushing his fingers against it. You let out a loud scream again at this. Sam smirked and watched intently while you choked on his cock. As Dean had mentioned, after just over a minute, you were becoming a water founation on Dean’s dick. Sam’s eyes went wide and his dick twitched in your throat. Sam pulled out nearly all the way, leaving his cock to rest on your tongue. He stroked it while watching you squirt all over Dean and he let out a groan, cumming onto your tongue.

He pulled his cock back, “Stick your tongue out.” You did as told, a pool of Sam’s cum still resting on your tongue, “Now keep that there while Dean finishes his fun with you. Dean didn’t let up after you squirted. Whines and whimpers left your lips as Dean continued to use you, but you were focused on keeping Sam’s cum where he told you to. Sam watched, intently, “Oh and if you spill a drop of that, we’re gonna invite Crowley over and let him have his way with you. All night long.” You couldn’t help it as you moaned loudly and began squirting on Dean’s dick.

“Fuck,” Dean groaned, cumming deep inside you as your pussy convulsed around him again. He let his thrusting stop and he pulled his fingers out, rubbing your clit, hoping to make your squirt last longer, “You like that idea, slut?”

“I bet she does,” Sam said, smirking, looking at your face. Your eyes were crossed, tongue was out, but like a good girl, you managed to keep Sam’s cum resting on your tongue, “Good girl, baby. Swallow.” You instantly swallowed it and pushed your tongue out again to show that it was gone.

“Andddd scene,” Dean joked, pulling out. A genuine smile appeared on Sam’s face.

“You okay, baby? We weren’t too rough?” Sam asked, while Dean started untying you.

“Come on, Sammy, she loved it.”

You smiled at Dean and shook your head, looking into the eyes of your loving boyfriend, who was in fact, not soulless.

“Good,” Sam smiled and stroked your cheek gently, “Had so much fun, baby.”

“Same time tomorrow?” Dean joked, which earned him a harsh glare from you, “Fine fine, no same time tomorrow.” A light laugh left all of your guy’s throats and Sam leaned down, giving you a long kiss. Luckily, these men weren’t a demon and a soulless man, they were your boyfriend and his brother, who just happened to stumble upon a fic you were reading and both cared for you deeply.

Sam pulled away after a moment, “I love you, baby.”

“Love you too, Sammy.”

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