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blublublujk · 6 months

Text

i just fucked your girl (and she loved it)

oneshot

word count: 11k

genre: established relationship (reader x namjoon), dark/morally gray characters and decisions

pairings: ghost hoseok x y/n and y/n x fiancé namjoon

summary:

A very lonely, horny ghost comes to haunt your dreams (and fulfills your every sexual desire).

warnings: oh my god get ready this is gonna get long. swearing, cheating?? (is it really cheating if he's dead? i'll let you decide), explicit sexual content; sexual "nightmares", unprotected vaginal sex AND anal (ITS TIME :D), rough sex, sub/dom dynamics, no safe word, submission, dirty talk, hoseok refers to people he comes across as victims (he doesn't force anyone i promise, not unless they want to ofc), masturbation, fingering, petplay? (the reader likes being called kitten), slight hand kink, slut shaming (oopsies), use of spit (oops again), use of lube, hickeys, lots of begging, hoseok's a bit mean but the ending will make it up a bit ISTG, namjoon's an innocent sweetheart, reader feels a lot of guilt, ass play (YAY), rimming (YAY pt2), mentions to gay sex and clown kink (you'll see), hoseok's like a ghost sex worker and the reader sorta manifests him, sex toys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, come shot, blowjob, hair pulling, daddy kink, breast play, creampie, a bit of a sad/angsty ending, so sorry if anything is missing I RLLY TRIED

btw there's sex scenes between namjoon and the reader AND hoseok and the reader so they both get their share.

a.n: happy fucking halloween. sorry this got a little sad towards the end, but i hope you guys love it as much as i do. i think i'll live in this world for a while. i'm so obsessed with this probably, my favorite work yet. i think this is my smuttiest work too? idk. i was gonna delete like half of it because i hate myself sometimes but i figured you guys would enjoy something a little longer so i typed and typed until my lil heart desired and this beast was created. btw i finished this at exactly 6:13pm. i thought i'd let yall know, if anyone's as crazy as me :D im so curious what you guys think about this one so feel free to comment (only if you want too ofc ^.^) idk when i'll be back with something new but please be patient with me. i promise im not leaving lol i just get busy. OKIE THIS IS SO LONG SORRY AND ENJOY. byeee <3

p.s. i do plan to write an epilogue cuz this got crazy at the end. so much left unsaid. my brain is sooo... lol

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

It was the same damn nightmare.

For the past three weeks you had been waking up in coldsweat, heart nearly beating out of your chest, breathing so out of control. You could barely hold yourself up.

And still somehow, you woke up drenching your panties of your own slick arousal.

It was the same nightmare from yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that. You would end up in a dark, ominous apartment. It was yours, but somehow different. The apartment was pitch black, flashing red lights from time-to-time, as if someone in the building had pulled the emergency alarm. You would crumble in your bed, closing your eyes and praying it would end soon. That’s when he would appear.

A man in all black, long dark tousled hair. His teeth were bright, you could tell by the smile on his face while he watched you wither away in your sheets. The glow in his dull, sharp eyes would shine even in the dark.

He watched as you squirmed in your bed, feeling heavy, unable to stand by your own strength.

“Don’t force it, darling. Take what you need.” The stranger would say with a strong raspy tone, smelling your arousal fall into the sheets below your bottom. You were always bare in your nightmares as if you were waiting and submitting for him.

You couldn’t resist the feeling. At his call, your fingers would come to relieve the ache between your thighs. Playing with yourself as if you were alone, but it was far from the truth. He would watch as you pumped yourself two fingers deep, sighing and whimpering, satisfied that you no longer felt empty.

Sometimes, well no most times, he would join you in your nightmares. He would tear your hands from your leaking cunt sparing mercy and you would complain against your sheets. The stranger wasn’t that bad, not for long at least, because he would fill you with his own two fingers, his eyes would dilate watching you fall apart. He was smooth and precise, he would curve his fingers, hitting your g-spot right on target, loving the sinful sounds you made as you arched your back and yelled moans without holding back.

Once he was satisfied and right as you were about to explode, he would pull away, whipping his hard, swollen cock out of his pants and tugs on himself, forcing you to watch as he pleased himself . Of course you wanted it, but this was so wrong, very wrong.

The worst part is he wouldn’t just give it to you, he would make you beg for it. “Talk to me baby, you want it?”

You would shake your head, denying him and trying to pull yourself from under him, but realistically it is all you wanted. You wanted to taste the beads that fell from the slit of his hard cock. He was fucking big and that itself made you go fucking insane, his hands wrapped around his length nicely. You tried to stop your thoughts from going any further, but your imagination was a powerful thing, thinking about how his pretty hands would feel wrapped around your throat instead of his dick.

“Oh, you don’t? Maybe I’ll just leave you like this then.” He would say and it fucked with your head.

That was the last thing you wanted. “But– m’ so empty.”

“Then beg for it slut, you don’t have to be empty and lonely for long.” His tongue was smooth and wet against your skin as he licked down your throat, sucking little marks onto your skin. He had you wrapped around his fucking fingers and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. You wanted to move but at the same time, you wanted him to have his way with you. God can forgive you for this later.

“I c-can’t.”

“What a shame. I’ll just take care of myself and leave you here to watch.” He would start pumping his cock faster, tugging at the crown of his length.

You made an agonizing sound of complaint. “Please.”

“Please what little kitten?”

He was mean. So mean.

And you were fucking stupid.

“Please, f-fuck me.” You begged so sweetly.

The man would smile sinisterly before shoving himself deep inside you, forcing a scream of pleasure. He was not gentle in any way and you fucking liked that. As sick as it was.

He fucked you like his only mission was to make you come and drive you insane, pushing your legs far apart and brutally fucking deep into your walls.

He would watch you fall into your sheets, murmuring noncoherent words, completely submitting to the stranger you fell apart in his complete mercy.

What an honor.

“That's it baby. Squirt all over my dick.” His voice was always deep and you swore you could hear a smirk between his words.

Like magic his words would rip intense orgasms out of you and he would fuck you through them all until you eventually collapsed unconscious.

You wake up in a gasp, the wet feeling between your legs nearly makes you gag.

This can’t be. Not again.

“Baby, wake up.” A voice calls gently, soft hands soothe your back, patting and rubbing gently. “It’s just a nightmare, love. I’m here.”

“Joonie?”

“Yes baby. I’m here, go back to bed. I’ve got you.” His calm voice manages to settle the beating drum of your heart and still, this is the exact problem with these recurring nightmares.

Even as your fiancé rubs circles into your back, all you can think of is the hands of that strange man that would fuck you into a delrious state. You hated it. It felt too close to cheating.

If only Namjoon saw what your nightmares truly consisted of, he would be horrified and disgusted. Every night was worse, the guilt slowly started building in the pit of your stomach as you would daydream about the nightmare over and over and over.

…

“You okay baby?” Namjoon’s voice was gentle, aware that your mind was somewhere else during dinner.

“I- yes.” But you weren’t okay. Not one bit. Flashbacks of the man in your nightmares would haunt your thoughts. These nightmares would play in your head like old memories.

His hooded eyes watching as you fucked yourself open. He would whisper things like, ‘that’s it kitten, so fucking wet all for me’ and ‘good kitten, nice and tight for me’.

“Imagine what your fiancé would do if he saw the way you squirm in my hands. He could never fuck you the way I could, kitten. Isn't that right? Only I fuck you exactly the way you like it. My little submissive kitten.”

“Please.” Begging is all you could muster to do in your dreams. You felt pathetic. You never wanted someone so bad. The guilt only grew stronger when you realized you were fucking addicted to your own dreams. You started chasing these nightmares.

What was wrong with you?

“Baby?” Namjoon called your attention once again, smiling apologetically. “You feeling okay? Your face is quite flushed.”

Your hands fall onto your face feeling the slight burn against your palms. “Sorry. I’m okay, just a little hot in here is all.”

“It’s the end of October baby. It’s been really cold out. I’m surprised you aren't begging me to warm you up by now.” He tries to carry the conversation into a lighter, more casual matter.

A nervous smile breaks out onto your lips, as you brush a piece of hair out of your face. “Must just be experiencing hot flashes. It happens when I’m a bit more stressed than usual.”

“Anything you wanna talk about? You know you can talk to me.” He’s sweet and present for you as usual. You feel your heart drop thkining about how this is what you are missing out on by feeding into those stupid fucking nightmares. Something had to change.

Wake up, Y/N.

“Yeah, I know babe. It’s nothing to worry about. Just work stuff.” You make an excuse for yourself and it seems to work, for now.

“Mm, okay. Don’t be afraid to come to me for anything. I don’t want you suffering alone.” Your fiancé places a hand on top of yours, squeezing it softly.

“Thank you, Joonie.” This time you give him a real smile, but the guilt still stays hidden deep inside you watching as he reciprocates the smile back at you.

“There’s my beautiful bride-to-be. Stop worrying so much baby. Maybe you should take some time off from work. You know sleep usually makes you feel better. It always has. My sleepy girl.”

And there it goes and hits you all at once again.

Guilt. So much guilt. Sleep doesn’t even feel enough these days. The nightmares make you feel as if you never rest. You are clearly aware that dreams aren’t real life, but you even wake up sore from them. It’s scary how realistic it all feels. Maybe that’s why this makes it worse for you. Everything feels too real.

“Yeah… I’ll think about it.” But you won't because time off means resting and resting means more sleep and more time for these nightmares to keep haunting you. It’s like you will never win.

“Eat your dinner baby, it's getting cold.”

—-

The daydreams continue even at work.

“Let me see that perfect ass, kitten. Turn around for me.”

It’s like he completely owns you, hypnotized by his voice. You immediately present for him, face down and ass up sitting so nicely.

“Fuck kitten, look at you. Tell me, does that lame fiancé of yours ever play with this ass?”

You whimper a ‘no’ feeling a glob of spit drip into your unused, virgin hole. His thumb caressing the wet ring of muscle, watching you clench around nothing.

“I’ll change that soon, kitten. Just how you like it.”

Namjoon wasn’t necessarily opposed to butt stuff, the one time you mentioned it he briefly dismissed it. Granted, he was busy at the time with some work, and you were too embarrassed to bring it up again.

It seems you got lucky nonetheless.

The man blows hot air into your wet hole, his lips felt soft against your ass. He would leave a kiss here and there before his tongue peaked out and circled around your rim.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You weren’t the most vocal sexual partner yet somehow, under his touch, you were the loudest.

Moans fell dangerously loud from your lips as he would continue to fuck his tongue deep inside your ass. Stopping every few seconds to stare at your puffy rim, gaping around nothing. Fuck, what a sight for sore eyes you were.

“Please.”

“What baby?” His palm was heavy against your ass, watching it bounce back.

“More.” You would beg.

“Anything.” He would purr back.

A thumb circled around the velvety muscle before pushing right in, fucking his thumb alongside spit that dripped from his mouth.

Yes. Just how you like it.

“Y/N?” Your coworker brushes a hand against your shoulder. “You doing okay?”

“Shit– yeah, my bad Yoona. I’ve just been feeling a bit sick lately, I think I’m coming down with a cold.” Which is a complete lie, but how do you tell your coworker you’re having wet daydreams about another man (who by the way only exists in your imagination) that isn’t your fiancé and that it is taking over every part of your life and that the guilt of it all sits heavy on your chest as days pass by and there is nothing you can do about it, but indulge in these dreams and practically live in them because you’ve become an addict.

Yoona breathes out a light hum. “You don’t seem sick.”

Fuck.

“Yeah… well it’s just starting, my throat feels dry and sore these days.”

“Maybe you should take a day off?” She suggests.

“Yeah, maybe.” You agree just so she gets off your back.

“You’ve been working a lot these days anyways. I’m sure Mr. Gyun wouldn’t mind if you called off. You’re one of his favorites anyways.” She laughs and you fake a smile.

“Yeah, right. I’ll think about it. Let's just focus on work. We need this revised and sent off by Monday.”

“Sure sure. But I’m being serious, take a day off or two, you look like you need it. You seem… tired?” She says, worrying by the sound of her tone.

Because you know she will never let this go, you reassure her. “Yoona, I love you to death, but don’t worry too much, okay? I’ll take some time off if it gets worse. Thank you, really.”

“Alright, just looking after you Y/N. Your soon-to-be husband would kill me if I didn't.”

“I’ll tell him you’re doing a great job, now back to the transcripts…”

—-

You knew the night would eventually come.

There was only so much you could ignore and forget.

A sudden rush of heat wakes you from one of your nightmares, the jolt in your body scaring Namjoon awake beside you. You knew that he meant no trouble, but he gave you the face of ‘this again?’ and you could no longer push it aside.

“Baby?” Namjoon’s voice is tired and filled with sleep, but he asks anyways while patting your back gently, as he always does when this happens like the sweet fiancé he is. “What happens in these dreams anyways?”

How do you tell your husband-to-be and boyfriend of seven years that you get completely ruined by another man in your sleep?

Namjoon was far too sweet and innocent to get mad at you for this and you knew that. Yet the guilt never stopped you from feeling terribly about the situation.

“You won’t be upset with me?” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

Namjoon stands to turn on the nightlight by the bed before he lays back and wraps his strong arms around your waist. “Baby, look at me.”

With heavy eyes, you look back at your fiancé.

His palm cradles your soft cheek, pushing a loose hair behind your ear. “I could never be upset with you, my love. It might help to talk your nightmares through. I’ll be right here with you baby.”

With shaking hands, you take a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know where they come from, but there’s this man in my dreams.”

Namjoon raises a brow, doing his absolute best to understand you even while the clock reads in bold 3:44am.

“This man, he’s dressed in all black. He— he has these dark eyes.”

“Dark eyes?”

“Yeah, he— his eyes are dark, sharp all around, it’s sinister.”

“Okay. What happens?” He whispers, pulling you even closer into him, your hand falls into his chest for comfort.

“He— he…” You struggle finding the right words.

Namjoon’s eyes go wide. “Baby, d-does he hurt you?”

No. Of course not. In fact, he does the opposite. The man pleases you until you can’t give him anymore and he leaves you with sore limbs and the burning stretch between your legs as a reminder of what he’s done to you and what he’s capable of.

You quickly shake your head. “No but he- he touches me and does things to me.”

“Oh honey, why would I be mad at you about that? That’s completely unacceptable. Nobody should be touching you or doing things to you if you don't want it. I see now why this bothers—”

“Joonie, I feel,” you start and swallow the awful feeling in your throat, “ I feel like… if I've been cheating on you.”

“Baby, I know you would never. They’re just nightmares after all. It’s not like you enjoy it baby.” This is what you mean by Namjoon’s too innocent and kind-hearted to see past the lines between your words.

“But- I.”

“Wait… do you? Do you enjoy them?” Namjoon almost looks hurt to ask the question, but he’s quick to reassure you. “It’s okay baby, if you do.”

“I do.” You whisper like it’s some dirty secret.

There’s a pregnant pause before Namjoon pulls you completely flush against his body, rubbing circles behind your back. “It’s okay baby, it's okay. They’re just nightmares. They mean nothing.”

He kisses your hair for comfort and you let out a sob because they are much more than that to you and you know it. They are all you can think about. Shit, you think if you were given the chance, you would actually let that man have his way with you in real life. And it makes you feel disgusting because you know you enjoy this dynamic way too much.

At first, it was terrifying, you didn’t know the man and he, well he just became a weakness and you wanted him so bad, as much as you hated to admit it. Your imagination was a powerful tool. Why you and why with him? Why couldn’t your dreams be with Namjoon, your high school sweetheart?

“I’m so sorry, Joonie. For all these long nights. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The nightmares don’t stop, in fact they only feel longer and they get worse.” You cry into his chest.

“I know honey, it’s not your fault. Just think of me whenever you feel this way, okay?” He pulls back, wiping your tears off with his sleeves. Your fiancé was so fucking sweet and that’s why you fell in love with him in the first place. He was never angry at you or disappointed. Namjoon was always patient with you and a complete sweetheart. God, you’re so fucking stupid.

“And I’m not mad at you, okay? I never will be. Those nightmares mean nothing to me. I love you Y/N.” Your fiancé whispers into your hair, kissing the side of your face.

Namjoon has always been way better than you because had you been in his shoes, you couldn’t phantom hearing about him enjoying the presence of another woman. He knew only one part of this story. Namjoon doesn’t know that you spend evenings, the time you have the house alone while he’s off at work, fucking yourself to this strange man’s voice in your head. That you open yourself up just how you do in your nightmares and you swear you hear his voice telling you to keep going. You swear you hear him calling your name asking you about how Namjoon would feel about this. Like if his whole purpose is to make you feel worse about the situation. He’s ruining your life and you’re letting him. You think you’ve given up and it’s just started.

“I- I love you too.” You reply.

Namjoon smiles apologetically, hands gentle against your skin. “Let’s sleep?”

You nod and he pulls you against his hard chest, rubbing your back while he attempts to lull you back to sleep. It eventually comes, but not before you wake to those dark eyes again and the nightmare continues. This time you don't even fight it. He fucks you until you feel yourself collapse and you swear nothing has ever felt better.

…

The next morning Namjoon gently shakes you awake. “Good morning my love, you slept through your alarm. I figured you could take a day off so I called your boss to let him know you couldn’t come in today. I hope you don't mind.”

“Joonie?” Your voice is the cutest in the mornings (according to Namjoon), he smiles watching you struggle to wake up.

“Yes, my baby. I’m just getting ready to leave for work, but I wanted to say goodbye before I leave.”

Well, it’s not like you have a choice so you accept your fate. “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, honey. You slept quite well. You didn’t even wake up this time! Did it help? Talking through it?” Again, Namjoon could be so clueless.

The only reason you slept this well is because you were fucked into oblivion in your dream. As unbelievable as it may sound, you even felt sore down there. But he doesn’t have to know that, so he’ll just go off to work thinking that cuddles and his sweet words drifting you back to sleep actually worked.

“Yeah… yeah it did. Thank you again. Have a nice day at work.” You say, still warmly tucked in bed.

“I will, baby. ” He drops a peck into your cheek, smelling the fresh scent of his aftershave. “Call me if anything. See you later, my love.”

And like that you are left alone once again. The only thing that remains is the fluffy feeling of his plump lips buzzing against your cheek, a faint reminder that you are loved and have been for years, while you think about another man, one that only exists in your deepest darkest of dreams.

—-

Hoseok doesn’t remember how it happened. All he knew is he was standing in a place unknown, sensing there was another being in the room with him.

It's not his first time around a mortal human. No, in fact he had so much experience with lustful humans with all kinds of desires and wishes, but it has been quite long since he was manifested this strongly into someone’s dreams.

His favorite part was watching them act as if they didn’t ask for it. Call for him. They would lie and say that they could never fuck a dead being. A ghost at that. As if they didn’t manifest him themselves.

It's not like it was Hoseok’s fault for dying young and handsome and that now he tends to people’s guiltiest pleasures. It's not like he has anything better to do in the after-life. In reality, he’s doing people a grand fucking favor. The best thing about fucking a dead ghost is there’s absolutely no consequences, at least that’s what he always tells his victims. Unless you get addicted to one, then that’s really a personal problem. They can’t stay on mortal land forever, but for the time being Hoseok has become attached to his time here. Especially with his new little mortal toy.

When he first heard the calling, he almost missed it. He was fucking another mortal, a man in his mid-twenties to be exact. The man had called for him in his dreams and he attended to his duty with pleasure.

This man had a thing for clowns and Hoseok wasn’t no fucking clown, but he did his best to please him. His outfit was in all black (of course, it was his favorite color) and fit him quite well though it was different from his usual style, even down to the clown hat and all.

The guy would scream under Hoseok as he would pound into him like some fuck-doll and would have him come undone within minutes. He was so fucking easy to please. They always are.

When Hoseok came to you the first night. That’s how you found him. He still had the same outfit on (he was ripped from the last dream) and his hat had nearly fallen off in the process, but he was pleased when he came across his next victim. You were beautiful.

“Who— who are you?” You screeched, covering yourself up, cheeks flushed. You had been doing unspeakable things to yourself in the dream. “What are you doing in my room?!”

Hoseok smiles. God, they always are the same. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to and don’t mind me, keep doing what you were doing before I had rudely interrupted.”

The stranger goes to sit by the vanity in your room, making himself extremely comfortable as if it is a regular Tuesday night for him.

You try to stand and it's like something washes over you. The strange force pushes you back down and you have no choice but to take it.

The man chuckles, throwing his hat aside. “Don’t hurt yourself trying. Just let your instincts guide you. Tell me what it is you want, this will all go much smoother and much faster.”

The stranger in black winks and you feel disgusted (though your pussy doesn’t seem to agree with you).

Still you manage to say, “I want you to get out of my fucking room. I’m about to get married, you know and he’ll fucking kill you.”

“Ohhh.” He purrs, standing as he walks across the room. He stops a couple steps from your bed and leans down to match your height. “But you asked for me to come, baby. So guess what? Now I am your problem.”

He pinches your nose, wrinkling his own in the process and flashes a charming smile.

You swat his hand off you almost immediately. “I— I didn’t ask for anything. I don’t even know you and I don’t want to know you.”

“Mm, but soon we’ll know each other very well. Let’s not fight this.” The man’s voice is silky and you could practically see the sinful desire in his eyes while they take in your naked figure.

You have no idea what he even means by that, but right now you could care less. This is just a nightmare and soon enough, he will disappear and you will get to go back to doing what you were doing before he ever existed.

“Leave me alone please.”

The guy puts his hands up clearly coming and going in peace, while retreating back a few steps. “Whatever you say princess. I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

And just like that the man disappeared into a black distorted shadow.

He shows up only three nights later.

This time he catches you on your knees, riding a dildo on your bed. You don’t even hear him until he’s in front of you. Your hips stop mid roll. Whimpering as you feel the tug on your hair.

“Seems you’re ready.” He rasps, having a strong grip on your hair forcing you to look up at him.

“I— who the fuck are you? Seriously? What do you want with me? I know I’m dreaming and I can wake up any secomd so what the fuck do you want with me.” This time you don’t even entertain him. It’s clear this man has his own vulgar intentions, you wanna skip the small talk. He doesn’t seem like the type to give up until he gets exactly what he wants.

“The better question is what do you want with me. You manifested me after all, darling.”

Your eye twitches at the pet name, but you ignore it, for now. “But— I don't know you. How is that fucking possible?”

Even though he knows you won't understand it completely, he still answers truthfully. “I’m dead baby. Anything is possible.”

Great, so you’re just supposed to believe this man is some ghost haunting you in your dreams. Perfect!

This time you don’t ignore his stupid use of pet names. “S-Stop calling me that.”

“Oh?” The man pouts, and to be honest that does something to you. If the situation was different maybe you would admit he looks fucking sexy, even if he’s a menace.

His brows furrow, his jawline clenching as he speaks. “Is there another pet name you like? We’re already getting farther than last time, princess.”

You don’t even attempt to hold back the scoff, your eyes roll back. “No. I don’t— I didn't ask for you and I don’t want you bothering me anymore. Just please leave me alone. Please.”

The man groans, looking down at you with hooded eyes, the fist in your hair grips harder reminding you that he still had you under his control. “God, but you sound perfect begging. Are you sure of that, kitten?”

The man's voice drops in a sultry tone, nearling purring while he speaks. And somehow, that manages to slip a whine from your throat, nearly drooling at the sight.

Your eyes immediately widen. “I— I didn't mean that.”

“Oh, so that’s what you like.” The man smiles, petting your head affectionately. You were fucked. “Of course you didn't. You were so close weren't you, kitten?”

You shake your head, you’re unable to look away, but at the same time you want to throw his hands off you. You felt completely powerless under his gaze and you were liking it a lot more than you would like to admit.

“Don’t bother lying to me princess, I can smell it. You were so fucking close.” He whines the last part, biting his bottom lip, he seems to breathe in the scent. “So fucking close. I’m sorry. I always join at the worst times, you can continue.”

He offers like a fucking weirdo, pervert and still you disgustingly want it.

“I said, don't call me that!” Your hand flies to his and forces it off you.

“Then talk to me.” He’s rough, but firm with his tone.

“No. I don’t- can't and I won't. Go bother someone else.”

“I can’t. You asked for me and you brought me here. Now you have to deal with this.” He doesn't attempt to put his hands back on you, but he does let his gaze wander seeing as you still haven’t moved from your dildo.

“This is bullshit. It’s just in my head anyways. If I close my eyes it’s like you aren’t even here. Now let me fucking come in peace.” Your eyes closed in the middle of your rant and he seemed to listen. Hoseok backs off, watching you from your wall to be exact, but he lets you take care of yourself. That’s what he’s there for after all.

After a few seconds of calming yourself down and regaining your arousal, you slowly lift yourself up feeling the dildo pull against your walls and you drop yourself back down.

Hoseok was right, you weren’t too far away from coming, but he messed up your pace and now you have to work yourself back up.

It doesn’t take too long before you set a quick pace, fucking yourself onto the silicone length.

Truly it wasn’t that you and Namjoon’s sex life was bad, in fact he was the best fuck of your life (not that you had much experience given he was your high school sweetheart) but after years of being together, things had changed, a lot.

You don’t even remember the last time you guys got creative in bed, besides a few vibrators from time-to-time. It was starting to get boring and you didn't want to admit this to him, but you wanted so much more. It's like your body was begging for it. And you didn’t want to hurt his feelings by saying it, so instead you kept it to yourself and the sexual frustration built up overtime making it impossible not to think about constantly.

You gasp when you finally open your eyes to find the man watching you with heavy lidded eyes from your wall, he’s not even touching himself, but you can see he’s hard in his pants.

He licks his lips as he watches you jump down on the dildo ferociously. Your eyes make contact and that's when everything seems to explode.

Moans start slipping from your lips and you feel the knot in your stomach start to build quickly. The silicone molds around your walls perfectly, feeling the tip brush against your sweet spot repeatedly, fisting the sheets below you.

Hoseok’s nose seems to flare and he can practically taste your arousal in the air. He watches as you bounce on that useless dildo, wishing it was his cock instead. Your mouth falls open, drool nearly spilling while you feel the knot coming undone.

It isn’t long before Hoseok finally decides to speak and it does wonders. “Come, you fucking slut.”

Fuck.

On call, you come and he’s forced to watch you moan and writhe against your sheets, feeling the dildo slowly push out of you.

He pushes himself off the wall and comes towards you and you feel too exhausted to push him away. You are laying in the middle of your bed now, dildo still between your legs but it’s fallen out.

You feel as he pushes the dildo back inside you overstimulating your used hole as he fucks it into you deeply. You really, really shouldn't let this happen. You are going to be a married woman soon for fuck’s sake, but it all feels so fucking good- risky yet new, so you can’t help but to feed into temptation.

Sadly, your body denies it, for now at least. “N-No I can't. Not anymore.”

His action comes to a halt. “I know. Maybe next time, kitty.”

And he disappears once again.

Disappointment and guilt builds all too quickly.

Disappointed that he didn’t stay and fuck you until you passed out. And guilt that you just came in the eyes of another man and on his call.

—-

As expected, you spend your whole day off thinking about the stranger. The way he looks at you, the way he bites his bottom lip while taking you in. The way he grips your hair and clenches his sharp, symmetrical jawline when he has you falling apart in his hands. You could feel his touch, it’s impossible you know, but it all feels too real and it all happens so fast.

He had a name now. He told you in one of your dreams while he was taking you from behind.

“Say my name kitten. Who’s fucking you this good? Fuck, what a sight from behind. You’re just perfect all around, aren’t you?” Hoseok’s hands grip onto your ass cheeks, fucking into your pussy brutally. He hasn’t stopped pounding into you and it’s already been ten minutes. Maybe more? Maybe less? You stopped counting. Good dick leaves you feeling stupid.

“H-Hoseok.” You whimper into your pillow, you think you have officially lost your fucking mind.

“What?” You swear you can hear the smirk on his lips.

“Hoseok.” You’re louder this time, but your voice is muffled, face falling into your pillow.

“Louder slut!” There’s a sting on your ass and he has a fistful of your hair, lifting your face from up the pillow while he continues to ram into you from behind. You realize you are so fucking close and he knows it too, you try to meet his strong thrusts, but it’s no use because it knocks the air from under you. He manages to hold you up with a strong grip. “Fuck, fuck. You’re so tight around me, kitty. You gonna come on my dick now like a good slut? Huh?”

“Yes!” This time your voice is loud and you scream without holding back. “Hoseok! Hoseok! Oh, nghh… fuck, Hoseok!”

His name falls from your lips over and over while you come on his cock, just like he asked of you. That satisfies him enough and he squirts his own orgasm all over your plump ass, watching you come down from your own afterglow.

You had come to the fucked conclusion that the only way to possibly fucking fix something like this (as sick as it may sound) is to fuck it away. You had to tell Namjoon, maybe experiment a bit more just so you can finally get this man out of your head. Regain your peace of mind. Namjoon would do anything you’d ask of him, you could assure that. You just had to find a way to tell him so he wouldn’t feel it was his fault or as if he was lacking. Or you could just not tell him.

Either way you think fucking this away would help for the time being at least.

Sex is a very special and intimate practice and that’s genuinely how it always felt with Namjoon. He always took his time with you and fucked you slow and deep.

Before, you will admit that it was nice and that’s why he attracted you so much but now, you don’t want it to be nice or slow. You want someone to play rough, break your limits, and touch you in places you haven’t been touched before. You want to be tossed around, fucked until you can’t speak any coherent sentences. Was that just too much to ask for?

(Hoseok sure didn't think so.)

Right as you had finished cooking dinner, Namjoon made his way through the front door, setting his work bag down by the coat rack.

“You’re cooking?” Namjoon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in for a quick kiss. “Smells good.”

“Yeah, I figured you deserved a nice meal to come home to. I didn’t have much else to do.” You swiftly kiss him back.

Namjoon pulls you in closer, arms holding you tightly. He still smells as fresh as he did when he first left. “I told you to rest, my love. You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I know, I know. I really wanted to though. Let’s just eat, we'll talk after.” He nods and kisses your cheek once more.

“Let's eat then.”

…

Namjoon decides a movie night is needed on a night like tonight.

You were more clingy than usual (and of course, he loves it). So he puts on a random movie and allows you to cuddle him up to the fullest of your extent.

“You’re so cuddly today, my love.” Namjoon whispers into your hair, mid-movie.

“I just missed you is all.” And you really did, it's been long since you and Namjoon had an intimate night (maybe since these dreams started), you think it's finally time.

He smiles rubbing his hand down your arm. “I missed you too honey.”

You lift your head from his chest and lean in slowly, he immediately picks up on the drift and leans down to meet your lips.

His lips are soft against yours, kissing you with gentle movements. His palm comes to rest on your cheek while you escalate the kiss.

Your tongue comes up slowly and he lets you in quite easily. You take a hand and rake it down his chest, pulling yourself on his lap carefully.

You start to slowly whine your hips, making it all too obvious about what you need and want. Namjoon follows along without complaints.

“Do you wanna?” Namjoon asks, a bit breathless, bringing his forehead against yours.

“Yes.” You whisper. “Yes, please.”

Namjoon smiles and steals one last kiss before he attempts to stand, thinking it would be best to move this to the bed, but you hold him down with a shove to his abdomen.

“No. I want it, right here.” You say, finding yourself a little breathless yourself, you needed this.

His eyes seem to widen for the moment, but he seems to agree and pulls you back in for a kiss, this time he lets his tongue push into your mouth further exploring. He tastes the sweet tang of red wine on your tongue and he groans into the kiss.

You pull back only for a second as you get rid of your shirt and he starts to unbutton his own. Once the shirts are off, you tug your bra off freeing your breast and bring your lips back together with great force.

Though he doesn’t complain, Namjoon is in shock. He hasn’t seen you this needy and desperate in years, he thinks? Or at least he doesn’t remember it like that. He lets you rut against his already hard member and kisses you with equal passion.

The next time he pulls away, he tugs on your leggings and he helps you out of them. Typically your panties come down with it, but you decide you’ll just push them aside. You return the offer by pushing his jeans down, including his briefs, his dick slaps against his stomach weighing heavy.

Your mouth instantly waters, but right now you want him inside the rest will just have to come another time.

Namjoon looks at you with so much love and admiration and for a minute, the guilt comes crashing down. You want him, you know you do so why is the guilt still there? Is it because even as you have your lover right where you want him all you can think about is how the stranger (Hoseok) from your dreams would have had you flipped onto the couch and had his way with you hours ago. Maybe he would have fucked you against the kitchen counter, defile the damn marble. Maybe he would have taken you right against your front door, like the slut you wanted to be for him. All you know for sure is he wouldn’t have let this much time pass.

You shake your stupid thoughts away and look back up at your fiancé. This is where you want to be. Where you fucking belong. Without letting your imagination run wild, you rub yourself against Namjoon’s hard length, spreading your arousal all over him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby.” He bites a moan back, feeling your warm juices, slicken his cock.

You moan against his mouth when you feel the tip latch on to your hole, slowly sinking down on him. You feel his cock stretch your warm walls and he feels he could come already. It's just been so long (can anyone really blame him).

You bring your hips up a bit before crashing back down feeling the burn on your tight heat.

“So warm and tight baby.” His hands land on your hips, toying with the band of your panties. “Come here.”

Namjoon brings you flush against his chest slowing your movement, his lips crash into yours. The kiss feels much different from before. He doesn’t hold back, as soon as your tongue clashes with his, he sucks and bites it playfully. You groan into his mouth, accidentally squeezing harder against his length.

“Fuck baby, just like that.” His dick twitches deeply against your velvety walls, you can tell he’s holding back. “I think I’ll come soon if you continue like this.”

Like hell, you’ll let him come now, you’ve barely had your fill. Without no desire to, you slowly slide off his dick, dropping knees first onto the cold floor below you.

“Baby–” Namjoon starts, but you push his hands away as he tries to pull you back up.

“Let me do this, you’ll last longer.” He hesitates, but eventually surrenders, laying his hands aside. “Don’t be scared to use your hands, use my mouth, Joonie.”

Fuck. How could his own perfect, sweet wife-to-be sound this seductive? He hasn’t heard you talk this way since college. And it’s been years since that. He thought the years of young, hot sex were over but he’s been wrong all along. His fiancée was the sexiest woman in the world, that he was sure of.

Namjoon’s hands find your hair and push you towards his glistening length. It’s already drying, shame, you thought, let’s keep it warm and wet.

Wrapping hands around it, you take his cock into your mouth, sliding your tongue across the slit, hearing a raspy moan come from Namjoon’s throat. “That’s it baby, God your mouth feels incredible.”

The tip of his cock weighs heavy against your tongue. He’s breathing heavy, while he watches you take him in further. You warm his cock with your mouth just as nicely as when you were on top of him.

Hollowing your cheeks, you take him as far as you could go, hearing his desperate grunts. Namjoon takes a grip of your hair (he’s still very gentle with it and you try not to be disappointed) and pushes you just a bit further, feeling your throat stretch around him. “F-Fuck baby. I really won’t last.”

You tap his thigh and he immediately lets go when he sees your eyes water. You pull off with a pop to catch your breath. “I know.”

Your voice is raspy and it’s the sexiest thing Namjoon has ever heard. And you know exactly how to make this whole situation better. Sometimes, a little whiny purr in your voice is all that’s needed to get exactly what you need. “I just want you to come down my throat. Please, fuck my throat daddy.”

Now if Namjoon wasn’t sure he could bust before, he could definitely nut in your fist right in that instant. Yes, he has a daddy kink, sue him.

“Come here.” Namjoon demands, doesn’t hesitate this time to tug you up a little harder and place you in his lap, before he shoves your back against the couch.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask, but the answer is pretty obvious when you see him line his cock up to your hole.

“Fucking you. I’m gonna come inside you. Don’t worry baby, I won’t stop fucking you until you are statisfied.” It’s like music to your ears, his hard member slaps against your clit before he slowly eases back inside you.

Both moaning at the feeling, he lets you adjust for a few seconds, but you waste no time to wrap your legs around his hips and pull him close.

“Please daddy, just fuck me.” You whine into his ear.

This time Namjoon pulls back and right before he slides out, he slams back in, balls smacking into your ass. He fucks you just like that for a while. He’s fast but skilled, finding your sweet spot quite easily. It reminds you both of older times, when things were much easier, when you were both young and easily influenced.

You moan loudly into his neck, toes curling as he fucks his dick deep inside you. “Right there daddy, please don’t stop.”

Sweat starts forming on his forehead and his hair that had once been held back by gel begins sticking to skin. It isn’t a surprise to feel him thrust harder and faster, his tongue poking at his cheek as he concentrates. “Fuck baby, I really missed fucking you just like this. You feel so tight around me, look so fucking sexy, just like this baby.”

You eat up his praise, biting your bottom lip as you feel the tight grip he has on your hips, drilling into you like he used to. Fuck, maybe you were right. This was exactly what you needed. There’s no Hoseok in your head right now. No unwanted thoughts in your mind. It’s just you and Namjoon. How it always should have been.

A whimper falls between your lips and you feel Namjoon leaving hickey’s around your tits, covering them beautifully with his own little marks.

Your legs start to shake around him, and warmth starts spreading through you quickly. “Daddy— I- I think I’m gonna fucking come.”

Namjoon grunts, mouth around your nipple while he pulls off to speak. “Yeah baby? You wanna come?”

Yes.

No.

Not really.

Preferably you would like him to control your fucking orgasm, flip you around, start pounding into you until you can’t hold yourself together but this will have to do.

“Y-Yeah. I wanna come.”

“Come sweetheart.” It’s not long before you moan sweetly through an orgasm, Namjoon fucks you through it as promised and you feel like you are levitating, he maintains sinful eye contact. His thrust starts to become sloppy and you feel the instant he lets go.

“Inside daddy, inside.” With one final strong stroke, Namjoon comes deep inside you, his breathy moans feel hot against your ear.

There’s a few minutes of heavy breathing, settling into the couch below you. Namjoon’s breaths follow close behind yours, arm tucked below your breasts, he lays behind you.

“You were so wonderful my love, I’m sorry we don’t do that enough.” Namjoon breaks the silence, kissing the side of your head.

For the twentieth time that week, guilt falls heavy onto your chest. You didn’t deserve him, he didn’t deserve this.

“No, don’t apologize Joonie. It’s my fault, really. I’ve just been… out of it. But I feel much better. All thanks to you. Thank you, thank you for everything you do for me and our home.” You start getting emotional, but you don't let your tone waver. You didn’t want him to know.

“You know I’d do it all for you, my love” He whispers into your hair, kissing along the soft skin behind your neck. “I can’t wait to marry you baby.”

There it is again, guilt.

“I know, I know. Me either.”

“I love you.” He doesn't hesitate to remind you sweetly.

It hurts to say it with all that is going through your mind, but you force a reply anyway. “I love you too.”

…

Sleep comes over you quickly that night.

Finally, you had fucked your sweet and loving fiancé and for once, your dreams don’t start off with you fucking yourself into an orgasm.

In fact, you don’t dream, at least you don't recall.

Hoseok immediately knows something is different when he arrives. He doesn’t smell arousal in the air, no this time he can tell you’ve been fucked. He can smell the come leftover deep inside your walls. He’s impressed to say the least.

He watches your chest rise and fall, a small pout framing on your lips. You sleep beautifully, he thinks you will look even better after he’s done with you for today.

With careful steps, he makes his way to the end of your bed, you jerk your arm so suddenly in your sleep and he holds back a laugh. He’s quiet when he sits besides your sleeping head, gentle fingers run through your hair.

“Mm.” You hum sweetly in your sleep, molding against his touch, thinking it was your husband-to-be playing with your hair like he normally does.

Before you hear him say, “someone had a good night. Isn’t that right kitten?”

Your eyes widen, nearly jumping out of bed, but Hoseok’s hands stop you from moving. “It’s just me baby.”

“H-How?” Your voice is raspy with sleep. “You were supposed to be gone.”

Hoseok smiles wide, hand still caressing the back of your head. “Did you really think that would happen, kitten?”

“Yes.”

“You let him fuck you.” He says like he knows for sure it's a fact. He doesn’t look too happy about it and your deafening silence answers his unspoken question. He pats your cheek. “Naughty kitty.”

You gulp, his pretty hand wrapping around your throat as he asks the next question. “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” It’s not a lie and he knows it too.

“Yeah? He fuck you better than me?” You gulp again.

“Yes.” No.

“Why do you lie to me, kitten?” His eyes flash red (they don’t), but the look he gives you is enough to warn you. Things are about to get serious so fast. “I know everything.”

You know that saying people say about fucking around and finding out. You were about to fuck around and find out real fucking fast that Hoseok doesn’t play with his toy.

“Then what the fuck are you going to do about it, huh?” The only warning you get is Hoseok’s smile and then he’s fisting your hair tightly. Jawline clenched, watching as his eyes hood and darken.

“Fuck yourself open, you slut.” He drops the grip on your hair and stands, serious look on his face, he’s not fucking around at all tonight. His hands are quick, tugging his belt off. “Make it quick.”

When he sees you still haven’t moved, a warning comes to you by a strong fistful of hair, shoving you so closely against his face. His breath hits yours, but your lips don’t touch, even though they are so fucking close. You’re tempted to steal a kiss from those soft looking lips, but you’ve acted up enough. “I said, fuck yourself open.”

He drops his grip, letting your head fall into the mattress. Hoseok’s voice is strong and demanding so you stop fucking around and pull the sheets off your body. His eyes fall on your breasts, they are covered in hickey’s freshly made by Namjoon and he tries not to let that affect him. But damn him, he wishes it was him instead. He knows you would never sleep unsatisfied. He would always make sure you slept fucked and sated. Even if that meant, falling asleep on his cock.

There’s a slight burn when your finger finds its way to your pussy. Namjoon did a number on you, but it makes it easier to fuck yourself open. His come still settling deep inside you.

Hoseok has his shirt off now and he tugs his briefs and pants down all at once, his cock springs out, looking delicious as ever. You hear a dark chuckle behind you. “Uh-uh, wrong hole kitty, I’m fucking that ass tonight.”

You whimper when his hand comes to stop your movements.

“I’m not fucking that dirty hole. Turn around. I wanna see you from behind.” He’s not putting it up for question. You push yourself up on your knees and fall back against the bed, lifting your ass towards his direction.

He curses behind you and smacks your ass. Leaving a red hand mark behind, it almost is as pretty as your face. “Fuck kitten, you really are pretty all around. Fuck that hole open for me.”

You feel spit hit your hole and your index finger rubs his saliva around your rim. Your chest is heavy, this time for different reasons, you are completely breathless.

You can’t see Hoseok, but you hear as he opens the drawer beside your bed, it’s where you kept all your toys and lube. You are a finger-deep inside your ass when you hear the lube cap open, Hoseok is kind enough to warm the lube a bit between his fingers before he rubs against your rim and finger. He lets a bit of the lube dribble down your ass cheeks. Hoseok likes it a bit messy and wet. He clicks it close and tosses it besides you.

“My perfect submissive slut.” He whispers, hands settling on your ass as you finger yourself open with two fingers now, the burn hurts but it feels so damn good. Namjoon has never fucked your ass, but it has always been one of your sexual desires. Nothing could ever compare to an orgasm through anal and Hoseok has taught you a lot about that.

Another glob of spit hits your rim and you feel him squeeze a finger in. The burn of three fingers tear through you, moaning into the sheets. “Mm, fuck.”

He grins watching you hold back moans, biting your lips hard.

“Maybe I should punish you tonight.” He suggests, still fucking his finger in your ass alongside your own. “If you come like this I’ll let you suck my dick if I’m still feeling nice.”

You complain, turning around to face him, back still arched. “No… please, please Hoseok. F-Fuck me. Fuck my ass.”

“No.” He’s cold like usual and you know he won’t budge so it's no use.

“But I-I’ve been waiting patiently. I thought all day about you.” It almost sounds like a purr and Hoseok loves it, spanking the fat in your hips this time with an unoccupied hand. His finger is still deep inside your ass and doesn’t let down.

“Yeah? Tell me about that.” He starts to jerk himself off in the process, the leftover lube in his fingers makes the slide easier, his tongue wets his lips while he maintains eye contact.

Your cheeks are burning but you continue, “I thought about your huge cock splitting me open. Forcing me to take you e-even when I can’t anymore. I thought about you spitting into my messy hole like you always do. I thought about you fucking me open against the door. Even the kitchen counter. All day, I’ve missed you all day.”

This seems to satisfy him enough so he plays nice. “Turn over. On your back. Show me those tits.”

He pulls his finger out slowly and you miss it immediately but you listen, your own fingers slide out as you turn around for him. His knees hit the bed pulling your thighs apart as he falls between them, his arm falling beside your head. He’s still fisting his hard length, watching your tits rise and fall as you breathe.

His tongue comes out and licks around your breasts purposely avoiding your nipple. “You let him mark you.”

“He’s my husband-to-be.” You answer, holding back a moan when he sucks on your skin, gentle enough not to make any marks. “Of course, I did.”

“Mm.” He hums into your skin, it vibrates and your pussy responds to this, leaking arousal into the sheets. “What else did you let him do, kitten?”

“He fucked me.” You whisper, practically vibrating below him.

“Oh I know that. I smell it.” He looks like he wants to laugh, but instead continues sucking around your other breast, giving both tits the attention they deserve.

“Squeeze them together.” He orders and you listen quickly. His tongue slides and sucks between them, still avoiding your nipples and it drives you insane. You want to feel him.

“Please.” Your voice is weak.

“Please what?” He asks, looking up dumbfounded, but he knows exactly what you want. He’s making you work for it. “Tell me kitten. What do you want?”

“Y-Your mouth.” You struggle.

“Where?” He breathes out, right on top of your nipple, tongue nearly sliding against it.

“R-Right there.” Your eyes never move.

You watch as he sticks his long, pink tongue out and very slowly licks your already hardened nipple.

“Here?” He asks between his own breaths and you moan softly, sounding sweet against his ears.

“Yes.” You whisper-moan.

He drops his cock, letting it hit your cunt while he starts to suck on your nipples like they deserve. There’s nothing sweet and gentle about this. It’s like he wants to replace Namjoon’s love bites and leave you with his own.

He switches off onto the previous breast and his hand comes to play with your other breast while he attends to the new one. He licks and sucks harshly, bruising your tender skin. You writhe against him, pussy brushing along his cock, but his hand comes to halt your actions quickly with a strong grip on your hip.

“Be good, slut.” Is all he says before he continues marking your breasts and you can’t do a single thing, but moan and whine underneath him, feeling empty. The memory of Namjoon is long forgotten.

Once Hoseok is satisfied with his work. He grins and pulls away. He grabs the bottle of lube beside you and lathers his cock in it. “Should I fuck you now?”

You are quick to nod and you feel bubbly.

Finally.

“Yeah? You think you deserve it?” He tempts and teases, his lubed fingers touch your chin and you open with ease, taking all three fingers he offers you inside your mouth. You suck hard and watch him bite his lip.

You moan around his fingers, his other hand gripping his slicken cock and you feel it catch around your rim.

“Beg for it, slut.” He slides his fingers out, saliva drips down your chin, you probably look a mess but you don't even care anymore. The sinful desire and lust is ten times worse than any other feeling.

“Please, Hoseok. Please.” You beg. “I’d do anything. Anything.”

He sees red for two seconds and then he says. “Then keep your legs open for me. Try to stay awake. Don’t disappoint me this time, kitten.”

There’s no warning for when he plunges his hard length inside your slicked rim. You know he won’t be going anywhere near your pussy, keeping his promise. You didn’t deserve it. You let someone else use your hole and now he’s punishing you.

“Oh. My. God.” You moan, it fucking burns, but soon his thrusts turn into pleasure and his cock brushes your sweet spot. It’s like he’s known you all your life, knowing the exact way to tear you apart, piece by piece.

“Ghost actually, not God, but I’ve met him. He’s not the sweet and forgiving man everyone mentions he is.” Hoseok says this all while buried deep between your ass cheeks and you would actually laugh about this if the situation was different, but instead you moan and clench around him feeling his balls slap faster against your ass. “That’s it kitten, lose your fucking mind.”

And that is exactly what you do.

Hoseok continues ramming his hips into yours for a few minutes, you aren’t speaking clearly anymore so he doesn’t understand a word you tell him, all he knows is that you must be feeling fucking ecstasy by the way you roll your eyes and yell moans.

His hands grip your hips and he comes to a stop. “Face down. Ass up. I wanna see that ass while I pound it from behind.”

You don’t reply to him, but you seem to understand. With weak movements, you move and nearly fall face first into the bed, weak limbs. You don’t even have the strength to hold yourself together anymore. Hoseok is kind enough to help though, he places a pillow below your hips, just high enough so he can slide right back inside your tight ass.

He hears your muffled moans against your bedsheets, watching you weakly grip them.

“Such a nice ass. It’s a shame really.” Your ass bounces while he mounts you from behind, it’s fast but precise, hitting your walls just right at every harsh thrust.

“W-What is?” He barely hears you reply.

“That this ass isn’t played with enough and soon I’ll just be a fidget of your imagination. You’ll forget I ever existed and you’ll never, ever receive the sexual satifisation you deserve. But maybe, one day, when it’s your turn to go, you’ll meet me in the after-life and I’ll show you just how much I’ve missed this sweet ass.” The ghost’s voice almost sounds sad and you freeze. You don’t want this to end. No.

“T-Then don’t stop fucking me. Keep me here forever.” You whisper frantically, breath hot and heavy.

“Oh trust me baby, I would if I could. For now, I won’t stop. Stay awake, kitten.” You don’t even notice you are falling unconscious, the stretch and burn of his cock is exhausting and your ass takes him greedily, but his words wake you.

He grips the side of your hips, pressing his thumbs into your back as he sets a faster pace. Slamming and ramming his dick deep within you. The moans and gasps that slip from your mouth sound so pretty, God he really wishes it would never fucking end, but he feels you slipping between his hands already.

What the fuck can he do?

Hoseok is close himself, how could he not be? He’s been practically edging himself for hours and now that he has such a juicy ass at hand, with the most perfect woman he has ever seen, he could practically come inside your velvet walls right now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You curse and moan below him, you tremple and shake, the knot inside your stomach is barely holding up. “‘M so close.”

He nods, forgets you can’t see him. He harshly tugs you around, still quite limp and weak between his arms. “Wanna see that face when you come on my cock.”

He plunges back inside, lips close to yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. And then you realize, he hasn’t kissed you. This entire time. He’s fucked you religiuosly for weeks on end and you don’t even know what those heart-shaped lips taste like against yours. Would they be as sweet as they look? Would he kiss you gently or would he be harsh and rough like the way he fucks? You wonder about it all at once and it makes you sad for a moment. You want a kiss. Why wouldn’t he kiss you?

“Kiss me.” You breathe out, he’s grunting above your mouth still fucking you nice and deep. You are beyond positive you won’t be able to move your ass tomorrow but it’s worth it, it’s always worth it.

He looks up and then looks back down, concentrating on his thrust, you moan but hold your ground.

“Please. Kiss me.” You whisper, gasping when you feel the knot start to come undone. He knows you’re about to let go and this only drives him to bottom out faster and quicker. Skin smacking quickly against skin. Your asshole has been shaped and molded just for him. You’re loving every second of it, but he still hasn’t kissed you.

Why?

Your arms weakly wrap around his shoulders, he breathes heavy and hot against your ear now. It’s messy, sweaty and his touch is usually rough, but it feels awfully gentle now. He’s still rough inside your soft walls, but something’s changed.

“Hoseok.” You breathe, you’re so sad.

He hums against your neck, avoiding your eyes.

“Kiss me.” You plead again, he kissed your neck so softly, balls smacking harder and faster against your ass. “No, my lips.”

“Goodnight, kitten.” He whispers sounding sad into your ear before he lifts his face from your neck and those heart-shaped lips touch your softly, it’s almost sweet. You come undone as soon as you feel the touch of his magical lips and you swear you feel him come deep inside you.

It all disappears though.

“Honey?” This time it's Namjoon, hand already around your waist. “You okay? Was it another nightmare?”

A tear falls down your face and Namjoon awes, bringing you into his warm embrace. “Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

Why are you crying?

And where is Hoseok?

“I am too.” You simply say, crying harshly into his shoulder.

Hoseok watches the scene unfold from afar. He wishes you could feel the ache you’ve left him behind too and there isn’t a damn thing he could do but wait.

“See you in the after-life kitten. There I’ll spoil you with all the kisses you deserve.”

You don’t hear him, but he knows he means well. Hoseok walks away permanently this time, he’s lost the feeling of his heart long ago, but he feels heavy-hearted and continues on his way to his next victim.

Until next time.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hoseok smut #hoseok x y/n #hoseok scenarios #hoseok fic #hoseok angst #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #bts angst

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11cupid-tarot11 · 3 days

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Short Channeled Letters From Your Boo! 💜

🪽

Pile 1 -> 3

Dm me for private readings!

$1.11 per question, c@shapp- $minnieplant3

Tips appreciated! 🩵

Love y'all! -Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

Pile 1-

Hi you! ;)

I want to get right to the point. I might be distant lately, I know we used to hang out quite a lot, right? I miss it too. I miss you. Literally every single thing about you down to the smallest of details and I think you miss me too. You see me everywhere, don't you? I see you too, in my dreams, every time I close my eyes. No one understands me like you do, no one knows what I've been through like you do, we're best friends so of course this separation would hurt you, it hurts me too, but it's the best thing I could think to do. I found myself falling in love with you, I felt scared and vulnerable again like a child and the feeling scared me. I knew it was something so much deeper because I love you enough to change, I love you so much I don't want my demons to ever hurt you, ever. I'll be back! I can't stay away from you too long, I've got plans ;)

Be talking to you soon sweetie :) take care!

Pile 2-

Hey my angel, how are you my love? It's been such a crazy journey, right? So many wild twists and turns, but we made it through! We're almost there now! I've been manifesting you for awhile, from far away, while you're with them. I pray and hope you're willing to accept me this time, because I'm ready and I really want all of you. All of your shadows. Everything. I really want to kiss you. I know I don't show it often, I'm not in the position to really show you right now anyways even if I wanted to, but I will be soon ;) I can't wait to spoil you rotten, pamper you and love you the way you should be loved, I can do it all, I'm very willing. I think we're soulmates, I can't ever imagine letting you go again, our future plays in my dreams like my little safe haven. 😇

Love you, angel!

Pile 3-

Meeting you would have to be one of the best things that has ever happened to me, even if it's not our time :)

When I think of something perfect I think of you, you're what I want, you're what I crave but I just can't seem to open my eyes to look for you, baby I might be a fool sometimes, if I'm being honest I'm a mess a lot of the time and that's the problem, who wants to hear that, though, right? But it's the truth, that's why I keep attracting every one bad for me, isn't it? You deserve someone who's your knight in shining armor, someone who matches your energy perfectly and I'm not going to touch a single hair on your head until I feel like I'm worthy to. I'm working on matching my energy up there with yours, in so many aspects and different ways. There isn't anything you should ever worry about, darling. You're going to be my last puzzle piece 🧩💕.

#18+ tarot #pac love reading #pac tarot #pick a card #spirituality #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #tarot love reading #tarot requests #tarot messages #tarot community #tarot advice

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thatfandomslut · 2 months

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One Last Time

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Trigger Warnings:

Requests:

Valentine's / Followers Celebration; Regina George w/ quote 50 and piece of chocolate number 2. Or: “I am here and I am looking at her. And she is so beautiful. I can see it. This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story. You are alive, and you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder.” w/ angst

Valentine's / Followers Celebration requests are closed.

Regina and (Y/n) had a very deep conversation about college. They decided that when they went, it would be best to terminate their relationship. It wasn't the conclusion either of them wanted, but they couldn't see a way around it. Instead, they explored a summer together that they would never share again. Now, here they were in (Y/n)'s driveway, leaning on her car for one last time, wondering how they were going to cope whenever (Y/n) would be forced to drive away. They had thirty more minutes and they were both a mess. Still, they continued to keep a strong front to not convince themselves that they could make what wouldn't work, work.

"So, are you ready for the semester?" Regina tried to initiate small talk. They both despised small talk, but it was something that they were going to have to get over as they were running out of things to say. They wanted to beg each other to reconsider, but they knew that wouldn't be healthy, Instead, Regina waited patiently for (Y/n) to answer after she was done snorting out a bitter laugh since they were both becoming increasingly aware that the end of their relationship was coming. Though they were desperately trying to grasp onto the final half hour they had left.

(Y/n)'s hand twitched in Regina's finally lacing their fingers together in thought. "I guess, you could say that." She muttered, not feeling ready at all. How could she be ready to conquer university without Regina George by her side? They had been glued to each other's hips since kindergarten, but now they were being ripped away by some cruel sense of fate that they were not fully prepared for. Neither of them processed the fact that their parents would be right, they were going to regret praying and manifesting growing up. Now that it was occurring and that they were going to be separated, they were wishing for a second chance to relive their last couple years of childhood when they got together.

Regina hummed softly, blinking away whatever tears were threatening to roll down her cheek. She refused to cry whenever she promised herself not to. She had to clear her throat to avoid her voice from cracking as she looked over at (Y/n). "You're going to do great. Plus, at least you'll have Cady, right?" Regina was bitter and jealous over the fact that she and Cady got accepted into the same school. Of course, this was partially her fault, too. After all, she could've also applied to attend the same school they did, but instead, she applied for her dream university and would be attending there in the spring instead. She just wished they shared the same dream as they always previously had.

(Y/n) glanced over at Regina, sensing her sarcasm over Cady all too well. In the spirit of ending their time together on good terms, she ignored the comment. "I guess you're right. At least I'll have Cady. However, I'm going to be more dependent on our weekly FaceTimes." (Y/n) confessed, hoping that she wasn't overstepping a boundary by being honest. In truth, she wished that they hadn't reached this conclusion, but she knew that when Regina suggested it, that she was right. High school relationships didn't last. She didn't know why she thought her relationship would be any different than the thousands of other couples that attempted to make it. Still, although it was wishful thinking, she wished Regina could see that they could outlive college together the way she did.

On the opposite side of things, Regina wished that (Y/n) hadn't been so quick to accept her suggestion. Now, she was forced to pretend that she didn't regret suggesting it in the first place. "I'm going to be just as dependent on those as you are. I'm going to miss you a lot." Regina looked down at the time. They had five more minutes together. She wished more than anything that she could put a freeze frame on the time they were spending together. She hated that it felt like their time was ending in just seconds. When she processed what little time they had, Regina's fingers tightened against (Y/n)'s. Neither pulled away, despite the deadly grip. They just kept each other close.

"I'm going to miss you, too, Regina. More than anything." (Y/n) swallowed the sob that was creating a horrendous lump in the back of her throat. She was mentally begging herself not to cry as her mom came out to let her know that she needed to go now. Her mom was right, but (Y/n) found herself cursing her over the fact. Regina almost winced at the feeling of (Y/n)'s hands falling from hers, but she smiled a bit when her hands were soon on her cheeks, pulling her in for a deep kiss. "I love you, Regina. Please know that I love you."

Regina forced herself not to break down right then and there. Instead, she allowed (Y/n) to pull away and get in her car. Before the car door shut, (Y/n) smiled a bit as she heard Regina speak. "I'm not going to say goodbye, but I will say that I'll see you later. Be good in college, loser. I love you, too, always." (Y/n) then proceeded to back out as she went to go pick up Cady from her house. They were going together. This made Regina seethe on the inside because she was envious that not only were they attending together but they were dormmates. She had told (Y/n) that the fates couldn't be crueler to her. A thought that caused (Y/n) to laugh softly as she wiped the tears that were falling down her cheek, burning her skin.

(Y/n) helped Cady pile in her things once she got there. As they were leaving, Cady watched them leave her home. "It's crazy leaving here." She spoke softly, obviously sad in her way. "How did it go with Regina?" (Y/n) knew that the strawberry blonde didn't mean anything by her question, but it unintentionally made her cringe as she focused a bit harder on the road. Still, she didn't want to continue this car ride with Cady thinking she crossed a line, even if she accidentally did. So, instead, she took some time to process her feelings on the subject.

"A lot was going through my mind as we leaned against my car. Like… I am here and I am looking at her. And she is so beautiful. I can see it. This one moment when you know you’re not a sad story. You are alive, and you stand up and see the lights on the buildings and everything that makes you wonder. Despite our sad ending, we are not a sad story. I'll always love her." And there it was, the familiar lump in her throat that she had to swallow. She refused to cry and drive. She refused to cry in front of Cady. She knew they were friends and they were going to have to get vulnerable together eventually, but it didn't need to be now. Right now, she just wanted to get the focus off of her and Regina. "Let's get something to eat before we get too far."

Cady nodded softly, getting comfortable as they looked for somewhere to eat. The rest of the drive was quiet as (Y/n) felt her fingers twitching constantly to call Regina. But, for a moment, she needed to just drive and focus on the next chapter in her life. She just wished Regina was in all of those chapters.

#regina george x reader #regina george #mean girls x reader #mean girls

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zh-lele · 10 months

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TOO FAST (m)

▪︎Pairing: Mark Lee x female reader

▪︎Genres: angst, romance, street racing au, friends with benefits trope

▪︎Warnings: graphic descriptions and mentions of death, blood, violence, drug use, and depression; profanity; sexual and suggestive content. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Contains spoilers of previous parts of the series.

▪︎Word count: 12.6k words

playlist | Pictures taken by Taeyong | Drifting series

Hi everyone! New installment of my Drifting series is up :) This is Mark's part and happens right after Haechan's story, so it's filled with spoilers (if you haven't read that one yet.) I don't really think you need to read Haechan's part to understand what happens around here, but if you want, please go check 'We ridin'' that's also liked in my masterlist. Also, this fic is pretty graphic so please read warnings and don´t proceed if you feel uncomfy with any of the themes treated here. Without much more to say, I hope you enjoy this story!

0. That's a pretty big trunk on my Lincoln Town Car, ain't it?

No matter how much weight he pulls off of his car, Mark can't get to drive freely around anymore. The backseats are gone, and the truck is empty before he starts the race. And you are waiting for him at the end of the road when he makes it first to the finish line, a big smile plastered on your face while looking at him. Everybody quickly starts cheering for him and throwing money to his face. And he tries hard. He tries so hard to enjoy it and be happy behind the steering wheel like he used to do, but he can't find to be able to.

Don't they see it too?

The car's trunk filled with bodies like a Hearse. The steering wheel bleeding, painting Mark's shaky hands in red. His swollen eyes wet with tears. All those scattered pieces on the pavement… And he can never get rid of the weight because he is the one carrying all that heaviness that won't let him breathe, no matter how empty he wants to leave the car.

He rubs his face up and down in frustration, mixing the blood and the tears until he turns, looking back at the destroyed vehicle. Hanging off the open trunk it's his head, open and misshapen, covered in blood, exactly as Mark had last seen him. It feels like a nightmare. He prays and begs to God for it to be a nightmare, please let it be a nightmare.

Your smile dissipates as soon as you lock eyes with him. Mark blinks once to let the tears roll down his cheeks and wet your hands that cup his face. When he realizes it wasn't a nightmare but a distorted memory of reality, the uncontrollably sobs come. So you hold him in your arms in the middle of messy bed sheets, trying to deal with the melancholy of another sleepless night taking care of your hurt best friend.

Mark's memories haunt him. Ever since the accident happened, you're sure he hasn't got a full night of sleep, and you hardly remember the last time you did. If he's not racing or partying until the sun comes out early in the morning, he's constantly trying to fall asleep and repeatedly being awakened by these nightmares, these horrible memories being manifested in his dreams, and getting scared by only closing his eyes in the dark.

The yellow light on the old nightstand illuminates very dimly the small hotel room where Mark has been living for the last time, and where you have found yourself returning more often than usual. Everything is messy and dirty. Mark's clothes sit piled up in a mountain on a chair in the corner of the room, and the tabletop cannot be seen due to the number of boxes and empty fast food packages left behind, not being cleaned for months now. To your left, the nightstand is littered with boxes of twenty Marlboro cigarettes, empty as well; broken lighters, and a dirty glass pipe with traces of a substance you haven't quite figured out yet and are afraid to do so.

Your best friend won't talk much to you despite having you coming back to his bed every night, but you don't need that to believe he's depressed.

You remember how it started. How you got yourself into the same hole.

—

Inside the small apartment the air felt thick and humid. The dim colored lights coming from the speaker did a poor job of outlining a tall silhouette in front of you. Your body was sweaty, your feet ached from standing for so many hours, and your heart beat faster than normal. Maybe it was tiredness. Maybe it was because of the sound vibrations of fast electronic music resonating with the movement of your heart muscle. Or maybe it was because of the joint that Yuta left between your fingers after exhaling all the smoke in your face, and you didn't hesitate to repeat his actions.

You couldn't wait to leave. You also couldn't allow yourself to touch any kind of surface because you knew that as soon as you leaned against a wall or an armchair, you wouldn't be able to get up again. It might not have been the smartest decision at the time to grab the glass of vodka Yuta was holding in his hands and finish it in one gulp, but you would have done anything to make the time go by faster.

And it worked, actually. It's hard to even remember the kind of music that started playing after that moment. What you remember exactly, however, something you can't erase from your memories of that night is what Mark looked like.

The color in his electric blue hair had already begun to fade, and his bangs clung to his forehead from all the humidity. Even with his unkempt appearance and the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to his shoulders, revealing toned arms that glistened under a fine sheen of sweat. None of it took away from his undeniable appeal. None of that mess was meant to make you walk away from him and forget how he felt that night. Like being drunk on Mark. As if all your senses were reduced to perceiving him, and only him. When did he even appear on your side?

"You're all wet."

"It's from all the dancing," Mark said, moving his face away from yours, just enough to keep supporting your waist with one hand, and wipe the sweat that had transferred from his cheek to yours with the other.

His closeness allowed you to perceive the smell of alcohol and cigarettes that emanated from his body. Firm muscles under his clothes that you couldn't have failed to notice all night, couldn't help but feel at that moment under your touch. An innocent enough tact, with intentions to keep dancing to whatever was playing. He couldn't know how much you liked him. You were best friends for fuck's sake. And no matter how many times you imagined it, there would never be another reality where you could be more than best friends. Furthermore, you were both too intoxicated to cross the line and then be able to return to your comfort zone. You knew you wouldn't be able to come back once you allowed yourself to get to know Mark in any other way.

"You know what's missing tonight?"

Mark had won the race that night. Five grand that were going straight to his wallet and his pride. That had Yuta celebrating and patting at Mark's back when he made it out of the car with a smile on his face to wrap him in a tight hug. A victory that would give Mark a moment of reassurance, that would distract him only for a second from all the horrible things that were actually going on in his life.

Despite all fears of ending up alone and punished by all his friends, life showed Mark everyday that he was wrong. Yuta chose to keep in contact with him even after the accident and after Johnny got mad at Mark. You were still around him too. And he was still a successful street racer that made thousands per night and allowed himself to have fun with a bunch of pretty girls. So yeah, you would've never guessed the words that came out of Mark Lee's mouth after that. You would've never imagined that what that night was missing was–

"A kiss from you," he answered himself, letting out a heavy breath and leaning dead-weight on you. "Just one kiss?"

That simple line was all it took to take your breath away. He was that powerful, and you kind of hated yourself for allowing him. You thanked in silence for the lack of lights in the living room, because your temperature rising and getting your face all red would've given you away.

"I don't know." You were honest with him. It was kind of ironic inside of your head, how much you wanted him yet you couldn't decide if you wanted to act on that desire. There were pros and cons.

On one hand, you would've done anything for Mark to feel better, to let him out of that dark void you saw him getting in, deeper every day. Anything for him. On the other hand, you knew how the story goes, from your friends and because you saw it in enough movies; casualty never works when there's feelings involved. You didn't have to experience it to know it wouldn't mean just a drunken kiss to you, just a little fun. It was gonna end up hurting, dragging you in like a cult, a bad religion.

It felt like years, the time you were thinking about what to say to him. "I really don't know."

"C'mon," he was persistent, getting his head off the crook of your neck and staring right into your eyes, then dropped the sight to your lips. And he left it there while he kept mumbling. "One lil' kiss."

How many things could ruin a silly, drunken kiss between friends at a party?

Your eyes met Yuta for a brief moment, before you saw him raise his eyebrows at you, an expression that said 'Are you really doing this?' on his face, and then saw him leave the room.

The thing is, you had liked Yuta since the very first moment you saw him and had been fooling around ever since. He's a true gentleman. He's fun to be around but centered enough to give you all the calmness you might need at the end of a stressful day. He's good enough to give you some of the best fucks of your life as well. He has a good job, no bad habits, and he gives you enough space. Anyone could say Yuta is the perfect candidate. If Mark wouldn't even look at you but happened that Yuta proposed to you, you would probably agree to be his girlfriend in a second.

You wanted to tell Mark no. You truly wanted to be faithful to whatever you had with Yuta. But you had loved Mark since forever. And that was different.

Now you believe you would've never had to accept that kiss from Mark Lee that night because, spoiler: after one kiss, you weren't able to stop.

So it happened one, two, three, four, five, countless times until you finally found the solution to Mark's sleeping situation. Sometimes it required a lot of alcohol, sometimes it required him to have something to smoke. But what never changed was that it had to start with a kiss and follow with a lot of your attention. It always ended with you and him, skin to skin to his bed sheets. He gets a night's full sleep, and you usually get a headache from all the overthinking.

—

When you feel that his breathing has become heavy again and his grip around your torso loosens, you confirm that Mark has gone back to sleep. The clock on the wall above the window reads 05:02 in the morning, and if Mark doesn't have another nightmare in the next hour, he may be able to sleep until the sun comes up.

Carefully and almost moving in slow motion, you slip from his grasp to get up from the bed. Your friend has been feeling exhausted for months now, and no matter how many hours he sleeps, he never manages to recover. That's what he tells you all the time: that he's exhausted from being exhausted, from wanting to rest and not being able to. So when you finally get him to drift off to sleep, the last thing you want is to wake him up.

You grab your pillow and place it filling the space that your body occupied between his arms, so he doesn't feel alone. You're not going anywhere but to sit on the dirty old couch in the next room. Mark's room and the space functioning as the entrance to the motel room are only separated by a thin wall of wood and plaster, and a curtain. If he happens to wake up again in the next few hours, you will be able to listen to him without any problem and return to him immediately.

When you turn on the yellow light in the gloomy bathroom—which door is broken so you won't even bother trying to close it—, the scene at the entrance lights up and you spot the figure laying on the couch. You wait for the glass to fill with water to turn off the tap in the sink and turn off the light, plunging the room into darkness again. The water runs hot and is of little help in quenching your thirst, but that's all you have for now until the convenience store near the motel opens.

Despite the darkness, you can see a large pair of eyes watching your every move carefully. He must have woken up because of Mark's nightmare, just like you. Coincidentally, in the small couch there is a space where you know you fit perfectly, so you take it and lie down next to him. The sides of your bodies rub against each other because it's a small couch afterall, and even when you can start to feel the heat of the morning you would like to get closer, snuggle into him, to wrap yourself in his arms and sleep together forever. But you're not going to do anything because Mark is only a curtain away. Also, because you were pretty sure he didn't want you anymore, not after you practically stopped seeing him the moment you started fucking Mark.

"Have you talked to Johnny?"

You turn your head to set your eyes on Yuta, lying on the couch still with all his clothes on, one arm acting as a pillow under his head. His long lashes brush his cheeks every time he blinks, and his chest rises and falls in a calm, controlled breath. Just looking at him gives you all the peace you are missing, making you sleepy. And you want to sleep, oh how you want to sleep for endless hours.

He shakes his head no.

"I feel like… I don't know, Mark really needs him right now."

There is a long silence in which you roll onto your side to keep looking at him. His eyes, now closed, make you think he has fallen asleep until he finally opens his mouth to speak.

"Johnny doesn't want to know anything about Mark." Yuta turns his head to look at you this time. His gaze is soft but holds all the truths you don't like to think of, so you can't do much more than moving your head down with a frown in your brows, and keep listening to him. "What he did to Haechan was stupid, put all of us in danger."

Memories of that night are fresh in your brain for two reasons. The first one, is that you interacted with Yuta for the first time that night, and things just escalated between the two of you from there. The second reason has to do with the fact that, all that happened back then, was Mark's breaking point.

1. You hit them stones and you broke your home

At the center of the closed road, the pavement was already painted with traces of burnt tires forming circular patterns. As the candy-colored cars drifted and slided and had all the people filming and celebrating around them, you really couldn't think of a worse way to waste your tires. It's a passion they seem to have, that you yet have to get to understand.

You observed Mark work frantically on his car, making you feel like there wasn't enough time. All his movements were too rushed, and his eyes moved around the crowd with a paranoid look. The rest of the team was counting the money, looking for someone to flag, taking the seats out of the car to make it as light as possible, moving the people from the middle of the street. You could already hear some sirens far in the distance, getting closer and closer.

"Mark, hurry up!"

Getting off an orange car with the windows all black, a voice rushed Mark to start the race. He had that spine-chilling look despite his totally relaxed walk, looking like he owned the streets. He was the protagonist of a bunch of stories Mark had told you about his friends. And you knew Mark admired and respected Johnny a lot. But Yuta... Yuta has always been something else to Mark. Something like his weakness, and it showed in the way he talked about him and behaved around him. "I can show you some pics, but you can't like him more than me," was how he always ended conversations about him.

You really tried to listen to your friend. You really tried not to get interested in the handsome guy giving him the last directions before the first race of the night. But you had to know him personally, had to get close to him. You wished it would have been under different circumstances, though.

A few minutes later, everything was ready for the race to start. Mark had to drive a few miles straight down the road, take an impromptu hairpin turn, and be back in front of your eyes safe and sound.

After the accident he got into with his friend Taeyong, everyone thought Mark would be too scared to drive again, at least for a while. But it was the complete opposite; he got careless and more reckless. Mark was sad and mad, and he used the races as a coping mechanism, among other things.

You, however, were worried and scared for him.

"I don't know why I agreed to come with you," you spoke with your arms crossed as you saw Mark walking towards you. He was wearing a subtle smile, and you could see how his face got rid of all that paranoia as soon as he found your eyes.

He wrapped you in a hug that forced you to uncross your arms to join them behind his head, reciprocating the gesture. "Thank you for coming," Mark told you so only you could hear him, and tightened the grip of his arms around your torso. "But you don't have to stay if you don't like it. I can ask one of the guys to get you home."

You took a look around separating yourself from him, and thought about his offer for a second. Johnny seemed busy dealing with all the bets for that night's race, so you doubted he could take you home. Jaehyun was racing too, so neither him or Mark were gonna drive you. Johnny's sister didn't own a car, so she wasn't an option. The only one who seemed like he wasn't occupied was Yuta, who was looking at the two of you with an unreadable expression, sitting on top of his car hood, probably just waiting for Mark to stop delaying the race.

You kinda, definitely wanted Yuta to take you home, to ride together and maybe chat a little on the way. To finally get to know him—and maybe exchange a kiss or two before you would come out of his car and walk to your door.

But that wasn't happening that night.

"No fucking way."

The crowd went silent. The only sound traveling through the thick summer atmosphere was the sound of the engines. No one needed him to get out of the bright yellow car to know who he was. Nonetheless, he got the audacity to do it.

"Didn't I fucking tell you," Johnny's voice was filled with rage, speaking directly to him, "that I don't want to see you around ever again?"

"I'm gonna fucking kill him." You heard Mark whisper in front of you.

"You're not doing shit." You grabbed Mark's jaw trying to get him to look at you, but his eyes were locked on Haechan. His hands left your waist to become fists at his sides, ready to attack if you weren't holding him back and speaking in his ear, trying to maintain your composure. "If you do anything to him, we're not gonna see the end of it."

But the truth was you wanted to beat him to pieces probably as much as Mark wanted to.

"Just one race!" Haechan got off his car speaking to Johnny with open arms, palms facing the night sky. "For the old times?"

"But…" Mark rested his eyes on you again, and you could almost see yourself reflected in the accumulation of tears that threatened to fall at any moment. He spoke only for you, "Taeyong is dead because of him."

People went crazy after hearing Haechan ask for a race. Three months had passed since the accident and, since then, neither Haechan nor the Lees had dared to roam the same streets as the Suhs and his friends. Of course, people like watching other people fight, they enjoy the gossip and the problems, so it didn't take long for the crowd to start betting on Haechan as the winner of that night. Johnny had no choice but to get his team to race against the Lees, to remind them again that he didn't want them around, and that it was just a one time thing.

"Listen," Johnny held Mark's face in his hands and spoke directly to his eyes, "you're gonna race and you're gonna make it to the finish line intact. I don't give a fuck about who's winning. I just want you to finish, so he can get the fuck out of here before I lose my mind and rip his face off."

Mark nodded quickly a few times. It was clear he was nervous—from the way he grabbed and squeezed the steering wheel with his hands, and settled back and forth in the seat, impatient for the race to end when it hadn't even started.

"Don't you–" a bit of embarrassment creeped into his voice and cut him half way into the sentence, making him gulp dry before proceeding. "Don't you have something for me? I'm just feeling a little low," he finished asking, his narrowed eyes barely daring to look at his older brother.

Johnny let out a heavy sigh and moved his head to look above Mark's car, into the racing scene, and pondered on it for a moment. Honestly, he never thought he could be the best leader or the best older brother, but he managed to convince himself he was doing pretty fine, until the Donghyuck thing happened. Not that Donghyuck thing, the one that had to do with his sister and later with Taeyong. But the Donghyuck thing that made the big family they all were before break apart, and split into two rival groups. Something happened in that moment that Johnny felt made him fall apart; he lost all that confidence he once had. It only got worse when Donghyuck got with his sister, though, and he took Taeyong with him too, and now he felt like he was losing Mark as well.

Johnny reached into the front pocket of his jeans and held the small bag there for a few seconds, while debating whose fault it was, and thinking about how he could stop ruining his family. Back then, he had no clear answer. He felt like Mark was fucked up enough already. And because he loves him unconditionally, he just did what he thought was best for Mark at the time.

He ended up taking the small bag from his front pocket and tossing it to Mark, who quickly grabbed it with both hands and didn't even thank Johnny before he was closing his tinted windows on his friend's face.

Johnny thought that even if it was the wrong thing to do, he himself would help Mark sober up later, because he couldn't dare lose any more brothers.

You watched the entire exchange from afar. From Mark positioning himself in line with Jaehyun, Haechan and another boy's cars at his sides, until Johnny and Yuta joined you with the same worried look that your eyes wore.

There was a constricting sensation in your chest, a pressure watching that scene unfold that made your voice tremble. "I have a bad feeling about this."

You know what they say, that there are friends with whom you live certain things, and friends with whom you are part of other things. Haechan, Mark and you were all good friends once, way back in high school, but after they parted ways you decided not to get involved in their illegal activities. You barely knew this side of Mark's life, most of it since he loved his friends so much and always told you everything about them. He tried to integrate you as much as possible when situations called for it: birthdays, casual meetings at Johnny's garage, and parties. But all that pretty far from the street racing scene, that being the first time he actually invited you to go watch him race after years.

"Don't worry," Johnny said to you at the same time his sister was positioning herself at the middle of the starting line, ready to give them the direction. "They know what they have to do very well.

And as soon as she lowered her arms, the cars sped off, leaving a huge cloud of smoke in front of you that obstructed your view for a few seconds.

"They will be driving in a straight line for about a kilometer," he continued. "Then they will reach a crossroads and must take the path to the right, we will lose sight of them at that moment."

"But if they do everything right and don't cause any trouble, we'll see them come out of that other corner." Yuta pointed at a corner a few blocks from you with a blinking yellow traffic light while explaining to you. "And someone will make it right here first. The winner."

You assumed that you managed to make him feel your intense gaze on him, and that made his eyes meet yours. His arms crossed while still leaning on the hood of his car. He noticed your nervousness.

"Relax," his voice was soft while speaking to you. A smile adorned his face when he invited you to sit with him, right beside his body on top of the orange hood. "Let's root for our team."

You nodded with your head at him and chose to remain silent. While you waited to see your friend return, you reached in the back pocket of your pants for the small box and the lighter, and lit a cigarette. It was the best thing you could think of to pass the time.

"You're a smokestack."

Your eyes widened hearing that. You didn't take it as an insult, since when you turned around and saw Yuta's face you only found a playful smile. But you still decided to take a long drag on the cigarette, blow out all the smoke, and then ask him in an offended tone.

"Excuse me?"

"You smoke too much," he said nonchalantly, jumping off the car and standing right in front of you.

His eyes traveled from your legs hanging off his hood, to your hand holding the cigarette, to your chest and lastly your face in a matter of milliseconds. A quick check out that awakened a whole new rush of adrenaline and nervousness to your body. A stare that only sent shivers down your spine, so you tried to play it cool and straighten your back, wanting to reach the level of his face.

"And how would you know?"

You made an effort not to let the conversation die. Ever since Mark told you about them and showed you photos of his friends, you had wanted to meet Yuta. Walking across him at Johnny's house or at random parties had never been enough. Firstly, because Yuta was rarely alone. And secondly, because when he was alone you would never have thought of being the first to approach him and talk to him.

Because you weren't expecting it from Yuta—the only friend of Mark that was quiet and mysterious enough that you had never struck up a conversation with—it took you a couple of seconds to process the words that came out of his mouth.

"I've been watching you." Yuta took your hand that was holding the cigarette and held it very gently in between his. Enough to notice how yours trembled.

Yuta definitely didn't have to do that to notice how anxious you were. But then you would understand how powerful his energy is and how physical contact becomes completely necessary and inevitable when he is around. That you didn't even need to say a word for him to notice you were attracted to him—you were painfully obvious around Yuta. It became ridiculous the way you lost yourself watching him talk and just mind his business. Yuta loved every second of it.

He would finally return all that attention to you later.

"You may fancy me." He took the cigarette off your hand and took a puff. "But you really, really love Mark."

You sighed deeply and looked down as you felt the heat rise and tint your cheeks. You didn't dare look at him when you spoke again. "I'm seriously that obvious?"

Yuta muttered positively and you could hear him smiling. That attractive teasing smile he always wore but paired with the softest looking eyes, that you knew could mean no harm.

"The problem is… I like Mark."

You couldn't help but laugh when you heard him, since you definitely weren't expecting that outcome. He only smiled while seeing you laugh.

"But he won't pay enough attention to me," he continued with a shrug. "So I thought, maybe you wanna do something with me after this?"

"So, I'm the second choice," you established, crossing your arms and putting on a straight face.

Yuta shook his head, still wearing his little attractive smile. "No, I was just joking," he reassured you. "I think you're interesting, and you're hot, so I wanna know you."

The cigarette came back to your hands right before Yuta was blowing all the smoke he had inhaled on your face. He was being pretty clear, you had no doubt at that point.

So you filled yourself up with a little courage, smiled big, took a puff of that nicotine and said, "Alright, we're going to mine."

"Sounds lovely."

Is the unexpected screeching of tires locking up what deafens your ears, bringing you and Yuta out of your little bubble to find another cloud of smoke blocking your view. Only seconds pass after the smoke clears into the air, and Mark's car comes to rest in line with Haechan's, giving your friend second place in the race.

It all happened way too quickly. One moment Mark was getting out of his car, violently closing its door and getting every person out of his way. The next moment he was above Haechan's body on the street, beating the life out of him.

Mark seemed uncontrollable, out of his mind. It took not only Johnny and Yuta to separate him from Haechan's bleeding face, but Jaehyun had to get out of his car and intervene as well. It was him trying to restrain Haechan's friends from coming and beating Mark, while Johnny's sister cried and screamed besides her lover, who wore that typical wicked, cynical smile on his bloody-dripping mouth. It was absolute chaos.

"I'm going to kill you! I swear to God, you won't mess with any of my friends ever again because I'll fucking kill you!"

After a lot of struggling and missed punches (that almost ended in yours and the boys' faces) coming from an extremely euphoric Mark, they managed to lock him in the back seat of Yuta's car. Johnny ordered Yuta to take him away, and that he didn't want to see his face in the neighborhood until the situation calmed down. It was a little cruel, the way he kicked Mark out of the house they shared, but you understood. Mark was still too hurt and resentful of Taeyong's death, but Johnny knew that trying to get revenge on the Lees would only start an endless war. Or maybe cause an ending that would badly hurt them again, and Johnny was tired of losing brothers.

A tall boy with a thin face and raven hair pointed to Mark, and that same index finger he rested on the skin of his neck moved across, from right to left. You're dead, but Mark wouldn't listen to it, still sitting in the back seat of the car.

"Jeno, let's leave this shitty place," Haechan said once he was back on his feet, blood spitting, staining his shirt and even the ground.

Haechan and his friends (including Johnny's sister) left with a promise to come back for them.

Johnny was on his right to get extremely mad at Mark. Because that was the exact reason he didn't do anything to Haechan in the first place, that one night he had him at gunpoint in the rain. He could've ended him right there, but he knew what would've come. And that was the difference between the Lees and the Suhs: Johnny cared for his people—because yes, Haechan was his people once, just as Taeyong was when he was alive. He didn't want anyone to get even more hurt.

So now they have to deal with the fear of the Lees coming for them, because they know the gang has become weak. Johnny doesn't have his sister anymore, he doesn't have Taeyong, he doesn't have Mark, and Yuta is barely there because he spends most of the time with you or Mark. And that guilt is eating your best friend alive.

It was dawn by the time you and Yuta tossed an exhausted Mark into the motel bed where he would spend the next few months. While he passed out as soon as he touched the mattress, you came down from the adrenaline rush in the form of shaking and crying.

That same night you brought Mark to the motel, after you put him to sleep, Yuta and you drank and smoked until you calmed down and then made out until any of you had energy to go on. You liked him and wanted everything with him. But Yuta was a very patient and understanding person. He made that clear from the very first moment you met properly.

You may fancy me, but you love Mark.

And yes, maybe fucking around with Yuta was fun from time to time, until that guilt started eating you alive.

Now you look at Yuta, laying on the motel couch centimeters from you, yet he feels like he's miles away. You think you miss him, his security and the sense of stability you had when you were with him. These days he comes to check on Mark, make sure you're both not starving, maybe share a beer or a cigarette with you, and he leaves. He still does all that even after you dropped him to fuck your best friend, that is one of his best friends too.

But when Yuta leaves you're back to your miserable hole, praying that Mark won't die from an overdose tonight, or that won't leave and come back hours later with some other girl, kicking you out so he can fuck because he's suddenly tired of the routine, then calling you at ungodly hours because he can't sleep without you.

The japanese boy calls your name. A fine film of sweat covers his smooth skin and is visible in the dim light of dawn, which filters through the hideous lace curtains. His eyes tell you that he's about to reveal that truth that you don't want to hear, but he's going to be brutally honest anyway.

"You need to get out of here."

2. I'm talking fear, fear of missing out on you and me/I don't think I could find a way to make it on this earth

Mark had always been very careful. The most careful of all, in fact—not just when it came to racing, but in every aspect of his life. When he drove, when he served customers in Johnny's garage, when he would go out with the boys and have to take care of a drunk Taeyong, he was the most careful. You know he was always very careful in the way he treated girls too, because Mark did everything with love.

It isn't fair what happened to him. It made him start doing things with fear. Fear of missing out on things, fear of losing, fear of hurting people, fear of God. You can taste the fear in him, because lately everytime you connect your lips it feels like he's kissing you for the last time ever.

He holds your face and steals a long, soft kiss from your lips. Eyes squeezed shut while he deepens it and gets his tongue to explore inside your mouth. None of it is rushed nor violent, in contrast with how he usually ends up fucking you. And you like this side of Mark, the one that kinda feels like he's doing it to you with love instead of fear, but you know you can't get too attached to it.

Or at least more attached than you already are.

Mark moves his hands from your face to your back, and caresses the skin there for a moment, before hugging the middle of your torso and pushing you flush against his. Your naked breasts collide with his equally naked chest, and his skin burns yours. He's restricting you from moving now, so he angles his hips pressing his feet on the mattress and starts thrusting up into you. It's a gentle pace, but all the alcohol and the weed in your system only make you feel him ten times intensified, ten times deeper. You tug on his long hair, bite and suck on his neck trying to contain all the sounds that want to escape from your mouth, yet the pleasure is too much and more than one manages to slip and mix with Mark's whines.

You're kinda embarrassed when you come after what feels like only five minutes that passed since you sat on top of Mark.

He feels you clench and become tight around him, so he stops his movements for a moment until you catch your breath. You know he's not done with you, just trying not to hurt you from the overstimulation. After one intense orgasm heavily loaded with feelings, you're exhausted. But this has always been about him. You need to make sure he will go back to sleeping peacefully. So you get off him and lay beside his body, before Mark takes position between your legs and buries himself inside you one more time.

He doesn't need to do much, doesn't need to say anything at all. You and him have gotten to explore each other's bodies for months now, you both know damn well that you're gonna come again, and after that you're gonna let him finish making a mess all over you.

What Mark would've never expected was seeing those thick tears run down your face, that you quickly tried to swipe off before he could ask anything about it. Even if sometimes it doesn't show, Mark loves and cares for you, so he's gonna ask anyway.

"Love," he calls for you and stops his movements. You open your eyes, lashes feeling heavy with the weight of the tears on them, and see his worried face right on top of yours. His hair is messy, his neck sweats and a silver necklace with a couple of charms hangs from it, somehow making Mark look even more attractive than usual. "I didn't hurt you, right?" A deep frown takes over his features.

You feel bad for ruining such a moment like this. You answer, shaking your head no.

"Please tell me the truth."

You shake your head no once again, wrapping your arms around him to tug and make him collapse his weight on you.

Love. The pet name replays in your head like a scratched CD and you wish you could turn it off to finally go to sleep. Mark calls your name and props himself up in his arms to look at you. He's still waiting for an explicit reply to his question.

How could you tell him that you were crying because you never felt so much love for someone in your entire life, without scaring him away? How could you explain to him that you understand it was all in your head, because you know he is too broken to even love to that same extent?

"I'm fine," you finally tell him and grab his face to give his lips one last, deep kiss. "Crying 'cause it's too good."

He shows a subtle smile and makes an effort to observe how the morning light illuminates your skin, with his eyes full of sleep, drunk on alcohol and your body and barely open. It's an image he wants to remember because, for some reason, it also feels to him like it could be the last time he gets to be with you like this.

"You sure?"

You nod and smile subtly in response, and move his fingers to make him touch you, in hope you can overcome the pain of loving too hard with the pleasure.

"Wanna give me one more?" His lips get your neck and collarbones all wet while he works on bringing you to the edge. His name manages to come out of your mouth in between gasps. "The last one?"

After both of you finally finish, Mark collapses on your side, half of his body still curled up to you, and calls your name softly. You hear his voice getting filled with fatigue.

"Mhm?"

"Thank you," he says in a whisper. Next thing you know, his breathing has become heavy again and his little snores can be heard in the silent motel room.

The story repeats itself, and you curse yourself and despair for not being able to even shut your eyes closed when you're exhausted. You're overthinking again. Hours go by with barely a couple of hours of sleep, and soon you have to get up to leave food ready for Mark and continue with your life outside these four walls.

3. Permission to crash, collecting damages, boy

The metal stairs creak under your shoes as you go up to the motel room, carefully not to slip because of the night's drizzle. The walk to the room where Mark has been staying feels longer than usual, maybe because you're extremely tired, and don't even remember the last time you got to sleep for an entire night by now, always interrupted by something—if it isn't because of Mark's nightmares, it's because you're either out with him and friends or catching up with missed work instead of sleeping. You can't wait to make it through his door, find him sleeping (with a little luck) and pass out on his bed beside him.

That old clock hanging on the wall indicates 10:27 p.m.. Inside, the room is extremely quiet. If it weren't for the mess around every surface, and the image of Mark's legs knocked out on the bed that you can perceive through a thin curtain separating the bedroom and the common area, you would believe the space is completely empty, abandoned.

The small table that Mark uses to eat is almost imperceptible for all the garbage that has accumulated there. Empty beer bottles, packs with leftover food, cigarettes, dirty napkins, his car keys and even some clothes cover the surface. You wonder how Mark continues to use the table when you're not there, or if he's just using it to leave stuff .

The delivery bags will serve to collect all the waste and clean up the environment a bit. Your friend has been going through a difficult time for a while now, and of course it's hard for him to do simple tasks like keeping the place where he lives clean and tidy. You don't even think about it much when you propose yourself to give him a helping hand while he sleeps; throwing everything that seems useless and dirty into the bags, and leaving it in the bins on the street. You hope Mark will feel more uplifted when he wakes up, finding himself in a slightly nicer, more livable place.

He's in a deep sleep leaning on his side, and watching him breaks your heart. You like it when Mark sleeps naturally. Even when he passes out from being extremely exhausted, you prefer it instead of when he goes to sleep after injecting that destructive drug right into his veins. On his bedside table is the glass syringe, the lighter, the aluminum foil. On the floor, in the space between the rickety bed and the little table, a plate with lines of half-consumed cocaine and the belt of his pants.

He doesn't even care enough to hide it anymore. It breaks your heart some more.

In an impulsive act, you grab whatever is there that has been destroying him, Yuta and you. Everything that has been making life difficult for everyone, ever since Taeyong left, since Johnny kicked Mark out, and your friend fell even harder into that pit.

You flush it down the toilet. Tears run down your cheeks, and the sound of the water taking everything down the drain mixes with your sobs. At the same time, the lights from the garbage truck outside the motel come in through the bedroom window, blinding your view a bit. Nothing is left.

With shaky hands, you open the window and light up a cigarette, in hope of calming down a little. Every day that passes is becoming harder to understand how you made it this far. You can't imagine how worse it could be if you weren't there for him, or if Yuta wasn't with Mark too.

One cigarette is consumed after another, until the ashtray is almost full and you stop because your chest starts to hurt. Mark's voice is present in the room; he calls your name dragging it full of confusion.

Here begins the story of how everything you two once were ended in a few minutes, too fast. Or perhaps the fall was anticipated, but no one knew how to cushion it.

"What happened here?" he asks hoarsely, clearly struggling to fully open his eyes, despite the place being subtly illuminated by the street lights peeking through the windows.

"Just did a little cleaning," you answer, letting the smoke out of your lungs. You said to yourself it would be the last one of the night, but something about the situation is making you slightly anxious.

Mark only nods in response and keeps turning around in his place, taking everything in. He ruffles his head in a poor attempt at fixing the bed hair, scratches the back of neck down to his arm. It's nerve-wracking—seeing him act so natural after having passed out for you don't know how many hours, at the risk of overdosing and dying alone, choking on his own vomit.

It fills you with rage inside how inconsiderate he's been lately, but you're exhausted and don't plan on fighting tonight.

"You coming back to bed?"

"No, sorry," he says when you're already on your way to the bedroom. The clarity in his voice tone indicates to you he's wide awake now. "I have a race in like an hour or so."

You sit on his side of the bed to finally take your shoes off and start undressing. A heavy sigh unconsciously escapes you, and you have to ask him. You've been thinking for a couple weeks now that it would be good for him if he just left the racing scene, only for a while until he fully recovers from all the pain he's gone through. If it all started with it, the answer should be there too, ending it.

"Why do you do that?" You watch his figure enter the room. "Why do you keep racing?" Your questions come out a little exasperated, the tiredness getting the worst out of you even when you don't mean to sound rude.

"Why do I keep racing? How do you think I'm paying for the fucking expenses right here?"

His tone disorients you for a moment, making you believe that your question may, in fact, have been inappropriate. "Sorry, I just- I just thought you could get a job that makes you feel a little more normal, you know?" you propose, almost as if you're afraid of how he might react. "Give you a routine, make you feel better."

"No," he answers quickly, shaking his head low. "Racing is the only thing that makes me feel alive right now. That, and"– he doesn't finish his sentence. Instead, he gulps dryly and keeps his thoughts only for himself.

You know it's better not to push it. Because he's not good with words, and because you don't think you're capable of dealing with whatever other emotions Mark could be going through right now.

You love Mark endlessly. You're sure the only thing that's wrong right now is that work drained you. You could have this conversation in the morning.

"And you? Why do you do it?" he decides to ask without looking you in the eye.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you keep playing with Yuta and me at the same time?"

The question makes your heart stop and your stomach turn, but you try not to show it.

"That's seriously the last thing I needed to hear today."

You finish saying the sentence and move to the bathroom to quickly brush your teeth, ignoring the eyes of Mark following you from his spot in the bedroom. Too familiar with his look on you only wearing your underwear. Too used to Mark's bad mood after putting substances into his body until he falls unconscious. Too guilty because, in fact, you've been feeling confused about the two boys.

"I know you like him. I– I can feel it. I saw you laying so close early, saw the way you looked at him."

It makes your head hurt, and you squeeze your eyes shut trying to, somehow, ease the pain away. Yes, of course there has always been something about Yuta. Something about the calmness and security you feel when you're together. Something about the love you see he has for Mark that you wish someone had for you. Something about his kisses and touches and the look in his eyes that feel safe. Because Mark was your best friend once, your unconditional support; you were each other's until you weren't anymore. You just started to take care of him and to fall for him harder, and harder. You only became his while you lost him and he lost himself in the process. But Yuta somehow was there to make it easier for you, and numb a little part of the pain away.

You still love Mark endlessly, but he's not good for you. You don't love Yuta, but he feels like the right one for you. And you know their brotherhood might come before your friendship—with any of them. You can't ruin that for them only because you can't decide between the two boys.

It's always been easier to ignore all that.

"Can we just– not have this conversation?"

"Are you fucking him too?"

"I'm not." You look up to him as you accommodate yourself on the bed once again, rage filling your insides for the second time that night. "And what the fuck do you care, huh? The fuck do you care about me?"

"I care because I thought you were with me?" he asks, a tone of disbelief in his voice.

"Mark, we never agreed on being exclusive. We didn't even talk this out. We just started fucking because you were too fucking selfish and couldn't even notice what actually happens here"– you get interrupted by him calling your name.

His eyes are fixed on the nightstand that you emptied while he was passed out. And you swallow dryly, afraid to say a word. You can't imagine what he's going to say to you but, from his look, you can be sure it's not nice at all.

"You did a little cleaning," he repeats.

The room stays quiet. Mark starts looking for something around the nightstand—over it, behind it, under the little furniture and in the space around it. Frantically. And calls your name again. This time his voice is shaky, and when he looks at you he's at the verge of tearing up.

You imagined throwing all his drugs away would be hard for him. A risky move. All kinds of reactions were expected.

"Where is Taeyong's necklace?"

"Huh?" discomposure shows in your tone.

"Taeyong's necklace! It was right here, on the nightstand."

You remain quiet while observing him starting to look around the entire motel room. His body has got all tensed up and began shaking in consequence. He empties the drawers, the bags with his clothes, takes the bedsheets off, makes you move to turn the bed and the pillows upside down and checks inside the bathroom too. There's only curses coming out of his mouth and his voice breaks more and more, starting to sob like a little kid in front of your eyes when he realizes the object he's looking for is nowhere around.

He yells your name to get your attention but it only scares you even more. You're terrified of telling him, because you know you've really screwed up this time.

Meeting his teary eyes, yours fill with tears too.

"Mark," you call for him but he's already looking at you, waiting for an explanation.

You remember it now. It had been standing over the little table since you got here for the first time, but you never paid much mind to it—a silver chain that ended in a small cross and a rose, Chrome Hearts style. And that was Taeyong's favorite brand. Mark rarely wears jewelry, yet you have a vague memory of it hanging off his neck the last time you were together. It takes you a second to put two and two together; your heart finally ends up breaking into two pieces.

"I'm sorry." The tears reach your chin. "I took all the trash out."

Mark follows your finger pointing to the window, from which you can see the large garbage containers on the side of the street. Then he turns his head to the left, in the direction of the clock that reads almost twelve at night. He knows that the truck comes around eleven at night to collect all the bags, and he almost always misses it because he's sleeping and ends up accumulating all the trash in the room. Both you and him know everything is gone by the time, including Mark's memory of Taeyong.

He breaks into a desperate cry, which pierces the air and makes your ears and chest ache with his grief. It's so full of anguish, like you've never seen him before, not even when you were burying his friend together.

It takes him to the ground and makes him roll and move, tug at his clothes and his hair violently like he's trying to take the pain off his body, trying to escape the misery. You try to reach out to him to try and comfort him, still a bit in shock since you were the one that caused him this pain. But he doesn't want you near him; he lets you know by slapping you away from his body and throwing everything he finds around him in your direction.

So you step back, clearly afraid he might hurt you in this state. Mark can sense the fear, and the last thing he wants in the world is to hurt you and put you away from him too. Losing you like it happened with his childhood best friend Donghyuck, like it happened with Taeyong, like it happened with Johnny. But he can't tell you. Nothing can come out of his mouth more than those uncontrollably sobs and screams of pain. He can't clear his mind right now.

"I'm sorry," you keep saying while you get dressed and start picking up your things in a rush. "I'm sorry, please forgive me."

He's sitting on the floor, legs curled up to his chest, back to the end of the bed while his arms hang limb to his sides, defeated and body drained from all its energy. His entire face is wet with sweat and tears, and he cries looking at the dirty ceiling.

When you've already left and find yourself in the open corridor, a few room's down from Mark's, guilt washes over your body: you too left him alone, just like you know he's scared of. You manage to take your phone out of your pocket and dial the first number on your recents list with shaky hands.

The need to cry only increases when you hear his voice on the other side of the phone.

"Can you please come by Mark's? Please?" You cover your mouth with one hand trying to hold back the sobs. "I can't deal with this anymore, Yuta. I'm sorry. It's–Mark and I are never gonna work out. It's out of control–"

"Take your car and come home," his voice is soft and calm, despite the rushing sounds in the background. You know he's dropping everything to go where Mark is staying. "Come home and wait for me here, no matter how long it takes."

You nod in response, even when Yuta can't see you through the call.

"And don't worry about Mark, I got him."

4. Gotta let you go/Since you've been gone I've been having withdrawal

The dead had to be visited when they were alive, was what your mother used to say when you were little. The cemetery was never a place that she liked very much, for she never took you to visit and leave flowers for your old, dead uncles and grandparents.

You believe your mother's rejection of the dead had to do with the fear of death itself. The refusal to accept the inevitable: we will all end up right here one day. Under different circumstances, ones having lived longer than others, but dead at last. Even though you believed you had no problem accepting this, entering the place on this spring morning was becoming incredibly difficult. While it's normal to have grandparents dead when you grow up, it never feels normal to lose someone so close to your age.

You can't expect to meet anyone in particular, but you know that at least the vast majority of his friends will be there. It's the anniversary of Taeyong's death, and the morning is fresh. The sun is shining and the roses planted in the park have bloomed, as if they knew they were his favorites. This should be reason enough to walk through the gates and go lay out some flowers for him, as a way of saying thank you for such a splendid day.

The walk up to the place is quiet enough to boggle your mind a bit. The last couple of months you've been working on yourself, trying to stop overthinking things and rebuilding your self-esteem little by little. Mark and you haven't seen each other again after that big fight and after you left the place he was staying. Yuta did God's work that night, and you know Johnny and the rest of the guys helped him the following days—and months. You just stayed out of it. No one really wanted it, no one agreed to it. But it naturally happened, because deep down both of you knew it was the best outcome. Mark understood you had to go away in order for both of you to heal.

It wasn't an easy process.

"Am I a bad person for doing this to him?"

"Well, it's hard to tell what's good or bad, because it depends on who's saying it," the therapist replied.

You looked down as soon as he started talking to you, avoiding his eyes. You remember that you thought you were not going to cry in your first session, that it was going to be difficult to let go and talk about everything that had been hurting you lately. However, as soon as you sat down on his couch, tears began to roll down your cheeks.

"But how do your decisions make you feel?"

"I feel selfish."

It took you a while to learn that looking after yourself wasn't a selfish thing to do, but a completely valid way to maintain your sanity. That you needed to set boundaries with the people you love the most, because even they might hurt you, and because you might end up hurting yourself. It doesn't necessarily mean they are bad people that want to cause you pain, but humans that make mistakes and that are constantly learning how to deal with each other.

Pain is needed. Boundaries are needed. Communication is needed. Self-love is needed. We learn some of the most valuable things of life from all that.

Johnny is the first one to see you arrive. He receives you in silence, with a small smile and a hug. The next to repeat his actions is Jaehyun. Finally, Yuta presses you against his torso and you stay like that for a little longer. The soft skin of his arms envelops you; it's warm and he feels just as safe as you remember. His scent is an odd combination of cotton softener, a manly scent of pine, and cigarettes.

You will be the most grateful to Yuta, forever. He knew where you belonged from the beginning, and helped you clarify your mind to come here and speak to Mark. Not expecting anything, but knowing that whatever would result from that talk should be the best for the two of you.

You can perceive his heart is beating fast, but definitely not as fast as yours when Yuta breaks the hug, looks into your eyes and then to Mark, who is still sitting in front of Taeyong's grave and oblivious to everything that is happening behind him.

The concrete of the bench feels considerably cold compared to the rest of the environment when you sit next to him. There's a moment when you just dedicate yourself to reading Taeyong's name, over and over again on the plate.

It hasn't been easy and it will never be. It makes you rethink things. Decisions, habits, vices, relations. Coming to terms with the death of someone so close to your age. It could be any of you at any moment, so you guess your mother was right: spend time with your loved ones as much as you can while they're alive.

Mark's eyes grow heavy on your profile and you are forced to meet them. He definitely looks healthier. He has recovered some weight, his dark circles have almost completely disappeared, and his hair is back to its natural color, sporting a fresh undercut.

Most impressive, however, is the way he smiles at you and proceeds to lay his head on your shoulder. He lets out a sigh and somehow you feel relieved—he's not mad at you. In fact, he seems to feel fine, comfortable enough to approach you like that. You can't help but let out a deep sigh as well.

He's the first one to talk since you arrived.

"Hi."

"Hi," you reply, almost in a whisper. As if you were to raise your voice, all that harmony would dissipate in an instant.

"I wasn't expecting you." You feel Mark's voice vibrate through your body and reach your ears. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You have missed him so much. The past months have truly been a torture, but you didnt realize how much you needed to feel him this close, to listen to his voice, until this very moment.

"I was hesitant to come."

Mark lifts his head from your shoulder and stares at you for what seems like a minute or two. In a profound way, as if he was looking for something in your eyes, but as if he was gathering the courage to open his mouth and break your heart once and for all, giving this story a true closure. Perhaps about to do what should have happened a long time ago.

He just nods and says, "I'm sorry."

And you wait for it to come. For him to tell you that he's fully recovered now, that he doesn't need you, that you can go and live your life freely with whoever you want and that he will do the same.

"You know that night… The night we had the fight."

"Yes?"

"I said racing was the only thing making me feel alive."

You don't remember it so clearly at first. That night was quite traumatic, so you have to recapitulate and swallow the lump that forms in your throat remembering the events, and how everything about your relationship with Mark exploded in your face.

"I lied," he continues after a pause. "It was being with you. And I was afraid of hurting you and losing you, and I didn't want to lose you because you were the most important thing I had. But that's what ended up happening and–"

Mark can't finish his sentence, so he takes a deep breath. A cigarette appears between his lips, and it's when he struggles to light it up when you notice how abstained he is and how hard he's fighting it, by the incessant shaking of his hands and his sweating. He lets the smoke out of his lungs looking at the grave, remaining silent until he decides he's calmed down enough.

"I really loved you at that time," Mark says and shares the cigarette with you. "I–I still do. I really, seriously don't need you to take care of me anymore. But I want you to be with me."

He says this last sentence reconnecting with your eyes, looking at you the same way he did earlier, when you expected him to break your heart for good. He turns over his shoulder and looks at the boys one by one, who have been watching your exchange in silence until now.

"All of you," and he finishes.

Johnny pats Mark's shoulder and smiles fondly at him, giving him a little squeeze of comfort. "You'll always have us, no matter what happens."

5. Loving you almost feels like something

"And with this," Johnny starts as he places the last box at the entry of your apartment, "I get closer to being completely free for once."

"Dude," Mark tries and fails to sound upset, "can you not be so happy about me leaving your place? You're making me hurt. Like, you could at least lie about you being sad or missing me."

"But I never lie."

Jaehyun's deep laugh is present next to Johnny and he decides to speak, looking at Mark who is now hung up on you, more and more affectionate with you in front of the boys since you formalized your relationship.

"Baby's leaving the nest. Now it's just you and me, Johnny."

Since Mark was moving in with you and Yuta was leaving for Japan, it only left Jaehyun and Johnny at the Suhs' old house. The oldest was happy, because it meant he wouldn't have other three boys going in and out of the place carelessly every time he tries to bring other people home. Johnny loved the boys enormously, but they were all grown now. Maybe it was time they all found their own place to live and just do whatever they want. Jaehyun, however, seems like has no plans of leaving Johnny alone, at least for a little longer.

"Maybe we should become a married couple."

Johnny questions Jaehyun with his eyes for a couple seconds, but after what seemed like the gears of his brain working at full speed, he ends up agreeing. "That could be pretty convenient, actually. Would you cook for me?"

"You know I don't cook."

"Then forget about it."

You and Mark watch the exchange from the outside and can't help but laugh, because they're basically acting like an old married couple already.

"Alright guys," Mark claps his hands to get the boys' attention. "Thank you so much for your help, but I'll be kicking you out now to go celebrate with my girl. You know, all that boyfriend and girlfriend stuff…" He accompanied them with gestures, telling them to walk through the front door.

"Yes, we get it Mark," Johnny answered in a mocking tone. "You've got a girlfriend and you're fucking on every surface of this apartment. And I'm leaving with Jae, and we're getting stoned and going to sleep at seven. So much fun."

"Fuck you, John. Mark, work tomorrow, seven in the morning." Is all Jaehyun says as he leaves your apartment, only to keep bickering with Johnny all the way to the car.

As the afternoon sun falls and filters through the balcony door, the aroma of onion and tomatoes fills the small kitchen and your nostrils, making your stomach rumble a little. The melody of a guitar reaches your ears; it sounds soft and melancholic, the scratching of the fingers against the strings only gives it a rawer tone. You decide to leave the sauce finishing simmering, and you approach the room that you will now be sharing with Mark. You find him sitting there, on the bed, guitar in hand, facing the window with his back to the door. His subtle singing accompanies the chords on the guitar.

You can't remember when was the last time you saw Mark like this. So calm and relaxed. Music has always been his passion, ever since you met him in high school, so seeing him take up the hobby he loves so much and enjoy it brings tears to your eyes.

The words that come out of his mouth form a lump in your throat.

When no ones around me, you lost and found me

I was surrounded

With open arms

He keeps playing and singing softly, without noticing your presence.

Even though it's only been a couple of hours since you finished moving, he's already made your room a bit of his own. It seems that he has stopped in the middle of the task, that he amused himself with the guitar because most of the boxes of clothes are unpacked, the side of the wardrobe that you freed for him with only a couple of blue jeans and t-shirts in place.

On the night table rests Mark's perfume, an ashtray along with his cigarette box, and a couple of books under it. There are two sets of matching keys besides the table now—you had to make a copy for him, since it's his house too. His shoes are at the front door, and they will remain there every day. And Mark's slippers are on the edge of the bed you'll share, next to an open shoe box that catches your eye.

"What is this?"

Mark turns around to look at your face, then at the film camera and a bunch of developed pictures in your hands. A fond smile takes over his mouth.

"Taeyong was a romantic," he says, coming to stand next to you and starting to inspect the pictures. "You know, when he left we decided to divide the things that were important to Taeyong," Mark kept explaining to you. "We gotta fulfill his dreams, keep him alive that way."

"And what are you doing for Taeyong?"

"I'm dropping everything for love. For a calm and happy life."

The answer takes you by surprise, you can't hide it. The tears that had begun to accumulate since you heard Mark sing on the guitar come to the edge of your eyelids, uncontrollable, and threaten to fall at any moment.

"You know Taeyong loved danger and drama… But he really wanted to settle down with someone at some point," he continues speaking immediately. "And I kept these.

Mark takes all the developed films from your hands and starts looking at them with you. Shortly after, he says, "He loved to document the happy moments.

The pictures show various scenarios and all the boys are in there. In some pics it's just Johnny smiling under the sun, in others it's just Mark and Taeyong on a night's out, in others there's Jaehyun having breakfast with Taeyong, or Yuta and Mark acting foolish, totally like Yuta and Mark.

"But if you notice, it's just us living life together," he finishes the idea, melancholy invading his face, and his eyes also fill with tears.

However, you are sure that none of you are really sad. In fact, the horizon has never looked so bright for the two of you. There is no more fear, no more guilt, no more uncertainty.

"I think this is a happy moment," you say, picking up the camera and turning it on. "You and me together, settling down for a good life. You think Taeyong would've documented this?"

Mark smiles big and nods.

"Yeah, I think he would have."

After focusing on Mark in front of the camera, and with the evening light behind him painting the whole room a warm orange, you press the shutter. A not very powerful flash comes out of the camera, but it does its work illuminating those parts the warm light won't reach, and it indicates that the photo has been taken. Mark asks for the camera and does the exact same for you.

"I'm sure he's happy, and really proud of you, Mark," you say as you wrap your arms around his body.

Your ear on his chest even allows you to hear his heartbeat, which is unusually fast. Mark takes a big breath of air that moves his entire body and yours, also trapped in his arms. A warm feeling invades you, embraces your heart and awakens butterflies in your stomach. His heartbeat becomes softer, and his voice, smooth but full of honesty and pride, resonates throughout your body.

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Mark was once the most careful of all. An incredibly strong and humble young man that thought could have the world in his hands. He had to completely lose control over everything he knew once to know fear, to know grief, to know guilt, to finally find healthy love and forgiveness. To others, but most important to himself.

"But, babe," Mark breaks the hug to raise his head and sniff in the direction of the kitchen. "Don't you think something is burning?"

"Shit!" you exclaim and bolt for the kitchen. "The tomato sauce!"

"Yeah, that's why I didn't take Taeyong's dream to pursue cooking." He crosses his arms and rests his body in the doorway, while you fight to save a burnt, almost brown colored tomato sauce by adding a little more puree and water. "I can't cook either."

You quit trying to deal with the sauce. It looks irreparable anyway. "Yeah… Sorry about that, baby."

"We will survive." Mark shrugs, then comes to kiss you affectionately on the cheek. "Wanna order some pizza?"

Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed my work, please leave a like, reblog or some feedback. I'd love to read your thoughts!

#nct fanfic #mark lee x reader #mark lee fanfic #mark x reader #zh-lele #candy colored cars #too fast #nct 127 fanfic #mark lee smut #nct smut

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villain-apolog1st · 6 months

Text

Distance (David Rossi x Ex!Reader)

Summary: you have some realizations when your ex comes to town

Tags: NSFW, exes to lovers, lots of emotions, hints of jealousy, reader is down bad for rossi, confession of feelings, clitoral stimulation/fingering, oral sex (rossi’s a munch), [unprotected] PinV sex, assumed birth control, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, (fem!reader)

Translations: dolcezza (honey), gattina (kitten)

A/N: so long but also sweet and sexy. Not sure where this came from but hope you enjoy it !

“Y/N, just finished a case in town. Up for a drink and a chat? -DR”

You read the message over again, heart racing. The sign off, while characteristic, wasn’t necessary since you hadn’t deleted his contact. There was always that small part of you that hoped (prayed, manifested, dreamed) that you would get a text like the one that was currently lighting up your phone.

How long had it been now? Nearly two years, you figured. Your relationship with the renowned FBI agent was a memorable one - full of passion that at times felt all-consuming. But then came your promotion, the realization that long-distance wasn’t feasible (not with your already packed schedules), and a painful but necessary goodbye.

And yet, here you were now, miles away from where you first met but with that same thrumming feeling in your chest that only he brought about. You’d almost been expecting the text - he was no doubt in town for the high profile murder case that had been all over the news. When you had first seen the reports about the Black Jack Killer, you’d (sadistically) hoped it meant that he would be paying your part of the country a visit.

You picked up your phone, staring at the expecting message. Drink and a chat wouldn’t hurt, right? Sure, you’d been trying to move on and sure, it was quite possible that this would set you back. But there was no denying the eagerness you were feeling at the idea of seeing him after so long, hearing his voice and laughter.

Gnawing at your lip, you quickly typed out and sent a response. “That would be nice. There’s a bar on 5th, Fox & Trot. See you at 8?”

Before you could regret your decision and consider blocking him altogether, your phone vibrated with an immediate reply. “Looking forward to it.”

•••

You tightened your coat around you as you made your way to the bar. Despite your nerves, the November air was still cold enough to make you shiver. You had spent the time since his text trying on outfits and doing your hair and makeup, but now you found yourself regretting the short dress you’d decided on.

Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even realized you’d made it to the bar. As you pulled out your phone to let him know you’d arrived, you heard the door to the bar open behind you and someone step outside.

“Y/N,” the voice was familiar, making the knot in your stomach tighten. You turned and were greeted by none other than David Rossi, looking at you expectantly with a grin.

You couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face upon seeing him. “Dave,” you greeted, trying to mask the excitement you were feeling. You could see that the two years had treated him well; his goatee and hair had gained some grey flecks, giving him a salt-and-pepper look.

The agent pulled you in for a hug and you let yourself be enveloped in his arms and surrounded by the familiarity of his cologne. His face was pressed into your hair and you could feel him inhale as he took in your scent. David pulled away after a moment but held onto you to take in your appearance. You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. “What?”

“Nothing. I just,” he paused, eyes roaming over you. “You look as beautiful as ever. This place has treated you well.”

You prayed he couldn’t tell that your face was on fire, or that the butterflies in your stomach were migrating downwards. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you grinned, eliciting a chuckle from him.

David gestured towards the bar, which was filled with people. “I’d suggest we get out of the cold but it seems like there isn’t room for us in there.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I know the owner, Kevin. There’s a booth saved for us.”

“Well then,” he said, pulling the door open. “After you.”

•••

Inside, you were lead to your booth as promised. The bar was one of your favourite places in the city. It was intimate and classy, and on nights like this it would have local jazz performers playing, creating an inviting atmosphere. You and David settled in, making small talk about your lives as your drink orders arrived.

“So, Kevin, huh? Must be a good friend if he’s saving you seats at his joint.” David’s tone may have been nonchalant but the look in his eyes was anything but.

You took a sip of your drink before answering, amused by his forwardness. “Yes, Kevin and his husband are good friends of mine. They were the first people I got to know well here.”

“Ah,” David gave you a sheepish grin, making you giggle. “Well, do you blame me for wanting to know who you’ve moved on to?”

Your cheeks warmed again, but this time from mild embarrassment. What were you supposed to say? Well, actually Dave, I’m still hung up on you and haven’t really been able to connect with anyone since we broke up.

You opted for deflection instead. “Please,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “If anyone is going to move on to someone new, it would be you.”

“Hey!” David exclaimed, feigning offence. “Are we forgetting who gave whom their number?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at this. It was true, you were the one to slip him your number when you first met him as he was investigating a case. “Touché. But I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

“You’re the only one that mattered, dolcezza.” David said softly. His eyes held your gaze, trying to gauge your reaction. You could feel warmth spreading under your skin at his words, the small glimmer of hope you were afraid to entertain.

Suddenly, the waiter came by with another round of drinks and you couldn’t be more grateful. You cleared your throat and took a generous sip of your drink, before shifting the conversation to your professional lives. “How’s your team doing? Morgan, Emily. All of them.”

The change of subject was clear to David, and he tried to mask his disappointment. The two of you began talking about work - David about the team and their recent successes, and you about all you’ve accomplished since your promotion.

You didn’t even realize how much time had flown by until you glanced down at your phone hours later. Conversation with David was always easy and never-ending, and this night was no exception. Ever the gentleman, he covered the bill and promptly decided he would be walking you home.

•••

Outside, the two of you began the short walk to your place. It had gotten colder and David offered his arm to you, which you accepted gratefully. Arm in arm, you could almost pretend that nothing had changed in the last two years, that this was just another night.

David was the first to break the silence. “So, is it fair for me to assume there’s no special someone waiting up for you tonight?”

“You’re the profiler, aren’t you?” You teased. “You tell me.”

“Well,” David started. The two of you had come to a stop, standing at the foot of the stairs to your front door. He was standing in front of you now, so close that you could see the fine lines decorating his face, evidence of time and the nature of his job. “I would say that no, there isn’t someone waiting up. And I would go as far as to say that, like me, that hasn’t been the case since we split up.”

“Y/N,” he continued, an earnest look in his eyes. “I regret it. I regret breaking up, I regret letting you leave like that. I’ve missed you ever since.”

Your chest felt tight from your proximity and from David’s words. He was verbalizing exactly how you felt, and yet you were still unsure.

“Dave…” you began, but he cut you off. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t feel the same, Y/N. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But don’t lie to me.” You felt your heart squeeze at the raw emotion plain on his face.

You sighed softly as David’s hand came up to brush your hair away from your face before settling against your cheek. You found yourself leaning into his touch, his palm cradling your cheek. “I don’t want you to leave,” you admitted, almost in defeat. “I’ve missed you too, Dave. More than you could know.”

David wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, your mouths so close that you could feel his breath against your skin. “Say it and I’ll go, Y/N.”

You could feel heat pooling low inside you, your nerves buzzing from having him so close to you again. “I won’t,” you said breathily.

Suddenly, his lips were on yours, soft yet hungry. He held you tight against him and you moaned, savouring the feeling of his mouth on yours and his tongue slipping between your lips.

The two of you broke the kiss, breathless. You brought your mouth close to David’s ear and whispered, “Let’s get inside.”

•••

The door had hardly shut before David had you against the wall and was shrugging your coat off, his own following suit. You brought his mouth back down to you, revelling in the familiar feel of his lips against yours. His hands were gripping your hips and you could feel your dress riding up as he slotted his thigh between your legs. You moaned into his mouth while grinding down, enjoying the pressure against your mound.

“There’s the Y/N I know,” David murmured into your ear. “Always desperate for more.” He suddenly pulled his leg away but before you could protest, his hand was sliding under the hem of your dress and into your panties.

“Fuck,” you gasped out when his fingers made contact with your clit. David watched you intently, lips parted, as he began rubbing circles around your clit.

“So wet for me, gattina,” he whispered before trailing kisses along your jaw. The combined feeling of him sucking on your neck and his experienced fingers on your clit had your back arching off the wall as you came.

David withdrew his fingers as you came down from your orgasm, panting. He kept his gaze on you as he sucked his fingers clean of your juices, moaning as he savoured your taste. “Even better than I remember,” he smirked.

Grinning, you pressed your mouth back against his, tasting yourself on him. “Why don’t we take this upstairs,” you teased, taking his hand to lead him ro your room.

•••

Now it was your turn to pounce on David. You unbuttoned his shirt as you walked him backwards to the bed. You hardly gave him time to lay down before you were straddling him, lips back on his and your tongue exploring his mouth.

You could feel his bulge beneath you and you groaned, grinding down against him. “Fuck, Y/N,” David panted. His hands were tight around your hips and he suddenly flipped you over so that you were under him instead. “Hey!” You exclaimed.

David chuckled darkly but didn’t say anything, opting instead to move his mouth towards your chest. He slipped the straps of your dress down your shoulders until your tits were exposed before attaching his mouth to your nipple, swirling and sucking expertly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he continued travelling downwards. He pulled your dress down the rest of the way and discarded it off to the side, returning his focus to your centre which was scantily clad by the lace panties you had on.

You writhed under him as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and pulled them down. You could feel his breath against your centre as he used two fingers to hold your folds open. David held your gaze as his mouth made contact with your centre, making you gasp. His tongue gently flicked your clit, running through your folds to collect your juices.

“Dave,” you moaned as he sucked on your clit, his fingers teasing and slowly entering your soaking hole. He picked up the pace, his tongue making you whimper as he brought you closer to the edge. Instinctively, your thighs tried to close together but David held them apart, forcing you to feel the full brunt of the pleasure. You could see the smug look in his eyes before he brought you to orgasm for the second time, your body arching and writhing on the bed as he held you down.

David brought his mouth back up to yours in a sweet, deep kiss after you came down from your high. “Dave,” you mumbled between kisses. “I need to feel you in me.”

With his body over yours, you were able to reach down and unbuckle his belt, making him smile against your lips. He pulled off the rest of his clothes before kneeling in between your legs.

You felt him slowly guide his tip through your folds, and you gasped when you felt him nudge your still-sensitive clit. Gently, he began pushing his cock into your hole. You hissed as he pushed deeper, the sharp pain giving way to pleasure quickly.

“That’s my girl,” David praised from above you. “God, you’re tight, Y/N.” He lowered himself onto you until his face was hovering over yours. He then began a tortuous rhythm of drawing his cock almost all the way out before filling you back up again.“Fuck,” you moaned in his ear. “I’ve missed your cock.” Your words fuelled him, and he met your mouth again in a heated kiss, moaning.

Suddenly, he began slowing his pace until you were whining, and guided you so that you were on all fours by the edge of the bed and he was standing behind you. You gripped your sheets as he began thrusting his cock deep inside you again, making you whimper with pleasure.

“Now this is a sight I’ve missed,” David grunted from above you. “You take my cock so well, gattina.”

You could tell he was nearing the edge; his pace was getting more erratic and you could feel his cock pulsing inside you. Your pussy clenched with your own building orgasm and began milking David’s cock with every thrust. “Come, come for me baby,” you moaned.

“Agh, fuck,” David groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. You suddenly felt his cock twitch and release his load just as waves of pleasure rocked through your body.

Both of you collapsed back into bed, covered in sweat. “You’re incredible, Y/N,” David murmured against your skin. You smiled and pressed a sweet kiss onto his lips before you untangled yourself from him to clean yourself up. Afterwards, you slipped back under the covers. David welcomed you into his arms again where you eventually fell asleep, head nestled against his chest.

#c: david rossi #david rossi #david rossi smut #rossi x reader #david rossi criminal minds #david rossi x reader #david rossi x fem!reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #bau #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #spencer reid x reader

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seaofgoldensand · 22 days

Text

please, just stay a little longer. rafayel x reader (she/her) drabble

she would have reoccurring dreams of a sea god that saved her when she was meant to be a sacrificed to him. in the dream, she was fully aware of what was happening, as if she had lived in this time before. but as soon as she would wake up, she could not recall a thing, yet she was left with a feel of emptiness, like something was missing or she had lost something very important to her.

note: this is clearly self indulgent, and i just could not get this out of my head while it popped up as i kept listening to that unknown bgm in chapter 9, so it kept yelling at me until i wrote it. pieces of chapter 1 and little bit of pieces of chapter 9 in forbidden sea. not beta read, here is your warning. i am also very rusty, but i hope those that read this will enjoy it!

warning: angst, hurt with slight comfort i suppose? but hey, it's sfw.

it was the day of his ceremony, every lemurian gathered to witness the sea god and his beloved walk into the temple. fishes of all kinds swam about and round rafayel and his beloved follower.

upon the two entering the temple, everything became silent, save for the gentle sound of the water as she looked around before her eyes landed on her hand in rafayel’s. the way he held her hand as if it were the most delicate thing in all of the sea and land made her heart skip beats.

she closed her eyes, raised her other hand and rested it on her chest. she took a deep breath and spoke to herself.

i am willing to give him my heart.

i am willing to give him my sincerest form of worship.

i am willing to have his very being etched, engraved onto my soul as i praise and pray to him for the rest of my life.

she felt rafayel’s hand in hers, something hot began to intertwine and embed itself into her palm, it became a line and part of her soul.

then, panic rose as she opened her eyes.

“this is my promise to you.” rafayel spoke in the softest tone much like how soft his eyes looked into hers. “for ‘tis lemuria’s vow, a bond everlasting.”

“rafayel, wait—” she smiled nervously, her heart beating too fast for her own good. “why does it sound like…you’re saying farewell to me. please, i—”

rafayel stepped forward, lifted his arm and wrapped it around her waist, drawing her in closely like the gentle current of the sea, small blue fish began circling around them and one red one in particular seemingly settled on rafayel’s shoulder as a blue one settled on hers.

how foolish, even in the sea does her tears begin to build up. even as she was underwater with the god of the sea, she could not stop the tears from falling from her eyes.

“do not worry, i will not be gone for long.”

"you said that last time and the time after that, stop lying to me..."

still panicked, she immediately threw herself onto him, despite his protests from last time when they snuck out to see the sunset both under the sea and above. she did not care for what rafayel would do.

“hold me. push me away. i don't care, just—please, stay a little longer.” she begged with the weakest voice despite how much strength it took for her to tamp down this undeniable fear of being abandoned, almost etching itself right where the thread that sealed their bond remained. "can't we just stay like this for a moment more?"

rafayel stills, eyes wide and at first he did not move nor did he say anything. then, his eyes relaxed and there was a smile that etched upon his lips as he finally lifted his arms to wrap themselves around her, placing a gentle but fleeting kiss onto the top of her head.

“once a lemurian is bonded with a human, they cannot go against their wishes.” he reminded her of what the bond entailed, despite being the young god of the sea.

“then, stay. please, rafayel—don’t leave me.” she did not care how desperate she sounded because he thought of rafayel no longer being with her terrified her and her worst nightmare soon manifested itself as she heard rafayel’s chuckle.

“i will find you no matter where you are, we will meet again. but for now, it is time for you to wake up.”

“don’t lie to me! you always say this, every time, in this very moment and then i’m left waking up to an empty bed and something empty inside me that i can’t understand until i fall back asleep and pray to whatever deity will hear me to meet with you again. why… why can’t you stay any longer?!”

“shh. do you not trust me?”

she fell quiet, burying her face against his shoulder as the tears continued falling. “i do, but—”

“there is no but. you either trust me or you do not.” rafayel sighed quietly and cupped her face, his eyes spoke louder than the words he could offer her, yet he did not know if she felt his emotions. after all, he was not that good when it came to expressing something so intense he felt which was all because of her.

she only clung onto him tighter, refusing to wake up just to forget everything that had happened in her dream that felt so real. who is that man? where was she? why can she not recall his name?

rafayel gazed at her, knowing she was deep in thought and lifted his hand to brush away the tears, shaking his head gently. “what a shame, human tears do not turn into pretty pearls when they cry, yet i find yours the most precious in the entire sea.”

he leaned close to her ear, his fingers gently carding through her soft locks. “trust me and let me go, you will not have to wait any longer.”

she shook her head, hugging him even more tightly. “i don’t want to! i’m tired of never remembering you in my waking life. it’s not fair!”

“you have stayed here for far too long, do you not wish to see me in the waking life?”

“how long, rafayel? how long until i can meet you again, what if i cannot remember you?”

“it will sadden me, i will admit, however…that does not mean that i would give up on you. after all, i will chase you to the ends of the earth.”

rafayel’s words began to fade as her vision darkens and the whalefall city is turned into ruins just as the ancient civilization of lemuria was soon forgotten.

she shot up in her bed, breathing heavily and blinked before a gasp escaped her. her hand lifted as she brushed some tears away then rubbed at her eyes. normally, she would remain confused for a short moment before pulling herself together and return to her every day life.

this time, while she cannot remember anything, she placed her hand on her chest before she drew her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms, letting herself mourn.

what am i mourning for?

why does everything feel so empty?

why does it feel as i i’m crying about something lost?

what did i lose?

…who did i lose?

eventually, she was able to collect herself and prepare for the hunter ceremony. today was the day she would become an official deepspace hunter. once the day was coming to an end, tara waved goodbye before she was being dragged by a random young boy to help him with something.

with the fish net, she looked into the pool and furrowed her brows before she could attempt to swipe one into the net, someone interrupted her concentration.

“...but this one, bright as a flame, is a real flammula from lemurian legends.”

“flammula? i’m not very familiar with those myths or folklore.”

something in her chest tugged the moment he turned and walked away. something yelled inside her to go after him, but why? she was confused and something inside her felt disappointed as the figure gradually became smaller until he could not be seen any longer.

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stonedcoldfoxtarot · 11 months

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How you can inhale the good shit and exhale the bad shit

From left to right

Pile 1 -> Pile 2

Pile 3 -> Pile 4

Pile 1

6oW, Empress, 4oP, AoS, Magician (Emperor)

Inhale:

If you chose this pile it signifies that you are ready to take on the competition and bring your creative ideas into fruition. This opportunity or original idea can bring prosperity, wealth, recognition and success! The Empress and the six of wands guide you to move confidentely in the direction of your dreams as this will bring you into alignment with happiness and abundance, and attract the help of those who want to see you win. All you have to do is call in what is already yours to achieve success and financial prosperity.

Exhale:

You may feel stuck in a boring yet stable job or career or feel like now is not the right time to take a financial risk. You may be afraid to put yourself out there, but you are being guided to exhale and let go of this fixed mindset and step into the driver’s seat of your life. Of course don't quit your day job, but if you feel this pile resonates, focus on finding creative ways to work towards your goals or grow your business in your free time. Try to find time to meditate and start a dream journal. Write down the messages and downloads you receive from spirit and your ancestors and guides (or whoever it is you pray to). There you will find further inspiration and guidance. You have all the resources you need and if you continue to build upon this foundation you will be well on your way to manifesting the life you’ve always dreamed of.

Pile 2

7oW, Judgement, Temperance, 4oW, 10oC, 10oW, 6oW, Death (4oP)

Inhale:

Pile 2, you don’t take anyone’s shit and I love that for you. I’m hearing “I had to go through hell to be this gentle.” Some people may see you as having it all together or think from the outside looking in that your life is perfect or damn near close. But what people don’t realize is that you are fierce in protecting yourself, your peace and those who you hold close. You are incredibly sincere and move through life with purpose. Because of this, you are able to provide yourself and your loved ones with a sense of stability, peace and community. Spirit is urging you to continue to walk in your power because it is immeasurable. Your ancestors are proud of you for holding things down, and continue to bless and support you throughout your journey.

Exhale:

Hypertension is often referred to as the silent killer because while we go out of our way to exercise and be healthy, we are often unaware of the toll stress takes on the body. The message here is that when it comes to the people you love and want to protect, you don’t have to be everything to everyone all the time. Exhale and learn to delegate! Things will not fall apart if you take a day off from being the one who holds everything together. While the people in your life love you for being the helpful responsible one, you have to give others a chance to do things on their own. The more you allow others to help you the more you will heal and renew your body, mind and spirit.

Pile 3

7oW rev, 2oC, Magician, 7oC, 2oW rev, 4oW rev, 10oW rev, 8oW, 9oC (9oP)

Inhale:

Someone here may have had a falling out with a partner or someone they were in a romantic connection with due to an argument or someone refusing to let their guard down. You may have felt a sense of confusion about pursuing this connection and wonder if your person wants you or if you are just one of many options. If you’ve been hoping and praying for this person to have a change of heart, your guides are urging you to keep the faith. You have the power to call in exactly what you want in this lifetime, so use it! Inhale deeply and remind yourself that whatever is meant for you will never pass you by.

Exhale:

You have a lot of dreams and desires, especially in love and romance, but in the past you may have let indecision and doubt cloud your vision. You may have worked towards manifesting in the past but gave up when things didn’t go as planned. There may even be times where you manifested a negative outcome because you didn’t feel good enough. You are being guided to do the inner work and exhale to let go of any self-defeating behavior. Know that you are worthy of having the life you’ve always wanted! Once you change your mindset, you will change your life.

Pile 4

10oW, Lovers, 6oS rev, Sun, Star, 3oS, Tower, 2oC, 4oC, Devil (Justice)

Inhale:

If you are stuck in an on-again-off-again relationship this is your sign to move on. Here, I see that you, Pile 4, may be more invested while the other person is busy keeping their options open. Their actions toward you are often burdensome and may keep you stuck in a toxic, never ending cycle. If you’re struggling to move on, you are being guided to focus on putting yourself back out there and meeting new people. You have a lot to offer and will soon find yourself in a new connection once you decide to heal and level up.

Exhale:

You may have recently experienced a sudden, painful ending with this person. On top of that, the two of you have a strong sexual connection and may use sex to gloss over recurring issues in the relationship instead of having open and honest conversations. Because of this, you find it hard to walk away even when they ignore you, go ghost or choose others over you. Again you are being guided to exhale and work through the pain of this toxic relationship so that you can make space for new love to enter your life.

Thanks for reading🔮✨

#pac reading #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a picture #tarot #tarot reading #intuitive readings #stonedcoldfoxtarot

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doodle-pops · 7 months

Text

Wild, Wild Thoughts

Fingon x reader

Kintober 2023: Fantasy/Daydreaming Sex

A/N: This was manifested to me in the form of a dream as well (the earlier half of this year), unfortunately, I had never gotten to finish the dream. So, here's my chance at making it come true.

Warnings: fem!reader, fingering, fantasising in the form of daydreaming, manhandling, masturbating, voyeurism, penetrative sex

Words: 6.7k

Synopsis: Spending the entire day out with your friend leaves you with a bag of jitters and frustration as thoughts of him consume your mind. The most appropriate course of action is to fantasise and pray you don't get caught in the act.

List of Requests

You couldn’t take it any longer. All the moans you were suffocating at the back of your throat led you to become vocal tonight all because of the raven–haired ellon between your legs. Kissing his way slowly, like a snail’s pace, up your calves over your knees until his scorching breath lingered inches from your core. It was covered in a flimsy piece of material, easy to discard should he decide to use his fingers to tear, but it prevented you from experiencing his lips; or rather, it was his incessant teasing.

The coy smirk on his face responded to the look of irritation gathered upon your brows. Your lips puffy and eyes teary from the period of time you’ve been sitting, strapped to a wooden chair with him toying with you like some plaything.

“Finno, please! Don’t tease, just get on with it!” you whined, tossing your head backwards and releasing a frustrated groan.

In response to this, he inched his head closer, lips hovering just a centimetre away from your inner thigh. Poking his tongue out to moisten his parched lips, he collided with your flesh and delivered an array of kisses. A combination of bites and soothing lavish of his tongue over the area was performed. All you could do was elicit moan after moan and squeals. As sensual as his actions were, you weren’t expecting them to be ticklish.

His calloused hands then lifted to grip your thighs, holding them apart as he lavished the area in hickeys. A place where only you and him could vouch as a testament of your secretive affairs. It was his private place of worship to relieve himself whenever he was stressed, and it was you who offered yourself his temple to praise.

Squealing when his tongue got closer to your underwear, he dove straight in and kissed your clit through the soaked material. You were hoping he would remove the obtrusive clothing, unfortunately, he left it there as he continued to place nimble kisses on the area. The more he kissed, the more your underwear clung to your core and displayed your desperation in wanting him to get on with the show. But for some unknown reason, he refused to move further.

Growing tired of his endless teasing, you looked at him with irritation and shouted.

“Hey! Y/N! Hey!” Waving his hands in your face as you zoned out once more, Fingon bore a worried expression as this was the third time you repeated your daydreaming. He was believing that it was best if you two had stayed indoors and celebrated the ongoing festival instead of roaming the bustling streets of Tirion. It was too dangerous when you were stuck in your daydreaming and getting lost in the crowd behind him.

Feeling a sense of frustration seeping into your bones as your little fantasy popped, you threw an annoyed expression at your friend. As much as it wasn’t his fault, you just wanted someone to blame for your inability to continue your little, wild, fantasy. Squeezing your lips together and rotating your head to meet his worried stare, you feigned a smile—which he saw right through—and answered, “Yes, Fingon. What can I do for you?”

The painfully aggravated expression was unmistakable, and it worried him to know who or what caused your mood to change abruptly. You were perfectly fine this morning and all evening—much to his lack of awareness—so what was it that brought this change.

Pouting due to annoyance in your tone of voice, not enjoying that it was being directed to him, he lowered his voice and came closer to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

His question held innocence on his end, noticing that you were perhaps irritated by the large gathering of people in public. A place of solitude and tranquillity should do the trick in calming you down and reverting your senses. All your grumpiness should go away and you will be back to normal; a few treats and desserts should also lighten you up given your affinity with associating food being a mood changer. On your end, given your little salacious dream, his proximity, the heat of his breath ghosting your neck leaving an unnoticeable shudder and his scent, you didn’t take his question innocently. It was an invitation to more sensual ideas of what he could be possibly initiating, especially when he was so close, and his eyes held innocence.

Parting your lips to respond, you were struggling to formulate a suitable answer given the rabbit hole your mind was leading you down. Various explicit visions flashed across your mind with you and him once more; him using his lips and voice to pull all the sweetest sounds from your throat, or the way they would kiss your skin and cherish you.

Slipping into another moment, you were quickly shaken out of it with a nudge to your shoulder. “Hey, are you listening?”

Unable to meet his eyes, feeling as though your mind would embarrassingly say or look at him strangely, you nodded with a hum. In an instant, you were being pulled through the crowd by his firm grip around your waist. At first, he held your hand, but when he felt you slipping behind again, he reached down to snake his arm around your waist and pulled you close to his side. Your breath was caught in your throat for you didn’t know what sound you would make if you were to release a sigh. Even if you did, would he hear it over the loud sounds of the people cheering and singing through the city?

Nevertheless, you remained silent, allowing yourself to become delusional about how he would feel against your body. The way his arms flexed and trembled as he tugged your limp body through the streets pushed more ideas of the things he could do.

Feeling your face being planted into the mattress and a firm hand resting upon the nape of your neck, you squealed as more force was applied to keep you immobilised while he ploughed you from behind. A quick slap to your ass landed before the sensation of his hips slapping vigorously against the back of your thighs went off. One foot was planted beside your hips while the other knelt to hold his position as he drove himself into your repeatedly.

His panting was one of the loudest sounds in the room, second to your incomprehensible gibberish. Your fingers were scrambling to latch onto something, anything as he pounded away into your heat. You didn’t care if you tore the bedsheets or ripped the headboard off, you needed support for the pounding of a lifetime he was delivering. The feeling of his balls slapping against your clit was insurmountable, and it seemed like the faster he drove himself, the more pleasure he gave to the little nub.

From your angle, it was impossible to notice what he looked like as he folded you into the mattress, but surely he appeared just as handsome as he always did. Hair cascading down his back, lips parted to release all his grunts and groans, stomach taunt, a sheen of sweat down his tone and tan body and a smile on his face. He was forever joyous whenever he was performing something he enjoyed, and you were positive he was enjoying the feeling of driving himself in and out of your obscenely wet cunt.

If it were not for the echoes of your heat squelching and running your arousal down his cock, you wouldn’t believe that you were that hungry for him as well. Yet, when his other hand slipped off your hip to reach for your clit and gave it a small pat, that’s when you knew you were done for. The slippery sensation of his fingers rubbing your clit told you of all the build of your arousal and his release. It told you how much you both desired each other.

For a brief moment, while his hips drove forward, your body began to slide forward, easing out of your arch and landing on your stomach with him moving alongside you. Not once did he slip out the entire time, continuing to press immobilise you as he placed his weight atop your body. His lips fell by your ear allowing you to hear his panting; how well you were satisfying his needs.

Fingers still wedged between your thighs and toying with your clit, you opened your mouth to release a silent scream at the rapid build–up of pressure on your end. Hands scrambling to tug on the sheets, you couldn’t wiggle out of his hold with the grip on your neck (you acted as though you hated the feeling when you loved every second of being pinned). Whining as your orgasm approached, you began chanting his name repetitively like a mantra, like it was your prayer to deliver you from the onslaughter.

Any moment and you would combust in his hold alongside him. Even he was close as his groans deepened in your ear, shooting tingling sensations to your core and forcing you to leak all over the sheets.

“You’re doing so well for me?” he murmured into your neck, sounding like a whimper. “Are you close love? I’m close too you know. I need you to come for me.”

“Uh–huh,” you whined, burying your face into the mattress.

“Good girl,” he praised. “We’re here…”

Jerking your head upwards at his remark, you were somehow conscious to pick up his unusual speech. “Huh? What did you say?”

“We’re here.”

“Y/N!” With a violent shake of your shoulders, you were jiggled back into reality with Fingon standing before you with his still concerned expression.

Lifting your hands to push his away, you darted your eyes around the room and noticed that you were back at the little cosy house he built after moving out of his parent's mansion. The fireplace was already lit, the lights were on, and there was even a pot of water bubbling away on the fireplace for tea—you suspected. All that completed the look was Fingon shaking you like some mad woman, back to life and ruining your fantasy once more. You were so close to actually orgasming for once since you started your daydreaming this morning.

With jerky movements, you stepped away from him and silently removed your coat and shoes before walking over to the sofa and making yourself comfortable. You wore a confusing expression as you stared into the crackling fire which left Fingon even more anxious. No response he got from you and now you were behaving even stranger.

Still standing before the door, he turned to observe you with furrowed brows and gnawing lips. He was contemplating that asking you to come out and enjoy the festival was probably your reason for being so distant. It was his fault for your mood changes. A bit hurt that he was the cause of your demeanour, he left you alone while he retreated into the kitchen to make you a cup of jasmine tea and plate some of the desserts he snuck off to get you this morning.

Returning with a slightly merrier pep in his step, he chose to sit across from you on the single seat and offer you the plate of cookies and cake along with your tea. Surprisingly, you took both items from his hands wordlessly, yet you offered a wry smile which unsettled him. You both sat in silence the entire time while you snacked on your treats, much to his surprise, you actually consumed. There was a small comment he wanted to make about food brightening people’s moods, but he wasn’t sure if it would be well–received with your lack of focus on him.

Your eyes were averted and fixed on the fire, attempting to replay the images of your visions and doing everything to not stare at him. There was a horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach the longer he sat opposite you and gauged your reactions. You wanted to scream, shout and yell at him that the way you were feeling was all because of him, but it would ruin the beautiful friendship you had built from scratch.

“Um, I’ll be back shortly. I’m going to change out of these clothes,” he announced, catching your attention. Mostly, he was hoping to get away from the awkward atmosphere you were creating to catch a breath of fresh air before returning to confront your mood swings. It was unbearable to stand aside and watch as you pushed him away from things he had no clue about. Was it something he said or done to you? Was it truly the invitation to leave your house and step into public with him?

Whatever it was, when he returned, he was going to sort it out whether you wanted to or not.

Watching as he dragged himself out the sofa and up the stairs, you made yourself comfortable and slunk deeper into the sofa to recreate another imagine; something to soothe the burning ache between your thighs, and most certainly not stop the gush of slick building up. The trouble you were setting yourself up for was immense and you did nothing to stop yourself. Waiting until you heard him vanish halfway up the stairs, you allowed your mind to wander, not sure where to focus or what to create. You needed to think of something fast to dissolve the ache between your legs and to stop you from rubbing them together.

There were tons of moments from today to use, there was him licking icing from a cupcake, wiping icing from around your mouth and then licking it off his fingers when you less suspected or when he was standing directly behind you; being pressed together by the crowd as everyone attempted to fit themselves in a tight place. You were able to feel the outline of his abdomen through his tunic and thin shirt. Mayhaps you could combine it all together and create one complete imagine, but that would take time, and he would be back by then.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as your options to seduce yourself into relief were vanishing at the tips of your fingers. Slouching deeper into the sofa, practically hidden from his sight if he were to march down the staircase, darting your eyes to the window, then cocking your ears to listen for his footsteps, you took the risk of lifting your dress to gather at your thighs. Your heartbeat was erratic as you slipped your hand under to press the tips of your fingers against your clothed clit, you clenched on instinct.

Pressing your thighs together and squirming on the sofa as your fingers pressed harder and rubbed the nub, you exhaled. Your eyes were shut as you attempted to conjure swift imagines to reduce some of the ache, instead, they only opened an ocean of your arousal to flow in great turbulence. The stickiness from your underwear had coated your fingertips and allowed for a smoother circulation of your clit. You didn’t miss the heat pooling in your lower abdomen as you continued. With your breathing increased, your hips joined the party and began gyrating along with the constant squeezing of your thighs.

It was easy to imagine Fingon’s fingers replacing yours and removing your underwear to rub away at your clit. The situation would be better if he decided to not tease you as he always did and remove them to display his seriousness, going straight for your release without hesitation. He would be on his knees before you, gently coaxing you to allow him to handle your pleasure and leave it in his hands. A soft kiss to your knees before moving up your thighs and stopping before the one place of solace. His larger hands would waste no time in prying your legs apart to reveal to him your temple of worship, there, his fingers would easily slip in and crook directly at your sweet spot. Desperate to get you off his hand, he would swiftly lean down to place kisses all over your lower lips, swiping his tongue through your folds.

Perhaps when you were asleep, you would build on that imagine and allow it to graduate into something larger, as for now, you would just work with the outline to quickly deal with the ache.

“So this is why you were all grumpy today?” Huh?

Snapping your eyes open, there he was, the ellon of your dreams standing before you, with his arms folded across his chest and an inquisitive smirk on his face. His tongue was prodding his cheek before it slipped out to wet his lips. You felt like he was scrutinising you under his gaze, all you could do was abruptly push your dress down and pull away your hands. The entire time he stood there inspecting you, he was silently running his eyes over your face and down your body, occasionally stopping at where your fingers were buried before returning to your face to read your embarrassed expression.

Unable to speak up, to which he beat you, you curled your legs against your thighs and looked down at your fingers twiddling. “There’s no shame in admitting that you were impatient to indulge in private activities, I would not have judged you,” he began with sympathy, “we all need our moments, but turning on me the entire day because of this—I’m not sure if I can excuse your behaviour, Y/N.”

“I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad…”

Kissing his teeth, he took a few steps forward until he stopped at the foot of the sofa. “Well, my feelings were hurt,” he mumbled and touched his heart—gosh, he could be such a kid at heart during the oddest moments. “But my real question is, why did you stop?”

Confoundedly blinking at him as though he sprouted five more heads, your head ticked like you were spasming. “W–W–What? What do you mean, “Why did I stop?”” you inquisitively questioned with concernment. “You walked in on me!”

Mischievously grinning at you with a low chuckle, he lifted his right hand and waved his index finger at you cunningly. Hissing at the satisfaction he was experiencing at that moment, knowing that he had you by your foot, there was nothing else but winning at this point. “Because dearie,” he began, “you were moaning my name. Gave me every reason to investigate why my lovely friend was singing my name so…enticing. Most sinfully in fact.”

He caught you off guard with that confession. You weren’t aware of his name leaving your lips, you were only thinking of his actions, not crying out for him.

Caught in his web and aware that you weren’t conscious, he sat on the handle of the sofa. “Something tells me that you had no idea you were singing for me,” he teased, clearly enjoying your facial expressions. “I’m curious to know though, what was I doing to arouse such an explicit response, Y/N?”

Flustered at his inability to drop the situation, you found it impossible to dissuade the topic of choice and vacate the room. All you could do was remain seated firmly in the spot you curled up in while he slipped off the sofa handle and strutted over to where you were cornered. A hand on the back of the sofa and the other behind your head on the armrest, his body caged you in like a prey.

Is this real–life or is it just fantasy?

“You were clearly enjoying yourself back there, so tell me, what was I doing?” His eyes sapphire eyes glittered as they shone upon your figure, focused on your face and observing every micro–change of your expression. Placing one knee upon the cushions and the other remaining on the floor, allowed him to cage you in more—and marvel at the size of his arms up close. “Or rather, tell me all the things I was doing in your mind today, while you were preoccupied and dazed.”

“Finno,” you playfully whined, letting out a squeeze of painfully embarrassing chuckles and breaking eye contact to gaze at the back of the sofa. Gnawing on your lower lip, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. The anxiousness was slowly eating you alive as you remained indecisive about your response. If you told him, what would happen, likewise, if you didn’t? “I can’t tell—Why do you want to know?” you choked out.

“Because,” he whispered and shifted his right hand to brush the back of his hand over your cheek, “who wouldn’t. Who doesn’t want to know if they’re pleasing someone right; I know I do.”

“You’re not em–embarrassed by what you caught me doing?” you asked.

Jerking his head back, he furrowed his brows. “Why should I? We all have needs that require attention, and there are those that require extra,” he lowly whispered, this time, his face came closer to yours. Lips centimetres away and an ache pooling in the pit of your stomach. How were you not blushing and kicking your feet at the proximity left you baffled. “So tell me, what was I doing to you?”

And so, the butterflies swarmed your stomach and core.

You managed to make eye contact at that moment and crumbled instantly, blurring out your fantasies without an ounce of shame and watching as the smile on his face grew till his dimples were pronounced. There was never a moment where his eyes widened or dipped, only slithering as they became darkened with lust and the desire to reenact all of them. He was profoundly intrigued by your ability to create such vivid imaginations from only a single interaction. Had he any idea of how creative you were from the start; he wouldn’t have allowed you to suffer in silence.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He gave a shake of his head as he roamed you up and down, indecisive of which scene he could reenact and make both your fantasies come true. “Mmh, your imagination is quite colourful, I don’t know where to choose from.”

Opening your mouth to reply, it caught his attention as he jutted his chin out to give you the floor. “Perhaps you can use the one where you…manhandled me?” you shyly asked as your cheeks grew warmer.

“If I recall, you’re a virgin, so that might not be the best option to use for a night between us,” he corrected.

Sitting upright and stretching your legs from out under your dress, you cocked a brow invitingly. “Says who?”

Now it was his turn to become a stuttering mess, not expecting your challenging response. While opting for something a little more leisurely as you engage with one another before the fireplace, you were desirous to increase the heat. Deciding that your response was certain, he straightened his posture and reached for the ends of his shirt to toss on the floor, followed by his trousers. He was left in nought by his nudity before your eyes, giving you a chance to properly admire whether or not reality matched your imagination.

Though he was a bit impatient to get the ball rolling, he outstretched his hand for you to take and hauled you to your feet. Swiftly, his hands spun you around to unlace your dress and dropped it to the floor in a pile at your feet. The urge to feel conscious before him was present, however, he refused to allow that to happen. Reaching for your underwear and tugging it down your legs, once off, he rose to full height and pulled you into his body. Flushed against him and able to feel every outline of his abdominal muscles and his girthy cock against your back, you shuddered.

His hands were swift to roam your front, splaying themselves against your front and cupping you delicately. From his left hand, his index slipped through your folds and ran along until he came to your slit. There was no build–up or time wasted as he entered you and groaned into your ear; with ease, another finger joined in. While his right hand was busy and his left rubbing your sweet bundle of nerves, his lips were ghosting the shell of your ear, whispering sweet nothings as you wriggled in his hold.

“I need you to spread your legs for me, love, just like that. Good girl,” he praised, giving a small kiss under your ear. His warm breathing was fanning your cheeks as he groaned from the softness he experienced while he fingered you. Those lips were tracing your ear like a drawing, wanting to map out its outline to perfection while he groaned about how good you felt. “Am I pleasuring you just like you fantasised?”

Crying out instead of answering the way you wanted, your head tossed backwards and knocked against his shoulder as his fingers pressed against your sweet spot. You couldn’t help but stomp your right leg on the floor as the pressure swiftly built—said a lot about how pent–up you were all day, dying for release. Fingon looked on fondly at your reaction, feeling a sense of pride swelling in his chest at the way your upcoming orgasm took you. Continuing his ministrations down below, his lips left your ear and attacked your neck in a series of vivid dark blotches. Where he didn’t kiss or suck, he nipped and nibbled.

His body swayed from side to side as he held your squirming body in his hold. Humming in satisfaction as your walls clamped around his fingers, sucking him back in whenever he attempted to escape, he grinned against your skin. To him, this moment could have stretched on for a lifetime, but given your frustration, he didn’t see the need to keep things slow–paced. Surely you would turn to him again whenever you required a hand, or your fantasies became too much, and you needed an escape route.

Shutting your eyes as the intensity in the pit of your stomach burned, you curled in on yourself, saved by Fingon whose iron grip around your waist kept you pressed against him, you chanted his name like a prayer. It sounded so holy and unholy falling from your lips at the same time, nonetheless, you sang praises for him which fuelled his pride to push on with more dedication.

“Come on love, you’re close, I can feel it. You’re almost there princess,” he encouraged, incessantly whispering against the base of your throat and planting aimless kisses every now and then now that he was finished with his artwork.

The sound of his voice was the catalyst you needed to give you that final push. Combining that with the focus of his fingers curling and crooking against your sweet spot while his other fingers expertly rubbed your sweet bundle of nerves, you were light. Your head was spinning, and you were mentally not on earth any longer. “FingonFingonFingon, I’m close. I’m close—”

Your cries were cut off by a loud stuttering moan as your body curled in. Stomach and thighs clenched; you were giving yourself an unnecessary workout. All you could do was flop in his arms and hope that he’d take care of the rest while you floated somewhere above the clouds now that the ache was gone. You didn’t know where were up or down, left or right, or if you still standing or being lied down. Whatever was happening, you were putting your faith and trust in the hands of Fingon to ensure that everything was sorted out thoroughly.

He watched as you lay in his arms, dazed with hazy unfocused eyes. They were resting on him, but far from noticing his face hovering over yours concerned. Sinking with you in his arms to his knees, he placed you on the floor and cuddled you against his slightly sweaty body. With your back against the cool floor, he slung your left leg over his and gave your inner thigh a massage while he waited for your recovery. His eyes flickered from your face to your chest, sensing your erratic heartbeat and dragged his fingers away from your thigh to press against your chest, he softly beamed.

The moment his hand was placed against your chest, your eyes snapped open and darted to meet his softened gaze. There was a peaceful silence between you both as you held each other’s gaze, neither of you saying anything, just feeling each other’s energy. Propping himself on his arm, it allowed Fingon to hover and manoeuvre his hands to wherever he wished, though he kept situated on your chest to feel your erratic heartbeat. He loved the slight hitch in your breath at random times as you fought to keep your breathing under control, giving him the opportunity to experience the effect he had on you; the way you were struggling to not show him you were affected. However, he saw right through it, and it made him tittered lightly.

“So, what do you want to do after you get your breathing under control?” He was being overly prideful at that moment, what you would do to wipe it off. It might cost you your pride as well when it comes to dealing with him of all people.

“Ha, ha, how funny you jester,” you retorted with a sarcastic grin as you outstretched your hand to slap his arm. “How about you take your sneaky hand off my chest first and then we can move on to the next part of my imagination.”

Musing, he leaned closer to meet your face, pressing his forehead against yours, “I thought my hands are where they should be…” (trailing his fingers away from your chest, they returned to your left leg and hoisted it over his to pull you closer) “right here for that matter, for when I’m taking you just right.”

An inaudible gasp floated past your lips once your body collided with his. Leg left hooked in the crook of his right arm and your body partially rotated, you understood the position of choice. Different from what you were expecting since you wanted to be manhandled, but you were still grateful to be engaging in something, nonetheless. Deciding to be helpful, you shuffled your body closer until your back met his front when a perplexed look across his face. “What are doing?” he questioned.

“Don’t you want me positioned like this?” you replied, equally confounded as he was.

With a modest laugh, he shook his head and jutted his chin out to direct you. “I want you exactly as described in your fantasy, knees and arched—we’re sticking to the script princess.”

You wanted to sob at the awkwardness you felt at that moment for misreading his moves. Fortunately, your brain saved you with the opposite reaction and brought light laughter to the atmosphere, helping things to move along.

Hauling your body into the imagined position, your knees were blessed to be resting on a cushion courtesy of Fingon slipping on under. A soft, “Don’t want to hurt those knees,” fluttered throughout the air, and it aided in removing any form of anxiousness that either of you suffered. Instead of tension, there was airy laughter compared to the unholy position you were getting yourself into for him to marvel at. Still with laughter in his chest and mirth in his eyes, his gaze faltered momentarily once they flashed to your cunt facing him.

Your folds were still shining from the aftermath of your orgasm with a bit of cream around the outer lips—from the build–up of your frustration and sinful thoughts. To imagine that this was the outcome of a supposed spoiled day, neither of you would have guessed this would be happening; you on your knees and Fingon kneeling behind you with his cock in hand, giving it a few tugs as he shuffled closer to for entry. Attempting to remember his position as recalled by you, his right foot was planted into the floor while his left hand held your hip for aligning before it switched to your neck.

Unable to waste another moment and draw things out, he slid in all the way to the base and brushed against your cervix. The way your body shuddered and curled, now he understood why his hand were to root itself on your nape which was why he did so swiftly. He was leaning over you perfectly, pressing a bit of his weight against your back to sink you into the floor deeper into a profoundly disturbing arch; your legs widened. A soft whine emitted from your throat at the feeling of being full and satisfied instead of feeding yourself your imagines.

Hands knocking against your floor, your right found purchase on the leg of the table, while your left reached out to take hold of the sofa. Your eyes shut as the immense sensation of having him slowly grind his hips and brush his tip against your cervix was a bittersweet pain. Clamping your walls around him instinctively, there was a hiss and a firm grip on your hips; fingers digging into your flesh while the grip around your neck tightened in retaliation.

“Fuck!” he yelled as a sense of confusion washed over him at your tightness. You squeezed him with a death grip. “Dammit, Y/N. Trying to kill before I start?”

You knew what to expect since he was reenacting your dream, but this was far from how sinfully delicious you expected it to taste. There was barely a moment for you to catch yourself with the rate at which he was drilling into you. No amount of gripping the table or sofa could stabilize your mental or physical state, he was pushing past the limit of no return, and the unfathomable sounds you were making were testament. No handbook or instructions could prepare you for the happiness and pleasure you were being condoned.

Allowing yourself to slip away as he took care of you, all you were left to was moan, mewl, cry out his name, squeal when he smacked your ass and gasp whenever his tip brushed against your sweet spot. Other than that, lying there and taking all that he gave was your role in this reenactment—the best part to be honest.

Feeling your insides being melted and remodelled to his liking, you smiled subconsciously causing a bit of drool to slip out past your lips and leak onto the floor. Even on the opposite end, with all the vigorous pounding he was doing, there were lewd sounds being emitted with every roll of his hips driving his cock in and out of your heat. Like your fantasy, you imagined correctly as his balls were slapping against your sensitive clit and producing the ‘pat–pat’ sounds echoing loudly in the background. Not even the fire crackling was able to drown out the sounds of yours and his moans.

For every ‘pat–pat’ his balls made in contact with your little bundle of nerves, a little flow of arousal seeped out and stained his cock, leaving a ring of cream at the base.

“Oh fuck! Eru, right there Finno—right there!” Shouting out to him that he was aiming just right and hitting the correct point, as soon as he followed the command your air was sharply cut from your lung and pushed out a loud, high–pitched whine.

A look of satisfaction followed his gesture before it turned into a smug look. He genuinely enjoyed watching as you fell apart on his cock, knowing that you thirsted, craved and even dreamed about it. You were too dangerous to be left unattended, someone as responsible and caring as him needed to keep you in check. And how generous he was to do so by becoming indulgent for his selfish purposes.

“Is your fantasy being satisfied—ngh, shit!” Being cut off as you randomly clenched around him, he threw his head backwards and yelled.

Indeed he was fulfilling your fantasy more than perfectly. Your incoherent mumbling was a testament to the fact. “Ohmygodohmygodohgod, fuck! Mmh, so good Finno!” you chanted.

With meticulous and calculated thrusts, his tip constantly knocked against your sweet spot, making you see stars. One might believe that it was true with the starry and distant look in your eyes. Slipping his hand off your neck and allowing you the opportunity to breathe properly, his hand stopped at the centre of your back and pressed against it, sending you into a fouler arch. To think it was possible, the pain was bittersweet but the new angle his cock was hitting was even better. The diabolical calculations of his thrusts surpassed all your expectations, and with another orgasm approaching, he might as well consider himself permanently engraved in your mind forever.

He was doing everything to have your insides remember him, his weight, girth, length and robustness. You doubt you could forget what it felt like to have him embedded in you, making himself comfortable and well-accommodated. However, as he continued his thrusts and you were well on the receiving end of pleasure, his high was approaching.

Dropping his right leg and pressing his weight atop yours, flattening you against the floor, his mouth was by your ear, and he was able to hear all your moans more pronounced. “Hmm, where do you want me?” he asked breathlessly as he fought to maintain a secure grip on your waist now that his perspiration had rubbed off.

With your cheeks planted against the floorboards and your eyes shut, you mumbled something along the lines of, “Wherever you want,” before refocusing on the sensation of his cock hitting spots deeper. His weight was more delicious than a fantasy.

Clenching his stomach and holding back the urge to cum right then and there, he lifted himself off just a bit and balanced on his hands. Averting his gaze to where his hips meet your ass and his cock disappeared, he groaned as the sight was becoming too much. Nothing could compare to the lovely shade of cream wrapped around the base of his cock or the way your ass jiggled with each slap of his hips. This was a sinful version of paradise, one only a few people knew about.

Unable to hold himself any longer, he pulled his strength from the depths of his soul and pulled himself out of your heat to empty his release on your ass. It was painful enough to remove himself from your warmth, wanting to cum inside, but given the situation of how…delusional you were, he refused to. Another time he would be blessed to fill you according to one of your dreams.

The deep, guttural grunt that emitted his throat was beautiful and would be replay during your lonely nights. Hunched over your back as you both panted from the aftermath, his arms were vibrating and ready to collapse. Averting his eyes to the outline of your ass under the glow of the fire, he watched as his release painted your skin, some running between your butt cheeks while the rest remained calmly on your skin.

Not able to rest on his arms for longer, a swift kiss was planted in the middle of your back before he flopped to your side, between you and the sofa to hug your upper back and bury his face into your side where your breast lie. Sleepiness was swift to overcome him, and he struggled to fight it off, knowing that you would require being cleaned before slumbering.

There was a sudden shift on your end as you turned to rest on your side, facing him with an equally sleepy expression. Reaching a hand out to cup his face, your thumb brushed his cheek, tracing where his dimple usually surfaced. “Thank you,” you murmured, unaware of whether he heard you.

Humming and muttering something under his breath, you laughed at his dazed state and shuffled closer to pull him against your chest. His head was nestled between your breasts, a leg was lazily thrown over yours and his hand was around your waist as you repositioned on your back, ignoring the mess. Running your fingers through his inky hair, he felt his head grow heavier as the seconds passed with the occasional murmuring of how he couldn’t fall asleep yet.

“I have to…clean you up,” he groggily explained while his body jerked with the intention to see his actions through.

“It’s alright, you did your part already. I’ll see about the rest,” you reassured, patting his head and lulling him to sleep, calling your adventures a night.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @batsyforyou

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creepsh · 2 years

Text

eram quod es, eris quod sum.

paring. siren!hawks x fem!reader

c/w. dark content, noncon, brainwashing, drugging, oral sex (f!receiving), loss of virginity, (1) mention of breeding, hawks is a conniving bastard, reader is a cranky know-it-all, some mentions of blood, a crumb of lore was stolen from supernatural

a/n. half of my reason for writing this was for @bibbidi-bobbidi-birb. you are so ridiculously talented at writing and characterizing this man; i drew a lot of inspiration from your seven deadly sins series, although i don't write as eloquently as you do so i pray it doesn't melt your eyeballs lmfao. the other half of this is dedicated to @hhawks owtw collab & to all of the amazing writers on this platform. hope y'all enjoy ♥

w/c. 21k

playlist. 1, 2, 3, 4

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”

– H.P. Lovecraft

ㅤ

Throughout your childhood, your grandmother would often tell you to be extremely cautious of the choices you make. Because for every action, there is always a consequence to follow. It is the very law of existence, she would whisper to you with fierce, unblinking austerity. It is the order of the universe – the grand design of “fate” itself.

Fate… such an arbitrary word, you used to think.

Despite loving her dearly, you also used to think your grandmother was just a cynical old woman, far too wary of forces that were beyond the grasp of mortals, and far too fearful of a world without her protection in it. Despite how… stifling she could be, you did not relish in her passing; she had raised you, after all. You hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to know your parents, whom had "died at sea" before even your first birthday had come to pass. That was all she would ever divulge on the matter, so it wasn’t as if you could truly lament for their absence, having never known them at all. Not even their names.

Perhaps her general oddness and cynicism was for the best, though, since it shaped you into a person that could endure the loneliness that came with her eventual departure from your life. It saddened you – like any living, feeling human should have felt – but you couldn’t help but admit how… freeing it was. Endless opportunity was suddenly at your fingertips, freedom to do as you please an avenue that you could finally walk. Or perhaps even sail.

The ocean was an entirely uncharted corner of life for you, a forbidden dream tucked away on a high shelf that could have been only reached within your mind’s eye, only manifested from the pages of books that you might’ve read a hundred times over.

Opportunity; it tread a very fine line between promising and dangerous. That you were made well aware of – a courtesy of your Grandmother's upbringing, of course. But in theory of all the random knowledge you had amassed, ranging from pointless to useful, you wagered that you had a chance at realizing your goals. You were penniless, but with an opportunity to step outside of your thoughts, to actually live for real… who is to say that you couldn’t achieve whatever you set your aspiring mind to?

You weren’t callow enough to assume it would be a breeze to do, but you had thought that as long as you had your wits, there would never be a consequence of which to answer. If you played your cards right, a thing called fate wouldn’t catch wind of you.

…or so you had believed, as all ignorant adolescents do.

One lesson your evidently all-knowing grandmother had forgotten to grant you with was just how fast such consequences were to catching up with you, and especially how easily they could be overlooked. You've finally begun to realize that mere book smarts alone wouldn’t pull you out of the rabbit hole, nor would your childish delusions of grandeur carry you as half as far as you thought they would.

Consequences, you ruminate bitterly, whilst peering upon an infinite expanse of shimmering, undulating sea. They certainly do have a way of catching up to you, one way or the other. Of course, only now were you fully taking her warnings, which were beginning to appear as grim omens, to heart – when it was too late to do anything about it.

The sound of a seagull’s raspy, screeching cackle disrupts the lulling murmur of fluttering sails and waves crashing against the ship’s hull, and for a moment, you entertain the thought of it being her spirit hanging over you, vindictively sneering:

I told you so.

A sharp whistle, followed by the gruff call of a name you aren’t familiar with interrupts your somber reverie. Right, the consequences that she often spoke of – you were soon to meet them, very soon.

The acrid smell of sweat and tobacco hits you before the sound of heavy footfalls resounding against wood does; a hand so calloused and tanned it could be better resembled to an aged, leather glove than an actual living human limb falls upon your shoulder, steering you toward the port side of this boat – your self-inflicted prison – to the one who summoned for you. The one who will decide your fate, in what is sure to come in but a few more moments.

“There she is – our lovely little stowaway.” You find yourself to be relieved that those words appeared to be laced with derision, rather than desire. At the very least, you’d prefer to not be robbed of your chastity before you die... but beggars on the precipice of death can’t quite be choosers, now can they? “I believe destiny brought you to my ship for a reason, girl. Are you ready to face yours?”

Whatever that entails, you were clearly about to find out.

For a moment, you were only able to stare up at the veritable mountain of a man before you, at the glacial hue of eyes that seemed to be utterly absent of all warmth or mercy, before derisively muttering, “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” It’s not as if you had much a choice otherwise, at this point.

If he found your sudden compliance to be odd he must have deemed it unnecessary to comment on, because he turned his back to you without further preamble, directing his frigid gaze to the distant landmass that stood as a green blemish on what was an otherwise pristine portrait of blue. To you, it looked like any other ordinary island. A tropical paradise, if anything.

But you strongly suspect he didn’t come all the way here, in the middle of nowhere, for a relaxing getaway.

“Somewhere on that island lies the greatest treasure the likes of any pirate or king has known for over several hundred years. Many have died in pursuit of it, and far less have lived to tell of what they saw beyond its shores – if they made it that far.”

Nervous shifting comes from the man behind you, whom is still holding your shoulder captive, as if you had literally anywhere else to run except overboard. You try your best not to grumble irritably at his clenched grip, listening as intently as one who was on the verge of receiving a broken collarbone could.

“It is said to be a place of unimaginable horrors – for men, that is.” Ah, you see what point he was trying to make, considering the obvious. Sure enough, the captain turns his head ever so slightly to side-eye your diminutive form, reluctantly awaiting his verdict. “Few boats could ever sail close enough without being run aground because of sirens – wicked she-devils, who exist solely to prey upon the hearts of men. No man can resist their influence, and that is why the prize within that cursed place has remained unclaimed to this day. This is where you, my dear,” he sneers over the term of endearment, “come into play.”

His gaze flicks somewhere behind you, an unspoken order, and it’s only about a second or two of shuffling before it is answered – a tattered, rolled up scrap of parchment is handed off to him from over your shoulder that isn’t currently being crushed into mincemeat. Against your better judgment, or perhaps due to a lack thereof, you open your mouth to speak.

“So… you’re sending me to discover this treasure on the possibility that they wouldn’t target a woman? Even if that were so, what about… I don’t know – male sirens?”

The captain scoffs at the suggestion as he impatiently unfurls the paper, as if the idea were more outlandish than what he had already told you just a second prior. “There is no such thing – males have never been reported to be seen, but if you are snatched up by one…” He briefly looks skyward to snort humorlessly, as if such a thought were a half-assed joke from the gods, “then I suppose that’ll answer that question, aye?”

You aren’t sure what else to say in your defense, but he doesn’t seem to care for any more of your inquires anyhow as he is suddenly gesturing for you to look at where he’s pointing on a faded, crudely drawn rendition of the island before you – something he must have kept in his possession for many, many years.

“See this spot, where a shipwreck lies between these large rock formations?”

Nodding slowly, your eyes follow the path his finger drags slightly upward, where the sea meets a flat, tall cliff face. He jabs the haphazardly shaded area beneath it, which you notice to be covering the subtle outline of a circle. Your nodding stops. “Below here will be a cave entrance that has become hidden under the tides this time of the year, just beneath sea level. That is where many believed the treasure to be, judging by the amount of sunken ships you can find there.”

Gulping, you offer the large man an apprehensive glance. “The cave is beneath… sea level? I’m, uh, not really the best swimmer.” An exaggeration, which you cannot really be blamed for given your situation, but you certainly weren’t confident in the length that you could hold your breath. The thought of you writhing amongst a cold, heavy darkness, your final emotions being one of utter terror as your lungs inevitably fill with saltwater invokes a shudder within you. Despite your fascination with the sea, drowning had been a recurring fear of yours for as far back as you could remember, as if the roots of this day burrowed themselves to the foundation of your existence, amongst other obvious reasons.

You couldn’t help but find it a bit funny, at least, how life seemed to have a rather cliché way of coming full circle. Fate was not quite as arbitrary as it seemed…

“Well—” You manage to withhold yourself from jolting in surprise when he abruptly yanks the map from your intense scrutiny, rolling it back up swiftly and neatly before presenting it to you once more, slightly from beyond your reach. “It’s either this, or we sell your pretty ass off at the nearest port. I reckon we’d get decent coin off you. So—” He lowers his hand, leering at you with an obscure, prying intensity. “What’ll it be, girl? Become someone’s property ‘til the end of your days, or help me make history?”

You peer at the map – the physical embodiment of the ultimatum being offered to you – with thinly veiled skepticism. “Who’s to say you won’t just sell me after finding your treasure anyway?”

The captain huffs, “Don’t worry, your worth is nothing compared to what’s on that island, and besides—” His mouth splits into a grin that could be equally interpreted as a grimace, warping his face in a way that felt entirely unnatural to how it was designed; he looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life before now. “I am a man of my word. If you succeed, I’d let you walk free with about as much as you can fill your pockets with. Call it a gesture of my goodwill, and a little extra incentive for your success.”

Admittedly, the prospect of some creepy lech becoming your “owner” wasn’t helping you see many drawbacks to his deal. Either you succeed by some miraculous twist of fate, walking away not only with your freedom, but also compensation… or you fail, possibly suffering what would more than likely be a horrible and agonizing death. But, at the very least, you would die free. It was simple as that, and in all honesty—

You really appreciated simplicity, in the grand scheme of things.

You don’t really see a point in drawing the moment out any further than it already has, plucking the paper from his fingers with a resigned finality. A seagull’s raucous squawking carries over your heads yet again – you deliberately ignore the uneasy stirring in your gut, as the memory of a certain somebody’s voice swims at the forefront of your mind. The frantic beating of wings fleeing toward the direction of land comes just before the distant, subdued murmur of thunder traveling through the atmosphere, as if following on some sort of theatrical cue.

The captain seems to have anticipated this turn of the weather as much as he did your decision, muttering something indistinct beneath his breath before piercing the anticipatory standstill that enveloped his crew with a short, practiced whistle. They sprang into action without a moment of delay.

An aggravated hiss escapes your lips as the man that has been attached to your shoulder this entire time forcibly ushers you towards the rolled up ladder that is used to board the ship, finally removing his damned meat hooks from your poor, aching collarbone. Yeah, that was definitely going to become a hideously gigantic bruise later. Lovely.

Though you probably weren’t even going to live long enough for it to be seen by anyone anyway, so you suppose it didn’t really matter all that much… you still felt like you were entitled to complaining, though.

You observed the crew with a detached form of curiosity, as they lowered a small rowboat into the water with a swift and synergetic efficiency. For some reason, it’s the thought of having to haul yourself all the way to that island that begins to chip at your apathetic façade, a troubled frown cracking through your stony features – if the sirens truly won’t kill you first, then the fatigue from rowing very well might. Gods, you didn’t even want to consider the return trip, on the off chance of your success.

A muted splash meets your ears precisely as the rope ladder is tossed over the boat’s railing, the sound of it knocking against the hull following in a rickety staccato as it unfurled. A heavy quiet settles over the ship once again, in anticipation for your next action.

Time for the moment of truth, it seems.

You turn your back to the uncomfortable weight of their expectant stares, shuffling forward to slowly clamber over the railing. It’s a miracle that you manage to not fling yourself backward, as you awkwardly fumble onto the other side. You take a moment to gather your bearings, hugging your body to the sturdiness of the carved wood as seawater sloshed beneath you; but unfortunately for you, time was of the essence, and the captain wasn’t too keen on his being wasted.

“…We don’t have all day, girl,” he snaps impatiently, that distinct, baritone voice easily cutting through the ambient noises of the sea. “That storm on the horizon will pass over this area by nightfall, and I don’t want to be here when it does. So I’d suggest you hop to it, if you don’t want to be left behind.”

By this point, you aren’t too shocked, as the list of potential causes for your failure appeared to be piling up at a laughably exponential rate. Nevertheless, you began your careful descent down the swaying ladder, committing each of their faces to your memory before you dipped below the railing, because for all you know—

ㅤ

…they just may be the last humans you will ever see.

ㅤ

Nearly an hour of rowing later… and three hours of daylight remaining.

ㅤ

“Stupid—”

Inhale, pull.

“—fucking pirates—”

Exhale, and push.

“—and their stupid—”

Inhale, pull.

“—fucking—”

Exhale…

“—greed.”

…and push.

You drop your oars with an exhausted groan, allowing yourself a brief respite from your rage-fueled rowing to just drift with the flow of the ocean’s current, while indulging in its rejuvenating spray. The muscles in your entire upper half felt as if they were on the brink of tearing open, and your ragged breathing indicated your lungs weren’t exactly faring any better. At least you’re finally getting the exercise, your grandmother would probably be griping right about now. Of course, even in death, that woman remained an unshakable hindrance to your peace of mind.

“Consequences this, consequences that – should’ve followed your own advice, old hag. Might’ve lived a little longer if you laid off that damn pipe,” you mutter, slouching forward as you dig for the map you kept tucked in your bodice. Unrolling it over your thigh, you examined the paper carefully.

It only took a quick glance upward to affirm that you were undoubtedly heading in the right direction, as you were steadily nearing the same rock formations the captain had indicated; the weathered skeleton of a marooned ship was cradled between their jagged edges – as if they were a massive creature’s maw bursting from the sea. It felt like fitting symbolism for the island in its entirety, buds of unease blooming in your chest at the unnerving sight. You could only imagine how many more ships were beneath you, an unseen graveyard littering the ocean floor.

You wondered if it would become your resting place, too.

Shaking such distractions from your mind, you stuff the map back into your bodice and resume rowing, grunting with every other forward and backward motion – your destination wasn’t much further now. It’s the most effort that you’ve had to exert by far, wrestling against the choppy tide that seemed to form in the outer perimeter of the island. You would’ve been worried about the very legitimate chance of blacking out from exhaustion, were you not so preoccupied with steering yourself towards a rocky outcropping that sat a safe distance from the sheer cliff wall, away from the large waves that crashed against it with a force that would pulverize your tiny vessel – and you with it.

Far be it from you to tell a lousy pirate how to do his lousy job, but it might’ve been a helpful detail to have been made aware of. Perhaps he hadn’t even expected you to make it beyond this point, the bastard. You will live to see the end of this day, if only to make him eat his words. Fates be damned, you will live.

It was coming up on you fast, now. The oars didn’t seem to serve much of purpose anymore – seeing as the surging riptide was now hurtling you directly toward the rock – so you threw them to your feet, anchoring yourself with a white knuckled grip on the lip of the boat. All you could do was hold on, and brace for impact.

The nose of the boat slammed into the rock with a force that rattled your brain against your skull, nearly knocking your handhold loose and flinging you from your seat. Despite your disorientation, you quickly scramble out before the raging tidewater can suck you back into the fray; you drag it onto the highest point of the rock with you, just for good measure – it wouldn’t be possible to get back without it, after all.

Thankfully, this spot seems elevated enough that it can probably be safely left unattended, but still – you’re skeptical of taking any chances with the elements. With nothing to anchor or tie it down, you can only hope it will suffice in keeping it from being swept away, leaving you a prisoner of this place.

You turn to regard the water’s churning surface with trepidation – today’s next test of your limits, and the one that you had been dreading the most. But you couldn’t afford to waste daylight worrying about whether or not your life truly was moments from meeting its end, or about how slow and horrific the feeling of drowning would likely be, so you decide to stop thinking and just act.

You breathe in and out in to prepare your lungs for what is to come, sparing the heavens one last glance – asking not for protection, but willing yourself to be witnessed by every cruel, divine force that has lead you to this moment – before crossing your arms over your chest and leaping into the water feet first.

Out of the frying pan, and into the fire, as they say.

Naturally, the sensation that hits you first is the sheer cold, which swallows you up entirely as you sink and sink. Next is the shock upon your nervous system, briefly causing your limbs to seize up, but you manage to shake free from it almost as quickly as it grabbed ahold of you, opening your eyes and scanning for the cave’s entrance – it felt like they were melting from the saltwater, but you endured.

You’re fortunate to spot it almost instantly, considering it must have been large enough to accommodate the width of three ships altogether; it was quite hard to miss. Although, if the threat of your lungs caving in on themselves weren’t an impending matter, you would have given yourself a moment to marvel at the breathtaking sight that was laid out before you, as you propel yourself toward the gaping opening.

Fringing reefs of pastel coral were interspersed with clusters of vibrantly pigmented anemones, and patches of seaweed flowing like verdant ribbons amongst various forms of small aquatic life litter just about every inch of visible space below you, an animated canvas of colors that put even the finest gardens or museums in your home capital to shame. Never once in your life have you considered the possibility of baring witness to such a natural beauty firsthand, something the average citizen could only find in paintings or storybooks. Not that you were glad your life led to this outcome, but maybe in better circumstances – your endlessly curious mind would have been bursting with wonder.

It seemed that the entrance you were swimming through was merely an antechamber to an even bigger cave, its shaded overhang making the clear shafts of light that were bleeding through the area ahead of you easy to navigate towards. The dwindling remains of your breath were escaping your nostrils in fat plumes as soon as you passed the second threshold, guiding you upwards to a glassy, semi-distorted surface – but most importantly, to air.

You might have considered it odd, for beams of direct sunlight to be appearing inside of this cave, which should have been a secluded pocket in the earth, and about a hundred feet or so beneath solid bedrock and the open sky. However, you were somewhat preoccupied with not drowning, steeling your lungs with the last ounce of adrenaline your body could muster as you clawed your way to the surface.

Your head whipped back in a violent arc the instant it broke through, a hungry gasp for oxygen falling from your gaping lips and traveling around you with a reverberating, prolonged echo – suggesting this chamber was indeed an immense one. You aren’t expecting to have to squint when you open your eyes, but lo and behold, there is a legitimate brightness penetrating your pupils when you do.

You weakly raised a hand to block the glare from your sensitive gaze, peering through the gaps in your fingers at the light’s source, from what you blearily discerned to be an opening in the cave’s high, dome-like ceiling. Overgrown flora hung almost artfully over its edge, dripping from dense condensation that had patches of lichen encompassing the wide perimeter of it in a large web. It was only then – as you floated on your back and waited for your racing heartbeat to stabilize, absently pondering just how just how nice it’d be to have wings of your own, to abscond through that hole and from your insignificant, humanly woes – that something in the fuzzy outskirts of your vision finally made itself known.

Resting within the heart of this hidden grotto was a ship, but not just any typical ship, being far too grand to be rightfully compared with anything you have previously laid eyes on before – it was a galleon. You’ve never been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of one, considering they were primarily used by the military or for trade overseas, but you would often find yourself marveling at diagrams of them whenever you would visit the local library, finding them to be more fascinating than any of the regular vessels that would frequently dock at the port of your capital.

If this place weren’t already a testament to its own enormity, you would be puzzled by what you were seeing. The ship held an utterly imposing silhouette, with twice the amount of masts of a standard ship and an overabundance of gunports for cannon fire on each deck, which also was twice the amount of average. Yet despite its clear design for naval warfare, it also possessed a rather regal aesthetic, with a gold trim lining its edges in a subtle embellishment that coalesced into heavier accents at the stern. Even the sails were still somewhat rich with color, displaying crosses and maroon crests over an alabaster canvas. Other than the tip of its bow being mysteriously severed, the boat was in an immaculate state of preservation.

Well then… this alone was more than enough to solidify the captain’s claims, you suppose. Just the ship in of itself could be qualified as treasure, and it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it had more stored inside – a lot more, you’d wager. Regardless of the staggering amount of wealth that just a fraction of this discovery could garner, you found yourself slightly more excited to see the history that it held; it had to have been from the early 16th century or so, judging by the information you gathered during your studies. Amazing yet peculiar, seeing as it appeared virtually untouched by the lengthy passage of over a hundred years.

Stranger even, that there weren’t many signs of rot on the wood. It looked as if it had been well maintained, apart from the encrusted layer of fossilized barnacles on its hull.

The extent of the ship’s size didn’t truly sink in until you directly approached its side, making you feel utterly miniscule as you hunted for a ladder or hanging anchor of some kind. You swam to the other side when your search came up short, dearly hoping that there’d be something, anything that could be considered remotely climbable. This would be the proof you needed that the universe well and truly had it out for you when the finish line was literally within reach, just a brief climb away. One could argue that fate wouldn’t possibly be so cruel, but you knew better – your grandmother’s proclivity to superstition made sure of that.

Your groan of frustration resonated deeply within the hollow chamber, skipping across the water’s placid surface and back into your own ears when the other side proved just as fruitful as the first. You shouldn’t have been surprised considering your luck, but it just seemed ridiculous for something as trivial as this to be what bests you after coming so far, after successfully “negotiating” with pirates, after wrestling with the fury of Poseidon in a measly little rowboat, and after avoiding drowning through the skin of your teeth.

No – you refused to accept it, refused to return to the captain empty-handed and with your tail between your legs. Not after vowing to yourself that you’d prove him wrong. So you continued on your path, circling back around to the boat’s starboard side.

Even with your bullheaded adamancy, you weren’t sure what you were anticipating, when you knew better than to actually expect anything new to be suddenly waiting for you – as if you somehow overlooked the one thing your eyes had been specifically scouring for – but you certainly hadn’t considered for just that to happen. Dangling over the gunwale almost innocently, like it had sheepishly slithered itself there only after your discontent had been vocally expressed, was a long length of thickly corded rope. Despite the cool rush of relief that washed over you, the hairs on your nape arose in a skeptical wariness. That couldn’t have been there before – you were certain you had scanned this side top to bottom… hadn’t you?

An odd, nagging feeling itched relentlessly at your insides as you grasped the rope with both hands, curling your fingertips into its coarse, malleable texture. Whatever the case for its sudden manifestation, you weren’t going to take it for granted – you couldn’t afford to.

Fortifying yourself with the promise of your struggles being generously rewarded soon, you planted the soles of your feet onto the damp wood, and you began to climb. You could practically hear the muscles in your arms begging for mercy with each shaky advancement upward, the weariness of one perilous event after the other finally beginning to settle in your bones. But you were so close, and you’d be damned if fatigue attempted to get in the way of that now.

You knew it may become an issue later, but you were somewhat gratified for being soaked to your core, if only to sooth the burning beneath your flesh, to give you the extra modicum of strength that you needed to push yourself over the railing. You tumbled onto the deck like a sack of potatoes, a faint wheeze expelled from your lungs as you rolled onto your side.

If not for the roughness of the wood rubbing against your cheek, rooting you to reality, it almost would not have been believable that you finally had made it. You were so grateful to be on a stable surface again that you could’ve kissed the deck without a hint of shame, but all you were capable of in that moment was lying still, cradling your sore arms to your chest as you caught your breath.

Dense with a mixture of earthy aromas, oxygen-rich air revitalized you with every inhale – the featherlight weight of it over your skin felt almost healing to the touch. Filtering the ambient sounds of nature that trickled through the opening above you was a lulling hush, a soothing blanket of stillness that laid over the cave’s atmosphere. For all the fear the captain had woven into your expectations of this place, you’d think you stumbled upon Shangri-La… but a nagging voice in the back of your mind told you to know better, to remember every evidence of danger your own eyes had seen on the way here.

Yet regardless of how safe you currently are, if it were up to you, you would curl up exactly where you were and stay there until your body truly deemed it necessary to move. But you weren’t allowed such a luxury with the limited daylight that you had remaining, so you allowed yourself a minute more of peace before mustering the will to push yourself upright.

You had figured that you were prepared to encounter the sight that greeted you, considering you were made abundantly aware of the innumerable amount of lives that were sacrificed over this very ship, but the first time anyone sees a real corpse is bound to be more harrowing than they could ever expect.

…perhaps you spoke too soon regarding safety.

Randomly scattered across the ship’s deck was about a half a dozen bodies, all in what seemed to be the final stage of decay. For some reason, you never took into consideration that they would still be wearing the clothing that they had drawn their last breaths in, presuming from all the depictions of naked skeletons you have seen that it all somehow just… withered away along with their flesh. Obviously, you were enlightened of the absurdity of that assumption now.

The skeleton closest to you was equipped in a manner which one wouldn’t typically see where you were from, comprised of loosely sewn animal skins and metal adornments deeply inscribed with runic symbols, implying they from somewhere Nordic, and presumably male. He was laying on his back with his right hand resting over his chest; you thought that he looked a bit serene, in a macabre sort of way.

The next body was draped halfway over the portside railing, donning a large frock coat and leather trousers, suggesting they were male as well. The evidence of his death was plain to see with a vertical hole on the left side of his upper back – a fatal blow that likely had been aimed for his heart. It looked as if he were attempting to climb overboard, you surmised curiously. Clearly, he had been denied of that chance.

Nearly every skeleton that you examined appeared to share two things in common: they were male – at least judging by their stature and attire – and they had the same, singular hole either over their chests or their backs, with roughly the same positioning. Yet there was no evidence of any weapons remaining.

There seemed to be one exception, however, and it was located the furthest from the others, lying adjacent to the steps that lead to the back of the ship, toward the captain’s quarters that sat above the stern.

The first thing you noticed was what they were wearing closely resembled your own clothing, with a corseted bodice that sat over a short-sleeved, cream-colored chemise – a distinctly feminine choice of attire – and a loose fitting pair of breeches that were tied at the knee. Unlike the others, there was not a single sign to indicate how they, or she, had died – only that her body was arranged in a relaxed manner that implied she had passed calmly.

The second thing to capture your attention was something peeking through the cradle of one of her boney palms, a tiny beacon of color amidst a slathering of dull, melancholy hues. You were loath to lay your hands upon the dead, considering it more rude than distasteful, but alas – your intrigue was a stubborn thing that could hardly ever be thwarted.

“Sorry to disturb you,” you muttered, gingerly kneeling beside her. It was a strange and humbling feeling, holding the hand of a person who has long since departed from this world, and one you couldn’t fathom to describe as you pried her stiff grasp open. You handled her as if she were porcelain, fearing that she would crumble to pieces lest you applied even the tiniest bit of force. With meticulous care, you reached through her fingers, and slowly pulled the object free.

Your initial expectation was some form of garnet or ruby enameled jewelry due to the alluringly stark shade of red being what caught your eye, but it was revealed to only be a feather. Only was not implying you were at all disillusioned, when its vividness seemed to rival that of blood, a color you had always secretly favored. You struggled to think of a bird that would fit such a purely sanguine coloration – the closest coming to mind being either a cardinal or some variation of parrot – but neither were a species that fit a plume of this scale, at least not to your knowledge. You considered yourself pretty well read, but not to that capacity.

It felt like there was something very important that you were forgetting to consider, a key factor to your entire reason for being here, but it was overshadowed by the sensory overload you’d been riding on ever since you breached this cave.

That lingering uncertainty remained in the background of your psyche, eclipsed by your incessant curiosity as you notice something lightly scratched into the wood where her hand had been lying.

“Eram quod es, eris quod sum,” you whispered aloud, before pursing your lips in concentrated thought. You were certain that it was Latin, recognizing a few words from your studies, but you weren’t anywhere near fluent. You figured that you might be able to get an idea of the phrase if you attempted to sound it out from what you knew.

“We are— no, that’s not right…” You’ve seen some of these words before, if only you could just remember. “I… I was what—”

“I was what you are; you will be what I am.”

The feather fell from your grasp, seesawing through the air in a peaceful descent that directly contrasted the meteoric plummeting in your gut. Oh, you had thought dazedly, as your gaze crawled a path up the ship’s main mast, toward the source of the smooth voice that interrupted you.

…that was what you were forgetting.

Perched on the wooden beam that the uppermost sail was tethered to, was what you dumbly presumed to be a siren. They seemed to have materialized out of thin air, granting no audible warning of their arrival. Most notably of all – other than that you now knew what manner of wings that feather belonged to, hanging in excess off their back like a crimson cape – was that the one who had found you was not a female.

So much for there being no such thing… stupid, useless fucking pirates. It was settled, then – the universe operated solely to spite you.

“A tad morbid for my tastes, but it certainly is… thought provoking, I suppose.”

Despite your better consideration to make for the ships railing like a bat out of hell, you remained rooted in place, squinting through the waning beams of sunlight at the siren’s statuesque silhouette for a glimpse of his face. It almost seemed deliberate, how the glare bled wholly onto his features from your angle.

“Well done, by the way,” he drawled, embodying the epitome of nonchalance with how he lazily leaned against the crow’s nest, arms loosely crossed and wings dangling limply. He certainly didn’t appear at all threatened by your presence here. “You almost figured it out. Fancy yourself an aspiring linguist?”

“I… read a lot,” you responded vaguely, glancing at the railing that sat at least six strides from where you stood. Should you even dare to attempt in making a run for it? Your gaze darted to the corpse that was hanging over the portside railing a few meters away, and immediately dismissed that notion. If even an able-bodied man could not make it, which you assumed now of whom he had been fleeing from, then what chance did you have?

A contemplative hum from overhead reminded you where your attention would likely be wise to stay, considering this siren could evidently move without detection. You surrendered every shred of your attention to him as he stepped off his makeshift perch, watching like petrified prey as he plummeted towards you. Just as you wondered if he intended to crush you underfoot those expansive wings unfurled, flapping once to soften his landing, whipping you with a powerful gust of air.

You briefly wondered if this was what field mice felt like when barn owls swooped down upon them. How ironic, considering you used to watch indifferently as they were carried away, squeaking helplessly while you lounged behind your grandmother’s cottage, idly marveling at the harsh wonders of nature before burying your nose back into whatever book you’d been consumed by that evening.

There was a heavy moment of silence while you studied each other, after he straightened himself as those large primary feathers swept against the floorboards, wings tucking comfortably against his back. You probably did resemble cornered prey, with the way you mirrored his leisurely approach step for step, fixing him with a doe-eyed stare when your back collided with the handrail’s post sitting at the base of the stairs.

Despite your fear, you would be blatantly lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge the magnitude of his beauty. Had you not known better, you’d think you were gazing upon a renaissance sculpture made flesh – his features so carved and without flaw; the only plausible explanation was that they had been crafted that way, by a profoundly loving and meticulous hand. Even the smoothness of his skin resembled that of marble, the sole difference being its dewy, sun-kissed shade.

What would be the most unremarkable of characteristics, details you wouldn’t normally look twice at on an ordinary person seemed to demand your full examination; like the light wisps of hair accenting his sharp chin, or the unruly brows that sat over a strikingly yellow pair of eyes. They certainly contributed to the danger he exuded, especially with the pointed black markings that extended from his tear ducts in an almost catlike fashion.

His hair only magnified his sunbathed allure, shining like a sandy beach during midday and swept from his face in a feathered wave, save for a few stubborn pieces dusting across his forehead. You’d think he recently went for a swim with the way his bare torso gleamed with moisture, but the baggy harem-style pants hanging low on those trim hips were loose with aridity.

It felt like a gentle tugging on your subconscious, a coaxing balm on the buzzing nerves that kept you hyperaware, and that was precisely why you didn’t trust any of it – the glamour that surrounded him.

He met your thorough examination with equal – if not fiercer – intensity, dragging that arcane stare over the entirety of you with a patient, thinly concealed appreciation. Those unnervingly keen eyes spared you another brazen onceover, before finally meeting yours through a slow blink, tilting his head in an avian fashion.

“So, how’d a mousy little scholar wind up here?” His lips stretched into a feline smile, revealing dangerously elongated canines to match. Fantastic – as if the huge wings and clawed fingertips weren’t sufficient warnings for you to behave. Now you’d have to worry about him getting close enough to make a meal out of your jugular. “Get tired of living vicariously through your books, did you?”

“Tell me…” He abruptly leaned forward, which had you almost folding yourself backward over the handrail to spare at least a modicum of personal space, finding the delicate caress of his balmy breath over your mouth far too intimate for your liking. “Did I meet your expectations?”

Well, this certainly wasn’t how you imagined for this scenario to go.

“…I didn’t have many to begin with,” you answered slowly, breaking from the hold of his invasive gaze to gather your courage to speak. “I didn’t even know your kind existed before today – it wasn’t my idea to come here.”

“Ah.” He clicks his tongue through a sardonic huff, solving the mystery of you in all but an instant. You released a breath you hadn’t been aware of withholding when he swayed backward, releasing the invisible chokehold of his close proximity. “Pirates got ahold of you, eh? Pity.” Even with the barefaced sarcasm, there was an undertone of sympathy in his voice; the kind one would have when seeing a pretty butterfly snared in a spider’s web. A sympathy that is only derived from disappointment, at nature’s cruelty toward lovely, weak things.

You warily glance at him again, before sighing shortly, "Yes… but there's no one to blame for that but myself. I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, and now here I am, paying the consequences.”

He tutted softly, like you were a child who did not know any better.

“Silly human, don’t you know what they say about cats and curiosity? Let me guess,” he hummed, throwing those sinewy arms over the handrail opposite of you, reclining his head back as he tapped rhythmically at the wood with his fingers, which you’ve only just noticed were riddled with a variety of sparkling rings. You tried your utmost to not stare at the way the action emphasized his pectorals, but it was as if those damned things had their own gravitational pull. “These consequences involved being sent here to retrieve a certain… something. The same something they came here for. Am I getting warm?”

Your eyes didn’t need to follow the direction he nodded at to know whom he had been indicating, but you humored him anyhow. A numbing sense of resignation suddenly settled within you, at the likelihood of this being a test to whether or not you kept your life. You may not have much of a fighting chance, but at the very least, you’d spare your dignity by retaining what little composure you had left.

“…And if you are? Would you kill me too?”

"Hm… it depends.” He squinted down the length of that aristocratic nose at you, halting the tick, tick, ticking of his talons to stroke his chin in a show of contemplation. "How badly do you want what they died for? Would you really be willing to risk your life for someone else’s greed? For material wealth? Or would it be to save your own skin?"

Your expression clouded over as your gaze sank to the floor, brows knitted and mouth tight-lipped. This was it, then. “All I want is… is to be free. To experience a simple life with simple pleasures, but to have life that is worth living. If I can’t have that,” you paused, glancing at the skeleton of the woman who now seemed like an eerie reflection of you, “then I would rather die for myself, at least. That might not have been enough for them, but it is for me.”

The condescending guise he had been wearing shifted into something unreadable, his raised hand dropping to his side. There was something jarring and distinctly inhuman about how quickly he could switch from charming to calculating, as well as his unwavering scrutiny that felt akin to being dissected. Before you could clear the lump of discomfort caught in your throat, a toothy grin had already wormed its way onto his face once again, as if that initial look of deliberation was only a trick of your mind.

“You’re an interesting one. That makes you lucky, because I like interesting things.”

You blinked owlishly at him, unsure how to respond. That was unexpected. Personally, luck would be the last term you would use to describe your predicament, but you took it that meant he wouldn’t be killing you… for now. Even if there was a decent aspect of truth to it, you were kind of exaggerating that last part. Gods only know how fickle minded sirens may be, and you weren’t willing to test that theory now – or ever.

“Tell you what…” He pushed off the handrail with the arm that was still draped across it, sauntering towards you with playful purpose. “Since I’m feeling rather giving today, you can take whatever you want off this boat – if you grant me a moment of your time. It’s been so very long since I’ve had decent company, you know?”

You were curious as to why he wouldn't just seek solace in his own kind, but you decided to not comment on it. You’d rather not risk him revoking his charity by prodding at what might be an unsavory subject. Perhaps sirens just weren’t the type to mingle amongst themselves, or weren’t typically ones for idle interaction and you had merely encountered the odd one of the bunch.

“I… guess that is fair,” you acquiesce, casting a swift glance at the hole in the cave’s ceiling when the sound of faraway thunder fell through it. The hands of daylight seemed to be creeping upon its final hour as the approaching storm drew ever nearer, which meant you had very little time left before the captain and his crew would hoist their sails from this place. Hopefully he doesn’t drag this “moment” he’s asking of you out, because you need to leave soon, before the tides become too tumultuous – you’ve wasted far too much time already. “Just for a moment, then – it’s the least I can repay for your generosity.”

“My, how polite you are,” he said through a shrewd smirk, offering a beckoning hand to you. “It certainly is a refreshing change of pace from my usual guests.”

“…I can’t say I blame them too much – it is a bit frightening being confronted by what looks like a human fused with a vulture for the first time,” you confess bluntly, sliding your fingers onto his upturned palm hesitantly, taking care to not accidentally nick yourself on those lethal claws. Gods, his skin was somehow even softer than it looked. How he managed such a thing with what had to be a very… hands on lifestyle, you could only guess. A benefit of being anything but an ordinary human, maybe.

“A vulture?” He pouts, dragging a thumb over your knuckles to secure you within his grip, gently guiding you along as he begins ascending the stairs. “That’s a tad harsh – I would be a far prettier bird.”

You withheld the urge to snort, finding it amusing that a mythical creature the captain had all but declared of originating from the bowels of hell was offended by being compared to a species that didn’t fit its standards of beauty.

“A peacock, then?”

His laugh was a warm, dulcet sound, scarlet wings twitching with pleased mirth. It was undeniable – red truly had to be your favorite color, you thought before quickly averting your eyes, when he directed a sly look at you over his shoulder. You prayed that didn’t mean he caught on to your pestering desire to touch them, scratching relentlessly at the forefront of your mind. You were just curious, is all. Really. “That’s adequate, I suppose.”

The stairs didn’t seem to stretch that high up from its base, but a single glance backward confirmed otherwise when you both approached the final step. For the briefest moment, you permitted yourself to bask in the culmination of wonders this day has brought, as you surveyed the extent of this chamber, a scene that a mere iota – less than a handful even – of the human race has managed to witness. With rapt mystification, you pondered just how long it has been since a person has set eyes on this place, and lived to tell the tale.

If everything continued to progress in your favor, you just may become one of those very people.

“My name is Hawks, by the way. Well – that is what others address me as. You, however, may have the privilege of calling me Keigo, since the nature of our rendezvous will be so unfortunately brief.”

You cast an inquisitive look at him, puzzled behind his reasoning for having multiple names. Was it simply a cultural thing amongst his race, to have titles for differing people and reasons? You supposed it wasn’t all that out of the ordinary, considering humans practiced similar customs with nicknames and such.

“Why do they call you Hawks, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Keigo pulled you from your rooted position with minimal effort, hardly needing to expend an ounce of exertion to tug your mass forward and with him towards the large doors barring entry to the captain’s quarters, which shared gold accents similar to the ones adorning the ship’s outer body. He clearly was not partial to wasting time; it aided your wishes to speed things along, though, so you weren’t exactly complaining.

"Your curiosity certainly knows no bounds. Though I suppose I have no room to spout such things, being the meddlesome nuisance that I am.” You can hear the smile in his voice even as he steps in front of you, a cheeky inflection you have easily begun to identify whenever those wicked lips quirk upwards, which you’ve already discerned to be quite a frequent trait.

“But as for that name, it’s something of a… informal title, is all.” He quips rather ambiguously, tossing another pointed glance your way before ripping the doors open with excessive flourish. You realize his dramatics were entirely warranted, once you feast your eyes upon the cabin’s contents.

Its interior could only be regarded as baroquely rustic, a climactic coalescence of all the extravagance you have beheld from this ship, from this day by far. The first thing anyone would likely notice upon entering were the tall lancet-style windows facing the entrance on the furthest wall, which provided a view of a portion of the cave through stained mosaic panes, showering the floor in front of them in kaleidoscopic beams of light. They felt reminiscent of the cathedral windows back home, being significantly smaller but similarly Victorian in design. Partially curtaining them were velvet drapes, grandly sized and filigreed with golden lacework. Glimmering under the waning rays was a copper telescope, standing tall enough to peer through at eye level – too bad it was essentially useless within the cave itself.

Hanging within the center of the room was a beautifully ornate chandelier, sitting over a large rug that was designed identically to the drapes, which also had an arrangement of plush blankets and pillows on top of it. A few stray feathers were interspersed with the almost nest like arrangement, indicating it was likely where Keigo slept. A peculiar choice, considering you spotted a king sized bed snugly slotted within an alcove adjacent to the windows, covered in a blanket of dust.

Whoever designed this ship had either a borderline obsessive appreciation for any and everything gold, or they simply wanted to display their wealth as brazenly as they could without crossing into the land of gaudy. Although in your opinion, the solid gold chain attached to the ceiling’s primary support beam, connecting to an equally gilded cage that dangled a few paces from a row of overflowing bookcases was officially a little excessive – there was even what looked to be the skeleton of a bird inside of it… poor thing clearly starved to death.

You didn’t even realize you had drifted further into the cabin, mindlessly brushing your fingers over a meridian globe that sat upon a massive antique desk of solid mahogany, until the sound of the doors shutting snapped you out of your trance.

Keigo chuckled at your spooked expression, as if you had legitimately forgotten where you were, whom you were with in that moment. For a second there, you almost did, which invoked a pang of disappointment in your chest for being denied the time to truly savor such a once in a lifetime experience. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be left behind, trapped here for the rest of your days, but you only wished that you could explore every secret this ship has to offer before leaving…

“Believe me, this is nothing. The deck beneath us is filled to the brim with gold and all sorts of priceless artifacts, as is the one beneath it – it’s honestly a mystery to me how this ship can even stay afloat,” he drones in a blasé tone, as if being exposed to such obscene opulence for so long has worn its novelty to him.

You certainly did not share his indifference, sweeping the room with wide eyes a second time before breathing in a dazed whisper, “Who on earth owned this ship? All of these things?”

“Didn’t you notice, silly girl?” For what felt like the umpteenth time today he is laughing at your expense, lazily gesturing above your head. “He’s right next to you.”

Your head whipped to your right, and indeed, you had somehow missed an oil painting that was affixed to the wall next to you. It depicted a man nobly reclined in a throne-like chair, bequeathed in a heavily embellished waistcoat of dark maroon, silk breeches that appeared far better tailored than your own, and a charcoal tri-cornered hat with a snowy-white feather fashioned to one of its brims. Other than a deep slash obscuring his visage, the most notable feature of the canvas was the human skull resting in one of his ring-adorned hands, which had a crown encrusted with diamonds and rubies sitting upon its cranium. Despite his inexplicably marred expression and identity, the air of power he seemed to ooze was not at all mitigated.

“I used to think I wasn’t one for jewelry,” Keigo suddenly spoke from your side, prompting your gaze to return to him. He was staring at the painting vacantly whilst fiddling with his rings, which you noticed to be curiously similar to the mysterious captain of this ship, although you couldn’t truly tell with how muddled from age it has become. “My kind likes to adorn themselves in bones, you see – too barbaric for my tastes.”

He reached across the desk for something that was hidden from your angle by the large globe, an impish smile slowly creeping over his face from your small, fascinated gasp when his hand returned with the very same skull in tow, crown and all. Keigo plucked the bejeweled headpiece from its dome, carelessly tossing the head back onto the desk and gingerly placed it upon his own. It sagged to the side almost immediately, evidently a little too big for his own skull, but it only felt fitting with his frivolous demeanor. Simpering, he preened beneath your attention, “But then I discovered human trinkets were far more fun to play with. Suits me rather nicely, don’t you think?”

You knew better than to feed into his ego, but you genuinely couldn’t help the faintly amused quirking of your lips, nor the dry response that fell from them. “You look like the type of king who would sit around all day, drinking himself stupid on wine while his society falls to ruin.”

He removed the crown, scoffing, “Already have me all figured out, do you? On the contrary, I wager I could lead a society into prosperity if I had the motivation.”

“I think anyone could achieve whatever they wanted with the right motivation,” you shot back, nearly reeling backward when he suddenly reached toward you.

“Touché,” Keigo purred, plopping the crown on your head before you could reflexively swat his hand away. For whatever reason you decided to play along, sighing in amused defeat as it drooped partially on your skull as well. Whomever this thing was fitted for must’ve had the genes of an ogre if it didn’t fit even on your head. Your grandmother had always said all that reading made your head too big.

“On second thought, I think it looks better on you.” He grinned devilishly, and now it was your turn to scoff. He wasn’t behaving abhorrently at least, but he would have to try a lot harder in order to distract you if that was his goal.

“Also, speaking of wine…” Pivoting on his heels, Keigo marched toward the middle of the room, where his makeshift nest was. Squinting in suspicion, it must’ve felt like you were burning holes into his back as he kneeled onto the blankets, wings stretched slightly to block his ministrations. The telltale sound of a cork popping followed by pouring indicated he really was going there, the shameless bird – of course he kept a bottle of wine where he slept. You already had an excuse loaded on the tip of your tongue when he rocked back to his feet and swiveled back toward you, smirking like a cat that ate the canary as he moseyed back to your side with a rather weighty looking goblet in hand.

“I know there’s another cup sitting around here somewhere… but I don’t feel like digging around for it right now, so you can use this one. It’s my favorite, by the way,” he whispered conspiratorially, as if sharing a long withheld secret, "so feel honored.”

You didn’t accept the drink right away, simply staring at it as he held it before you. He wasn’t actually being serious, was he? Did you look like the type of person that would throw caution to the wind, making yourself tipsy on a time sensitive… quest? Whatever the hell you could call this thing the captain sent you on?

“Aw, come on,” he cooed liltingly, waving it under your nose as if the scent alone would entice you into accepting. You suppose it did smell pretty good... “Don’t act like you don’t want to try it. This stuff is over a hundred years old – it’s way more valuable than the rubbish you came here for, in my opinion.”

“That’s…” You wrinkle your nose to deter the seductive aroma from swaying you, searching for ways to not outright decline him in order to remain in his good graces, “—kind of you to offer, but I probably shouldn’t.”

The saccharine smile he wore did not budge, but his voice was beginning to adopt the tiniest undertone of annoyance. “It wouldn’t be a crime to enjoy yourself, you know. Just give it a try – I know you’ll like it.”

You sighed, “I just— I don’t know. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but it just doesn’t sound like a good idea right now, is all.”

Keigo deflated, exhaling dramatically and topaz eyes downcast, shadowed by the curtains that were his tawny lashes. “Oh, alright... I suppose you can be on your way then if you’re already done here, and I can keep all of this treasure to myself, as usual…”

The urge to roll your eyes was gargantuan. Really? Was he legitimately guilt tripping you now? Could this be considered blackmail? And to think – you were shivering in your boots from his presence not even ten minutes ago.

“For the love of— fine,” you hiss, swiping the goblet from his hand. Some of it splashed onto his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind if the victorious twinkle in his eyes was anything to go by. “I’ll have a few sips, and that’s it.” And then you were leaving.

He beamed, lifting his hand to his face. “I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

You huffed into the lip of the cup, slowly tipping a sample of its contents into your mouth – yeah, I better not. You’d be sure to haunt him for the rest of his days if your heart gave out on the way back to the other ship.

Keigo hummed while languidly licking the crimson droplets that beaded off his fingers, pink tongue curling around the slender digits as he watched you drink, providing a teasing glimpse of those spear-like fangs. “Mm, isn’t it delicious?”

Awkwardly averting your eyes, you tried to focus on the wine’s taste instead, savoring the layered flavors of rose petals, cherries, and the lingering aftertaste of something even sweeter that you couldn’t quite identify, before gulping the liquid down your suddenly dried throat. You daintily smacked your lips, blinking in shock at how right he was; his smug chuckle implied he was aware of just that.

“This is kind of good, actually,” you admitted begrudgingly, frowning at him despite your agreeance as you went for another sip. He didn’t have to rub it in, at least.

“Just kind of?” he goaded, features haughty and intermingled with amusement. "Well, I have about a thousand more bottles you can try from since this one apparently isn't up to your standards."

You pressed your unoccupied hand to your mouth to keep from spraying your wine, swallowing through a small cough. Did you hear that correctly? A thousand bottles? On top of two decks that were literally overflowing with gold? It really was a mystery how this ship stayed afloat. “I think this one is sufficient, thank you.” You’d prefer to not drink yourself to death just yet, even with the day you’ve had thus far.

Toying with the goblet in your grasp, you raised it further to your face after noticing grooves beneath your fingertips. Now you could see why it was his favorite, with the gorgeously detailed engraving of a disembodied skull wrapped in a thorny bed of roses, its yawning jaw filled with a nest of songbirds. Above it was the bolded words Memento Mori – yet another Latin phrase.

“Do you know what that says, little scholar?” Keigo’s lowered voice brushed against your ear, invoking a startled little jolt from you. Fuck’s sake, he clearly had a thing for sneaking up on people, didn’t he? Must be a siren thing, you inwardly grumbled, leaning away from him and his cloying, heated breath. If he did that one more time, you were going to lecture him about the importance of boundaries.

“Pft, of course I do. That phrase is easy,” you said with a snooty upturn of your nose, irritated by how patronizing he sounds when he calls you that. “It means remember death, or remember you must die, to be specific.”

“Latin,” he intoned drily, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the desk with his hip, “pretty, but always so gloomy. The Greeks really needed to liven up a little."

“I think they were rather brilliant,” you muttered into your cup, irked by his easy dismissal of one of the most influential societies the world has ever known. “Their history especially.”

Keigo snorted, arms folding as he regarded you through a lidded stare, evidently not surprised by your opinion, “Naturally. Their language is ancient, and the root of many others. You humans love to dwell in the past.”

Raising one brow, you replied tartly, “Is that so bad, when the present can be so disappointing?”

“Oh? Do I disappoint you?”

You were very tempted to say yes – if only to knock his narcissistic ass down a peg – but that would probably only invite his pestering further, so you deigned to take another drink instead of answering. He undoubtedly already knew what your reply would’ve truly been, gauging by that unnervingly knowing look. Such cunning eyes he had, constantly looking as if they were peeling back the skin-deep layers of your outer persona, and delving into the truth of your heart.

"Anyhow,” he sang, pushing himself from the desk and strutting toward the wall of bookshelves, which were practically spilling over with books despite stretching all the way up to the ceiling and the conjoining walls. You trailed after him, unable to resist being drawn to such a plethora of untapped resources. He withdrew a book that must have been white once, but now was yellowed with age; peeking at the cover, you noticed with discreet interest that it was titled Les Amours. “I myself am quite fond of French. They certainly knew how to appreciate life's pleasures.”

“However…” Yet again, he is leaning into you, fanning that heady warmth over the curve of your cheek, yet this time something within you commands you to be still as a statue as he imprinted the following words onto your skin:

“Le seul vrai langage au monde est un baiser.”

It felt as if he exhaled sparks over your flesh, prompting the miniscule hair follicles they danced over to readily stand at attention. The velvety enunciation that he articulated in felt more than just practiced – it was utterly refined; almost like it were his native tongue.

For some reason you felt parched anew, as a steadily rising heat brewed in your lungs and esophagus, but only a few measly drops fell onto your tongue when you quickly tipped the goblet to your mouth to appease it. How odd – you could have sworn you hadn’t partaken in more than a few sips until now. Something in the furthermost part of your mind was instantly pleading for more – more of that ambrosial sweetness that dwelled after each taste – but you shunned it in favor of remaining present in the conversation. Failing to clear the smoldering coals lodged in your throat, your voice was hoarse as you tentatively questioned him, “What—what does that mean?"

Keigo’s mouth twisted into an enigmatic smile as that electric gaze sank to your lips, trailing static all over their tingling surface, leaving you chilled without its tangible weight when it shifted elsewhere nearly as fast as it came. “Wouldn't you like to you know,” he lilted, snapping the book shut and nudging it back into its original placement by the tip of his claw.

“Well, yes,” you said vexingly, stamping down the anxious urge to gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling strangely fixated on the elegant lines of his tendons and knuckles. Why did your nerves feel so… charged all of a sudden? “It’s why I asked.”

He laughs whilst idly thumbing across the spine of a leather-bound tome, side eyeing you before playfully sighing, “Fine, it means—”

A loud ringing suddenly filled your ears, drowning out his following words. Dizzying vertigo swiftly followed as a rose-colored fuzziness bled into the edges of your vision. You grabbed onto a shelf as subtly as you could manage as alarm – and dare you say the undercurrents of want – surged through your veins. Is this due to the wine? But… you’ve never had a reaction like this before. Was it an allergic response to an ingredient, or something? Has it gone bad? Can wine even go bad?

“Sorry I…” You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, resisting the desire to fan yourself. You were beginning to feel hot, so very, very hot. “Could you repeat that?”

“Is something wrong?” Keigo questioned lightly, although you didn’t miss the mysterious gleam in his eyes, a probing scrutiny similar to when he had interrogated you upon your meeting. For some reason, the image of your grandmother’s face flickered in your mind’s eye, of the cryptic warnings that often fell from her wrinkled, downturned lips. Something was wrong, and you were quickly suspecting it wasn’t because of the wine; these symptoms could not be normal.

Perhaps your grandmother conditioned you into a hopeless cynic just like her, but her chosen phrase when it rains it pours almost never proved itself wrong; you always found yourself regretful in the aftermath of disregarding the signs, only when it was too little, too late.

“You look… unwell. Too much to drink?”

It’s time to leave, you abruptly decided. You no longer felt safe here; the idyllic, fantasy-like atmosphere warping into the mouth of a Venus flytrap, its gaping mouth poised to close upon you at any moment, at any sign of struggle. You should have just dove back into the water the moment you were greeted with a damned congregation of corpses earlier. Even the scrawled message beneath that woman’s hand… the signs were there from the very beginning.

Dying for the sake of freedom be damned, you should have just acknowledged your capabilities and taken your chances with the pirates – and that was what you were going to do.

“N-No, you— um…” Slowly backing away, you staggered slightly whilst cautiously retreating toward the exit, the crown falling from your head and landing on the floor with a noisy clatter, causing your internal panic to flare – you had completely forgotten you were even wearing it. Keigo did not follow, staring you down coolly as he stalked to his nest instead, wings swishing over the mound of blankets. “You have been very hospitable, but I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“Aw, already? What about the fun we were having? The treasure?” You knew it must have been deliberate with how silky and lyrical his voice sounded, as if he intended to tranquilize you into a state of pacification, as sirens were rumored to do. Unfortunately, it was working, seeing as it began to feel like you were wading through mud, your steps petering to a stop. It begs the question: why was it only working now? Wouldn’t you have been ensnared from the moment he first spoke to you?

“Was it something I said?” He pouted, bottom lip jutting dramatically. It felt like you were going to be sick, but not as sickeningly aroused as you were becoming; with every word he uttered, you could feel the slick collecting in the inseam of your pants, oozing all over your inner thighs at a terrifyingly rapid rate. He put something in your drink; it was the only logical conclusion for what was happening to you. Too fast – this was all happening too fast.

“No, I just—” You bit back a groan, nearly doubling over from the agonizing pressure that was white-knuckling your womb, “it’s just— it’s getting rather late, and I’m feeling… tired, so I think it would be wise to start heading back.” Fuck, it was nigh impossible to think or speak clearly, especially with him just a few steps away. You could smell it – the honeyed scent that wafted off him… it was just like that flavor that still clung to your taste buds. It was everywhere, enveloping you like a physical embrace, and seeping into your pores.

You wanted more, needed more; your aching body was insisting it would die without it, but you knew you absolutely must not listen.

“Back to those brutes?” Keigo tsked, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he shook that sandy head of hair; your fingers twitched, longing to gauge its softness. “I don’t get it. What is there to go back to? A life of misery, with no simple pleasures? What about your freedom, hm? I believe you said you’d rather die if you couldn’t have those things. Or was that all just… hot air?”

Gritting your teeth behind tightly pressed lips, it felt like your feet were anchored to the spot, your bones audibly creaking as though they were as you forced them to turn towards the doors.

“Goodbye, Keigo. It was… nice meeting you.” With all of the remaining resolve you could muster, you raised a trembling hand, reaching for the handle—

“Stop.”

You froze, as if the line delivering information from your brain to your limbs was severed. Your voice was hardly more than a delicate undertone, barely squeezing past your stiff lips and locked jaw, “I… beg your pardon?”

“I said stop,” he repeated shortly, that slightly enunciated utterance causing your arm flop to your side, dangling limply. “I didn’t give you permission to leave, did I?”

Despite the black, libidinous ichor pumping through your hammering heart, visceral anger lanced through it like a red-hot poker, giving you the strength to spit your ire clearly. You no longer cared whom or what he was – how dare he do this to you?

“You asked for a moment of my time, and that is precisely what I gave you,” you hissed airily, shaking like a leaf from head to toe. “So you can either deliver on what was promised and let me be on my damned way peacefully, or I—”

“Shut up.”

Your jaws slammed together like a steel trap, lips sealing instantly. His voice echoed almost ethereally, latching itself onto your subconscious and assuming control of you like a puppeteer. All you were capable of was blinking, swaying in place as you stared with bug-eyed terror at the doors a mere arm’s length away from you. Like a child, all you craved in this exact moment was the safety of your grandmother’s embrace, as fat tears quickly accumulated in your waterline. You were scared. You wanted to go home. You should have listened to her warnings sooner.

“There, that’s better,” Keigo sighed contentedly from behind you, as though your voice was beginning to grate on his last nerve. “I was beginning to think it would never kick in. Such a stubborn thing you are… but I must admit – I do so love a challenge.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, salty droplets spilled down your burning cheeks. This isn’t happening; it’s all a just dream. This isn’t happening. It’s all just a dream.

“Now then… turn around.”

Your body automatically complied, moving like a well-oiled machine under his silver-tongued instruction. You kept your eyes closed with the hanging thread of your free will, denying him the satisfaction of seeing the defeat in your gaze, although the trails of your tears likely conveyed that plainly enough.

He hummed lowly, a deeply gratified sound. The sick bastard was enjoying this – enjoying your torment – like it were a private show. There was an extended stretch of silence within the cabin, so stifling you that could hear your pulse pounding like war drums in your ears, until finally, he softly crooned, “Take off your clothes.”

When your fingers darted to the laces of your bodice, he swiftly added, “Slowly.”

You could feel the hungry crawl of his eyes following the garment’s unraveling, practically attached to the sluggish path your hands paved, slowing your movements with the weight of his stare alone. It strayed from where your digits traveled, dragging its heat over the curve of your bosom peeking from the plunging neckline of your chemise as you pulled the outer article off your torso. It dropped to the floor soundlessly, immediately forgotten as you obediently moved onward, like a marionette dancing to his tune. Neither of you noticed the scrap of paper that fell with it.

“That’s more like it,” he purred while the cream-colored undergarment was tugged over your head, relishing in the enticing reveal of your pebbled nipples and pert breasts, their shape accentuated by the lifting of your arms. Were you even aware of how precious you were? It practically radiated off you – your virginal innocence. And Keigo was itching to have his fill. “Mm… you were worth the wait.”

Unable to speak unless he commanded it, the best you could manage in reply was an agitated twitch of your eyebrows. The sound of his breathy chuckle had your hair standing on end, even as you dutifully toed off your boots before untying the knot in your waistband.

“Wait,” he ordered, before your breeches could join the rest of your clothes piled at your feet.

What, you thought amidst the cacophony of pining, mewling whispers. What else could you possibly want, you demon?

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Of course, he would thieve even that last scrap of your dignity, forcing you to look him in the eye as you debased yourself, as you bestowed him with a sight you had yet to grant any other man. You intended to save yourself, to wait until it truly felt right. It was only natural, you supposed, for this cruel world to chew you up and spit you out, with such naïve ideations. It was only natural, that it would repay you in kind most deplorably, for daring to ever dream at all.

Peeling your tear encrusted lashes apart, your watery gaze pinpointed him the second it was unveiled. Keigo was reclined in his nest in a manner that would befit a spoiled prince, ankles crossed casually and arms planted behind him. Those crimson wings were splayed wide; almost seeming to meld seamlessly with the blankets had they not been so lengthy they stretched beyond them, scimitar shaped feathers fanning out onto the floorboards. The black chevrons on the corners of his eyes somehow seemed even more pronounced in the twilight glow that washed over the room, enhancing the lambent intensity of his yellow irises – a petrifying stare more befitting of a basilisk.

Was he really what they call a siren… or a chimaera masquerading as one?

Regardless, it was in this moment you were adequately reminded of the powerful otherworldliness his kind possessed, and how wise one would be to not forget, as you so foolishly have.

“Good girl,” he praised through a husky timbre, eliciting the swelling voices in your mind to sigh out in bliss. More, more, they begged. “You’re doing so well. Continue.”

And so you did, staring him down as you rid yourself of the last protection of your decency. Your pants slid down your legs like satin over polished steel, crumpling to the floor in a small heap. Like a hollow vessel awaiting the directive of its master, you stood perfectly still as Keigo indulgently took you in.

“My my…” His eyes zeroed on the shining glaze smeared all over the apex of your thighs as a buzzard would a fresh corpse, pupils pinpricked predatorily. “Is that all for me? You coy little thing,” he smiled like a ravening jackal, protruding canines flashing in the dimming light as he wagged an index finger disapprovingly, “acting so put off to my company a moment ago, while hiding a treat like that. It’s naughty to not share, you know.”

You did not like the sound of that implication, but another part of you – a part that was quickly dousing the inferno of your lucidity – certainly did.

Rotating the pad of that finger towards the chandelier that hung above him, his black talon glinting like obsidian as he curled it at you two times, and declared firmly, “Come.”

With that single command, your vision dissolved into static, eyes rolling into the dark vacancy of your head as your legs buckled and collapsed beneath you. You barely had the forethought in using your hands to cushion your fall forward, narrowly preventing you from caving your nose in as you crumpled into a convulsing ball. The sound of your despaired moans peeled out throughout the cabin, much to Keigo’s surprise and delight, as your body was wracked with an earth-shattering, hands-free climax. The first of this scale that you’ve ever had.

"Oops," Keigo titters from his throne of blankets, not sounding remorseful in the absolute slightest while he watched you gasp and writhe. "Goodness, me and my clumsy mouth. I apologize, darling – should have been more specific. Come here, I mean.”

Your insides were still contracting – almost excruciatingly so – as you shakily prepared to upright yourself, but he promptly halted that with a few strict tuts, “Ah-ah, hold on... I think I prefer you like that, actually.”

“Hm, yes…” He hums approvingly, reveling in the sinful display of your degradation, hunched over like a cat in heat; the only thing you were missing was the coiled tail and flattened ears. Quite the lovely contrast to the irritable little brat from earlier, in his opinion. “It suits you. Crawl to me as you are.”

On quivering hands and knees, you crawled. What a sight you must have made, you dimly wondered, whilst the slavering hounds of your psyche yipped and whined the shorter the distance between the two of you became. Did you look as pathetic as you felt, broken and brought to heel with only a few words? Keigo certainly seemed to adore it, cocking his head and smirking like a man who had the world, your world, in the palm of his hand.

Although as of today, it no longer belonged to you.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time your fingertips sank into the cushiony swathes of velvet he was lounged upon, restlessly rooting for purchase as you drew closer to his feet. Ever considerate, Keigo uncrossed his legs to provide you with an unobstructed path leading directly to his lap, angling them inward to press his knees against your sides as you passed beyond the threshold of them, the fabric of his pants dragging against your exposed flesh as you skulked onward. You seemed to slot together like puzzle pieces, as your torso melded with his lower half almost perfectly.

“That was rude – trying to scamper off like that earlier,” he admonished quietly, lifting a hand to pet your head with a tender fondness. He appeared to take extra care to not lacerate your scalp with his nails as his fingers delved into your hair, toying with your strands almost lovingly. What a conundrum he was, going from vainglorious and wicked to gentle and affectionate in a heartbeat, like an endlessly spiraling coin. “We were bonding, weren't we?”

I suppose, you might have conceded. Until you decided to prove every rumor about your kind was true.

“Everything would have gone smoothly if you weren’t such a tough nut to crack, you know? Lesser minds would have folded from a single word out of my mouth, and they have; they all do, eventually. One way or another—” His fingers burrowed deeper, affixing to your roots and tugging with a wince-inducing pressure. Back to wicked. “…they always cave.”

"But you... oh you,” he chuckled, dragging his hand down to deliver a couple of condescending pats to your cheek. “It seems that you're a special little nut; I've never had to resort to using my saliva." He sneered that word in a way that implied exerting such effort was considered to be beneath him, as though it were some form of cheating in this disturbed game he liked to play, upper lip stretching over his fangs in a contemptuous curl as his digits latched onto your jaw. You stared back at him through misty eyes, unable to even flinch as those knifelike claws began to puncture your skin.

“I may enjoy a challenge, but that was a new low for me. I'll admit, you had me worried for a moment – almost thought it wasn't going to work. Then we really would have had a predicament on our hands, hm?” He pinched your cheeks, smearing your blood as he smooshed them until your lips puckered, nodding your head in orchestrated agreement.

As if he’s suddenly grown bored of playing with you like a doll, Keigo released your face, sighing, “You can speak now, but behave.”

The invisible force keeping your tongue adhered to the roof of your mouth lifted, granting the muscle freedom to move once again. You had no choice words for the vile truths he had just divulged, opting instead to appeal to his sense of mercy – if he had any.

“Pl—Please…” you gulped a thick wad of drool, speech slurring as you looked up at him, hiccupping and sniffing pitiably, “let mm—me go… don’ care ‘bout the treasure any more… jus’ lemme go, please, Kei…”

"Aw, ‘Kei’? How sweet,” he cooed while lifting his unsoiled hand to dab the spittle from your wobbling bottom lip, wrapping his bloodied one around your throat like a loose collar, dragging a thumb over your beating pulse; it fluttered delicately beneath his touch, like a butterfly’s wings. “There's that well-mannered girl from when we first met, but I think we both know it's a little too late for that. It was too late for you the moment you surfaced in this cave – my cave."

So he had been watching you, from the very beginning. It made sense now – that rope which seemingly appeared from nowhere. It was Keigo, leading a trail of breadcrumbs right to himself. For a siren, he truly was rather lazy, when he likely could have snatched you from your rowboat before you even got close to shore.

“Ah… what’s that saying the French say?” Pondering aloud, he withdrew the hand around your throat to tap two fingers on his pursed lips, smudging them with your scarlet essence, before abruptly exclaiming, “Oh! C’est la vie. Everything happens for a reason, no? Such is life and all that…”

“That reminds me,” he says through a scheming smile, staining his tongue with your blood as it laved over his mouth, coating your flavor onto his taste buds. Truly, the nectar of an untouched maiden was unmatched… but he was willing to bet different nectar of yours would soon become his favorite snack yet. If only you knew of all the fun he had in store for you. “Do you want to know what I said earlier, while your pretty little head was filling with air, filling with me?”

Keigo didn’t offer you a chance to respond, snaking the hand that was cupping your face to the back of your head, pressing his fingers against the base of your cranium to anchor you in place as he inclined his own head forward to answer, “The only true language in the world is a kiss. Care for an example?”

“W-Wait,” you whispered, fearing what would come after more than the act itself. If just a little bit of his saliva mixed into your wine made you this useless, this receptive, then what would a dose straight from the source do to you?

“Behave,” he hissed into your parted mouth, snuffing the embers of your disparity before they could gain the fuel to take form. Not that your verbal resistance could even achieve anything, when your body was as pliant as clay beneath his masterful touch. All you could do was whimper as he fused his lips with yours, selfishly condemning you to fall further into a lustful misery with a pleased croon.

“Delicious…” His tone was a gravelly rumble, rolling over your saliva coated lips like a slow flowing magma, scorching them red with hot, bruising pecks. It quickly became insufficient, pulling just your swollen lips between his.

The impatient siren tugged you closer, growling softly as his slick muscle slithered into your panting maw, seeking out the shy appendage hiding behind your teeth. You never once considered that kissing could sound so… lewd, but then again, this couldn’t be rightfully labeled as such. It was like he was eating you alive, sucking on your tongue as though he wished to swallow it down. He was so unbelievably warm that you thought you were melting, unable to discern the rivulets of drool pooling down your chins from your own flesh and sweat, nor could you find where you ended and he begun.

Or perhaps it was just your brain that was melting, oozing out of your ears and down the back of your neck, rather than sweat. You weren’t sure you could even be considered a participant anymore (if you could be called one in the first place), merely attempting to remain conscious as Keigo had his wicked way with you. Even if you could think to breathe through your nose, it would’ve been an impossible feat through the cascade of his sweet, sweet saliva flowing down your gullet. Fractal shapes were dancing on the insides of your eyelids, imprinted everywhere you looked when you attempted to blink the veneer of pinkness from your vision.

What… what was your reason for being here, again? Something about treasure, and freedom… but you just couldn’t quite remember…

Keigo finally detached from you with an obscenely wet smack, breaking the webs of spit bridging the scant space between you two as he leaned back, grinning broadly at your glassy eyed state. He didn’t seem even slightly out of breath, whereas you were breathing like you had rowed the distance from the captain’s ship all over again. Wait – the captain… why did that sound so familiar?

“I would say that was just what I needed, but—” He peeled your damp body from his lap, dragging a path of fire down your sides with his palms until they settled on your hips, effortlessly lifting you into a splayed-out position on top of him as he sunk further onto his back, wings outspread entirely. If you had even a fraction of coherence left, you would have been mortified at how utterly exposed your sex was, dripping so profusely that it was starting to collect within the grooves of his abdominals. “…I'm still a little parched. Mind if I relieve myself between these lovely thighs?”

“Where… are we?” You questioned as though his words went through one ear and out the other, moreso at the foreign voices invading your thoughts rather than the famished creature who was hurriedly hoisting you over its face. Exactly where we need to be, they responded in a resounding chorus. Do not question it; do not fight it. Just be.

Keigo almost forgot to answer, his higher thinking briefly reduced to a crude, primal state of hunger, as he intimately beheld what might have been the most delectable cunt he has ever seen.

“…Heaven, darling.” He managed to utter once he scraped his cognitive function back together, gazing at the glistening apex of you like it held the meaning to his dreadfully prolonged existence. Wrapping the corded bands of his arms around your thighs, Keigo yearned to dig his fingers into the meat of your haunches, to embed you to him by the hooks of his claws. He feared he might never want to surface ever again, once he finally plunged his tongue into your sodden depths. Although that wasn’t such a terrible way to go, suffocating in the rivers of your pleasure. It would be dying how he wished to live: lost between the legs of a ravishing woman.

“Rather, that’s where I’ll be sending you,” he breathed reverently, Adam’s apple bobbing as he huffed your feminine fragrance whilst nuzzling at your mound, stimulating your pulsing clit with the tip of his nose. You keened softly at the teasingly featherlight touch, hypersensitive from artificial lust and going a lifetime without ever tasting true pleasure at the hands of another.

“I wanted you on my mouth from the moment I laid eyes on you… knew it’d be the best cunt I’ve ever had,” he confessed, peering up at you through the cleft of your thighs as he used his tongue to spread your syrupy folds apart, squishing that pink cushion against your weeping entrance. Keigo glowered into your teary eyes as if in threat, like he were a carnivore daring you to deprive him of his hard-earned meal; the extent of his claim over you so severe he was gently scraping his fangs over your puffy lips with salacious possession, tempted to spear into you like a ripened peach.

You felt akin to a newborn, thrust into a terrifying and ruthless world that was beyond your comprehension. Lurching backward, your equilibrium fled from you while you were mercilessly feasted upon from below. You floundered helplessly before your hands flew backward to prevent you from toppling over, slapping onto his solid pectorals as he jerked you downward to keep you properly seated on him. Your head tipped back from enraptured anguish, jaw dropping in sync with Keigo’s as your distressed cries overlapped almost harmoniously with his frustrated, muffled groans. It was as though he simply could not get enough, could not fit enough of you onto his palate without mangling you, as he attempted to seal his lips over the whole of your swollen heat in gluttonous vain.

Well, Keigo wouldn’t be deprived of anything, so he would pursue something he was more than capable of, which was stuffing you with him. A warbling, drawn-out moan accompanied the sensation of his tongue impaling your core like melted butter, burrowing to the absolute brink of your plush, throbbing walls. It was downright bestial, similar to the rest of his defining features – that flexible, serpentine muscle seemingly endless in length…

The arms encasing your thighs rocked you, guiding your hips over his mouth, spreading your narrow slot around his broad tongue. The further it went the more it curled, corkscrewing around itself whilst squirming with an innate precision, prodding against a spongey part of yourself that you hadn’t even known existed. But how could you have known, with those poor little fingers of yours? Such an endearing yet tragic sight it was – your lost look of confusion, as you obliviously hurtled like a speeding comet towards a real climax. The first of so, so many.

Honestly, how had you even managed on your own for so long, without knowing what your body was truly capable of?

Everything was going to be okay, though… because Hawks was here for you now. The sculptor of wills, the subjugator of mortals – here to make it all better. He would give you more pleasure than your young mind could even fathom, until it – until he – was all that you knew. With such a pristine canvas to work with, he would mold you better than any pet he had owned in his centuries of living; his magnum opus was what you would soon become.

It was going to be beautiful. You would be beautiful – more than you already were. Oh, how fortunate he was to have you delivered right to him.

The moment his tongue stroked your upper wall, digging against the tender springiness of doughy muscle with malicious pressure, the world around you ignited in a flickering brightness. You had sincerely believed that it was a direct response to the utter euphoria coursing through you, setting the fabric of reality ablaze. Even as the cabin returned to its gloaming dimness, your vision remained stained in white. The only explanation for the thundering boom resounding from above was because of your quaking heartbeat, shaking the whole of the earth itself. Despite your gaping mouth, you were incapable of producing a sound, merely choking air down in gasping intervals.

The sound of him thrusting into you, however, was noisy – obscene. It finally receded after a couple of thorough pumps, the snakelike organ slipping through your squeezing confines and pulling out with thick strings of slick attached to it, rolling in dollops onto his chin when they succumbed to the pull of gravity.

“Fuck,” he huffed into your twitching cunt, bathing it in a balmy wash of his hot, hot breath. “I’ve never tasted a pussy so sweet… I don't think I'll ever get enough – I'm going to suck you dry.”

True to his intention, he merged his glossy lips with yours, faint clicks coming from beneath you as he kissed your sex in a vulgar imitation of what he had previously done to your mouth. He smeared your honey upward, carving a messy path through your labia to the poor, neglected nub sitting on the peak of your mound. Keigo pulled it into his mouth, nursing on it sweetly, as though in apology. His appetite for you truly was limitless, considering he seemed loath to separate his face from your bottom half yet.

You weren’t sure how your life force hasn’t already been drained from you entirely, with how ravenous he was for your lust – a result of some sort of aphrodisiac he produced naturally, surely. One might think him completely heedless to his own lust, content to siphon arousal off you like you were his personal reservoir, until an arm uncoiled from your thighs to travel down the hard planes of his stomach, dipping beneath his waistband where something stiff was trapped. As if spurred by its counterpart, his other arm unwound from you as well, splayed fingers dragging up your belly to seize one of your heaving breasts.

With nothing to support your lower extremities, the brunt of your weight was pressed onto his mouth, but it hardly seemed like an issue for Keigo, unbothered and merrily slurping away as his hands played with both you and himself.

Tentatively, you heeded the whispers suggesting you to remove one hand from his chest, to slide your digits into his flaxen locks and fasten them there. Keigo purred in approval, aiding your undulating movements with the eager nodding of his head. Now you were getting it; his sweet little scholar was learning so fast. An unearthly ardor swam in his golden eyes, almost appearing incandescent as he fed from you, fed off the palpable need he was inciting within your body. He could feel it approaching before even you could – the orgasm filling the engorged bundle trapped between his lips.

Raw sensation was becoming the only thing you could understand, pleasure the only language you could remotely articulate. The dusty residue of carefully amassed knowledge, trinkets of tucked away memories, were all swept away in but a blink as your mind, body, and soul was swallowed into a maelstrom of bliss. Keigo was all you could perceive, and all you could feel.

And he would make sure it stayed that way; he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers like he had with the last one…

The neurons in your brain sputtered shortly, crackling like livewires as you gushed over his swirling tongue, over the lower half of his face. The sound of gulping could be heard, Keigo trying his damnedest to catch the majority of your juices. Only once he deemed you adequately spent did he finally unseal his mouth from your cunt, a deeply satisfied exhale accompanying its separation.

“I could just eat you up for hours, but I think I’ll save that for another time… make a proper day of it, you know?” He laughs cruelly, sending your fluttering folds off with one last, teasing puff of air before halting his hands from their self-indulgent activities to resituate you over his lap.

“Now I want you to ride me – just like you did my face.” He licked the shiny glaze from his devilish smile, indifferent to the remnants that beaded off his jaw as he caressed his palms up and down the trembling thighs that straddled his own. “Think you can do that for me, pretty girl?”

You couldn’t recall who this being lying beneath you was before now, nor did you know what he meant by those confusing words... but you did know that he was capable of making you feel things – such nice, wonderful things... so why should you not listen to him?

With a demure nod, you grabbed onto the divots of his hips, and began to rub yourself against the tautly stretched fabric of the hard bulge he had placed you on. Keigo chuckled, taken with the adorable naiveté newly instilled within you.

“Oh, you sweet, silly thing,” he cooed fondly, giving your legs a playful yet immobilizing squeeze. “I might've overdone it… seems I’ve sucked your brain out of that pussy too, hm?”

You gazed down at him in confusion at his stilling of your movements. Weren’t you doing exactly as he asked? This was the same thing you had done to his face… wasn’t it?

“Here, let me help you a little.”

Holding your gaze firm, his biceps hardly quivered as he lifted you high enough into the air to lift his hips. What happened next would have been something you could only describe as a figment of your imagination, had you not already been poised over an entity whose existence alone confirmed reality was no longer what you made of it.

…or formerly made, one should say.

Two streaks of red darted through the air, zipping and whizzing around your form as unidentifiable blurs until they flitted under you toward Keigo’s waistband, which was where they settled. You realized they were feathers – the very same that belonged to the imposingly large, outstretched appendages extending from his back – moving autonomously despite the laws of physics, or practicality for that matter.

Such things weren’t much of a concern to you anymore, though. You observed in dewy-eyed wonderment as the plumes pulled down his pants like dutiful, disembodied hands. His stiff length slapped onto his belly with a heavy smack, dribbling his own sticky desire onto his skin. Naturally, it was flawless like the rest of Keigo, being neither too excessive nor modest in both length and width, tantalizing yet intimidating in design due to how shaped for pleasure it appeared to be.

Your mouth watered at how rosy and swollen the head was, peeking through a sheath of tight foreskin from which it was visibly desperate to be released, and practically overflowing with pearls of pre.

So spellbound you were by his gorgeous cock that you’d all but forgotten about the independently thinking, gravity-defying feathers, until they suddenly flattened to your waist after discarding his pants, spiraling up your torso and leading a trail of goosebumps to your collarbones. Keigo lowered you back onto him while those little red hellions returned to his sprawled wings, emitting a raspy sigh at the feel of your pussy lips pressing against his achingly full balls like soft, squishy pillows.

Simply unable to resist, he rolled his hips against yours, sliding the underside of his shaft through your soppy folds. You caught on quick – at least to those telling twinges you felt deep in your gut, an enkindling of wanting warmth that only his touch seemed to appease. Your cunt chased after him, greedily humping his cock until it glistened with a generous coating of spit-mixed slick. Oh gods, that feeling was back already…

You whimpered pathetically, afraid that you will have to live with this ungodly burning inside of you until it eventually consumes you from the inside, consumes you until you literally expire. Make it better… he’ll make it all better… won’t he?

“What a needy mess I’ve turned you into. Tell me, does my needy girl want it inside?”

“Yes,” you almost couldn’t wait for him to finish speaking to pipe up, voice brittle from the unbearable yearning that was charring your innards to a crisp. “I—I want it, please…”

If Keigo managed to look any smugger, his neck might’ve snapped from his head’s overinflated weight. The satisfaction that he exuded was palpable, trailing off him in waves as he leered at you domineeringly despite the submissive, vulnerable nature of his position. Clearly, he did not need to rely on physicality alone to express his authority, with a pervasive influence residing in every nuance of his being. Keigo truly was something nature would deem as an alpha, in every sense of the word.

“By all means – help yourself. It’s yours now.”

Was it cruel to hand you the reigns when you were unknowingly moments from breaking the seal of your virginity on his hard, impure cock? Perhaps a little. Was it unjust to invite you to claim your own gratification, despite knowing once you were pumped with his seed, there wouldn’t be a crumb of a possibility to recovering the identity you once had?

Not in Keigo’s eyes.

Although, to be fair… Keigo was what parents would describe to their children during bedtime stories as a monster – a grotesque boogeyman squeezed inside of an angelic skinsuit.

So monstrous he apparently was, that even his own kind deemed it necessary in casting him out, finding his methods of sating himself via an “imprisoned” victim beyond reproach. Personally, he saw them all as spoiled, brain-dead hypocrites. He wouldn’t have to resort to such extremes if females weren’t already such a rarity to encounter amongst sailors, and he’d rather pluck his own feathers than follow his species’ customs by ending the life of every catch after their “use” has been fulfilled – an act of mercy, they claimed it to be. Exile be damned, if there was one thing Keigo loved more than indulging in the most sinful of vices this world has to offer—

It was shaping waifs like you into his permanent, cross-eyed fucktoys. That was what he called proper mercy.

And how unfortunate for you… encountering him when he was beyond due for a new one.

It truly took everything within him not to gorge his talons into your hindquarters and ruthlessly skewer you onto his cock, to not buck into the cozy warmth of your snug little pocket as you prepared to mount him. Difficult as it was, Keigo needed to remain patient, to keep this moment special – because he deserved this. He deserved you.

…almost as much as he deserved to drill that lush pussy within a hairsbreadth of tearing straight through to the clutch your womb, but all good things come to those who wait… right?

Right, he chanted in a looping mantra, splitting his bottom lip beneath a gnashing canine while your velvety folds bloomed around his head, clit catching on the angry flare of his glans. Patience, Keigo – patience.

“A little lower, darling… you’re almost there.” His whispered words strained through clenched teeth, carrying a feigned lilt of sweetness. It seemed there was a delay with your response time, seeing as you continued to drag the slippery peaks of your sexes together with a lidded, dreamy haze clouding your eyes. Thankfully, Keigo’s whittled restraint didn’t have a chance to fully unravel, once that subtle order finally managed to pierce the heavy fog surrounding your brain. A breathy mewl rolled off your partially exposed tongue, at the audible pop of his blunt head squeezing past the tight ring of your opening.

It was good that he prepared you somewhat when he was eating you inside out, not that it was needed due to his own elixir surging through your system, but teasing your cunt with the pleasure of being filled was certainly paying its respects now.

“There we go,” he hissed, head dropping and lashes fluttering at the rhythmic gripping of your insides. You little minx, getting off on inserting just the tip of his cock. Were you even aware of anything beyond that dumb, blank stare? Have you already reached the point where the tiniest of sensations fed into one long, ceaseless climax? If not, he would be sending you there very soon. It was quite possibly his favorite part, watching his playthings devolve into a slave of feeling, plummeting for the first time into that pit of bottomless rhapsody.

Keigo growled, a guttural foulness clinging to his once silvery inflection, as he openly mocked you while your drenched heat slowly enveloped him, “I haven't even put it in halfway and you’re already trying to milk me dry. Poor thing… so sensitive.” So much for being sweet – women like you truly weren’t aware of the power they held between their legs, how it could reduce even a specimen of Keigo’s level to a borderline primitive state.

Unaware of the pink lines you were scratching down his flexed abdominals, your jaw fell more slack at the heavenly burn of his girth prying you open, your eyes unseeing as raw sensation once again took you over irrevocably. You could actually feel it – his sheath sliding with the wet suction of your muscles, his drooling head paving a sloppy path up, up, and up. It was divine… he was divine – immaculate – in every aspect possible.

Your cunt was your voice of veneration, oozing its praise down the rigid column of flesh spearing it all the way through in a torturously languid glide. Perspiration coated your forehead, trickling past your furrowed brows and beading off the tip of your nose as you gradually sunk onto him, sinking and sinking onto that instrument of hedonism until it couldn’t go any further. An airy exhale fled your lungs, at the feeling of him nudging against the pappy padding of your cervix, two mouths of opposing design kissing each other for first time – but undoubtedly not the last.

Tonguing the blood that dribbled off his bared fangs, Keigo sneered as though the vision of debauchery hungrily engulfing his cock – like it were the very sustenance for your survival – disgusted him; but of course, it was quite the opposite.

“I think this pussy does want to be filled up… y’hear that?” He’s given up on handling you delicately, it seems, the addictive quality of your freshly broken in sex unearthing the animalistic calling to pin a cornered mate down, to rut into their presented slit like a prize fairly won. His fingers finally succumbed to that incessant itch to dig into your hips, fulfilling the inevitability that was lifting you up and down like a ragdoll molded for his pleasure. Those deadly nails punctured your skin just as they had your face, inviting bloody tracks to trail over the curve of your ass and thighs. The pain only made you moan harder.

“Yeah,” he moaned throatily, delighting in the filthy symphony of your merging bodies, the squelching collisions of your cunt swallowing him up while smacking against his tightening scrotum. Admittedly, he wasn’t fighting his breakneck descent into flooding you with a severely backed-up release, but it wasn’t as if you weren’t contributing with how zealously you were wringing him out, strangling him for everything he had. “She’s beggin’ for it…”

How disappointing, an echo of your former self lamented, fractured and left to fade within a forgotten alcove of your rapidly shrinking mind. How demeaning, being reduced to nothing but an extension of what was between your legs, a mere ornament for a wanton beast to hang off its cock. She hated this, and she hated you – this lust drunk stranger who spoke with her voice, sniveling in assent to the despicable filth spewing from this despicable brute. It didn’t matter that none of this was your choice, didn’t matter that you were essentially a blank slab he was chiseling into a shape of his own nefarious design – you were a pathetic disappointment… but then again, so was she, for leading her depressing life to such a depressing conclusion. Pathetic and fitting.

“P—Pl—” Stammering like a fool, you were barely of the mental capacity to even control your tongue beyond hanging it out like a useless bitch in heat, barely able to wrangle the single functioning brain cell ricocheting around in your skull with every guided bounce on his lap.

“Aw, what’s that? Kitty wants some milk after all?”

Don’t you dare say it, you traitor. Don’t you fucking—

“Please!” you gasped in a rush, finally finding a modicum of wherewithal to speak your wishes coherently, despite not having the faintest clue as to what he was really saying. Fill you up was all you had heard, but it was enough to send your system into high alert, igniting a carnal need for more. Even stretched to your capacity, you still felt like something was missing… somewhere just beyond the gummy barrier that his tip was repeatedly mashing into, as though it shared the same desire as you. It felt empty there – so very, very empty.

“Look at you, asking so nicely.” His pitch deepened, thick with cloying praise, bloodied lips spreading roguishly as another thickness of his spread you so impeccably that your eyes were on the verge of crossing. Fill us, fill us, the voices hymned in unison – so loud they were that it no longer felt like they were confined to your mind, instead floating freely amongst the space around you. “Well, whatever my sweet pet wants… she gets.”

Keigo’s hips snapped upward, meeting you halfway between jerking yours down. The veins webbing through his arms were prominent from strain, moreso of refraining from utilizing the strength to slam you onto his engorged length with enough force to shatter your pelvis, rather than overuse. A few cuts and bruises were unavoidable, but he couldn’t afford to completely break another toy. Although, that was somewhat part of the charm of you humans, he thought adoringly – the fragility of your supple, ephemeral forms. For what made a flower so lovely, if not how fleeting and feeble the season of its life was?

And yet – with the utter decadence that was you, that was the downright celestial embrace of your homely little cunt – Keigo found himself strangely at odds with the realization that, eventually, you too would wither and fade with time. How curious, considering out of his many companions, and knowing you for all of an hour, he feels so entirely resistant to the idea. Like this cave, this boat, and his decidedly unjust sentence of banishment… he wants your existence to be just as indefinite.

Viscid, molten pleasure was flowing all over his organs, pooling in the funnel of his gut and amassing within the bubbling well that was his imminent climax. Seeming to sense it coming as much as he had, perhaps within the sporadic twitching of his balls or from the glaze that fogged his eyes over, you surrendered yourself wholly to his control, body going lax for his unbridled use.

Faster than even your sober mind could have comprehended, you were flipped onto your back and suspended from your lower half by Keigo’s firm, iron-gripped hold in one fell swoop. It took more than a few seconds for your eyes to catch up and adjust, practically rolling around in their sockets from the jarringly speedy change of perspective, and from being rutted into like you were a damned closed fist. All the while, Keigo helped himself to your exquisitely messy heat, slamming into you with the sole intent to releasing the brimming load that had his cock fit to fucking burst.

Cool gusts of air caressed your overheated figure, alleviating a portion of the dizzying feverishness that prevented you from reclaiming your bearings. You blinked slowly, bleary gaze following the slanted line of your rocking body to the one that was pummeling into it, somehow becoming mesmerized with the sight of his lean physique rippling and rolling over the spectacle of those grand wings beating synchronically with his thrusts.

Clutching your hips tighter, Keigo pulled you onto him with such an aggressive urgency that the sound of his thighs clapping against your ass was practically wince inducing.

“…Gonna pamper this cunt every fucking day, for the rest of your sad little life,” he rambled gruffly, sweat-damp hair falling from its sweptback style as his head canted forward. He stared vacantly at the sloppy intermingling of your sexes, at the foamy slathering of your combined fluids that covered his cock, appearing with a fresh coating at each frantic withdrawal from your pussy. Sucking in a shaky breath, he hissed harshly at the sight, “B-Breed you over and over... keep you all—unh—swollen an’ tender…”

“Oh, oh fuck—” As if those incorrigible vows alone were the key to releasing the floodgates, he panted and shuddered, wings nearly touching the ceiling as they shot out behind him. He threw his head back within the same motion, mouth ajar as he legitimately whined, too consumed in the sensation of his release jetting from his tip in fat spurts to even care.

You instantly fell apart at the seams, a chain reaction triggered from his own concentrated lust flooding your insides, from the tangible pressure of it spraying against your cervix almost endlessly. Pure rapture radiated down to the marrow in your bones, cracking open to the very nucleus of your cells. You did not just feel born anew – you felt reincarnated, baptized and reshaped in the incinerated remains of the woman you had once been. Unsullied no longer, and unbound nevermore.

You looked upon the world with new eyes, vision overturned from being raised so vertically by your spread legs that only your head remained cushioned by soft bedding. A plaintive, exhausted sound left you, too many visuals and feelings that you couldn’t yet fathom bombarding your senses.

“Mine…” A masculine voice whispered above you, brushing its warmth up your body while apologetic hands lowered you gingerly, returning your listless form to a horizontal position. Rubbing fondly over the slight distension of your achingly stuffed belly. The voice’s owner followed you closely, ensuring you remained glued together by your sticky cores as they settled on top of you, acting as a shield from any dangers or distractions.

Perception finally clarifying, you gazed at the being who was buried within you, branding their hushed declarations of ownership onto your skin while petting your shivering frame with a soothing gentleness.

Beautiful, was the first word to come to mind, the first coherent thought you could gather. This had to have been the afterlife, because such unequivocal divinity could not rightfully exist wherever you had come from. What, you wondered, could you have possibly done in your previous life to earn such holy company?

Perceiving the sparse illumination bending around his head as a halo, rather than an abstract reflection from the crystalline fixture looming over him, you questioned with sincere softness, “Are you an angel?”

"…No," he declined through a benign smile, despite the seraphic appendages that stretched behind him, seeming to absorb the final wisps of light that bled through the gaps of his feathers as the cloak of night finally descended upon the two of you.

ㅤ

“I am your God.”

ㅤ

Two hours after sundown…

ㅤ

“C-Captain?”

Large fingers clutching the neck of an equally sizable bottle of rum froze midair, pausing their pursuit of tipping its contents into their disgruntled owner’s mouth. The man in question placed the glass container on his desk with a heavy thump, annoyance visible on his rugged features as he directed that frosty stare at the one who was intruding upon his private time. Of course, it was one of the newer recruits; the others knew better than to just barge in when something required his attention. He may be a pirate, but he prides himself on having at least basic manners.

“What?” His tone was harsh, snapping like a bullwhip. He’s had a really fucking long day, so this runt had better get to the point quick or he would be given a proper reason to shiver in his boots.

The young crewmate hovering in his doorway was soaked head to toe, dripping wet from toiling away on the main deck amidst the tempest that was raging outside, battering loudly against his windows. He looked like he was one skipped meal from being carried off by a gentle breeze, so it was something of a wonder that he’d been holding his own in all that turbulent chaos, the captain will give him that.

“It—It's him, sir. He's here."

Ah, so that’s why he looked as though he had seen a ghost. Looks like the others hadn’t clued him in on their expected guest of the evening until it was a little too late – poor sap evidently had the scare of his life just a moment prior.

“…Send him in.”

A light, chipper voice immediately interjected from beyond the cracked door, “No need! I can see myself in, thanks champ.”

The scrawny youth didn’t waste a second in making himself scarce, vanishing on hurried footsteps as a taller, winged figure slipped through the vacant entryway.

“Boy,” the blonde newcomer whistled, flicking the droplets that clung to his feathers while running a hand through his drenched mane, slicking a few errant pieces back into place. “It’s really comin’ down out there, huh?”

If looks could kill, he would have keeled over onto the floor right about now.

“It's about damn time you showed up, Hawks.” The captain’s gaze was bone chilling, rife with contempt despite the familiarity of which he spoke that name. “My men and I have been sitting on our asses in this fucking storm while you've been getting your cock wet."

Having the audacity to rub the back of his neck in a sheepish display, Keigo chuckled lightheartedly, “Sorry-sorry. I admit I, uh, got a tad carried away… lost track of time.”

“To say the least,” the captain muttered dryly, rolling those pale eyes as he clambered onto his feet, rounding his desk to regard the shorter male properly. Despite his significant disadvantage in height, Keigo didn’t seem the least bit intimidated, looking up at the behemoth of a man with a lazy, carefree smile. "I take it your new pet is to your liking?"

“Oh, she's a delight.” Flickering candlelight cought in his irises, giving them a mirror-like shine. Contrasting with that eerie sheen in his stare, he sighed like a love-struck maiden, “Really made me work for it, too. You’ve outdone yourself this time, my friend. Where did you find such a delectable thing?”

“On my ship, of all places,” the captain scoffed, crossing his burly forearms, “foolish girl thought she could hide in the bilge. Perhaps she was seeking unpaid passage to another capital – she refused to say. I didn’t give a damn to interrogate her on the matter; who she was and what she was after makes no difference to me, as long as my pockets are getting filled.” He spoke in a clipped tone, clearly unable to care less about the topic.

“Ahh, so that’s what she meant by ‘sticking her nose where it didn’t belong’. My,” Keigo snickered, shaking his head before glancing at the rattling windows – at the stygian darkness that lied beyond them – with a smirk, “what rotten luck, thrust from one cage to another...”

The larger man sighed loudly, visibly running out of patience. This siren has always been unbearably chatty. “Are we done here? I would like my payment as we agreed upon, and to get away from that shit-hole rock you call home before my boat sinks.”

“Aw, don’t act like such a stranger, old friend. I always make these trips worth your while, don’t I?” In spite of his petulant expression, the blonde procured a hefty pouch seemingly out of thin air, filling the cramped cabin with the sound of jingling coins as he tossed it upward in idle repetition.

“It’s the only reason why I tolerate your presence as much as I do, friend,” the blue-eyed man sneered, his mounting ire very nearly emerging as puffing smoke from his flared nostrils. Years of dealing with this irksome pigeon granted him the willpower to not act on the impulse of snatching that sack of leather out of the air like a petty child. "And do try your best to make her last longer than the previous one. I'm not getting any younger, and these little excursions are beginning to become more trouble than they're worth.”

Keigo grinned, sharp canines amongst a perfect set of incisors gleaming in the dim light, “Don’t worry – I intend to make her last.”

“…Shame your kind has such a limited time on this earth, though,” he adds on an afterthought, catching the pouch a final time before rotating and squeezing it with his clawed digits, scrutinizing the captain like one would an ant – with a detached fascination. “I doubt I’ll find one as lovely as her after she goes, nor such an effective errand boy like you for a good long while...”

“Tch.” The captain’s upper lip curled, distaste written across his grizzled visage. Any lesser man regarding him in such a manner would’ve had their neck snapped before that sentence was through. The demon known as Hawks was a necessary exception, unfortunately; he could sniff malicious intent the moment of its manifestation, and punish it in kind in the same breath. “I always forget your true age with that mug of yours.”

Preening with a blatant narcissism that could only be earned through decades upon decades of successfully exploiting it for his own benefit, Keigo bellows out a musical laugh, “It certainly is a face to be envious of, isn’t it? Done me a lot of favors over the years, it has.”

Exhaling wearily, the captain extends an arm, palm upturned in expectation. “Just give me my money already.”

“Struck a nerve, did I? Alright, alright—” A flick of his wrist sent the pouch sailing through the air, landing in the other man’s hand with effortless precision. Even his heavily muscled arm sunk slightly beneath the impact of its compact weight. “Pleasure working with you, as always.”

"Likewise. Now get the hell off my ship."

His ever-present smile the last thing that brawny male saw, Keigo saluted mockingly whilst spinning toward the exit, sashaying across the room with leisured grace.

“Aye-aye, captain.”

Returning to his seat, the captain didn’t spare a moment in dumping his spoils over the surface of his desk, intent on counting every last coin to ensure his endeavors were sufficiently recompensed. Hawks never skimped on his payments, which was admittedly one of his few respectable traits, but it was still a habit the seasoned pirate couldn’t quite break in a long life of cutthroat dealings.

“Oh, by the way…”

With a sharp inhale, he slowly looked upward, settling that withering glare on the siren lingering outside his open doorway. A pelting downpour of rain showered upon him, streams of water cascading off the angular edges of his profile, dripping off the full lashes shielding the single yellow eye directed his way.

“How's that strapping eldest of yours?” he questioned innocently, although the slyness that clung to his words conveyed their real intent quite clearly. “Touya, was it? He ever consider taking after the... family business?”

The captain’s steely features did not betray his emotions, but his terse dismissal might as well have been transparent as glass.

“Goodbye, Hawks.”

Huffing in amusement, Keigo turned that prying stare away without further inquiry. Blackened skies flashed and flickered, illuminating his turning form, the vibrant shade of those scarlet plumes, and the area around him long before the deafening roar of thunder arrived. Considering the conversation officially concluded, the captain’s gaze returned to the pile of gold strewn out before him, but that smooth voice beckoned for his attention a final time.

“So long, Enji.”

Yet, when he had glanced up in irritation, his sight was met with an empty doorway.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami smut #hawks smut #tw: noncon #kei <3 #owtw collab #writing.cr

911 notes · View notes