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star-my · 3 days

Text

born as a tiger

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Mad King) x OFC (Lee Hoyeon)

AU: Daechwita AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Historical AU, Royal AU

CW: implied unhealthy/abusive parental relationship, OFC has Trust Issues & implied C-PTSD, Yoongi & Yoonji star in this fic, Namjoon cameo, Jackson Wang shows up (does not throw a party but is cause for one), Jackson goes by Gayi, empty threats of violence but as a love language, sword fighting but friendly, I think that's it, lmk if I should update this

Summary:

Lee Hoyeon trembled at all the thoughts flashing through her head as her carriage pulled up in front of the infamous Changdeokgung palace. Peering out through the window, she was unsettled to see how clean the stone courtyard was, the cool taupe a far cry from the dripping red she’d half-expected after tormenting herself with thoughts of her fiance’s atrocities. All the gossip she’d heard from the maids and guards back home in Dongjak Kingdom was now front and centre in her mind. The carriage slowed to a gentle stop and the door opened, courtesy of the footman. Hoyeon took his hand, hoping hers wasn’t trembling too noticeably, and took her first step on the grounds she would be empress of in three weeks.

A/N: - this idea lay dormant for a year and a half and suddenly resurrected in the middle of reading a webtoon at 10 pm so here I am answering the author’s call of nature 😭 (*spongebob voice* fOuR mOnThS lAtEr: bless the ATZ hyperfixation for me wanting to get something out of my brain to make more room for the ot8 brainrot and this WIP was the sacrifice it chose)

I did some research for this fic, such as the Changdeokgung palace truly existing (of which I used in my moodboard), the chrysanthemum tea vs plum tea debate, and Yoongi’s sword apparently being called a hwando, etc. Any inaccuracies are mine and I apologize. Please feel free to point them out :)

There was supposed to be some smut but the muses refused. I may add it in the future or post it in a second chapter.

Thanks to the lovely @lunarelles for betaing! Any remaining mistakes are my own <3 Enjoy!

D-22

Emperor Min Yoongi of the Dalseogu Empire was a force to be reckoned with. His subjects trembled in fear when he was whispered about–even his fellow rulers kept a wide berth around him when they met at diplomatic events. He’s a monster, they said. His reign was written with the blood of his subjects. He was nicknamed the Mad King for a reason–not that anyone would say his unofficial title to his face.

The day after the seventh emperor of the Dalseogu empire was crowned, he killed half of his court. Only a select few officials remained unscathed from the Mad King’s bloodbath. Even the families of the officials he killed were not all exempt – wives, concubines, and children being wiped out by his sword. The Dowager Empress and the Second, Third, and Fourth Prince had all died that day, making it the second most bloody day the Empire had seen since its inception.

All the gossip she’d heard from the maids and guards back home in Dongjak Kingdom was now front and centre in her mind.

The carriage slowed to a gentle stop and the door opened, courtesy of the footman. Hoyeon took his hand, hoping hers wasn’t trembling too noticeably, and took her first step on the grounds she would be empress of in three weeks.

A contingency of guards marched out from the front gates of Changdeokgung, a swish of brightly-coloured silk in their midst. Bowing to Hoyeon, they stepped aside, revealing the silk as the crown princess, the Mad King’s twin sister, Min Yoonji.

“I’m glad you made it here safely, Princess Hoyeon,” greeted Crown Princess Yoonji familiarly, as if this was their hundredth meeting and not their first. “The emperor was out often the past couple weeks ensuring the bandits would not attack the carriages. I imagine you’re rather thirsty and tired. Would you like some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you, Crown Princess.”

“Please, call me unnie, we are to be sisters in a few weeks.”

“As you wish, Crown Princess.” Hoyeon followed the princess to the quarters prepared for her stay before she wed the emperor.

This whole situation was most bizarre. The crown princess had been rumoured to be a fierce warrior–much like her brother, the maids had gasped as Hoyeon eavesdropped. Yet here she was, dressed in silks like any other respectable lady of the court and pouring the fragrant tea with a natural elegance Hoyeon had practiced for days to attain.

“So, are you excited for the wedding?” asked Yoonji, refilling their cups with the most delicious blend of tea Hoyeon had ever drunk.

Hoyeon nibbled on her lip, debating how much would be prudent to tell the crown princess. She was lovely and welcoming, but she was also the emperor’s sister. How was she supposed to say she was scared out of her wits and had been for the past several days, since her father had announced her engagement to the Mad King at a state dinner with no warning whatsoever. That she’d tried to learn what she could about her new empire and husband-to-be, but all she had gleaned was that she would be lucky to survive six months as the empress? What could she say, I almost looked forward to this when my father first announced this, so that I had a chance to finally be free from his tyranny, but now I wish I was back with the devil I know?

Deciding the last train of thought had the most truth she could pluck from and spin into a plausible half-truth, she replied, “I was surprised when my father mentioned the alliance to me, but I am pleased to be able to support my kingdom in this way. I will do my best to be a good empress to Dalseogu. I noticed the absolutely beautiful scenery as I made my way here, and it is a lovely empire.” Just ruled by not-so-lovely people, she thought, then ignored the stab of guilt at the mental insult to Yoonji, who’d been rather good so far at calming her nerves.

Yoonji smiled at the compliment to her empire. “I’m so glad you think so! I know it can be a bit…sparse, to some, but I think there’s a wild beauty to the land.”

One of her maids stepped forward to whisper in her ear. Yoonji looked at Hoyeon apologetically.

“Duty calls, I’m afraid. I’ll leave you to rest now. I know my brother was looking forward to greeting you, but something came up that he couldn’t ignore. He’d like you to join him for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

“Of course, I will be there. Thank you, Crown Princess…unnie.”

Yoonji’s glare softened at the casual honorific. “Lovely! Rest well, Princess Hoyeon.”

The crown princess and her entourage left, leaving only Hoyeon and her maid, Jina.

“That seemed to go well, Miss,” offered Jina as she began to unpack and brush out Hoyeon’s nightclothes.

Hoyeon groaned, collapsing onto her bed with her hand flung over her eyes. “Appearances can be deceiving, Jina. I can’t afford to trust anyone here, no matter how nice they are–especially the emperor’s sister!”

“I hope she can be a true friend to you here, Miss.”

“Thank you, Jina.”

D-21

“It’s a pleasure to serve you, Princess Hoyeon,” bowed the maid provided by the palace, named Sora.

“Thank you. I’m sure Jina will appreciate your help in navigating the palace until she becomes accustomed to our new accommodations.”

“I’ll do my best, Princess.”

Sora and Jina chattered away, becoming fast friends, as Hoyeon chewed anxiously on her thumbnail in the corner.

She learned that Sora had a younger sister, Soha, whom she was very proud of for having recently become a full-fledged palace maid. The head maid was tough but caring once a maid proved herself, and Sora was sure Jina would win her over in no time. There were a couple guards who were insufferable flirts, but they were still respectful. Jina’s best course of action would be to ignore any flirtations and not respond to the provocations.

Hoyeon finally jumped up from her seat, startling the maids from their conversation. “What time should I be prepared to go for tea with the emperor?”

“If we start now, you should arrive just after the emperor’s meeting finishes, Princess,” replied Sora.

The maids did their best to dress Hoyeon up in her favourite hanbok, pinning her hair with a gold hairpin the emperor had gifted her via her father, and using cosmetics to accentuate her features.

“You’re a little pale,” commented Jina as she patted some pink onto Hoyeon’s cheeks.

“Do you blame me?” she retorted. “Sora, is there anything I need to be aware of when I greet the emperor?”

Sora paused from folding a discarded robe. “I don’t think so. Emperor Min doesn’t insist on many formalities if it’s not a formal event. I believe Soha will be serving the tea, so if you need anything, you can ask her to find me, Princess.”

“Thank you, Sora.”

Jina and Sora fell in behind her, Sora quietly directing her through the maze of corridors to the room the emperor was waiting in for her.

She smiled at the guards outside the doors. “Is the emperor available?”

“Unnie!”

Hoyeon turned to see a girl bearing a tea tray. She bowed to her before turning to Sora.

“Unnie, the emperor is still occupied.”

“Do you think he will be long?”

“I don’t think you will wait long,” reported the girl, who Hoyeon assumed was Soha. “Princess,” she bowed again before entering the room.

A loud voice escaped the open door, followed by the distinctive sound of a slap.

A minute later she ran out, tears flowing down her face as she passed Hoyeon and her maids.

Hoyeon stared in trepidation at the girl. What had happened to make the emperor slap her? She’d barely had time to do anything. This didn’t bode well for her.

“Show Princess Lee in,” called a voice. The guards opened the door.

Hoyeon took a deep breath and stepped forward, keeping her eyes on the next step she was taking.

She paused when she reached a low tea table, droplets of tea scattered across its surface. She could see the emperor’s robes across from her and a tea set shattered on the floor to her right.

So that was why Soha had run out. Why was it broken?

“Your Majesty,” she bowed, hoping it was low enough.

“Your Highness,” he greeted in response. “You may stand.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Her eyes flicked up to his face quickly, then back down to hide her surprise.

He had a scar across his right eye, from his eyebrow to his cheek. She’d thought the rumours were just that–rumours. Who had ever heard of a king with a scar?

She supposed with a reputation like his, he didn’t have to worry about naysayers attempting to depose him.

She’d been so surprised at the scar and hadn’t wanted to be caught staring that she barely remembered his other features.

She chanced another glance and found him staring at her.

“You can look at me, Princess Hoyeon.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She peeked up under her lashes.

Was it possible for a scar to heighten his appeal? He had shockingly blond hair pulled back into the typical sangtu, thick brows, a nose that she couldn’t believe the first adjective she thought of was ‘cute’, and pouty lips. Overall, he was rather attractive.

The benefit to marrying a young emperor was that he was surprisingly handsome, but it also meant he was less likely to die soon. In all honesty, Hoyeon expected him to outlive her.

She hadn’t met his eyes–his look had been far too calculating. If there was one thing she knew about court politics, it was to never show your fear when someone was around.

“You arrived much quicker than I expected, Princess Hoyeon. I hope your travels were smooth.”

“Yes, thank you. We had no trouble at all. My father said it was better to arrive sooner lest we be waylaid and made late.” He was just thrilled he could finally get some use out of his useless only child.

“Crown Princess Yoonji said that you were an interesting companion at her tea yesterday.”

I knew she’d tell him about me.

“As was she, Your Majesty. I look forward to getting to know her–and you–better.”

“Good,” said the emperor, clearly pleased. “The crown princess is pleased to be able to help you become accustomed to the Dalseogu Empire. I will be busy with all the things that must be finished before the wedding, so I imagine you will be seeing her often.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, Your Majesty. May I ask you a question?” Better to find out now how lenient he will be towards my impertinence.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you approach the Dongjak kingdom for an alliance?” Why me?

“It is advantageous for both our lands to have the trade deals this alliance will forge. Dongjak and Dalseogu have not always been at peace, so this was a good way to cement it.”

Slightly surprised that the emperor had actually given her an answer, she nodded. She hadn’t had the slightest shred of hope that he would give her some secretly romantic explanation, such as he’d seen her at some event and been so taken by her that he had to have her. All she was good for was strengthening her kingdom’s ties as one of its most important representatives.

The guards opened the door and let in Sora, carrying the replacement tea set.

She poured the tea quietly and served their cups to them, then retreated to the side, assuming an at-ease position.

“Please sit,” directed the emperor, settling himself on his cushion. Hoyeon followed his example, making herself as comfortable as she could sitting opposite an unknown volatile man no one could rebuke.

The tea was delicious, stronger than what she was used to back in Dongjak, but she found its tart flavour pleasant.

“This is exquisite tea, Your Majesty.”

He inclined his head. “It is plum tea. I believe Dongjak more commonly uses the chrysanthemum flowers for their tea.”

“You are correct, Your Majesty.”

Tea with the emperor went fairly well, although Hoyeon caught his considering gaze upon her several times. It unnerved her, wondering why he was taking so much interest in his political bride.

She didn’t like it.

D-20

Hoyeon giggled, finally somewhat relaxed around the crown princess as the older girl spilled stories about her maids’ and guards’ dramatic dynamics and relationships.

“Don’t tell the head maid I told you this,” Yoonji leaned forward, finger to her lips.

Hoyeon’s eyes widened as she bit her lower lip, nodding quickly in agreement. She knew that the maids were one of the biggest and best ally teams she could have on her side in the palace, and she wouldn’t dare do anything to harm her chances of gaining connections.

“So, what do you think of my brother, after your tea with him yesterday?” Yoonji relaxed onto her cushion, pouring herself another cup of what Hoyeon wasn’t completely convinced was just plum tea.

Her teeth dug further into her lip as she considered how to answer. The siblings appeared fairly close for being possible throne rivals–especially considering that Yoonji had survived the Mad King’s bloody beginning–and she couldn’t speak freely. The princess was a skilled politician, however, and would surely catch on if she lied and began praising the man.

“I find His Majesty…intimidating,” she said slowly, gauging how Yoonji took that ambivalent opening.

Yoonji nodded, motioning to continue with her finger. “He certainly knows how to make himself understood.”

Understatement of the dynasty, thought Hoyeon.

“He’s…rather good looking. I was surprised,” she mused. Realising Yoonji had raised her eyebrow at her, she went on hastily. “Just that I hadn’t heard anyone speak about that when they discussed the emperor! I had very little information on His Majesty to go off of. I suppose the men that met the emperor were more focused on his character than his countenance,” she snorted, a little self-deprecatingly, glancing up to see if Yoonji would take the bait and either consider her a little simple and romantically-minded or expound upon her open-ended question to know more about her fiance’s personality.

“Well, I suppose I agree that my brother is rather good-looking,” Yoonji mused, sipping her tea. “I’ve been told often that we appear quite similar.”

“Indeed, that was one of the first things I noticed. You’re both attractive and there’s certainly a family resemblance between you two. By the way, is there anyone you think is good-looking, unnie?” she asked curiously, hoping she wasn’t overstepping.

Yoonji shook her head. “There are several tolerably handsome ministers and princes around, but their personalit-”

A knock sounded at the door to the crown princess’s tea room. Yoonji nodded at Hoyeon in apology, excusing herself to speak quietly with the maid waiting at the door, bringing a message from the emperor.

Yoonji’s brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed as she turned back to Hoyeon. “The emperor has requested an audience with me, and he wishes to see you after my visit. Would you like to come with me now?”

Hoyeon nodded, setting her tea down and getting to her feet. She still wasn’t entirely sure she had the palace layout memorised, and Jina was currently being interviewed by the head maid, leaving Hoyeon friendless and ally-less if Yoonji also left her behind.

“I’d be honoured to join you, Your Highness.”

The two young women headed as briskly as nobles could to the emperor’s throne room, where he remained after a meeting with his ministers earlier.

The guards saw the duo’s approach and opened the tall doors in anticipation of Yoonji’s entrance. Hoyeon chose to remain outside, though the doors remained open, giving the siblings privacy and taking advantage of the moment to prepare her nerves to see her fiance again. She’d relaxed in Yoonji’s quiet company, but reverted to her stiff princess behaviour on their walk here.

Shaking her head at her rapid closeness with the princess, she straightened her skirts anxiously. For all she knew, the siblings were in there right now discussing her pathetic surface-level attraction to the Mad King and how quickly she’d come to confide in the princess.

Shifting on her feet, she cursed her father once again for removing anyone who’d appeared close to her, making her a prime target for spilling her innermost thoughts when she met someone who appeared to listen. Reminding herself it had only been two days and Yoonji had not yet proved if it was safe to trust her, Hoyeon twisted the jade ring on her finger as she waited.

A loud cry came from Yoonji, giving her deja vu. With an inner sigh, she inched forward, straining her ear to make out what the siblings were arguing about.

Silently, she watched Yoonji, who appeared unafraid to talk back to the emperor. Was it because she was his sister? He wouldn’t retaliate? Something else? She needed to know everything she could.

“I’m getting married?!” cried Yoonji, clearly. “In two weeks?! Without you telling me first?!”

Hoyeon froze. Her newest ally and possible future friend would be leaving the palace? Was it because they were becoming close? Had Yoonji done something warranting being sent away? No, it was probably just another business transaction, like her marriage was to be.

Calming her anxious thoughts, Hoyeon shuffled a little closer, wondering who the groom was.

“No, you are leaving Dalseogu in two weeks. You are getting married in a week to Emperor Wang Gayi.”

“You arranged a marriage for me? With the Wang Emperor?!”

“Yes, I did, and you will marry him. That’s an emperor’s order, Min Yoonji.”

“You gave me no choice? I’m so mad that you interfered with my relationships,” Yoonji said flatly, turning and exiting via the hall behind the throne area.

“Your groom will be here by tomorrow morning,” the emperor informed her, barely raising his voice. Facing forward once again, he motioned Hoyeon to approach him.

“Good afternoon, Princess.”

She bowed. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Good afternoon, Your Highness. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you. I just came from having some with the crown princess. I suppose she will be busy now with her wedding preparations, so I am grateful that I could have these past few days to get to know my sister-in-law.”

“I apologize if you feel that my sister’s wedding takes precedence over ours,” the emperor said, surprising Hoyeon. “I wished her to wed soon and thought that now would be best since most of the preparations for ours are already complete and can transfer to theirs. Emperor Wang has to return to Kowloon soon and I wanted him to take Yoonji with him.”

“I am not slighted at all, Your Majesty. I wish the royal couple all happiness and longevity. May I ask why you requested to see me after the crown princess, Your Majesty?”

He stretched languidly, rising to his feet and sauntering down the steps to his throne. “Am I not allowed to wish to see my fiancee?” he asked, approaching Hoyeon.

“Y-you are, Your Majesty.” Biting her lip, she forced herself to remain standing tall and not move back.

He paused two arm lengths away from her. “I would like to see you every day before our wedding, if you are available.”

“I believe I will be, if that is what you wish.”

He tilted his head, scanning her head to toe. She lowered her gaze to his feet, hoping she hadn’t mussed her clothing since Jina left her at Yoonji’s tea room.

“You seem rather nervous.”

Who wouldn’t be, being the focus of one of the continent’s most dangerous men?! Hoyeon shrieked internally. Well, it appeared the emperor was more perceptive than her father, so lying was off the table. “I suppose I am. We have only met once, and I am unchaperoned. I do not wish to cause any damage to either of your kingdoms if there were negative repercussions from this event, Your Majesty.”

He hummed, taking a step back so that his black-clad feet were no longer in her vision. “The doors are open and there are plenty of guards and other staff around, Princess. But, if it would make you feel better–Chief Advisor Kim!”

Barely repressing the flinch at his sudden shout, Hoyeon turned to see who the emperor had just summoned. A tall, handsome man rushed in, arms full of scrolls and books, a pair of spectacles sliding down his nose. He pushed them up, a scroll fluttering from its precarious spot under his elbow.

Hoyeon stooped without thinking, catching the runaway parchment and handing it back to the man, who flashed a thankful smile at her, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Princess Hoyeon, this is my most trusted advisor, Kim Namjoon. He will be our chaperone,” the emperor said shortly.

“I’m honoured to meet you, Princess. Congratulations on the wedding.”

“Thank you,” she nodded at him and turned back to her fiance, not wanting to spend his patience with her over another man. Still, his behaviour was unlike anything she was used to. The Mad King was her enigma, and she only hoped it wouldn’t take too long to figure him out.

D-17

The sound of metal hitting metal drew Hoyeon’s attention from the flowery bushes she was admiring, turning towards the walled courtyard ahead of her.

Jina stopped by her side, both somewhat behind one of the pillars by the entrance, watching the two men in front of them slash at each other, silver swords glinting in the sunlight.

The emperor’s distinctive blond hair gave his identity away, and Hoyeon watched his graceful power with an open mouth, seeing first-hand her fiance’s prowess with a blade.

The other man was about the same height, with short brown hair and a slimmer sword than Yoongi’s. He held it with a careless ease that belied years of training, evenly matched with his opponent.

Their blades clashed, sun rays reflecting off their entwined blades and blinding Hoyeon. She sneezed unexpectedly, interrupting the men’s moment. They bowed to each other, sheathing their blades and walking in different directions–Yoongi towards her and the other man towards Yoonji, whom Hoyeon just noticed was standing at the other side.

Hoyeon bowed, greeting the emperor. He nodded back at her, taking the damp cloth his attendant held out to him and wiping his face and neck down. The neckline of his black robe gaped a little, affording Hoyeon a glimpse of smooth pale skin and subtly defined musculature. She blushed red, glancing away quickly to watch Yoonji, who had attained her own sword.

The emperor followed her gaze, leaning his hand carelessly on his hwando pommel. “That’s Emperor Wang,” he confirmed her suspicion carelessly. “Would you like to make a bet with me?”

“A bet, Your Majesty?” Hoyeon flicked her gaze to him in confusion.

He nodded towards the couple. “On who will win their spar, Yoonji or Gayi.”

“They will spar?” Crown princess versus emperor, fiancee versus fiance?

The two moved towards the now-open sparring area in the middle of the yard, raising their blades to the opening position.

“They have both trained for years. I’m curious myself about the outcome. So, what do you say, Princess?” The emperor leaned towards her, breath brushing her cheek. “Will you bet with me?”

“Very well, Your Majesty. What are your terms?”

He leaned back, studying her in mild surprise. “Hm…you must answer three questions I ask of you fully and truthfully, when I wish.”

That’s all? Like I could lie to you anyways. “Alright. I will hold the same terms, for the sake of fairness. I bet that the emperor will win.”

Hoyeon felt the weight of his gaze on her. “Not my sister?”

She shook her head. “I saw some of the emperor’s prowess when you two were fighting. I have not seen the princess fight, and the emperor surely has more experience, being on the battlefield.”

“But he will be tired since we were fighting before this,” Yoongi pointed out. “And I have fought with the princess. So, our bet. We each bet three complete, truthful answers about any topic we are asked about by the other if they win–you if Emperor Gayi wins, myself if Crown Princess Yoonji wins.”

“I agree to your terms.” Hoyeon shook the emperor’s hand, feeling his long fingers and calloused palms against her bare skin for the first time. He was warmer than she had expected; somehow she’d anticipated a cold-blooded, rigid man.

He let go of her hand and she swiftly tucked her hands into her sleeves, feeling the ghost of his palm against hers. Focusing on the duo facing off in front of her, she did her best to ignore the warm presence brushing against her side.

Yoonji was better than Hoyeon had expected, never having seen a female warrior before. Some of her moves looked similar to the emperor’s, but some were distinctively hers. She seemed to be having fun, however, a large gummy smile forming on her face as she parried the emperor’s strikes and danced into his space, making it more difficult for him to evade her attacks.

Her opponent also seemed to be having fun, a smile growing on his face as they sparred.

Hoyeon was glad the two were getting along, albeit in a more violent way than she was used to. Given what she knew of the crown princess’s personality, she was curious how the couple’s relationship would progress.

“The princess is quite good,” she said without thinking.

The emperor hummed in agreement. “I trained with her often. She is one of my best generals.”

Hoyeon whipped around in surprise. “The crown princess is your general?”

He nodded, dragging his eyes from the fight to her face.

“Then why–” Hoyeon bit her lip, realizing her curiosity could be taken as insolence.

“Continue,” the emperor prompted her curiously.

“Then why are you marrying your general off to the Kowloon Empire?” she asked quietly. He still appeared to have heard her, as he replied.

“The emperor and my sister have been in love for a while now. I will be saddened by my best general, advisor, and companion’s absence, but it is beyond time for her to have her happiness.”

Hoyeon blinked. Was the emperor…sentimental? And what was that about the marriage argument the other day?

“But…I understood the princess was against the marriage?”

“Not at all, she was being sarcastic. ‘How dare you marry me to the love of my life? Alas, I am ordered to spend time with the only man who makes me happy.’ Like that.”

“Oh.”

“Are you slandering me behind my back, Your Majesty?” Yoonji approached the two, her fiance behind her, carrying their swords.

“Is it slander if it’s true?” he retorted. “It seems my bride has not yet grown accustomed to your strange sense of humour. Now tell me, who won? I have a bet on the line, here.”

Realizing she’d been too distracted by the emperor to see who won, Hoyeon looked to Yoonji, who had what she now realised was a faux-betrayed look on her face.

“You had better have bet on me, brother.”

“Of course I did,” he replied smugly. “So, I won the bet?”

Yoonji’s fiance spoke up. “No, your lovely fiancee did. Congratulations, Princess.”

“Damn, I should have bet on Gayi.”

Yoonji smacked her brother’s arm for his comment. “You are lucky I’m leaving the palace, Your Majesty.”

Hoyeon watched the siblings banter with wide eyes. The emperor was so relaxed and unlike his Mad King persona today. Which was the real one?

“It’s okay, Princess,” commiserated Emperor Gayi. “No one understands these two’s strange relationship, either.”

“I can behead you, you know,” threatened Yoongi.

“You better give me his empire if you do,” Yoonji poked his stomach.

“Not if you keep touching me, I won’t!”

“OR,” interrupted Gayi, “you can not behead me and Yoonji can begin her reign over my empire peacefully as my empress!”

“But then I’d still have to hear you talk about my sister,” pointed out Yoongi. “It would be a lot quieter if your head was removed from your shoulders.”

“Say something!” Gayi looked at Yoonji, who sighed.

“Yoongi, don’t kill my fiance. It wouldn’t be a lot quieter because you’d then have to hear your sister talk about how much she missed her dead fiance instead…and your fiancee wouldn’t like you to kill her new ally, I guess.”

Yoongi looked at the bewildered Hoyeon. “Hm. It’s better to remove two nuisances at once, I suppose. I shall endure this next week for the princess’s sake, I suppose, since she won our bet.”

“How generous, Your Majesty,” Gayi and Yoonji bowed formally after the emperor, who left with an eye roll at their antics.

Yoonji straightened once he was gone and turned to Hoyeon with a smile. “Do you want me to show you to the archery range?”

D-13

The wedding of the Emperor of Kowloon and the Crown Princess of Dalseogu went off without a hitch, which relieved some of Hoyeon’s worries. It was exactly the same as it would be for her and Yoongi, so she had a chance to mentally prepare. There wasn’t too much that could go wrong, thankfully, so as long as she didn’t faint next week, she should be in the clear.

Spending time with her fiance the past week and a half, as well as with his sister and her fiance, helped relax Hoyeon. He was courteous, surprisingly soft-spoken in private, and less menacing than she had been prepared for. Slowly, she began to wonder if the rumours had been exaggerated, as royal rumours tended to be, and if she might in fact be safe in the Dalseogu empire.

Then came the day of her wedding, and all Hoyeon’s nerves returned full-force. Yoonji had left for Kowloon with Gayi, unable to stay for the wedding, and only Jina was there as someone she could rely on.

Her father had sent a witness to his only child’s wedding, too concerned over possible attacks to come himself. Hoyeon snorted as she read the letter his delegate had handed to her, dropping the paper to the table carelessly.

So he could send his daughter to live in the empire, but couldn’t come in person to celebrate her nuptials, the entire reason he would be safe visiting? Well, it wasn’t like she’d expected anything from him, but it still pinched in her heart.

Jina brushed her robes out smoothly, stepping back and giving her a reassuring nod. “It’s time, Your Highness.”

D-Day

The entire ceremony was a blur, Hoyeon too focused on not making a mistake to take in anything else. She had the vague sense that the atmosphere was overcast, but nothing more than that.

The celebration feast was similarly unfocused, for slightly differing reasons. Yoongi, her new husband (what a strange thought), was right beside her at the head table, paying rather unnerving attention to her.

Small bites were all she could choke down under his scrutiny, though he did his best to keep her dishes full. Hoyeon was a little confused when he kept adding delicious-smelling dishes to her immediate reach. Any other day, she’d be happy to try the new and intriguing dishes, but with the nerves in her stomach and the eyes on her chopsticks, she couldn’t choke down more than a few bites, something she bemoaned.

Toasts and cheers were continually offered by the celebrating ministers and nobles filling the hall, gallons of alcohol flowing freely.

Hoyeon grabbed her goblet, draining the dregs in a couple gulps, coughing a little at the afterburn. Yoongi’s scrutiny became heavier, his warmth overwhelming her as he leaned even closer to whisper in her ear. “Are you alright, Your Majesty?”

Hoyeon hiccuped. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. Just thirsty.”

His expression told her he didn’t fully believe her, but he leaned back, letting her breathe easily again. She turned away, patting her burning cheeks with the back of her hand.

It really should be illegal for someone to look that handsome up close. She considered her previous fears that he would behead her within six months and revised it to worry that she’d be overcome by his beauty within six months instead.

A sudden weight on her hand made her look down from picking up individual grains of rice with her chopsticks.

Yoongi’s hand rested on hers, his thumb caressing her pulse point. Her heart skipped a beat at the simple touch. He didn’t look at her anymore, thankfully, but his hand stayed on hers the rest of the feast.

Her eyes darted between his profile and her chopsticks several times. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being his empress.

General taglist (open): @bangtanwritershq @kayleefriedchicken @otome-wandering + (@moni-logues you seemed intrigued when we sprinted so I hope this is okay :] )

Divider by @bunnysrph | Moodboard photos from Pinterest/Google, edit is mine :]

#bangtanwhq #group: bts #member: myg #star scribbles #type: fic #length: 5-6k #author: star-my #title: born as a tiger #au: arranged marriage #au: daechwita #era: daechwita #rating: t

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musings-of-a-rose · 2 years

Text

Good Boy

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader . Reader is a housekeeper in the hotel. Reader is ethnicity inclusive despite stock photo bias.

Word Count: 5900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: I could only soft dom this man, ok? He deserves to be treated well but I couldn’t bring myself to dom him hard. A HUGE shoutout to @astoryisaloveaffair for beta-ing this for me and helping to boost my confidence that it’s not complete drab. Also a thank you to @chaoticgeminate for some ideas because I hit a soft dom wall and @write-and-buried for the gif in the moodboard (you really do have a plethora of graphics)

**Reader is ethnicity inclusive despite stock photo bias

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Dieter Bravo Masterlist

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

I’d heard that poor man ask nearly everyone in this hotel, each one turning him down for one reason or another, a mumbled apology falling from his lips. I couldn’t understand why. He was handsome in a chaotic way, his hair frazzled, dark brown eyes blown wide with I’d assume lust, but also something else. Judging by what was left in his room when I had to clean it, I would guess drugs.

And by guess I mean it is.

I’ve worked at Clifton House for a while now, long before we started housing bubbles, long before the pandemic. My parents never quite understood why I wanted to work here, always trying to push me into this degree or that job, but none of them fit. I liked Clifton House, the architecture, the grounds, the way it was out of the city but still close enough I can take a day trip. It’s quiet. I started as a simple maid and worked my way up in a few short years to head housekeeper. Technically, I don’t have to clean rooms, but this was a unique panel of guests and they needed their top person, or people, on it.

Because I was head, I was given the task of cleaning the actor’s rooms. I also think it’s because I’m the least likely to be starstruck, considering I don’t watch many movies or tv - I prefer to read. So when they showed up, I didn’t know any of them. The older one, Dustin? Looked vaguely familiar, most likely from some science fiction show my parents watched back in the day.

One of the perks of this job is that if you do it well, no one sees you. I go in when they’re not around and I’m gone long before they get back. These actors though - they were some of the worst people I’ve ever had to clean for. Messy, painting on the walls, installing workout equipment, drugs and food everywhere, not to mention clothes just dropped haphazardly on the floor, clean and dirty tossed together without a care. We’ve had celebrities and rich people stay here often, but this was a new experience with the bubble and it appeared that they did not handle a 14 day quarantine very well. They act as if they're the only ones who had to do it. We all quarantined before being allowed in Clifton House- and not all of us were waited on hand and foot.

Although the painting was pretty bad ass. I ended up leaving it as I was the only staff member who would potentially see it outside of the concierges, and they couldn’t give any less fucks. I asked them who’s room it was and they told me “Dieter Bravo.” What the hell kind of a name is that? It sounds fake. Or like a porn star. They weren’t surprised I didn’t know who it was as they knew me and my history with pop culture.

—-

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

He’s asking random people again, having been here for several weeks already. I could see the desperation in his movements, trying to overcompensate with more drugs, which definitely wasn’t helping his hyperfixation and lack of release. I quietly came out from a back room and nudged Ronjon.

“Who’s the strung out man asking to fuck everyone?”

“Ugh. That’s Dieter Bravo. Mess of a man.”

“Yes he is asking all of us if we would like to have sex with him,” Anika chimed in. “It is creepy.”

“Mmm,” you mumble, watching as Dieter flits from person to person in the room adjacent. Ronjon eyes you.

“No, no. Leave it be. Do not pity that chaotic mess.”

“I don’t pity him.”

“Pity or no, do not sleep with him, ok? You are better than that.”

Ronjon doesn’t know shit about me.

I placate him with a nod, but I watch Dieter out of the corner of my eye. This man, with the crazy hair, the blown wide eyes, hippie clothes with a stretched out neck, is the one- wait. Is that an earring? This is the man that basically recreated Goya’s Saturn with whatever he could find on the wall of his hotel room?

I returned to my office, taking inventory as I thought about him. Despite learning a bit more about him and his habits, I still didn’t understand why people were turning him down. Sure, he was a mess, and sure, he was older. Although that honestly makes him a bit hotter. But he’s also respectful, always apologizing after asking for sex, and he doesn’t seem like he has a violent bone in his body.

How can anyone resist those eyes?

—---

About a week later, I push my cleaning cart into the hallway outside my office, pausing for a moment to smooth out my skirt. I swear if this uniform were about 3 inches shorter they could sell it as a sexy Halloween costume. The owners thought it would bring a more authentic feeling to Clifton House, but I think they just wanted to see us in these ridiculous skirts. I poke my head out of the doorway to the main hall to check that it’s empty and turn just in time to see a green robe disappear around the edge of the hall. Pushing my cart back into my office, I quietly pad down the hallway to the room Dieter had entered. I stop just out of sight and hear him start to ask his now infamous question.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

Same as always, the few people in the room turn him down and he mumbles his apologies. Making up my mind, I step back around another corner, waiting for him to call the elevator. I hear him shuffle up, mumbling to himself as he jams his finger on the button. The doors bing and he shuffles forward. I quickly glance around the corner and see he’s alone in the elevator. Taking a confident breath, I walk up, jamming my arm into the doors to prevent them from closing fully. He glances up at me, his fingers nearly tugging at his hair as he looks at me over the top of his sunglasses. I give him a small smile as I walk in, standing next to him as I turn to face the now closed doors.

It’s quiet and I can feel his eyes on me as I work up the courage to ask him what I’ve wanted to ask him for weeks. I swallow down my nerves and turn to face him, finding his dark eyes on my own.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” I ask, trying to sound confident and not like a bundle of nervous energy. I never do things like this. I hadn’t even gotten laid in…we won’t go there.

He stares at me in disbelief, his eyes softening as he tries to figure out if I’m serious or not.

“Wh-what?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

His eyes never leave mine while he nods his head. “I fuckin’ doooo.”

The elevator beeps, bringing us to his floor. I take a few steps out of the elevator before realizing he hasn't moved, pure disbelief holding him in place. It’s adorable really and it starts a nearly forgotten sensation in my lower belly. Walking back to him, I gently take his hand, lacing my fingers through his as I smile and pull him down the hall. I think he finally realizes that I’m real, actually, physically, really here with him and he squeezes my hand back.

“Are you real?”

“I am.”

“Awesome,” he smiles, letting out a breath. “What’s your name?”

I tell him my name. “But you can call me Sparrow.”

His eyebrows meet in confusion, the little wrinkles on his forehead making his blown eyes appear larger. “Sparrow?”

“Yes. Small, easily hid, not noticed.”

“Oh I don’t think that’s true at all.”

He means it, I realize as we reach his door. I want to ask him something, but I’m afraid he’ll say no. And even more afraid he’ll say yes. His face is, well, beautiful. A Romanesque nose, dark chocolate eyes that are still blown wide with lust and high, patchy facial hair that has grey’s competing with his natural dark hair color. The closeness, the realization of our age difference, the fucking greys in his hair and the damn eye crinkles has me trying to push my thighs together already.

“Are you going to let me take care of you, Dieter?” There, I found the courage.

“What do you mean?” He cocks his head, that furrow appearing between his eyebrows again.

“Are you going to listen to me? Do as I say?” I try to put as much lust as I can into my voice, hoping that I don’t sound like I’m choking.

He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion as his eyes go completely dark, his chest starting to heave as he nods frantically. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good boy.”

The moan that escapes his lips is positively sinful, quickly working its way straight to my cunt, the nearly forgotten tingle causing me to choke back a gasp. I want to hear that sound again.

Opening the door, I walk inside, letting him close it behind us. He gestures around, muttering an apology at some of the mess.

“Would you like some drugs?” He means it, and I know he does as I’ve cleaned them up many times.

“I’m good, thank you. Maybe for round 2?”

He audibly whines at that, sending more tingles through me. “R-round 2?”

“Only if you’re good.” I wink at him. Who even am I right now?

I can see his growing bulge in his pants as he nods. “I’ll be so good.”

I walk up close to him, tracing a finger down the side of his face and scratching at the patchy beard hair that I had been dying to get my hands on. His skin feels soft and warm, like he’s nearly overheating. He’s humming at the back of his throat, his wide eyes glued to mine.

“Do I have your consent, Dieter?”

He nods. “Oh fuck yes. You can have anything you want.”

I smile in what I hope is a wicked way. “You have my consent as well. If you need me to stop, for whatever reason, just tell me to stop. Ok?”

He lets out a puff of air and I feel it on my face, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath, but not so heavy that he’s drunk and I would be taking advantage. Although, he’s the one propositioning everyone.

“Anything you say,” His mouth quirks up to the side in a lopsided smile, his eyelids drooping as he palms himself over his pants.

I slap his hand away, giving him a tsk tsk. “No touching yourself unless I say.”

He groans but nods, his hands opening and closing as he fidgets nervously.

“Take off your clothes.”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

I’m debating on telling him to be quiet but fuck I love to hear him talk. His voice just does things to me and I find myself shifting, trying not to let on how fucking turned on I am.

Dieter quickly shucks his iconic green robe, his crocs kicked off and landing somewhere in the room with a thud. His pants quickly follow but he pauses at his shirt. Insecurity ripples across his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m not in the best shape.”

“You’ve walked around with no shirt under that robe before.”

“Yeah but that’s dif-hey, you were watching me?”

“How could I not? Now don’t change the topic. Take off your shirt.”

His brown eyes study my face for a moment before nodding, casting his gaze down as he pulls the shirt over his head. He holds it in front of himself like a shield, like it would prevent me from seeing his tummy.

I gently wrap my fingers around his wrists and put a small amount of pressure on them to pull them away. If he resists, I won’t push it. But he takes a deep breath through his nose as if to stable himself and then drops the shirt to the floor, standing there fully naked.

And fuck is he gorgeous.

His shoulders are broad, arms strong and he tapers down to smaller hips. He has a swell of a small tummy, probably put there by quarantine, but fuck if I don’t just love it. I want to touch it, kiss it, lick it, bite it, praise it - and I intend to do just that. I want to wipe the insecurity from his memory.

I bring my hands up to his shoulders, lightly running my fingers across the sheer size of them and give his biceps a little squeeze. I graze my fingertips over his chest and down to his tummy, feeling him flinch as I get to the source of his insecurity.

“You’re my pretty boy, aren’t you, Dieter?”

“I-I am?”

I nod, hoping my smile is still wicked. “Walking around this hotel, looking like this, trying to turn me on. Come with me.”

I take his hand and pull him over to stand in front of his full length mirror, turning him to face the mirror as I stand behind him, poking my head around him. I slide my hand from his grip and back around to his stomach, simply leaving my hand there for a moment.

“Look at how pretty you are, pretty boy. These shoulders?” I plant a kiss on his shoulder. “These arms?” I kiss that too. “This tummy?”

I move from around him and drop to my knees, rubbing my cheek across his stomach. Fuck his skin is soft. He whines, breathing out open mouthed as I start to kiss and nip at his tiny swell of tummy. Ok, time to be commanding. Or try to, anyway.

“Jerk yourself off.”

His eyes get dark again, the insecurity leaving them just a bit as he studies my face. “R-really?”

“What did I say?”

He nods and brings his hand to his hard cock, gripping it and starts to pump himself. I bite and kiss his stomach a few more times but honestly am distracted by the sheer size and girth of him now that he’s in his own massive hand. He’s definitely bigger and longer than I’ve had, his dick the perfect color, heavy, wanting, desperate for release.

“Wait,” I place my hand on his wrist and he freezes, watching my face for further instructions as I stand up.

“Take off my clothes. But don’t touch.” Fuck I want him to touch me, to kiss me, to bite me, to bend me over a chair and fuck me until I can’t remember my name. Maybe next time.

Next time? Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Dieter is respectfully restrained. His chocolate eyes hold my gaze as he leans in, reaching behind me with both hands, gently tugging on the knot that holds the decorative apron to me. It falls to the floor as his hands slide up my back, eyes never leaving mine as his fingers search for the zipper pull by the back of my neck. He finds it and gently pulls down, the zipper easily sliding towards its destination. His fingers barely touch my skin and I feel lit up, a fire blazing, burning, warm and hot deep inside me. It’s incredibly hard to keep my face fixed, to not crumble into a puddle of desire as he gently pushes the fabric off of my shoulders, sliding the dress down, and letting it pool on the floor around my feet. I flick my foot, the silky fabric sliding across the floor as his hands fumble with the bra clasp at my back. His eyes are still on mine, but the longer it takes him to undo the clasp, the less focused on me they become. His tongue pokes out of his mouth, his bottom lip curling in under it as he concentrates, his fingers getting more frantic by the moment, desperate to see what’s under the lacy fabric.

I place my hands on his chest and lightly push and his arms drop, his head falling with shame as his eyes lower away from mine. I put my finger under his chin, feeling his soft, patchy stubble and have to keep from losing my shit as I lift his head to meet my eyes. They’re wide, full of desire but also embarrassed, and a bit like a puppy.

This man is going to kill me.

I wink at him, turning around to face the mirror. A few seconds pass before I feel him at the clasp, his head dipping down to see what he was doing. The clasp comes undone and he lets out a little “Yes!” followed by a “sorry, sorry” as he starts to slide the straps down my arms. As the straps come past my wrist, I fling it off towards where I think my dress is. Honestly, in this moment, I couldn’t give anymore fucks about where my clothes are as I feel his lips gently brush my neck. My eyes close and I gasp, lips parting before I remember that I’m supposed to be in charge, that I’m supposed to take care of him.

“Y-you're not supposed to -touch.” Yeah. That sounded super confident.

“Sorry, sorry.” There it is again - that unneeded apology.

I turn back around to try and prevent any more neck kisses. If he does it again, I know I will give in and let him do whatever he wants, which wouldn’t be a bad thing but it’s not how this is supposed to go.

Our eyes find each others again as he pokes at my hips, trying to find my underwear line. I spasm, a giggle coming from me as it tickles.

“Sorry, sorry.”

His fingers are more gentle this time, deftly sliding my panties down as I kick them off and across the room, his eyes somehow never leaving mine, although they are watering around the edges, like he’s fighting the urge to scan my body.

I step behind him, holding his gaze as I push him closer to the full body mirror. My hands touch his back and he shudders, letting out a little gasp as I run them up and down, sliding them around his front to caress his chest and tummy. I feel his happy trail and run my fingers through it as my hands move closer to his dick. I poke my head around his side, wanting to watch his expressions as I trace the skin of his inner hip. His mouth is slightly open, his breathing hitching as I circle closer and closer.

“Are you going to be my good boy?” I speak quietly in his ear.

“Y-yes. Oh fuck yes,” He pants out.

I look down at his hard cock and run my finger up it, watching him twitch and gasp at probably the first touch that’s not his own in weeks, if not longer. I’m trying to resist the urge to fall to my knees, take him in my mouth and suck him dry, telling myself to be patient. Instead, I make sure he’s watching me as I bring my hand to my mouth and lick my palm a few times before bringing it back to his cock. Fuck, he’s huge. I can’t even curl my fingers around all of him but fuck if I’m not going to try my hardest. I pump him, moving my hand up and down his shaft, changing up my pacing and pattern, watching as his dick pops out from between my fingers, precum already starting to drip out.

“Of fuck, Sparrow,” He moans out as I speed up.

I tear my gaze away from his cock to look in the mirror at his face - the slack jawed expression as he watches me jerk him off, his body twitching as he gets nearer to coming. Bringing my unoccupied hand back, I slap his ass, the crack ringing out in the room and he cries out. I do it again and I feel his body tense in preparation to come, so I yank my hand away. His eyes fly open, anger now tinging the edges of his lust.

“What the fuck?”

“I haven’t said you could come yet.”

The expression on his face morphs and he’s whining at me, eyes round and large, nearly black at this point. He nods frantically, afraid if he does anything else that I’ll leave.

I walk to the bed, looking down at the absurdly difficult to wash sheets, and climb onto his bed and turn to lay on my back, propping my upper back against a few pillows. I part my legs, putting myself on full display and I see his eyes drop to my cunt, unable to keep them on my own any longer.

“Come here.”

It’s like a cartoon - he scrambles in place, trying to move as fast as he can to the bed, tripping on his last step and half falling onto the bed. He starts to crawl up the bed, crawling over me. But as his head becomes level with my cunt, I place my hand out to prevent him from moving up any further. Fuck his hair is just as soft as it looks. I need to grip it, pull it, run my fingers through it - so I do. Gripping his hair, I push his face between my legs, the heat from his breath fanning out over my wet cunt.

“Time to show me your skills, Dieter Bravo.”

The words have barely escaped my lips before his tongue is on me, licking up my slit as he devours me like a starving man. He uses his nose, that beautiful nose of his to run up through my folds, rubbing it over my clit and moaning into my pussy as he hears the absolutely unhinged sounds that are coming from…somewhere? Oh wait. That’s me. I’ve never made sounds like this before, but I’ve never been taken care of like this before. His tongue enters me, swirling around inside as his other hand comes up to play with my clit and I cry out his name, my fingers gripping his hair tighter as my pleasure builds quickly. He removes his tongue, replacing it with a finger as he circles my entrance, gathering up my arousal before pushing in. I cry his name, feeling him push in two fingers this time as he finds that spot inside me that I have a hard time reaching. He rubs it, taps it, scissors his fingers as his tongue resumes its caress of me, absolutely unaware of the ecstasy I’m feeling as I writhe under him. I feel an intense warming, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before as my climax nears the edge. I come with a cry of his name, my body lighting up as it never had before and I feel liquid gush out of me as my orgasm continues on. Dieter guides me through it, humming his content, the vibrations extending my orgasm and it’s too much and not enough. I push at his head, overstimulated with my legs twitching and feel his soft lips kiss my inner thigh before he sits up. His face shines with me, his eyes nearly disappearing with his squinty smile. I flop back into the pillows, trying to catch my breath.

“Good….boy.” I manage to pant out, hearing his faint chuckle.

If I could have that every day for the rest of time, I would. What the hell was that? Is that squirting? I’ve never done that before.

My head is finally clearing and I see him waiting for instructions at the foot of the bed.

“Do you have any suit ties?” I ask.

He laughs. “Hell no. But I do have these.”

He walks to the nightstand drawer and pulls out a box, opening it and taking out a pair of fluffy handcuffs. They’re pink fluffy handcuffs.

“I like pink,” he shrugs.

“Pink’s cool.” Lame. What a lame response. He looks down at my wrist and I jerk it back to me and move to get off the bed.

“Not for me, good boy. Lay down.”

He does, handing me the cuffs as he walks past. He settles himself on the bed, lifting his left arm over his head and putting it near the post so I can cuff it. The pink fluff is made of something soft, a cushioning under it to help prevent scrapes and cuts. I open one end and clasp it around the bedframe and clasp the other end around his wrist. He pulls on it a couple times, making sure it doesn’t move before turning his eyes up to me, waiting hopefully. It’s my turn to crawl up to him.

I do just that.

Placing my hands on his legs, I slowly slide them up, pausing at his thighs to plant a few kisses on his inner thighs. He grunts, airing puffing out from his mouth as I move up. I decide to switch it up and add in some nips here and there, my teeth barely scraping over his skin and he whines. Making sure he’s looking at me, I lock eyes with him as I kiss the tip of his hard cock, watching it twitch as his body spasms.

“Oh shit, sorry, sorry.”

Flattening my tongue, I lick up the side of him, a groan coming from him as I do this along the other side, making sure he’s nice and wet. I’m still not sure if he’ll fit in my mouth, but fuck do I want to try. I line him up, open my mouth wide, and take him, slowly inching my way down as far as I can go. Fuck he’s huge, my lips stretching to take him and I can feel my arousal burning at the thought of him entering me.

“Sparrow…” he whines out, his hand moving to grab the back of my head. He hesitates and instead takes a fistful of his blankets, knuckles going white as I pull off of him and push him back in.

Adding a little more sucking pressure, I move my hand to cup his balls and he rewards me with a mewl of my name. I pull off of him and lick a stripe up one of his balls, his dick twitching in response to match the moans coming from his beautiful lips. I do the same on the other before taking him back into my mouth. His body starts to tense under my lips and I pull off of him just before he comes. He lets out a small cry and I swear there’s a tear at the corner of one of his eyes.

“It’s not time to come yet, my beautiful boy.”

I crawl up his body again, pausing to kiss and nip at his tummy, moaning my own sounds as I do. I make it to his neck and fuck he smells good. I mean yeah he smells like whiskey and smoke, but there’s also the smell of sex and lust, and something distinctly him. I nip at his chin before dusting my lips across his, moaning into a harder kiss as he nearly pulls me in with his lips. I feel his free hand come up to cup the back of my head and I lean into it. I know it’s not very commanding of me, but it feels good to have someone touch me in this way. Our tongues dance around each other, mine coming out to swipe across his bottom teeth and he pulls me in closer, kissing me harder. I don’t want to stop kissing him, ever, but I’m in this to take care of him. I sit up and scoot down a bit, gripping his cock and lining him up with me.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Dieter. But you are not to come. Understand?”

He nods, swallowing hard.

“Good boy.”

He’s hot by my entrance, heavy and waiting as I start to slide down on him. Oh fuck he’s big, stretching me out to take all of him, a slight burn where we connect. But this burns so good and I never want it to stop. He bottoms out and I cry out, louder than the moan that had escaped when he first entered me.

“Fuck, Dieter. You-you fill me up, so good.”

“Sparrow, you’re so fucking tight I…can I come?”

I shake my head as I lift my hips from him, sliding back down on him a few more times to adjust. “No, my good boy. Not yet.”

I grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as I ride him, the headboard slapping against the wall as I cry out with every thrust in, Dieter’s moans mixing with mine. It doesn’t take him long to start to tense and fuck I don’t want to but I pull off him, hearing him grunt in frustration and sensitivity at the loss of me. I shift my hips forward on his body, resting my throbbing cunt against that tummy I love so fucking much. I lean down to kiss him, nipping at his chin and neck. My hips start to move and I feel the hairs on his happy trail graze across my clit and I gasp. Pulling back from the kiss, I brace myself on his arms and fully focus on grinding my hips, his tummy providing the perfect pressure to my desperate thrusts. Dieter watches me, mouth open at the fact that I’m getting myself off on his stomach.

“Oh fuck I love this TUMMY!” I come on the last word, fingernails digging into his arms as arousal leaks out of me and onto his stomach, my chest heaving with my high. I kiss him again, biting on his bottom lip as he moans into my mouth. I start to kiss a path down his body, tasting the salt from his sweat as I go. I wrap my hand around his cock and pump him, trying to pull those little high pitched moans from him as I kiss his body. He grunts out my nickname and starts to tense so I drop him and remove my touch from his body. Actual tears start falling down his flushed cheeks as he begs me to let him come over and over.

“Please, Sparrow, please.”

“You’re doing so good, but not yet sweet boy.”

He whines, taking a shaky breath as he nods.

Tossing my leg over his hips, I line him up and sink down onto his hard, aching cock, crying out his name as I spear myself on him. I can’t help it - the burn of the stretch and just him turns me on so fucking much. I ride him, gripping his chest as I speed up my hips.

“Give me your hand.” I pant out. Dieter all but throws his free hand at me and I grab it, licking his first two fingers before pulling it to my clit. “Touch me.”

He does just that, using his thumb and middle finger to part my lips and his pointer finger to rub at my clit. His fingertip is smooth, gliding over me as he rubs circles, then crosses over it, then tap, tap, taps it, fueling the raging fire growing inside me.

Fuck it. I can’t keep this up anymore.

“Oh fuck! Come for me, Dieter!” The band inside me snaps and I come, pulsing around him as I moan his name, my mouth gaping open. My entire body feels on fire with electricity, my brain simply floating away with ecstasy. I don’t remember ever feeling this way after sex. I come down, my body spasming with release and I notice that he still hasn’t come yet. So I speed up my hips, snapping them a certain way and crying out at the overstimulation.

His breathing picks up, tiny puffs of air escaping his open mouth, little moans following them. Suddenly, his hand grips my hip, his fingernails digging into my skin as he flings his head back into his pillow, my name, my actual name erupting from his lips on a cry as he comes, warm and spurting inside me, his hips sporadically thrusting as he empties himself completely. His grip on my hip remains hard and I can feel the bruises starting, deep beneath my skin and I know I’ll wear those marks with pride.

Shit, now what do I do?

I really, really want to stay, lay naked in bed with this man until we’re forced out, touching and caressing each other’s bodies. But I have no clue how he feels. Of course if he wants me to leave I’ll leave, and have no regrets. The look on his face - he’s relaxed, comfortable, satiated. His eyelids relax and that furrow between his eyebrows that I thought was permanent is smoothed out, disappearing with his release. His mouth still hangs open as he takes deep breaths to steady himself.

“I gotta get up, ok?”

“Mmm? Yeah, yeah of course.”

I try to slide off of him as gently as I can, but we both hiss at the loss of contact and I feel empty, hollow. I hate it. Walking over to his en suite bathroom, I grab a washcloth and clean myself up, grabbing another and bringing it back over to the bed. His eyes are closed and I touch his arm, waiting for him to look at me.

“I’m gonna wash you off, ok?”

“I-I can do that.”

“No, it’s ok. I’m taking care of you.”

He nods, letting me wipe him down and toss the rag back in a basket in the bathroom. That he obviously doesn’t use because there’s clothes everywhere. I bend down to pick them up and have to remind myself it’s not the time.

Now what?

I walk back out and glance around the room, moving to collect my things before sitting next to him on the bed. He watches me move around and when I finally sit next to him, he looks up at me with puppy dog eyes. They’re chocolate brown, the lust has left them but simmers at the edges as he watches me.

“I-can I stay?” I nearly whisper. God I hope he says yes and I’m not making a fool of myself.

His entire face lights up. “You want to stay?”

“If that’s alright.”

“Yes! I mean, yes. Please.” He scoots over and pulls the blanket back, patting the bed, a wide grin spreading across his face, and fuck there are the eye crinkles.

I drop my clothes and slide in, cuddling up to him as he wraps his arm around me. He nuzzles his nose into my hair and I hear him whisper “Sorry, sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my good boy.”

—----

He wakes several hours later and she’s gone. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t sad, already missing her presence despite only meeting her today. Or was it yesterday? Fuck, did he make her up? Was it the drugs?

He throws his arms out to the side and one of them lands on something hard. Confused, he pats the bed and grabs the object, or objects. Kit-Kats. Not just the regular ones he likes but new flavors - Green Tea, Cherry Blossom, and Tiramisu. He grins, a full ear to ear grin as he sees them. His eyes land on a sticky note attached to the top one. He pulls it off and holds it closer to his face to read it.

“Next time, it's your turn to tell me what to do.”

—----

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