#who wants to save him from his deep slumber? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tinalbion · 2 months

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'𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x afab!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, afab!reader, mutant!reader, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, canon typical language, angst, feelings

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 7k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Logan are taken to another timeline that you could possibly help save, but your deep-rooted love for him is the only thing keeping you going anymore, but he doesn't seem to feel that way at all. Could you get Logan to see reason why you're here with him, or will it fall on deaf ears?

As everyone has been inspired by that dang Honda scene from Deadpool and Wolverine, I was as well, and listening to 'Lies' by Trifonic really helped fuel the backstory between Logan and reader here.

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You weren’t sure how you ended up in a field, miles away from what you called your home, but the smell of smoke and fire woke you from your aching slumber. Whether it was the distant sounds of the fire crackling or the smell of it finally getting a rise out of you, you weren’t certain, but you wandered in a haze through the burnt grass fields. Your eyes were glued to the remnants of Xavier’s school for gifted people, your kind, mutants. The screams of sadness that wanted to come from deep within were stuck in your throat, your watery eyes stared at the scene as you looked around for any survivors, wondering if there were any.

As much as it pained you considering how much blood you’ve already lost, you dug for hours and found things you wanted no part in finding, but there was that damn sliver of hope you clung to for whatever reason, and the one man you wished you could find wasn’t here… maybe he was safe. You wandered toward the front entrance of the mansion and fell to the ground, sobbing as you waited for anyone to help, or maybe you waited for a swift death to someone who would grant it to you. There was always the hatred for your kind, mutants, freaks, and there would always be that stupid luck someone would stumble upon you and put you out of your misery.

But as luck would have it, a slightly buzzed Logan walked up to the entrance, seeing you on the ground sobbing, the flames behind you, and the destruction that lay behind you. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first, thinking that maybe the alcohol finally did hit him, especially since it took him ages to even get drunk in the first place.

“Hey, that you…?” Logan asked gruffly as he stumbled toward you, seeing you coated in crimson.

You looked up, wide eyes filled with tears, and thinking you were seeing ghosts now. “L-Logan?” You asked, shaking. “Oh Gods, you’re alive?” You shot up to your feet and ran to him, stumbling into his broad chest as you sobbed heavily against him.

He looked past you as one arm lazily wrapped around you, his eyes drinking in the reality he was seeing. “What the hell happened here…?” His voice was low, cracking, and he was unable to control his tone.

“Logan, the humans… they came and destroyed everyone… we thought we’d have it, but… I can’t find anyone alive. Logan… they’re all dead,” you said through sobs.

The world around him stopped and time was nothing to him anymore, the news of their deaths… all of them, it was impossible. There were so many mutant lives and so many powers that were practically unstoppable, and yet you stood here telling him no one survived, save for you.

“How… how did you live?” He asked, his tone shifting from shocked to what you thought was defensive.

Your eyes widened and began to shake as you thought he sounded… accusatory. “Logan, I didn’t do this-”

“I never said you did,” he replied quickly, trying to shut that thought down, but the damage was already starting.

“You pretty much did, but if you must know, my power… you know I can’t control it when I’m unconscious…” You said shamefully, rubbing your arm as you stepped back, but he pulled you toward him, his hand firm on your arm.

“Where were you?” You asked him, your eyes stared into his as he suddenly shifted, the entire mood was off, and he turned away from your gaze. “Logan, we called for you… what happened?”

“Don’t,” he said, more of a plead than a warning, “I ain’t accusing you of anything,” he assured you, but you were still so confused and scared, you weren’t sure what to make of everything just yet.

What would you think of him, what would you say when you found out he was too busy getting shitfaced at the bar, and not back at the mansion where he should have been? He seemed uneasy as his grip loosened from your arm, but he didn’t fully let go of you. You were the one part of this life, this world that wasn’t gone, and all he could do was stare at the flaming heap of rubble behind you.

Your relationship with Logan was one of complication, you knew that from the moment you two met, he was just a complicated man. One capable of loving too hard, hurting too strongly, and feeling rage more than anyone possibly could. But you loved him anyway, you just never managed to fully tell him that, even now you couldn’t find yourself muttering the words ‘I love you,’ and you figured you never would. He loved her, and only her. You would never compare in his eyes, and after a long time, you were content with that, because you would still be there for him despite the heartache you felt.

You often felt the sharp sting of hurt, jealousy, and uselessness because all you could think was ‘I’m not her’, and it would quite possibly be your downfall. And you were still there for him, despite so many others telling you to give up. If you gave up, you’d be no better than those who’d given up on him in his past, and you could never bring yourself to do that. You were dedicated, if anything.

But here and now, as you sobbed against him as your blood slowly soaked back up into your body, gently healing your wounds, you could feel the sadness and the guilt that came with surviving.

“I was…”

He didn’t have to say it, the smell of the booze on his breath finally hit you and you were disappointed in yourself for not realizing it sooner. You had tried to get him to stop, you really did, but the heartbreak was too much for him to handle, and it’s not like you could have stopped it anyway…

“No, I get it…” You sighed and looked back at the mansion as you pulled away from him, Logan felt the pain within the distance, but he didn’t comment on it. “I’m gonna… go and see what I can find, I don’t know…” You wiped more tears from your eyes and sighed.

Logan watched as you walked off, back into the flaming rubble, unable to speak his mind, unable to apologize. If he was there, maybe he could have stopped it all, everyone would still be alive, and you’d all be a little happier. That was a lie, he knew that, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t hope.

That day was the first day it all went even further downhill.

You remained with Logan, glued to his side even though he remained inside the bar more than any other place, yet you felt you should be there for him even though there was that voice in the back of your mind saying he wasn’t there for you. For them. But what kind of person would you be if you abandoned him? You’d be just like the rest, and you refused to be them, so as much as it pained you to see him drink his life away, you stood by his side. You helped him, and became his caretaker, which was pathetic of you in the first place, but you still loved him, even after all of that. What became of the X-Men, well, all the humans hated you both for it, reminding you each day how much you both fucked up.

But the day a man walked through that door, a loud-mouthed fool with no signs of shutting the hell up, grabbed Logan from his seat and told him he needed him. You were sitting in the back of the bar, watching Logan as you always had, but you ran to the red-clad man once he held his gun to his head. Logan just smiled and laughed, hoping he’d do it as if it would have mattered.

Right in front of you, Logan begged for death, seeing no real reason to be alive anymore. To say your heart ached was an understatement. The man fell back and as Deadpool was about to reach for him, you kicked his arm away from him, causing the gun to slip right out of his grasp.

“Look here, Angel face, you get mixed up with this and I’ll have to hurt you, I don’t wanna do-”

You kicked him again, this time in the face to shut him up, and he stumbled back, looking surprised, even through the mask. “How dare you! I am trying to save my world and I need that shithead’s help! I don’t have time to fight you.”

“Well you’re taking the ONE person I give a damn about, so you’re gonna have to go through me.”

“Look, whatever little love thing- AHH WHAT THE SHIT?!”

“I said leave him alone,” you warned.

Your power was coming forth as you held out both your hands, manipulating the iron in his bloodstream, slowly pulling it from his body through his skin. It hurt a LOT but it wouldn’t kill him if you didn’t yank it all out at once.

“Shit STOP it, okay?! Lemme explain!”

You lowered your hands and allowed his blood to remain in his body, he sighed and leaned back into the barstool. “Jesus fuck, woman, give a guy a chance to talk!”

“That’s all you been doing, asshole! Then tried to kidnap my… friend, and I’m not letting him go.”

Deadpool explained what was going on, introduced himself, and said why he needed your Logan from this world, so you took a step back and eyed him curiously. But as soon as this man now known as Deadpool lifted Logan up, your hand grabbed his wrist and you shot him a warning glance.

“Whatever you’re doing, I’m going with, and that’s not a question.”

“Ooh, and who the hell do you think you are? Rip off Magneto?” He asked with more excitement and playfulness than you expected.

“That doesn’t matter, but you’re taking my friend, and I’m not letting you leave without me if he’s going, too.”

The bartender glared at you and waved dismissively. “She’s just as pathetic as he is, too, so take her if you’re takin’ the other one,” he sneered.

You glared back at him and fought the urge to hurt him, but you looked up at Deadpool and continued to hold onto his arm. “Please, I’m not leaving him, and if you need an extra hand, so be it.”

“Well, whatever you say, princess, but try not to get in the way of Peanut’s big moment here, okay? We got a world to save.”

“Sounds fine by me,” you replied, just wanting to be near Logan no matter the cost.

You arrived in another world, or as Wade called it, a timeline, with Logan, but then immediately zapped into a place called the Void, which was already enough of a mindfuck for you to want to be far away from as you could, but you ended up in a small diner as Logan searched for food. Deadpool sat back and ate whatever he could find as you all took a moment to recuperate. You sat away from them both, suited up with your old clothes from your time in the mansion, it felt odd to be wearing it again, but you felt like you had a purpose again, and it seemed that Logan was doing fairly well despite the circumstances.

“Ya know, in my world, you were… you were well-regarded,” Deadpool said, trying to break the silence as per usual, and to try and ease the well-known angry Wolverine.

“Yeah, well, not in mine,” he said gruffly, taking a drink from the rubbing alcohol bottle in his hand.

You grimaced at the sight but kept your mouth shut, you were normally quiet so you wouldn’t ruin the moment by talking.

“Yeah, they don’t like me much,” Deadpool said with a more gentle tone.

“Ya don’t say.”

“I wanted to be something, ya know… Shit, I wanted to be an Avenger.”

“Fuck the Avengers.”

Wade laughed and sighed. “Yeah, I didn’t make the cut though. Same with the X-Men. My girlfriend left me-”

“You had a girlfriend?” Logan asked, shocked by this revelation.

Deadpool laughed. “Ooh yeah, Vanessa. Had a whole life planned. And I uh, well, I fucked that right up. But YOU, you were an X-Man, THE X-Man. The Wolverine. He’s a hero in my world…” Deadpool looked over at Logan, who sat away from the both of you and angrily stared off into the diner, trying not to listen, but Wade never would shut the hell up.

“Yeah well, he ain’t shit in mine.” Logan stood up, whipped the can of alcohol into the kitchen area of the diner, then walked outside.

Deadpool remained seated and looked over at you. “So what’s Wolvie’s problem, anyway?”

“That’s a long story, Wade, I don’t think I can tell it…” You said softly, looking away from his gaze as you watched Logan from the window.

“You love him or somethin’?” He asked, his voice soft, showing a small moment of vulnerability. “That why you came to babysit pissed off Honey Badger?”

This made your head turn to him and you looked almost perplexed, how had he known? Was it so obvious, written all over your face? Your cheeks felt warmer as you looked back through the window. “Doesn’t matter, not like he’d love me back. Just here to make sure he doesn’t die. And it’s not like I have shit to go back to, either.”

Wade regarded your answer and figured there wasn’t much to talk about after that, but he stood up and walked toward you, patted your shoulder, and ruffled your hair. “You’re too good for that guy, mutie, wait uh, what is your name?”

“Just call me Failure, everyone else does.”

Deadpool scoffed and shook his head. “Nahhh, you don’t look like one of those. Oh! What abouttttt Jamie Lee, suits you bein’ a babysitter and all-”

This made you scoff and you couldn’t help but shake your head. “Man, Logan is right, you never shut up, do you?” It was said more playfully, but you looked back at Logan, whose back was to you both.

“Not one god damned bit, now anyway Baby Lee, let’s go and get that grumpy little man for you-”

You groaned and stood up to shove Deadpool out of the way, then walked off to get to him before Wade did, but he was fast.

“Girlfriend material, comin’ through!” Wade called in a sing-song voice as you stomped toward Logan, who didn’t even turn to greet either of you. The merc walked up beside Logan and leaned on him playfully as you stood a few feet away to give him space. “Your girlfriend is worried about you, Peanut,” he hummed. “And not gonna lie, she puts up a hell of a fight, almost stopped me from yankin’ ya right into my little world-saving problem,” he said teasingly.

“She ain’t my girlfriend,” he grumbled and sulked off. Deadpool bound after him and you followed behind hesitantly.

“Oh I know, she told me as much, but I dunno Wolvie, the way she almost pulled my blood from my body to save your ass means there’s something there, trust me. Nothing hotter than a dedicated woman who would pull my blood out to save your sorry drunk ass, and if you don’t want her, hell, I hope you consider sharing~”

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan stalked off ahead of you and you both followed after.

The three of you somehow ended up finding a Deadpool variant, which ended up lending you his Honda Odessy, with which your Deadpool had an issue, but it ended up working out in the end as he trotted off, getting himself lost with yet another Deadpool variant: Dogpool. Logan had no intention of sticking around, so you followed obediently like you always did and figured you’d get to the borderlands and wait for Wade if need be.

The drive in the beginning was quiet and awkward as Logan drove, leaving you to stare out of the window in silence, wondering if you should have said anything to him. It occurred to you that you hadn’t gotten a moment alone with him since being whisked away here, and now that you’d been thinking about it, it was terrifying.

Logan had been looking over at you every so often as you stared out the window, your eyes seeing the same scenery as you leaned your head against the window. He opened his mouth to speak and stopped several times, and you could feel that he was trying to get your attention. You turned toward him and looked into his eyes, catching his stare, but he pulled away and looked back in the direction he drove in.

“What is it, Logan?” You asked him softly.

He cleared his throat and sighed. “I just wanna know why you’re here.”

This stung a little, thinking that he’d be better off without you, maybe? You huffed and didn’t meet his gaze. “I came because I felt I had to,” you replied shortly.

“That you had to?” He wanted you to clarify, of course, he did.

“Yeah, I had to, because I didn’t wanna lose the only person I had left, okay?” You said with a bite to your words. “I didn’t want to hurt more than I already do. And despite you not being able to see it or maybe not caring, you’re all I have left, Logan.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as he listened to you, knowing you were right, you were both hurting and he had shoved your feelings aside to wallow in his own self-pity. He turned back toward the road, his hands gripping the wheel tight as he thought about it, about how you had been there for him all this time, despite the hurt and anger he felt and pushed onto you, there you were, never letting him down when he needed you. Even when he didn’t ask you for a single thing, you were always there, and looking back on it now, it fucking hurt.

Someone so selfless like you… stuck with someone like him. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “I’m a fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself.

“You’re not,” you responded back immediately, always there to combat his self-depreciation. You really were an angel.

“I am, wanna know why? Because I’m too fucking stupid to see that since day one, you were there, through all of it, through all my bullshit that I put you through… Even before that day…you were there Wade said something at that diner about you almost killing him just because he threatened to take me, and you insisted on going with me despite not knowing what the fuck we were getting ourselves into.”

You shifted in your seat uneasily, wondering what point he was trying to make. “It was nothing-”

“Don’t say that, you can’t just say that after everything you’ve done for me? Why, Star?”

Star, the nickname he’d given you on your first day in the mansion, knowing very well how to tug at your heartstrings. You sighed as you turned toward him, wondering if now was the time, and there would never be a good time, you figured. “Logan, I don’t-”

“Don’t bullshit me,” he warned with that look, the look you knew too well when he was trying to be intimidating. “I wanna hear it, why are you here?”

“Because I fucking love you, okay?! Despite you loving Jean, loving a woman who didn’t love you back, loving someone so deeply, and having to take her away from you, from your friend Scott. It hurt you so much and you would have never looked at me twice anyway. But I stuck around because you were hurting and I cared, you were so kind to me and helped me even though I know you didn’t want to. You did it anyway. And I grew to love you.

Then Jean was gone, and maybe I had a shot, but even then I was scared. Then the mansion… everyone died… and you fell further into yourself, Logan. You were so deep into your hurt that I was afraid you’d never come back. And yet, I stayed, what else would I do? Abandon you? Never, I’d hate myself for it. I tortured myself for years for you and I don’t even know why!”

The silence in the Honda only grew beside the gentle sounds of your sniffles, and you tried your best to cover those sounds as well as you stared out the window, wishing he'd just drive as fast as he could so you'd reach your destination and not have to continue this conversation. But to your dismay, the car skidded to a halt, and you both almost flew forward. You spun to look at him, to scold him for driving so carelessly, but the face he gave you was too heartbreaking.

You hadn’t realized the loud tone in which you spoke, the tears that spilled down your face, or the way Logan was looking at you as if he could have walked off a cliff and would have been better for it.

Logan sighed and shook his head, trying to find the words, only to stumble over them and remain awkwardly silent. His mouth opened to speak only to close, he was getting nowhere. “Why?” He finally asked.

“Why what?” you asked with a sigh.

“You just couldn’t love someone who wasn’t a total fuck up, could you? Couldn’t have chosen better for yourself,” he grumbled as he leaned back in the seat, his hands still gripping the steering wheel.

He looked away and swallowed hard. “Why me?” He asked. “There ain’t shit to love about me, kid, never was.”

“Yet you loved Jean, your love was unwavering despite her loving Scott,” you pointed out. “What does it matter why or who? My heart was yours and that’s that, Logan.”

“I wish I knew why I’d chosen you, but I couldn’t stop it, I tried. So many people saw it, you know, the way I looked at you. They all warned me, they told me not to even think about it. And stupid me, I waited for you! I was stupid enough to think you would realize that she wasn’t going to give you what you wanted and maybe, just maybe… I could.”

He sighed again, not daring to look at you right now so he could think, and the pain within him was welling up faster than ever. He ached for you, for the chances you could’ve had in life, but instead you chose him, the fucking Wolverine. He sat in complete silence, leaving you to sit there, lost in your own thoughts.

“I’m sorry, forget I said any of this, Logan, I shouldn’t have come here… I’m.. Forget it.” You unclicked your seatbelt and slid from it, then opened the door, which made Logan being to panic.

He’d sit idly by for too long, this complicated thing you had for him, the complicated mess he shared with Jean… But she wasn’t here anymore, you were, and you always had been. That meant something to him despite him not wanting to admit that. “Star, wait,” he said as he followed you from the car, whipping around to the other side to grab your arm.

You spun to look at him, your eyes red and bloodshot from the crying, and it had been ages since he truly looked at you. He grumbled at the sight of you, how truly tired you looked, and having to see how you looked at him stung. You still had that admiration, very little of it now, but it was there, along with exhaustion and hopelessness. You were a bundle of emotions and he felt it was all his fault.

“Shit, I… I wish it wasn’t me you cared about, Star, you didn’t deserve any of this shit.”

“And neither did you, Logan,” you replied softly, staring at him with such vulnerability, giving him a soft smile. Your voice was so laced with pain that it almost made the man flinch.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” he growled in annoyance.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Wonder where I get that from,” I said with a small hint of playfulness. It was a vicious cycle of loving him, hating him, forgiving him. You knew it was wrong and toxic, but you never thought twice about it.

“I can guess,” he mumbled with a sliver of that old sarcastic Logan shining through. “Listen, I’m… I’m sorry for all the shit I put you through, even the shit I didn’t know about,” he said, which was amazing to hear an apology come from him. “You love a broken old man who couldn’t even be there for his people, his friends, and you’re still here, you’re either just as stupid as I am or…”

“Or hopelessly in love with you,” you said softly, staring at him with tears threatening to fall again.

Logan clenched his jaw, the gruff badass mask he wore slipping from him, revealing a hint of the same vulnerability you showed him. “You really think I deserve that after all that’s happened? How I dragged you down with me because of my fuck up? I’m not a good man.”

“I don’t care what you think you deserve, you do deserve happiness. Maybe if I wasn’t such a scared child all those years ago, you would have realized it sooner and none of this would have happened,” you explained. “You’ve been through shit not many would live through, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you deserve to have someone love you without repercussions, without worry.”

Logan couldn’t help but flinch at your impassioned words, the sincerity and conviction in your voice was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to argue, to protest, but there was a small part of him that knew you were right; that he had been through hell and back, and just maybe he did deserve something better than he thought.

Everyone saw him as an animal, the Wolverine, and he made sure to keep that reputation so no one could ever hurt him. But hurting you wasn’t what he wanted. You were here saying all of this to him, but no matter what happened, there would always be that little voice playing in the back of his mind telling him that someone like him could never have that life or that love.

You finally stepped toward him, ignoring the screaming in your mind as you pushed past that hesitancy, staring into his eyes as he continued to wear that scowl. But the closer you got, the more his features softened. “What you’ve been through Logan, it doesn’t define you, but what you’ve been through has driven you to become the man you are. We all have to live with mistakes we’ve made, and I’m tired of running from the good things, aren’t you?”

He looked down at you and clenched his jaw, staring into your eyes as he searched for anything to say to push you away, to show you he wasn’t deserving of this, but he fell short and remained silent.

Your hand reached out and didn’t hesitate this time as you placed it on his arm, leaning closer toward him as you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach, but you hadn’t expected Logan to greet you halfway. The fear in his eyes spoke volumes but so did his actions, and you couldn’t help but smile as your lips finally met.

The dreams you had of this day were nothing in comparison to the real dead, feeling his facial hair tickle your skin as you pulled him flush against you, your arms wrapped around his neck while your desperation and passion burst through. It started out gentle and sweet, but it grew hungrier while his large arms finally wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him effortlessly. When he pulled away, panting and breathless, you could see the inner turmoil he struggled with, but you’d be there to ground him. His eyes are hooded and glazed over with desire, and fear, but he can’t help but grin at the sight of you smiling up at him.

“You sure you ain’t makin’ a mistake?” He asked.

You just scoffed and pushed him against the car, surprising him with the amount of force you used. “I’ve thought of nothing but you for so long, Logan, I think we’re beyond making mistakes,” you explained as you pulled him back into a kiss. He was like putty in your hands the more you touched him through the outfit, always thinking he looked damn good in yellow and blue.

Logan couldn’t hide the growing want he felt as he could feel your hands slowly feeling everywhere, but he needed to hold back or else he wasn’t sure what would happen. “You’re drivin’ me to a point I might lose control,” he pointed out, his breath becoming heavier with each finger you skated across his arms.

“As if I don’t know the consequences,” you laughed and reached up to grab the collar of his suit, pulling him down further against your lips. “But you are wearing a bit too much right now for my taste, Logan,” you whispered, your nose gently touching his.

He was about to question you as to why you were wanting to do this now, but what kind of asshole would he be to push you away again, especially now that you both had this time to yourselves. Instead of pushing this away, he pushed you away from him and threw the back door to the Honda open, ushering you to remove your suit. Without question, you did as he asked and began to strip, watching the way he looked at you as you did so, but you made sure not to take up too much time. If you all made it out of here alive, maybe you could both take things slow for another round…

“Damn,” Logan breathed as he stared at you while you threw your suit off into the front seat, but you were greeted with Logan’s body pushing against yours as you lay pinned beneath him, halfway hanging out of the car. He saw the underwear you had on and his claws immediately came out with a sharp whoosh, but you placed your hand on his arm and shook your head.

“I need to wear these until we get the hell out of here. When we get back, you can shred all the ones I have,” you promised with a grin, and his claws immediately retracted.

“Good point, but I’ll hold you to that promise,” he warned as his large hands slid up and cupped your breasts through your bra, his grip rough and possessive as he left your body on fire wherever he touched.

Your heart was pounding as you finally had what you’d always dreamed of, and the sounds that spilled from your lips were melodious to the mutant, he wanted to hear you get louder, so he made sure to work through his unease and make sure you were crying out his name for all to hear in the Void. You bucked your hips upward as his fingers slipped under the hem of your panties, yanking them down without a second thought, and you released a strangled cry once his knuckle gently slid against your clit. You bit your lip, wanting to withhold anything, for now, not wanting Logan to know just how easy it would be to get you to crumble. Any touch he’d graced you with almost made your body tense, feeling lost in anything he’d give you. Even if he were to allow his hands to roam your body without fucking you, you’d probably come just like that.

Logan picked up on this, smelling your arousal as you lay beneath him, his grip tightening on your hips as he stared at your face, already blissed out and wanton with need. “Fuck, you’re killin’ me, here,” he growled as he lowered his mouth to your belly, kissing it to try and curb the absolute feral need that bubbled within him. The simplest kiss and you moaned out his name, your hips bucking involuntarily at his touch. “Yeah, that’s it, fuckin’ say my name,” he commanded as he shifted above you, feeling his length pushing uncomfortably against his suit. “Fuck.”

He stepped back from you, releasing your body as you groaned from the lack of his touch, but your head snapped up to watch as he began to remove his suit this time. Carefully each piece came off, still wanting to keep the reminder of who he was before everything nice and neat, piling them into the front seat with yours. Logan fished himself from his underwear, revealing what you always thought would be impressive to be much more than that. His head dripped with pre-come as he stepped closer, and all you wanted was for him to be buried inside of you.

You lick your lips as your mouth waters for him, but now isn’t the time to explore, you need him inside of you before anything else. “Logan, please,” you begged.

“Please what, sweetheart?” His voice was low, husky, dripping with animalistic lust. “You need to use your words.”

You made a face up at him, knowing he was enjoying teasing you like this, now knowing the hold he had on you as you stared up at him. “Logan, c’mon, I need you,” you whined. “Need to feel you so badly…” You pawed at his arms as he crawled on top of you, his snarky grin never once leaving his face.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered low, and it left you in a puddle after hearing that. He smelled the strong scent of desire on you, it was impossible not to, so to get you prepped, he slid two large fingers inside of you, spreading your slick against your folds as you bucked your hips again, wanting more. With each pump of his fingers, your muscles tensed, your walls clenched with need around them as his pace was unwavering to get you ready to take him.

You couldn’t control the shake that spread in your limbs or the desire that laced the sound of your moans, but you knew that you didn’t want to release yourself on his fingers, as pleasurable as it sounded. You pulled away from his mouth, leaning your forehead on his as you tried to speak. “Logan, please,” you begged again, knowing he was working you up. “I need you inside of me.”

This made a large smirk grow across his face as he slid his fingers out of you, watching as your body twitched from the loss, and he slid those soaked fingers into his mouth. Seeing him cleaning the coat of slick with his tongue was more erotic than you could have imagined, knowing all of the dirty thoughts you had about Logan over the time you’d known and wanted him could never live up to the real thing. His hands ran up your legs, skating across your calves as he yanked your body toward him with a swift pull, his eyes taking in the sight of your body beneath his, smiling when he saw your inner thighs completely dripping with need as his nostrils flared.

“I’m gonna enjoy this…” he mumbled.

“Not as much as I will,” you said seriously, no playfulness in your tone, but a solid truth.

Your legs spread for him without question as his hands assisted you, palms on your knees as he spread you far so he could slot himself between you, pushing his throbbing cock against your folds, smiling wide as you gasped and pushed yourself into him, allowing him to coat himself with your need. You no longer had to pretend your fingers were his, spreading you open as he was about to do, the real thing right above you as he guided himself inside. Logan didn’t give you a chance to adjust and instead, he sinks himself deep into your cunt with a hard thrust, knowing he’d get those pretty sounds out of you.

He was right. You cried out his name as your hands grabbed at his arms, trying to cling to something to keep you grounded. “Holy shit,” you said through gritted teeth, already shaking from the sheer force.

The pace he was was hard and steady, not going too quick to make sure you both got what you wanted from this as his force rocked the car back and forth. Your cries and moans only fed his ego, wanting to give you exactly what you’d been dreaming of, although he figured getting fucked in the back of a car wasn’t exactly your first choice, he wouldn’t deny that it was the best time they’d get in case something did go wrong. One hand was beside your head, holding himself up while the other was gripping hard at the front seat, his fingers digging into the material as he was relentlessly pounding into you.

Your head rolls to the side, wanting to press your lips anywhere against his skin as you kiss his arm over and over, clinging to him while his entire body feels as if it surrounded you. You felt safe in this moment while he split you open, the sting of him stretching you for the first time while the coiling pleasure built within your stomach so quickly. You didn’t notice the shiver your kisses sent up Logan’s spine, but he made sure you knew how you were affecting him.

“You’re so damn tight,” he praised, lowering his mouth to yours for a sloppy, hungry kiss.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth and teased him, wrapped your legs around him tighter as you arched your back, your body pressing flush against his as you moaned against his lips. The head of his cock is pushing so deep inside of you, bruising that soft spot to oblivion as your head falls back from the kiss, trying to use your words to the best of your abilities.

“Logan, I-I’m gonna come,” you whined as you tried your best to hold onto him, your mind going blank as you could only focus on the building pleasure and the tight wound feeling you felt in your belly.

“Come then, sweetheart,” he instructed as he pressed his chest against yours, allowing his body to feel closer to you while he leaned his head against your shoulder, taking in your scent. “Need you to show me what I’ve been missin’ out on,” he said with a smirk.

Your lips peppered his shoulder with kisses as he still mercilessly pounded into you, but the sudden feeling of your teeth sinking into his skin caused the man to let out an feral growl beside your ear as his pace was frantic and unrelenting. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as you bit down hard as your cunt clenched around his pulsing cock, pulling him as deep as he could manage while you milked him as you came.

Logan let out another growl, his breath heavy as he mumbled a string of curses beside your ear while his claws sprang out at the same time he’d come inside of you, piercing the back and the front seat of the Honda, one set incredibly close to your head, but you didn’t flinch whatsoever. You were so wrapped up in this, in him, and your high that he allowed you to ride that nothing else in the world mattered. He retracted his claws again as he sat back, kneeling on one leg as the other hung out of the car, and all he could do was stare down at you, his eyes raking over your figure as your chest rose and sank heavily, the little bruising he left across your skin. He matched the smile that you wore, and he almost felt slightly timid under the gaze you shot him, one so filled with adoration and love, feelings he didn’t deserve from someone like you.

He reluctantly pulled from you, getting one more sweet sound from your lips as he stuffed himself back into his underwear, then sat in the backseat and pulled your legs onto his lap. “I hope that was worth the wait,” he mumbled softly as he gently placed his hand on your thigh, feeling the pads of his fingertips glide against the softness.

“Even better, you’ve exceeded expectations,” you said softly followed by a small laugh, your arm placed over your head as you looked up at him. “I hope this means you’ll consider my offer from earlier, you know, when we get back.”

He let out a low sigh and stared at you, trying to read your expression. “You still think this ain’t a mistake?” He asked you, his voice low and deep with a hint of hope. He was afraid to push this any further in case you came to your senses and wanted something better for yourself.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you pushed yourself up, smiling wide at the man who had your heart for years, your palm resting gently against his cheek. “I meant every word I said today, Logan, and if you still need convincing, I’ll remind you every damn day that I’m not going anywhere. I love you.” You pushed yourself up, nuzzling your face against the crook of his neck, showing him that hint of softness that he deeply craved.

He sighed as he slipped an arm around you, holding your naked form against him as he relaxed beneath your touch. “Then I guess I have a lot of time to make up for,” he said with a smirk.

You nodded and shot him a similar smile. “Guess you do.”

“Let me start right now,” he purred against your hair, taking in your scent as he pushed you back against the seat, hovering his body above yours. “I’m not wantin’ to stop just yet.”

567 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 7 days

Text

The Price of Pride (12/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before in her life had she been so terrified as she was the night their army was supposed to return from the battle of Rook's Rest. Lying in bed in her chamber, she looked towards the door, hoping in despair that it would open in a moment and he would appear in it, saying that they had won.

That he had returned.

It frightened her how far this had gone, how attached she had become to him, that the thought that he might die made her eyelids fill with heavy, burning tears.

She didn't care if he married her or not, she didn't resent him for taking her maidenhood even though he wasn't her husband, she didn't expect anything from him.

She just wanted him to survive.

She stood up, knelt before the bed on the floor and folded her hands as if to pray.

"Father, surround him with your support and wisdom. Warrior, give him the strength to fight. Mother, protect him and let him return home. Stranger, do not take him away yet." She muttered and sobbed quietly, burying her face in her hands, thinking she was pathetic.

He'd abducted her and forced her to serve him, fucked her like a whore, merely ensuring she didn't betray him, she repeated to herself, trying to pull herself together, but then she panicked again at the thought of never seeing him again.

She swallowed loudly, laying her head on the bedding, trying to calm her breathing, wondering how she would feel if he and Aegon had died and her father had marched into the Red Keep at the head of his army to liberate her.

Would she throw herself into his arms with joy?

Would she feel relieved?

Her heart and mind were filled with complete emptiness when she realised that she would not.

She didn't want to be saved.

The longer she thought about it, the more it came to her that she and her cousin were identical: they were drawn to each other like moths to a flame, burning in each other's embrace, taking from each other what they both so desperately craved.

He felt as rejected as she did, overlooked by his mother, who showed more tenderness to her lover instead of to him, her son, who was dying every day in the loneliness of his heart. Moreover, he could not openly ask for his mother's attention: it would show his weakness, the fact that deep down he was not a man but a little boy.

As rider of the greatest dragon in the world and protector of the Realm, he could not afford it.

She had only fallen asleep at dawn and shuddered when someone suddenly walked into her chamber, snapping her out of her deep slumber.

"My Lady. Prince Regent summons you to the Small Council chamber." Said Lysa.

Prince Regent.

She reached for the robe lying on the chair as quickly as she could, threw it over her shoulders, tying it around her waist, and went out into the corridor.

What has he done?

She made her way through the Red Keep with a quick step, finally standing in front of the door that the guards had opened for her, and she caught sight of his face sitting at the head of the table in the place reserved for the King.

What has he done?

She glanced around at the people sitting at the table – the Dowager Queen and Criston Cole looked distressed and tired, as did the other lords, however her cousin was grinning broadly, looking at her in a way she felt uneasy from.

"Leave us alone." He ordered and everyone around him stood up, bowing to him, leaving the chamber one by one.

She swallowed quietly as the door finally closed behind her with a quiet clatter of old wood, and they were left on their own. For a moment, they just looked at each other – her cousin hummed under his breath and spread himself comfortably in his seat, as if he was enjoying the moment, satisfaction and contentment in his gaze.

"Come closer, hāedar." He said softly, making a gesture towards her with his hand, as if encouraging her not to be afraid.

She moved towards him uncertainly, feeling that her lips were slightly parted in an accelerated breath, her heart pounding like mad.

She wanted to ask him where is Aegon, but didn't, recognising that the question would upset him.

He didn't like not being the centre of her attention, like a small child demanding her full involvement.

When she stopped in front of him his hand was still outstretched towards her, so she placed her fingers on it – she sighed as he pulled her gently and she fell into his lap, sitting down clumsily, trying to find a comfortable position, leaning against his shoulder for balance.

She closed her eyes when she felt his lips place a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, the tip of his nose running over her skin as if he wanted to wordlessly tell her that he was glad to see her.

"– lēkia –" She whispered, not knowing what to say, afraid to use words, knowing that she had to be careful what she did now, feeling that something had changed.

He felt mighty and powerful.

Something had happened on the battlefield.

Had he disobeyed her?

Was Aegon dead?

Fear mingled with a sense of pleasant comfort in her heart when his familiar, broad hands stroked her back, trailing up and down, sliding up to her very buttocks, causing a delightful shiver to pass through her.

"– look at me, hāedar – look at me –" He sighed, his index finger tilting her face so that she looked straight into his own – his gaze was hot, filled with something she didn't understand, his breathing heavy, as if the very sight of her aroused him.

She dared to take his cheeks in her palms, and he closed his eyes as her thumbs gently stroked his skin, his lips slightly parted in a blissful expression.

There were so many things she wanted to ask him.

She was so afraid.

What have you done?

Why are you so proud of yourself?

Will you take me now while your brother's body is rotting somewhere?

She pressed her forehead against his, not knowing what to do, who was the man who had returned to her, thinking that he was at once close to her, beloved and foreign, terrifying.

"– iksan arlī, hāedar (I'm back, little sister) –" He whispered, stroking her hair, her shoulders, her back, her waist, her buttocks as if trying to remember what it was like to feel her body, his eyes closed, his face relaxed, as if he were in heaven.

"– ivestragon nyke skoros massitas, lēkia (tell me what happened, big brother) – kostilus (please) –" She muttered pleadingly, and his eye opened – contrary to what she had feared, his gaze was not cold or frustrated, but filled with warmth and relief.

"– my brother thoughtlessly interfered in the battle between Vhagar and Meleys – he paid for his foolishness and burned in the fire – he is alive, but incapable of performing his duties – I will remain Prince Regent until that changes –" He said quietly, as if he was telling her his secret, something meant only for her ears, stroking her cheeks and hair.

She sighed in relief and for some reason embraced him, cuddling his face between her breasts, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

My brother thoughtlessly interfered in the battle between Vhagar and Meleys.

So he didn't do it, she thought, feeling lighter, as if someone had dropped a stone from her back.

Simply the will of the gods had happened.

"– do you believe me, zaldrītsos? –" He whispered, as if he needed to hear it, his hands clenched tightly on the material of her robe at her back.

She had to believe him.

Hundreds of soldiers must have witnessed it, the sight of the dragon falling from the sky and what had happened before.

Why would he lie now, knowing that she would discover the truth anyway?

She stroked his soft white hair with her palm and placed a warm, loud kiss on the top of his head, cuddling him into her as if he were a small child.

"– I do, lēkia – I do –" She assured him and felt his manhood pulsate hard beneath her, then again and again.

She sighed when she felt his fingers untie her robe and nightgown, when with a light, impatient movement he slid their material off her shoulders, exposing shamelessly her breasts.

"– someone will see – ah –" She mumbled, involuntarily pressing him closer to her body as his lips in some subconscious, thirsty impulse found her nipple, sucking and licking it alternately – a powerful shudder ran along her spine, down to her fingertips and her swollen lips, making her cunt pulse hungrily around nothing.

She moaned helplessly as one of his hands clamped down on her ass, his hips beginning to roll back and forth, rubbing his hard, swollen erection against the place between her thighs.

"– no one dares –" He murmured softly, pulling away from her hard, puffy nipple only to move his mouth to the other, repeating the same caresses on it. "– I forbade it –"

She cried out in pleasure, clenching her fingers in his hair when she felt his hand slide from her buttock to between her thighs from behind – she began to rub against his fingers when she felt them sink into her leaking, soft folds with his sigh of satisfaction.

"– my little sister missed her brother – hm? –" He gasped, circling around her swollen bud, making a wonderful, tickling tension begin to rise in her lower abdomen, their hips meeting each other, his cock hard and swollen between her thighs.

"– did you not hear my desperate prayers? –" She mumbled, rising to her knees, lifting her robe and nightgown above her thighs as his hands slid down to his belt – he unbuckled it, looking at her with eye that was surprisingly vulnerable and warm, as if something in her words moved him.

"– what were you praying for, sweet girl? –" He whispered, untying and spreading the material of his breeches to the side, embracing her waist with his arm, with his other hand holding his swollen erection.

She liked the new position she found herself in – she knew that if he had wanted to, he could have simply come and fucked her in her bed, he, however, clearly desired something else.

Proof that she missed him, that she wanted him, that she needed him.

She placed her hands on his shoulders for balance and slowly lowered herself onto the fat head of his cock, feeling him open her wide on himself with their quiet sigh of pleasure.

She decided to tease him for a while and see how he would react to that.

"– for the Father to give you wisdom –" She gasped softly, letting him deeper into her hot core only to lift herself up again, sliding his manhood, slick with her moisture, out of her almost all the way, his mouth parted wide, his gaze fixed on her face, simultaneously terrified and delighted at how pleasurable what she was doing was. "– for the Warrior to give you strength –"

They both groaned pathetically as she let him into her all the way, closing their eyes only to open them a moment later, their hips in some subconscious, natural rhythm beginning to thrust out against each other as she pressed her forehead against his.

"– for the Mother to protect you –" She mewled as they both sped up, his stones slapping again and again against her asscheeks with loud splats of their bare skin, his cock thick and swollen, teasing her sweet spot with cruel precision, making her cunt begin to leak, the chair underneath them creaking loudly.

"– fuck –" He muttered, digging his short nails into the bare skin of her arse, forcing her to let him pound into her harder, his mouth grabbing her hard, sweet nipple and began to suck on it again, a wonderful, aggressive thrill of pleasure shook her body, her walls giving his erection a firm, sure squeeze.

"– for the Stranger not to take you away –" She cried out, moaning loudly along with him, her fingers clenched in his long hair, their bodies slamming against each other like mad, the tension deep inside her reaching its zenith, making her pant hard, their sweaty foreheads pressed together, their eyes fixed on each other.

"– hāedar – oh f-fuck –" He mumbled out, clenching his fingers on her body as tightly as if he felt he could no longer escape what was happening to him, how much he wanted it – their lips met in a messy, sticky kiss full of their tongues, her weeping cunt began to clench around his throbbing erection, bringing them closer to fulfilment.

"– ah – don't stop – gods, your brother is about to fill you –" He breathed out, and she cried out loudly, feeling that his words had done something to her – she heard him groan loudly, shocked when he felt her come hard on his cock, soaking his entire manhood in her wetness – they were both panting with relief and delight as his mouth spread wide in bliss, and his warm seed spilled deep inside her.

She snuggled her face into his neck, moaning quietly, unable to calm down as he did, their hips rocking for another moment, his arms embracing her tightly, cuddling her into his body.

"– dīnagon nyke, hāedar –" He sighed softly, combing his fingers through her hair, his lips placing a warm, tender kiss on her temple, as if he wanted to reassure both her and himself.

She froze, clenching her fingers on his black leather tunic, feeling her heart stop in her chest.

Marry me, little sister.

"– my brother is plunged into a deep sleep – there is no telling when he will awaken – we will manage to marry in the Great Sept by then – I have ensured that the message sent by the King does not reach the Iron Islands – I want it to be you –" He said in a voice trying to be calm, but she could hear it breaking, filled with the fear of rejection.

Gods, what was she to do?

If she became his wife, she would never run from him again.

She will become his property, like his chair, table or bed.

She would bear him children and he would bed his servants as soon as she was no longer young and beautiful.

"– I'm afraid –" She mumbled at last.

She heard him swallow hard, his free hand stroking her back reassuringly, as if he wanted to soothe her.

"– what are you afraid of, zaldrītsos? – tell me –" He whispered in her ear and fell silent, waiting anxiously for her words.

She pressed her lips together, feeling warm tears under her eyelids, her heart filled with stinging pain.

She embraced him and snuggled into him, deciding that this one time she would try to do what she had always dreamed of doing.

That she'll confide in someone like a friend.

"Marriage is for a woman like a cage. She can be happy only if she gives her husband children while still remaining young and beautiful. I don't know if a person born out of hatred can be fertile, but even if I am, I don't want to wait for the days when I find out that you are not faithful to me – I don't expect you to be, because since when have husbands been faithful to their wives? Isn't that why the world is filled with mistresses that everyone curses? I have never been the most important person for anyone and I know I won't be for you. I understand it, but our marriage would be a lie, even though everyone would have to believe otherwise. They would pity me, knowing that I have become a vessel for your seed." She muttered in a trembling voice, feeling tear after tear begin to run down her face, her throat clenched as if she was choking.

She heard him draw in a loud breath and sigh, his chest quivering all over – she lifted her gaze to him and froze, seeing that his jaw was shaking.

"If I wanted to have a mistress, I would marry Floris Baratheon and took you to my bed." He muttered at last, trying to remain calm, his eye large and filled with suffering fixed far ahead of him. "I wish for you to fall asleep and wake up beside me. For us to roam the skies together. For you to dine with me, read with me, speak with me. For you to always support me. For our children, if born, to be the result of our closeness. I will never dishonor you."

He said and looked at her, his hand stroking through her hair as if she were a small child.

"Marry me. I will care for you, and your place will always be by my side. I will protect you."

She felt her lips tremble, her eyebrows arching in pain as she heard those familiar words, what he had said to her then, as they lay under the stars.

If you tame a dragon, I will treat you like my little sister.

She understood what he was trying to tell her.

Had he lied then?

Had he let her down?

Had he abandoned her?

No.

"Yes." She whispered.

He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath, licking his lower lip.

"Yes, what?" He asked in a trembling voice.

"Kesan dīnagon ao, lēkia (I will marry you, big brother)." She whispered.

He pressed her body to his chest and sank his face into the crook of her neck, twitching all over with emotion.

She smiled, embracing him tenderly, thinking with amusement that she had already forgotten that his soft manhood was still deep inside her.

For some reason, the fact that they were one flesh seemed natural to her.

Her cousin announced their betrothal during supper later that evening, and although everyone at the table lowered their gazes, no one dared to contradict him.

He threw her a satisfied, piercing look as he sat at the head of the table in his brother's place, grinning broadly, and she sighed quietly and smiled, thinking that she might have been trying to lie to herself, but it was no use.

Her destiny was tied to this dark, violent, unpredictable man.

She spent that night in his chamber, for the first time feeling light-hearted with the fact that she was lying bare in his arms, in his pleasant, tender embrace, in which she felt safe – there was something wonderful about the way his fingers roamed lazily over her back, forming different shapes, while they lay in silence.

A silence full of understanding and contentment.

Her cousin wanted to use the time while his brother was unconscious, so he pushed for a quick nuptials – she didn't mind and agreed that he would organise everything as he saw fit, much to his delight.

"I haven't had time to congratulate you, my Lady. You are about to become the Prince's wife." Said Gwayne Hightower, Queen Alicent's older brother, raising his eyebrows in what she would call a mixture of amusement and mockery – he approached her with his hands folded behind his back as she practised archery in the courtyard.

She smiled under her breath as she drew her bowstring and took aim, releasing it, her arrow again hitting the centre of the target.

"Thank you, my Lord, for your kind words." She said lightly, not even bestowing a single glance on him, reaching into her quiver behind her back for an arrow, intending to take another shot.

She heard him snort under his breath, combing the sand beneath his feet with his boot.

"You could use tracks to shoot from a greater distance. You won't learn anything else here." He said softly, and she sighed, amused, pressing the bowstring to her cheek.

"On the contrary. I'm learning patience." She hummed, taking another accurate shot, looking up at him finally.

Indeed, Queen Alicent and her brother resembled each other, however, his eyes and hair were paler – she thought he looked like a confident and mischievous man, who was none too pleased that she was to join their family despite the fact that he himself owed his position to his sister.

The Court breathed hypocrisy.

"Surely your patience will come in handy with my nephew." He sneered, looking at her with a smile full of curiosity.

Did he really think she would let him provoke her, that she would tell him something about her cousin that he could then use against her?

"Prince Aemond doesn't like it when people speak about him behind his back. He generally doesn't like to be spoken about. He would not be pleased if he found out that you wished to discuss his affairs with me." She said, lowering her bow, coming closer to him, making his eyebrows raise.

He licked his lower lip, looking at her cheekily, as if he recognised that he had accepted the challenge.

"So he is oversensitive about himself. Like any Targaryen." He stated.

"He just doesn't like gossip. It's a trait of his character that I value in him." She replied.

Ser Gwayne cocked his head, taking a step towards her, standing, in her mind, too close to her – but she did not pull away, recognising that she would not be the one to pay the price.

"Are you carrying his child yet?" He asked, and she lifted her chin higher, understanding that with this innocent question he wished to humiliate her, reminding her that she was lying in bed with a man who was not her husband.

In his mind, she had simply seduced his nephew, whom he considered weak and vulnerable to manipulation.

"Possibly. I, unlike our Dowager Queen, don't make sure every time that my actions won't have consequences. I am prepared to pay them." She said calmly and smiled when she noticed that his gaze grew grimmer, his eyebrows straightened, his jaw clenched in fury.

He opened his mouth to say something, but they were interrupted by another voice.

"Hāedar."

She turned towards her cousin and smiled at him reassuringly, seeing his tense figure walking towards them, his gaze once on her, once on his uncle.

He stopped beside them and licked his lower lip, impatient.

"Skorion massitas (what happened)?" He asked coolly, staring at her expectantly.

She sighed quietly and threw him a soft, calm look.

"Aōha kēpus jaelagon naejot gīmigon lo nyke gryves aōha riña iemnȳ nyke (your uncle wants to know if I am carrying your child). Nyke udlitan zirȳla bona gaoman gīmigon daor (I answered him that I do not know)." She said and saw that he closed his eyelid and turned his head away, furious, swallowing hard the rage that surged in his body.

"Henujagon īlva, hāedar (leave us, little sister). Jikagon naejot ñuha tistālion (go to my chamber)." He said matter-of-factly.

She nodded and moved ahead without bestowing a single glance on Ser Gwayne Hightower.

She smiled under her breath, guessing that her betrothed would teach him a lesson in humility.

She sighed quietly as she went into her quarters for a moment, wanting to change and take a quick bath before heading to his bed, all hot and tired after the physical exertion. She put her bow, a gift she had received from her Prince on the occasion of their betrothal, into one of her trunks and stood up, undoing the buckles of her leather tunic one by one.

She froze when she noticed a small roll of parchment lying on the table by the window.

Was it possible?

She walked over there and reached her hand for the letter, feeling her heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down her back at the thought that her father and his third wife's spies were still in the Red Keep.

She knew it was him.

It had to be him.

She unrolled the parchment and swallowed hard, feeling her heart jump to her throat as she read what was written in it.

Congratulations on your betrothal Kepa

330 notes · View notes

rebelliousstories · 5 months

Text

Not Like The Movies

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Violence

Word Count: 1,688

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: How Cooper got landed with someone of her sunny disposition, he will never now. And it does not help that she knows his films.

“Good morning, you cutie. Oh who’s the best little girl ever?” A feminine voice brought Cooper out of his deep slumber. His eyes had to adjust to the bright light outside that flooded the building they had stayed the night in. He looked around for the source of the noise and was relieved to see it was just his partner playing with DogMeat. The man sat up from the bed that was miraculously in the building that probably used to be someone’s house and began to roll the sleep from his muscles and bones.

“Well, good morning to you, cowpoke.” She greeted, allowing the dog to roam around wherever she pleased.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. Whatcha doin’ up this early?” He asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His boots hit the floor right next to where his partner was, as she sat up on her knees to pull him in close. Physical affection was something Cooper was still not used to after all this time, but he was slowly coming around to it. All of the affection happened behind closed doors, or in this case, a closed house. He still had an image to maintain after all.

“Couldn’t sleep, so I spent some time with Bella.” She said cheerfully into his chest. Cooper just sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Don’t go naming the thing. Then you’ll get too attached and then you’ll be depressed when it dies.” He groaned out, shifting their bodies so their eyes met.

“But she can’t be named ‘DogMeat’. That’s not a proper name,” came her cry. She laid on the puppy eyes really thick.

“DogMeat is a proper name because that’s what it is.” He argued back, tilting her head up by her chin.

“Fine,” she relented, and smushed her face back into his chest. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, gotta head into town now. Stock up on some supplies, gather a new bounty hopefully.” Cooper pressed a kiss to her hair, and shuffled so that he could pull both of them up to stand.

“You gonna behave when we get into town?” He drawled, voice leaning into dangerous territory. His partner giggled and nodded her head.

“Of course, Coop. When am I not?” She inquired, biting her lower lip. That woman knew the easiest way to get Cooper riled up was to do just that motion right there. Because, in an instant, his eyes were locked on to her lips.

“What about back in Filly where you kept smilin’ at folks, leaving me to save you from someone’s fist in your face? Huh?” Howard recalled, watching her shift in his arms as she, too, recounted their last adventure into town.

“How was I supposed to know?” Her whimper made Cooper weak, but he had a job to do today.

“Just tone down the sun a little bit, alright? Maybe a nice cloudy day instead of bright ass sunshine.” He offered, bringing her face back up to his. She nodded and stood on her toes to reach his face. Cooperate, ever the gentleman, met her halfway and locked their lips together. They moved as one, letting their lips slide across the other’s. Hands roamed freely, and it was starting to look like they were not going to be making it to town soon. That is, of course, until DogMeat came back in the room with a dead iguana in her mouth. She dropped it on the floor, and pawed at the man and woman who were locked in their embrace. The Ghoul groaned as his partner detached them in favor of tending to the dog he claimed he did not want.

“Good girl. Such a good hunter.” The baby voice was back. Seeing that the dog was getting the attention now, Cooper moved to grab all of his effects from where they were strewn about the room. His duster sat upon his shoulders, while his hat found its spot on his scarred head.

“Come on. Let’s get goin’.” He stated definitely. His saddle bag was slung across his shoulder, and his hand helped navigate his partner through the abandoned house.

They began their trek into town, which thankfully was not too long of a walk. DogMeat followed on the other side of Cooper, hot on his heels. He kept his eyes peeled as they drew further and further into the town. There was a pharmacy, a trader’s hut, several food stalls, and even a mechanics repair shop. Plenty for the two of them. Turning to his partner, he passed her some caps and pointed towards a couple stalls.

“Go get you some dried meat, and get a box of ammunition. Don’t smile so much, alright?” Cooper stressed. She nodded in return and patted his arm as she left with DogMeat.

The Ghoul made his way into the trader’s hut first to find a new bounty that was around. Thankfully, the woman behind the counter had one, and it was simple enough. Someone had not paid her what she was owed, and now she had a hat out on the man. He accepted half of the caps upfront, before moving on to the pharmacy next door. Cooper’s eyes caught his partner and DogMeat traversing the stalls, already having several pouches of meat in her bag.

Which is why he was not afraid to leave her alone while he took his time getting his chems from the pharmacy. Being a ghoul certainly had its drawbacks; the stares, reputation, and fear. But it also held some positives; the stares, reputation, and fear. It certainly helped when acquiring what he needed for a reasonable price. A commotion caught his ears from outside, but he was not afraid that it was his partner.

Until he stepped outside. Cooper saw his partner being crowded against a pile of sheet metal while DogMeat kept barking up a fuss. The dog ran over immediately to the man and began to drag him by his duster over to the woman.

“Come on, sweetheart. Don’t play hard to get.” Some man crept into her space, making her cower down even further. Based on what he could see, and the description the trader gave, this must have been the bounty. She did mention that he tended to go where he pleased like he owned it all.

“Please. Let me go.” She whimpered. Her voice was full of fear and worry, and Cooper was not about to let that stand.

“Everyone’s got a price. I can pay whatever your price is.” He continued, placing his hand on the woman’s waist.

“I do believe the lady asked you to let her go.” Cooper finally made his way over. The man turned around, and smiled with blackened teeth.

“Don’t worry, Ghoul. Once I’m done with her, I’m sure you can have a turn. Certainly don’t wanna do it the other way around.” He laughed, as if what he said was the funniest thing in the world. Cooper began to chuckle lowly as he peeked his eyes out from the lip of his hat. Catching his partner’s eyes, she felt relief as she saw her savior in western gear.

“See, she might be bein’ nice and askin’ you to let her go. But I ain’t that nice. So now I’m tellin’ you to let her go. Now.” Cooper growled, feeling his patience wear thin.

“Or what, Ghoul?” The man never got to hear another response. In a flash, Howard had aimed his gun and fired on his legs. Blowing both of them off, the not-so-tough man now crumbled to the ground, screaming and crying, pleading for the ghoul to have mercy on him.

“Well, ain’t that some shit.” The Ghoul growled, tying a rope around the torso of the man, and began to drag him to the trader’s hut. He focused on the task at hand, knowing that DogMeat would take care of anyone else that had dared get close to her owner.

Walking out of the trader’s hut, Cooper’s eyes scanned the town as he tried to find her partner. He found her, hugging her lugs, stuck in the same place that she was being held. DogMeat was chowing down on the legs that were left. His pocket felt heavy with the weight of the caps, but all that mattered now was taking care of her.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Howard held a hand out for her to grab onto, and she did. Eagerly shoving her face into his chest and letting out a shaky breath as she processed the events that had just unfolded.

“I’m good. Can we go please?” Her words were muffled in his shirt, but he understood them plenty. Calling for DogMeat, Cooper led the three of them out of the town and into somewhere more secluded. Once they were there, tears fell from her eyes as the weight of what happened fully caught up to her. He set her down on something resembling a chair, and squatted down in front to check her over.

“You saved me.” She whispered, letting her partner do what he needed to do.

“Course I did. What’d you expect? Me to leave you with that man?” He countered with a ridiculous tone.

“It’s like one of your old sheriff films.” Her giggles matched his groan as he dropped his head.

“This ain’t the movies, darlin’.” Cooper looked up at her.

“It’s kinda like the movies.” She replied, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to bring him in close.

“I can always take you back to that town and leave you there.” He stated in her shoulder. She giggled again.

“That’s not very sheriff-y of you.” Every time he thought he had won, she proved him wrong.

“Alright,” he stood up and took her with him, “let’s get moving. Maybe if we’re lucky we can find another house to sleep in.”

“Ooo, do you think we could find one with a television and a few films?” She teased, already walking off away from town. Cooper groaned, but caught up to her and kept her underneath his arm as they walked away from that town.

#rebelliousstories #writing #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x oc #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #fallout imagine #fallout

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ddarker-dreams · 10 months

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play wrestling — scaramouche.

Occasionally, there are instances in one’s life where regret embeds itself too deep to safely remove.

Standing here, your back against the literal and proverbial wall, you’re reacquainted with this humbling reality. A reminder of your mortality. What a delicate substance it is, easily extinguishable like a candle to some.

Violet eyes piercing enough to sever metal regard you, unamused and faintly malicious. You can’t say you didn’t bring this upon yourself. He pins your wrists above you with one hand. His grip is tight yet falls short of being painful. As much as you want to look away, he won’t permit it, so you maintain unflinching eye contact to prevent ruffling him further.

“Well?” There’s a sardonic lilt to his voice that makes you shiver. “I’m waiting.”

You part and close your lips in the same breath. Asking him for clarification won’t do you much good, he delights in watching you piece together his dubious intentions. The satisfaction he derives from it is a bit worrisome. Nonetheless, he offers you one saving grace he’d extend to no one else — patience.

What led up to this unfortunate development? Ah, yes, you saw fit to poke a slumbering beast with a stick. Scaramouche had been too preoccupied to entertain your whims. So, you being the genius that you are, offhandedly remarked that if he didn’t want to wrestle around with you, Tartaglia would certainly be up for it.

No sooner had his junior Harbinger’s name left your lips did you find yourself pinned against a wall.

He sighs, long and drawn out, as if you’re the source of all his woes.

“You’re the one who proposed this insipid game, the least you can do is see it through.”

One of the best boons from being in Scaramouche’s orbit is how many insults he adds to your vocabulary. His lexicon is vast and impressive.

Now that you understand what he’s getting at, you push back against your restraints, gauging how effective this method would be. He doesn’t cede any ground. His lithe body belies the immense strength he can wield. He restricts your writhing without overexerting himself in the slightest. Realizing a battle of physical prowess won’t end in your favor, you employ a new tactic.

The corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile at him softly.

“Kuni,” you speak the nickname he weakly claims to abhor, “Won’t you go easy on me?”

The tips of the Harbinger’s ears turn red. He scoffs, turning his head to hide how effortlessly you fluster him. “Of course not. If I always indulged you, you’d become more insufferable than you already are.”

“That’s rude.”

“The truth often is.”

While he’s preoccupied with your exchange, you twist your body, placing your best on the element of surprise. He’d need to quickly readjust the angle at which he’s holding your wrist to stop you. For half a second, you think you have him beat, but he leans in, using his torso to block your escape. A wicked grin spreads on his face at your little underhanded tactic.

You swallow thickly.

“Awe, don’t look so defeated! The effort was there,” he snickers. “Maybe next time?”

“Don’t you have things to do? It’s not like you can hold me here all day, right?”

He stares at you blankly.

“... Right?” You repeat, chuckling weakly.

“Hm, I don’t know. I’m starting to see the appeal to this game of yours. Let’s play a while longer.”

#he really would stay in this position for hours if given the opportunity #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #my stuff #scaramouche brainrot

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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don't mind me... just thinking about the dateables slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

diavolo (you are here) // barbatos // simeon // solomon -- gn!mc, NSFW under the cut -- warning for mentions of intimacy without reciprocated feelings & the angst associated w it + minor s2 spoilers

diavolo, who is fascinated by humans. when he proposes the exchange program, he's being honest when he claims its to strengthen the bonds between all three realms. but he also has the selfish urge to have humans up close-- he just finds them so interesting. virtually powerless next to angels and demons, yet strong-willed and stubborn despite it all. solomon had been an object of his fascination for awhile, but that was a powerful sorcerer who was practically immortal. but you... like a child with a new puppy, diavolo had to resist the urge not to follow you everywhere you went, burning the observations into his brain for the future. barbatos was his saving grace, redirecting him when his question became too enthusiastic or overbearing, keeping him on task with the grace he'd been known for over the last few centuries. oops. well, at least he would have a whole year to get to know you better.

diavolo, who has high hopes for you. he sees the way you've intertwined yourself so thoroughly into the hearts of the demon brothers, how you've repaired their broken dynamic and made friends of all of them-- even lucifer! as the exchange program drew to a close, he was admittedly quite sad to see you go. he hadn't spent as much time with you as he wanted. he watches your goodbyes with the brothers with a somewhat envious eye. how unfair of his duties to keep him so occupied that he doesn't know you until you're leaving! how wicked, how cruel. he's throwing a pity party for himself behind a stoic expression. but regardless of his reservations, he sends you back to the human world with a smile and a promise that they'll all be waiting for you. and when you finally return to the devildom with solomon, popping in on a random student council meeting with an aloof grin, he can't help but thank fate for the gust of wind that dropped your information at lucifer's feet while they were searching for exchange students.

diavolo, who is royalty-- and looks the part. muscular frame, large stature, gorgeous face and body sculpted to perfection, with the wingspan and horns adorned with gold... it was clear he was a step above the rest. but being royalty had its drawbacks. the expectations that sat on his shoulders were heavy, but they were a burden he had to bear. a suitor of his was watching him from across the party with a knowing smile, eyes sharp, before finally summoning him with a single "come here" motion of their finger. and that was it. the death of his fun evening with friends for the sake of the kingdom. he spared you, the demon brothers, the angels, and the sorcerer one final look before joining the demon's side with a fake smile. he felt horrible. the demon did truly desire him, but diavolo couldn't muster up the same passion for them. not while they stowed away to his bedchambers. not while they were on their knees between his legs, lips and tongue kissing across his hardened length, deep groans rumbling in his chest. not while he returned the favor, enthusiastically lapping at their juices as he prepped them for his cock. and not while fucking them, either, their keens muffled into silk sheets as they clenched around his cock with another orgasm, his murmured praises almost lost in the heat of it all. as his arms wrap around the slumbering demon, tuckered out from a night of intimacy, he wonders if this is the life he's been resigned to. were demon politics so fickle that he'd truly have to marry not for love, but for the good of the devildom? he longed for the freedom of someone he knew... of you. his heart ached as his thoughts wandered to you. at every turn, you'd chosen the decision you wanted, even as the world closed in around you. you followed your heart through every crossroads and ended up on top at every turn. diavolo longed for the freedom you enjoyed-- and maybe that's why he was so fond of you.

diavolo, who eagerly awaits your next visit to the castle. lately he's found himself growing impatient for your visits, easily distracted by the knowledge that you'll soon be at the castle with him. it annoys barbatos to no end. this, he feels bad for... but really, can you blame him? he's giddy with excitement by the time you finally arrive, and it causes him to act familiar with you in a way he maybe shouldn't. he sits not opposite of you but next to you for tea, offering to pour your tea and add sugar cubes to your liking as he listens to you talk about the shenanigans that happened this week at the house of lamentation. your smile is contagious-- he finds himself mirroring it with warm cheeks. he doesn't know who starts it, whether it be his hand brushing against yours or your pinkie reaching for his, but soon your fingers were intertwined as colorful stories fell from your lips. you exchange words like that for awhile, neither one of you daring to ruin the moment by mentioning your hands. and your reward is even better-- eventually his large hand finds your cheek, stroking it with kind eyes for a moment before pressing a kiss to your lips. it's soft and hesitant, an unspoken desire, and he starts to pull away. but you don't let him. you lean in, lips moving against his, gripping his hand a little tighter to let him know you're on the same page. when the kiss is over and you two part, his head is surprisingly blank. all that pining really must have turned his brain to mush after all...

diavolo, who is so proud to call himself your partner. who would follow you to the end of time if you'd keep looking at him like that. greed and lust swirl in your gaze as you pant desperately, tugging a little on his hair when his movements still to watch you. his tongue laps desperately at your hole, chuckling to himself as you clench around nothing. his hands toy with the most sensitive part of yours sex, movements purposeful yet almost lazy in their pace. he's teasing you. his wings flutter a little when you tug at his hair again, and he pulls back enough to let you watch him stick two of his fingers into his mouth. from the movement of his cheeks, he's sure you notice the way his tongue swirls around them, drenching them in saliva before pulling the slick digits out. he eases one into your hole with a little bit of coaxing, the other running carefully along your sex in anticipation. they scissor in sync when they're both in you, purposefully stretching you open, lovingly prepping you for his cock. but it's never enough, is it? the same familiar stretch, that slight burn, makes your clench the sheets in your fists. his words are quiet and calm, sweet nothings against your shoulder and neck as he leaves a few kisses in his wake. he feels guilty each time you're intimate together for the pain he causes you-- he knows demons are bigger than humans, and that you're with him willingly, but the guilt lingers regardless. that is, until you give him permission to move. the first thrust makes you gasp, but after a few shallow movements your pretty eyes roll back into your head. this, he reminds himself, is why he loves fucking you. he hasn't moved beyond a shallow, careful pace, but you're already pulling at his shoulders and writhing underneath him. his golden eyes sparkle with fondness as he begins to move a little faster, hit a little deeper, watching you quickly become cockdrunk and forget the pain of the first few thrusts. he loves you so dearly that it makes his fingers tremble as he intertwines them with yours, pinning you down to his bed as he grinds into you. he is hopeless. a lost cause. walking around blindly, lovedrunk, powerful yet helpless to your whims-- lord diavolo would stop at nothing to bring the three realms to harmon, if only to justify keeping you by his side.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable // @deepseafragments // @niinian

#is this good? no clue #but it took me So Fucking Long #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #otome #obey me diavolo #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me diavolo x reader

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wildernessuntothemselves · 2 months

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Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Last Part

Word Count: 13.8k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again.

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous.

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before?

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams.

Warnings: fem!reader, sub!gyu, dom!reader, dom!gyu, sub!reader, fingering, handjobs, missionary, doggy, mentions of previous noncon, yandere behaviour, violence, bodily harm, alienation

You still have the dreams, the memories, the torment. They never went away despite you trying your goddamn hardest. Your brain seems to conjure them up harder and more vividly the more you work to push them away. You don't know if Beomgyu knows this but he's beside you every possible second of every day, keeping you busy and helping to push it all away, or at least distract you from it.

You've quit your job. Beomgyu isn't unreasonable. He will help you get another job, just as soon as you feel better. But not right now. You're not ready yet. You need rest and he makes sure you get it, devoting every second he's not at his job or getting you food and stuff you need to taking care of you.

He wanted you to move away, just pack your things and get away from this place that had brought you both such grief, but you couldn't go through with it. Not yet. You had freaked out when he suggested it, telling you it would do you good to get a fresh start and get away from Taehyun but you know he wouldn't be the only one you'd be getting away from. All your friends are here. Your family is here. And even though you're hardly seeing them right now, you know it wouldn't be right to completely uproot yourself from everything you've ever known except Beomgyu. Even though you'd promised to completely and fully devote yourself to only him, you know it can't be good for your already unstable mental state.

You tell him that you'd feel so terribly alone if you move away, especially when he goes to work. So he offers to quit his job to spend all his time with you, explaining that he has put aside some savings he could use for the time being but you still refuse. You tell him that you'd be horribly selfish to let him waste the little precious money he saved up just so he can babysit you but you don’t tell him about how much it scares you to cross that last boundary, to let him completely and utterly devour your entire life despite something at the bottom of your soul telling you to just give it to him.

Beomgyu reassures you that he doesn’t mind. He wants to spend his money to make sure you're taken care of, but you still refuse. You stand your ground and hold onto the last shred of your life that is not his–for what? You don’t know–and he reluctantly lets it go, for now at least.

Instead, he uses the time he does have with you to pamper you, feeding you breakfast in bed, getting you things to occupy your time while he's away, drawing baths for you when he gets home from work. It all feels so terribly familiar. The sense of deja vu choking you but Beomgyu is determined to mentally and physically push it all out of your mind and take its place instead.

He only reads you happy poems and stories, only sings you cheerful love songs. You feel like he’s lulling you into a deep slumber. You're still where you've always been–your friends and family are still within reach, your old life is there to reclaim if you want to–but it's like he'd succeeded in putting a wall between you and the world just like he wanted, and it scares you that you can't tell if that is a good or bad thing. Maybe you should just give into him, fall into him and dissolve into his being until no one will ever be able to pull you apart again.

You feel his fingers knead the skin of your shoulders as he sits behind you in the bathtub–once again using his free time after work to take care of you instead of giving himself a break after working hard all day. Bubbles and candles surround you, the calming scent of them permeating your brain like a drug, aided by the glass of wine in your hand, to lull you further into your slumber. You let out small hums of appreciation under Beomgyu's expert hands that seem to know you better than you know yourself. How does he know where exactly to touch to unwind a particular knot in your back or relieve a certain stress that has been nagging you for a while? All you have to do is sit there and sip your wine, letting the groggy feeling from the liquid combine with the blissful pleasure of Beomgyu's touch to submerge you deeper into a dreamy state that one day you may never wake up from.

“There is this beach I was reading about online that I'd like to visit.” You tell him lazily and he chirps happily. He always gets so excited when you initiate any outings or dates to go on and it makes that familiar tender spot in your heart ache at how selfish you’re being. He tries so hard to make you happy and fill your life up with fun and exciting things to do to distract you from the loneliness, and yet you so rarely respond in kind. “Sure. Anything you want, my love.”

You smile, hearing the relief in his voice, and you go on, a little more excitedly. “It's near that old medieval castle at the cliff top. It's very popular.”

“Oh, that place.” His hands falter and you can feel a sudden strange chill in the air. “It's just an overrated touristy spot. I know plenty of other beaches that are better.”

You pout. You didn't expect his response. He is usually happy to do whatever you want and you had actually been looking forward to going to that particular beach for a while. “But I want to go there. The beach looks really nice and I thought I could even go explore that old abandoned castle with my prince.” You giggle, trying to crane your head back to send him a flirty look but the expression you find on his face wipes all hints of playfulness off yours.

“And I don't want to. Pick literally anywhere else.” His response is strangely irritated and you frown. You should probably drop it. He is right. There are plenty of nice beaches around. You don't have to go to that particular one. But something about his sharp refusal prompts you to dig more. Stupid girl. Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?

“Why do I need to when we can just go there?” You huff, tension creeping back into your shoulders.

“I said no.” He rebuts with no explanation and your fiery temper sparks through the heavy fog that has been weighing on your brain.

“Oh, you said no? Well then if Master says no then I guess that's the end of it.” You snap, your anger begging for you to let it catch fire.

“Why are you being difficult? I thought you said you'd listen to me?”

And just like it, he snuffs it all under his finger. You immediately shut down. How long is he going to hold that over your head? You've quit your job. You haven't spoken to Taehyun since then. You hardly see your friends. You stay home waiting for him like a dutiful little housewife. What more does he want from you? You know you've made a mistake. You know you promised to make it up to him and regain his trust, but surely asking to visit a stupid beach doesn't count as a potential breach of trust, does it?

“Forget it.” You mumble, deflated. You were really looking forward to going there. The place looked super pretty online. It was one of the few places lately that have managed to get you excited at the prospect of visiting them. It held a certain vibrant draw to it when everything else seemed gray and dull in comparison. But you guess you can’t have even that.

You try to get out of the bath, no longer in the mood for intimate messages, but Beomgyu holds you back. Of course, he does.

“Wait.” You hear Beomgyu sigh and let his hands drop to the water to circle around your waist and pull your body back against him, his lips kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder gently, apologetically. “I'm sorry, baby. I just have a bad feeling about that place. Can't you trust me on that?”

A bad feeling about the place? What the fuck does that mean? It’s just a beach, what could possibly go wrong there?

Still, you hesitate. You didn’t think that anything could go wrong by being friends with Taehyun either and that Beomgyu was being overly jealous and paranoid but here you are. Maybe if you go there you'll fucking drown or something crazy like that.

You suppose you can give him that. You know if you had a bad feeling about a place, Beomgyu would not force you to go there. It probably wouldn’t be fun anyway if you make him go and he hates every second of it. You want to do something you both enjoy.

But you really wanted to visit that place. Maybe you should go when he's at work…

No. Just the idea of going out in public alone without Beomgyu makes you shudder. You can't handle being around people without Beomgyu's comforting presence to rely on. He's got you right where he wants you.

“Fine.” You say in a small voice, finally relenting.

“Thank you, princess.” He sighs in relief and the tension in the air begins to dissipate once again. “I know you’re bored. I promise to take some time off work and take you on a nice vacation somewhere. How does that sound?”

“Okay.” You mumble unenthusiastically.

“Come on. Cheer up.” He holds your jaw gently and turns you towards him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that slowly turns sensual.

“Beomgyu…” You whine into his mouth, the water shifting as you rub your thighs together. He will never not have an effect on you. You’re too weak for him.

“I know, princess.” His hand drops between your legs, loosening you up. “I got you.”

His light touches are as strong as electric currents coursing through your veins, and before long, you find yourself squirming in his hold, pushing yourself closer to his touch while paradoxically trying to get away from the intense feeling at the same time.

But he doesn’t let you. He throws his other arm over you, caging you into place as he takes a hold of your breasts, kneading them until your nipples have pebbled in need.

“Baby…” You keen, pushing your breasts further into his hand, and crying out as he pulls one of your perked nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

“Relax for me, baby.” He hums, holding you in place as he works his fingers inside you. It stings a bit as the water dilutes your arousal but he throws your legs on either edge of the tub to give him more space for his fingers to easily breach your hole, the heel of his palm working in tandem to bring you to the edge so scarily fast that you barely even register the sharp bite of his teeth on your neck as he zealously marks you. “Let me take care of you.”

It’s a spell–a bid to get you to let go, and it’s so hard to not give in when he makes it feel so damn good.

You're so exposed like this. Even though there is no one here to see you but Beomgyu, it feels like the whole universe is watching him spread you open to his satisfaction and no amount of faux demurity would fool the universe into believing you're not a willing participant in all of this. It's hard to care about your debauched display when your orgasm was heating you up from the inside so much you feel like you might spontaneously combust. Why is it always so intense with him? How does he do it so well?

You may never know but what you do know is that your orgasm was rolling towards you like the water rolling over the edge of the tub, sharp and sudden, and when it reaches you it threatens to take you under. But Beomgyu holds your head above the water as his relentless fingers continue to fuck you until you yield to his will. You break apart under his touch, forgetting about everything except him in those few moments, forgetting about the beach, the castle, Taehyun and everything you've lost–the only thing registering in your mind is Beomgyu's touch, Beomgyu's smell, Beomgyu's warmth.

“Beomgyu, Beomgyu, Beomgyu!” You cry as your whole body convulses in his arms, yet it doesn't slip from his hold for even a second, and when you finally come down from your quaking orgasm, you're still in his hold but half of the bath water had spilled over the edge, exposing your skin to the chilly room air–a stark contrast to the searing heat of Beomgyu’s hard cock pressing against you lower back as he tries to subtly jerk himself off against you, and it's your turn to hold him in the palm of your hand.

His quiet desperation brings even more memories to mind, memories of prince Beomgyu needily humping you in frantic attempt to get off, secret exclamations of desire and forbidden love whispered hotly on the skin of your neck or ears or breasts as he mounts you like a dog in heat in a way that he makes sure to tell you is not befitting the image of a prince like him.

But when you turn around, it's your Beomgyu you see there, a regular college student on the surface, though nothing about him is regular. Is he really even your Beomgyu? The image of him in front of you shimmering and wavering between the Beomgyu you know and prince Beomgyu, and you're not sure which one is real anymore.

“You’re perfect.” He tries to reach out to you but you put his hands on either edge of the bathtub. “Keep those there.”

“Baby–” He starts to whine but shuts up when you grab his submerged cock and start jerking him off roughly. More water splashes out of the tub but neither of you care. He'll clean it up after anyway and you don’t even feel guilty about it.

“Please, please.” He cries pathetically as if you're the one in control.

“Please what?” You ask curiously as if you're expecting him to suddenly reveal something that would make sense of the tangled mess you've made of him in your mind.

“Anything.”

You snort. “God, if someone is to see you like this they'd think I never touch you. You've been cumming every day, in my hand, my mouth, my ass, my cunt, on my face, my tits, my back…”

“It's not enough.” He shakes his head, looking delirious. “Never enough.”

“Well if it's not enough then what's the point of me doing this?” You taunt, going to pull your hand away from him but his own hands quickly fly out to grab yours and put it back on his cock as his whole body springs forward to get close to you as if he could glue his body to yours so you can't escape. “No! Please!”

“Get your hands off me.” You growl and he quickly puts his hands back on the tub's edge, trying to appease you so you wouldn’t deny him, but it’s not enough. He has to feel as helpless as he makes you feel and so you push him away roughly, his head almost hitting the ceramic as his back meets the wall of the tub.

“You can't keep your hands to yourself, huh?” You purr, raising your free hand to his chest to play with his nipples, making his back arch and his fingers turn as white as the ceramic they're gripping onto while your other hand twists over his cock.

“Sorry.”

God, you hate hearing that false word fall out of his mouth. You're pretty sure Beomgyu has never been sorry for anything in his life.

“Are you?” You challenge, squeezing your hand around the head of his cock tightly. “Are you really sorry?”

“Princess?” He cocks his head to the side innocently, as if he has no idea what you’re talking about. God, how he drives you crazy. “Please, I’ve been good.”

Has he? You can’t tell anymore. He's poisoned your mind so much you can't think straight.

You sigh, jerking him off fast, hard, knowing that the only thing that can soothe your troubled mind right now is watching your tormenter–your everything–fall apart in your grip just like he had done to you over and over again. And he doesn't disappoint.

“Fuck! Oh, gods, I'm so close.”

“Gods?” You laugh. That’s new. “I'm your only god, baby.”

“Yeah… only you.” He easily agrees with whatever you say, no thoughts behind his big adoring eyes, his body lying limp in the bathtub, only his hips moving to meet your fist everytime it goes down to smack against his pelvis. “Wanna cum for you. Worked so hard for it.”

“You did, didn't you?” You coo, one of your thumbs brushing against his hard nipples while the other teases the slit of his leaking cock. “Worked so hard to take care of me. Just need a little bit of attention in return, don't you?”

He nods eagerly, his lewd unabashed moans echoing all around the small bathroom as his high builds and builds, not daring to snap without your divine order. “Please, please…”

“Poor baby.” You tsk, looking at the man laid out before you and knowing in your heart of hearts that he was far from innocent.

Rotten. That's the word that comes to mind when you look at him and you can't put your finger on why. But then why does he still look so beautiful to you?

“Cum for me, love.”

“Yes! Thank you!” He cries out, his cum shooting out of his cock and immediately dispersing in the soapy water, tainting it like he's tainted you but you can’t get yourself to get away from it, the same way you can't get yourself to get away from him. You're rotten too now.

“I love you so much.” He slurs as his body sinks into the water.

“I know.” You do. It's the only thing you can be sure of anymore in the confusing mess that has become your life. That and “I love you too.”

___________________________

“Taehyun, what are you doing here? How did you get this address?” Your slow dreamy life comes into sudden disturbing focus when you see the one person you've been hiding from standing right outside your door. But your barrage of questions can't stop him from pushing past you into the apartment and back into your life.

“I got your address from Yujin.” He explains once he's in and you look around in worry. He shouldn't be here. You'd barely managed to convince Beomgyu not to hurt him when he found out you had kissed him. What is he going to do if he finds him alone with you in the apartment while he's at work? You can't even let yourself think about it. It's too terrifying. You need to get him out. Why the fuck would Yunjun give him your address? Is she doing this to get back at Beomgyu? To get back at you?

“Please leave. Beomgyu is going to lose his shit if he sees you.” You tell him as if that's not the understatement of the century. But Taehyun doesn’t appear to be phased.

“I know. He is very dangerous. That's why I'm here.” He tells you, calmly acknowledging your statement that would have anyone else possibly running for the hills. “I have to tell you something. I think you were right. I think the dreams are memories.”

You freeze in your spot, all thoughts of getting him out of here suddenly put on the backburner. What the hell is he saying? Has he gone crazy too?

You have secretly, shamefully, been harboring that rotten suspicion for a while now. The dreams just all felt too real to just be dreams. Nothing that vivid, that detailed, could just be the product of a slumbering mind, right? Besides, it didn't even stop at the dreams. You were having these “recollections” even while you're awake now, but you don’t dare believe them to be real memories because what would that mean for you? Best case scenario is that you've officially lost your mind and worst case scenario is that all of those dreams and images actually are real and Beomgyu really did all those awful things. You did all those awful things for him.

“What makes you say that?” You gulp, asking cautiously. This feels like one of those moments that could forever change the trajectory of your life and maybe if you keep a cool safe distance away, you'd come out of this unscathed.

“I have been having more of them too. They have been plaguing my every sleeping moment, my every waking moment. They’re driving me insane–” He looks up at you and his expression almost knocks you off your feet. You know that look all too well. You see it in the mirror every day now. It’s the look of someone feeling themselves going mad and hoping that they really are because the alternative is just too cruel to consider–all the grief, all the blood, all the loss. No, it’s simply too much to bear, and you can hear the same torment you’re running from twisting his voice as he goes on. “Memories of us together… we were married in your dreams, right?”

His face is afflicted with an agony so raw it lashes against your skin in thick, bitter strokes that leave you gasping. You never told him that. How did he know that? Okay, calm down. Breathe. This doesn't mean anything. He just had a lucky guess. Nothing more.

“Yeah.” You admit slowly, watching him cautiously as if waiting for a further attack from him, and he doesn't disappoint.

“You left me for him.” He says, an accusation in his voice that makes you falter. He is speaking to you as if he’s now fully convinced that the dreams are true, as if you really were married and you’d left him for Beomgyu.

“No!” It feels strange defending something that a possibly fictional, possibly real version of you may have done because she's not you!--or is she? You didn’t leave him but you did. You don’t have to answer for her crimes but you feel compelled to try to anyway. “I thought I was saving you.”

But that just makes him angry, his fury so deep it couldn’t possibly have just been born today. It feels ancient, the edge of it sharpening over centuries. “Don't lie. That's not why you left.”

“It is. I swear. I just wanted to save you. I wanted to save everyone.” Your words sound insane even to your own ears but they're tumbling out of your mouth before you can even fully process them, again feeling compelled to defend yourself. You don’t even understand half of what you’re fighting about–your only aid in this battle are half-formed images of a fabled previous life you don’t want to remember.

“You’re lying to yourself.” He spits out bitterly, his visage taking on a hue that makes him look much older than he actually is–that makes him look like the Taehyun from your dreams, afflicted by loss and death and forced to grow up way too quickly. And here he is again, aging years in the blink of an eye. “You knew how crazy he was. You knew he wouldn't stop and you didn’t care. You just wanted to go back to him. You never fucking cared.”

“I didn't. I swear to god–” The way his conversation was heading brings a fresh wave of nauseating deja vu crashing onto you. You shake your head, trying to dispel whatever Folie a deux you both seem to have fallen victim to. You need to pull the plug on this insanity before you completely lose your mind.

“Forget it. This is insane. Those memories aren't real. We're just working ourselves up into a frenzy. My brain has obviously sprung up all that shit out of my anxiety regarding me and Beomgyu's relationship, and after I told you about them, you started dreaming them up too.” You narrow your eyes at him as you attempt to rationalize your way through this mess, “Or you're taking advantage of my obvious mental instability to convince me to ditch my boyfriend to be with you.”

That must be it. It's the only explanation that makes sense and you try to hold onto it like a woman drowning, but Taehyun refuses to let you.

“For fuck's sake, woman, wake up!” He grabs you by the shoulder and shakes you as if he could forcefully shake off the walls of denial you’ve been trying to build around yourself. “It's me. We've been reincarnated again for some sick reason and we're forced to relive everything we've done again, just in a different setting. Maybe it's a punishment. Maybe it's a test to see if we would choose differently. Choose right.”

“And the right choice is you?” You ask and he scoffs, looking affronted by the mere idea of there being a question about it. “It clearly isn't him. After all he's done to you. He imprisoned you. He raped you… He killed you.”

He looks as if he doesn't fully realize what he'd said until he’d said it, as if the returning memory was compelling his tongue to speak before it's been fully realized in his brain, and as the memory passes through him to you, you suddenly feel a sharp, piercing pain in your abdomen. It only lasts for a second but it draws the breath right out of you. For that second it feels like your soul is being carried away on that breath and you panic at the terrifyingly all too familiar sensation of dying. No. No. No.

But just as suddenly as that breath was exhaled, it was shoved back into your chest when Taehyun covers the phantom wound with his hand. Your own hands quickly clasp around his, and your eyes widen in a gruesome realization.

“He killed our baby.” You whisper, your face suddenly wet with tears you didn't realize were there. Oh god. You're the dead ex-girlfriend, aren't you? There was never anyone else. It was always you.

“He did. He wasn’t going to let anyone have you if he couldn’t. Even your own child.” Taehyun says, allowing a painful melancholy back into his voice. “So he stole you from the world.”

You and Taehyun slowly and fearfully piece together this traumatic past life you seemed to share, some details you had already recalled before while others were triggered by Taehyun’s own mad recollections. It's not a perfect story. There are many gaps in it but the main frame is enough.

You were a Lady at Prince Beomgyu's royal palace. You loved each other but couldn't be together because he was betrothed to someone else, couldn't even tell eachother. But Beomgyu was secretly plotting to keep you bound to him, and it was working until Taehyun came into the picture and you developed an interest in each other. Beomgyu didn’t like that and he went crazy and… he hurt you. That pushed you to finally escape from him and marry Taehyun but your marriage wasn't perfect and Beomgyu took advantage of that. He threatened the lives of thousands, including Taehyun, if you didn’t go back to him. Taehyun told you not to but you did. You thought you'd be saving him and everyone else but you had just stupidly walked into Beomgyu's trap. He never intended to let Taehyun live. And when you finally realized your mistake, when you saw Taehyun's life on the line, you acted in a moment's frenzy to save him, plunging your knife right into Beomgyu's heart and ultimately succumbing to a fatal wound he dealt to you in response with a kiss and a promise that he'd find you again.

And he did. Gods help you, he did.

It's a horrific story, disgusting, cruel, and you don’t want to believe it. It can't be.

“We have to go. We have to leave before he comes back.” Taehyun pulls on your arm but you hesitate, automatically digging your heels on the ground and not letting him move you. He stares at you in shock. “You can't be serious? You're choosing him again after everything?”

You shake your head, panicking. “No, Taehyun–”

You want to tell him that you haven't chosen anything. You just don't know enough to make a decision. You still don't know if any of this is actually real or if you're both just mad. Even if your brain tells you it is, your heart tells you that it can't be true. This is ridiculous. Beomgyu loves you. He would never do this to you. And who is to say that he even knows any of this himself? What if he's just like you and Taehyun were at first, only feeling an inexplicable sense of love for you and hatred towards Taehyun that he doesn’t even understand the source of? Is that why he had been acting so irrational and scared to lose you? Because he has all these emotions he can't explain?

And what about Taehyun? Yes, you had something maybe in a past life but does any of that translate into right now? Can you abandon Beomgyu and the real love you have for each other in order to build a relationship based just on memories of a previous life that ended tragically for all of you? Did that past Taehyun even love you?

You want to explain all of that to him but you don't even get the chance to before you're interrupted by the sound of keys turning in the front door's lock.

Your eyes widen and fear grips your heart. Despite what you tell yourself about none of this being real, you suddenly fear for Taehyun's life.

“Hide. Please, hide.” You try to tell him but he's not listening to you. He has no intention of hiding and you can see that when he grabs your hand and pulls you behind him roughly.

When Beomgyu steps into the house and sees you, all doubt in your heart about the memories being false dash out of the room with the first word out of his mouth.

“Again?” He asks coldly, viciously. “I knew from the moment you met him that this would happen. Even centuries later you can’t fucking help but act like a slut when he's around, huh?”

“You knew.” You croak, throat closing up to try to prevent that breath from escaping once again, fear shaking you to your core. “You always knew.”

You were too kind. Too stupid. He wasn't acting crazy because he loves you so much and was afraid of losing you. He wasn't acting crazy because he didn't understand his own feelings. He was acting crazy because he's done this before and he’ll be damned if he lets you ruin it again.

"Of course I did. I have to find you every time.”

“Every time?” The shaking spreads to your heart, weakening it, throwing off its rhythm. Your poor, naive heart that doesn’t know what to do with itself when the one person it loved and trusted in the world has been lying to it this whole time. “This happened more than once before?”

He laughs cruelly. “This, something else, the details differ but it's always us. Me and you.” He turns to Taehyun with rage that could hardly be contained in the small room. “Not him. I haven't seen him since that first time. The gods really wanted to piss me off this time.”

“Or maybe they wanted her to finally break free from you.” Taehyun's grip tightens around you–to hold you back or to protect you, you don’t know–something that Beomgyu doesn’t fail to notice, his upper lip curling in a snarl, clearly displeased that Taehyun even dares to touch you. But before he can act out on his rage, you speak up.

“So what? We just keep getting reincarnated and reliving this misery over and over again?” You’re surprised he hears you when you can hardly hear yourself.

“You do. Not me. I was only reincarnated once, right after we died. I spent many lifetimes in your tomb, mourning you. I thought that was what I was brought back for and I would've stayed there forever but I was drawn out by the gods who wanted me to realize they’ve sent you back again and again for me to find you. It's amusing to them, to see me suffer and lose you.”

He knew from the beginning. He knew lifetimes ago and he lied to you from the start, made you feel crazy for having these dreams, tried to gaslight you into believing it was all in your head all while working to put distance between you and everyone else so he can have you all to himself. How long was he going to keep up the facade for? Is this what he did every time or does he always come up with new cruel and unusual ways to break you just like he did that very first time?

“Why?” You ask lowly and he stares at you in confusion, not understanding the question so you gather up your strength and speak louder, more clearly. You need to finally get answers. “Does it ever work?”

“Sometimes it does. For a little while anyway, before the gods decide we've had it good for too long and tear us apart again.” He scowls, blasphemously enraged at those mythically evil gods. “At first I thought they were giving us second chances but they're just laughing at us, watching us get together before ripping us apart like a child ripping the wings off a fly.”

“Then why let them? Why keep doing it?” You ask again and Beomgyu directs his anger at you.

"Would you have been able to have all those memories of us, not just of our first life but every single one after, all these fragments of our infinity together and just ignore it and move on, just pretend like you don't know the other half of your soul is out there waiting for you to complete them?"

You shake your head. No. You've fallen for it before you'd even regained your memories. You can't imagine how brutal it is on him. God, to imagine him scouring the earth looking for you only to lose you again and again in horrific ways… it made your soul ache for him despite everything.

"I have to keep trying. We were so close this time. We were fucking happy. I worked so hard to make everything perfect for us but you had to ruin it. You had to let him in.” He growls at Taehyun who was unimpressed with his entire confession.

“If my mere existence was enough to ruin your happiness then maybe it wasn't real from the start.” He challenges, not letting you go for a second. He'd learned his lesson. His hold on you hurts, turns your hand cold and blue but you dare not protest. “You've lied to her, manipulated her and blinded her until she bowed to your twisted will and even then she was still struggling against you every step of the way. If you really loved her, you would let her go. I bet she was the most happy during those lifetimes when you were under the ground in her tomb where you belong. You killed her. You deserve to mourn her for eternity. You don't deserve to get a second chance with her.”

“It doesn’t matter what I deserve. I know she wants to be with me, which is more than I could say about you.” Beomgyu’s face twists in a sadistic grin. “Despite everything, she still can’t live without me. You know, because you've tried to make her. She never loved you and it kills you to know it.”

That works. Taehyun lets go of your hand and lunges at him. Beomgyu is on the ground before the scream leaves your tense throat. He didn’t stand a chance. You’ve seen Taehyun fight before, and Beomgyu–immortal being that he is–still is not able to weather the flurry of punches Taehyun’s trained fists are raining down at him.

Taehyun pummels him to the ground right in front of your eyes and you can’t bear to see it. Yes, Beomgyu has hurt you. Yes, he has been lying to you and manipulating you all this time. Yes, he's done unthinkable things for you, to you, but you still can't just stand there and watch him get hurt. You're sick of all the pain. You want it to be different this time. Maybe that's the way to break free of this curse.

You try to tear them apart but Taehyun is like an unstoppable force that has been dying to be unleashed. You cry and pull and plead but he doesn’t stop, slowly reducing the love of your life into a bloody, gory crime scene before your very eyes and you don't know what to do to stop him.

It’s only when you see the glint of a knife as he pulls it out of his pocket that you’re able to finally do something to stop the carnage, and you throw yourself over Beomgyu in order to protect him.

“Please!” You cry out, inconsolable. “Please, stop hurting him.”

Please, don’t take him from me again. You hear her sob from deep inside your soul, getting louder and louder by the second as she struggles to finally break through the rusty door of memory and time.

“He has to die.” Taehyun growls, looking crazed. “He won't stop until he’s dead.”

No. No more death. That can’t be how it ends again.

“I can't let you hurt him.” You sob, shielding Beomgyu with your life. You don’t know if this Taehyun would kill you–You don’t know if past Taehyun would’ve killed you–but you can’t let him do this.

“I knew you would choose me, princess.” You hear Beomgyu’s muffled voice from beneath you and look down to see a demented, bloody grin on his face before you and Taehyun are thrown off him.

He does it so easily, leaving you to gape at him in shock. If he could’ve done this from the start then why did he let Taehyun beat him up?

You watch in horror as the tables quickly turn and in the blink of an eye it’s Taehyun that is on the floor and Beomgyu is on top of him with his hands around his throat, choking the life out of him. No matter how hard Taehyun tries to push him off, he does not budge.

You try too. Beomgyu was never heavy, even you are usually able to throw him around if you really wanted to, but now he is like a rock that can’t be moved. You rip at his clothes and nothing. You claw at his skin and nothing. Nothing happens except the slow snuffing of Taehyun’s breath under him.

“No. Why are you doing this?” You wail, tears burning on your cheeks. “Just stop. Please. I can’t lose either of you again.”

But you should’ve known better. You should’ve known that would only make Beomgyu angrier. "This is why he has to die. We were happy before he came along and we’ll be happy again once he’s gone.”

You can see Taehyun’s face turn blue as he struggles and fails to push Beomgyu off him, the only sound coming from him are his thrashing limbs, no air able to escape from under Beomgyu’s death grip.

The view is enough to suffocate even you and you quickly say everything you could think of that might persuade Beomgyu to spare Taehyun, even if spelt your own doom. “Don't hurt him. I'll go with you. I swear I will go with you and I won't try to fight you ever again. Just let him go. Let him go and I’ll be all yours.”

“Your promises mean nothing to me when you’ve broken them so easily before. It doesn’t matter. You’re mine anyway.” He answers, unimpressed and you shake your head. “I will fight you every day if you hurt him. I will never forgive you. You may have me physically but my heart won’t be yours anymore. You’ve fucked up so much Beomgyu. You owe me this.”

He grunts, his hands tightening around Taehyun’s throat for a second–the poor man’s face almost turning purple now–before he loosens his grip enough to allow a thin, raspy breath of air into Taehyun’s lungs.

“What does it matter anyway? He'll be reborn again. Away from us.” He spits out angrily, his fingers twitching–dying to resume their vice grip on Taehyun’s throat but thankfully holding back.

"It matters to me. If you want me to let you have me, you’ll spare him.”

To your surprise, it is not Beomgyu but Taehyun who speaks up, his voice so uncharacteristically weak coming out of his almost crushed windpipe. “Let him kill me. Maybe then I'll be rid of you.”

The coldness in his voice freezes the air in your lungs, forming jagged icicles that tear you apart from the inside.

“You've made a fool of me too many times before. I will not live out another life as a fool. Free me of you.”

You hold back your tears. “Taehyun…”

“You'll never escape from him because you deserve him.”

Beomgyu looks torn between his fury at Taehyun’s vicious attack on you, and his relief that he’s ruining whatever goodwill you’d built up behind his back, but he seems to settle on the latter, a slow unkind smile warping his lips.

“See what he is? He was never the better option. He would never love you like I do, unconditionally and forever. Let me kill him. It will do us all good.” His voice turns fearsome on that last appeal and you struggle to remain unshaken in the face of it. Yes, you deserve this. If all the little and big pieces of your past life that have come back to you are real then you deserve to live in a world bound to the monster you nurtured and hated by the one man who tried to break you free from him.

“Let him live.” You insist, fighting both men for Taehyun’s life now. “Let him live or I’ll make sure that all that you’ve worked for this time will have been for naught. You may as well kill me after him because you’ll never be able to have me in this lifetime again.”

Beomgyu bares his teeth at you like a feral dog, unhappy about your demands of mercy for the sake of the man who in his eyes was the reason he lost you–and by the sounds of it is intent on doing it again.

“If you keep me alive I will hunt you both down until I kill you.” He warns and Beomgyu looks at you in a silent plea, like a child begging to pour salt on a slug, but you shake your head at him.

Do you not care about his threat? Of course you do. Do you not believe him? Of course you do. But just like before, you've got no one to blame but yourself and Beomgyu–Beomgyu because he forces the strings of fate to weave to his will and bring you together no matter how ugly and knotted it ends up making your lives, and you for always stringing along innocent people into it, tying them up into a mess that isn’t their own.

“Come on, Beomgyu.” You put your hand out to him. “Let’s go.”

You see the vitriol in his eyes soften at the extended hand. You know he wants to take it. He wants nothing more than to take your hand and disappear forever with you–Taehyun is an afterthought to him, this entire life just a distraction in the grand scheme of things–and so he does. He reaches out to take your hand, but not before he grabs Taehyun’s head, smacking it against the hard ground and knocking him out.

You gasp at the violent action, withdrawing your hand in shock but Beomgyu doesn’t let you, reaching out to clasp it tightly in his own hand, reminding you that once you give him something, you can never have it back. “Beomgyu!”

He rolls his eyes, standing up and pulling you flush against his body. “He’ll live. Might take some time to recover, or better yet he’ll be dumber for it, but he’ll live just like you wanted. Now forget about him and just focus on me.” He grabs your chin and turns your gaze away from the unconscious Taehyun and towards his own face. “You have to hold up your end of the bargain now princess or you'll pay with his life.”

Of course. Even this small act of kindness couldn't be selfless. He only did it in order to ensure your good behavior. As long as you live, you’ll have to appease Beomgyu's demented whims or Taehyun’s life will be on the line. A deal with the devil.

Your lips tremble and you ask yourself. Is this really what you deserve after all? Were the sins of your past life so offensive to the gods that the only way to pay for them is through eternal damnation with your monster? Was there no hope of salvation for you? And would you have taken it if there was?

“Where are you taking me?” You ask in a shaky voice as he pulls you after him and away from the flat, leaving every part of this temporary life behind.

"Somewhere no one will ever find us.”

__________________________________

The journey to this place in the middle of nowhere lasts longer than you could’ve imagined, longer than you could stay awake, that it feels like he was really taking you somewhere at the edge of the universe where no one can reach you ever again. You doze off as the adrenaline that had kept you going until now leaves your body, and Beomgyu is more than happy to let you rest in the backseat of his car as he takes you through dark remote areas you wouldn’t have been able to keep track of even if you were awake.

When you finally reach your destination and groggily step out of the car with his help, you almost think you’re still dreaming, because in front of you is a massive mansion you’ve never seen or heard off before. All the way around was nothing but empty woods, the imposing and impressive structure seemingly completely cut off from the rest of the world.

You look at Beomgyu in shock, the sleep flying off your eyes at the unexpected sight.

Beomgyu grins–or at least attempts to through the swelling of his lips, his bloody teeth barely visible underneath. Oh, your poor beautiful boy. He looks like a mess. “Do you like it, princess?”

“H-How?” You ask cluelessly as he pulls you towards the entrance. “Being immortal has its perks. I knew I needed to make myself a small fortune to show off whenever you were ready to come back to me.”

You’re in for a bigger shock when you finally step inside the mansion, because everyone and everything here–all the decorations, furniture, servants and household staff gathered around to greet you–are all styled in a way you only recognize from your dreams. The entire mansion looks as if Beomgyu had plucked it straight out of your first life.

And yes, there are people there. You had been fully expecting this grand building to be running on magic or something ridiculous like that. After all, if immortality and vengeful gods are real, what makes the thought that stupid? But no, there are people here and you honestly can’t tell if they belong to this era or if Beomgyu somehow stole them from your previous life.

“Welcome home, my lady.” A woman who you presume to be the head of the household staff bows towards you. You just stare at her, mouth agape. She didn’t look like she was wearing a costume or putting on an act. She looked exactly how you remember the staff at the old palace looked like.

And what did she say? Home? Is this really home? It looked like it–definitely smaller than Beomgyu’s old palace despite how big and opulent it is by modern standards– but you’re scared by how your guards are already going down by the familiar sight.

Beomgyu nudges you as the woman straightens back up and stares at you in expectation.

“Uh, yes, thank you.” You chew on your lip and Beomgyu chuckles lightly. “You’ll have to forgive my princess. This is all a bit of a shock for her. I am sure once she goes back to her old self, she’ll be much more mannerly.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Silly me.” The woman laughed graciously in turn, “The poor dear must be exhausted from all that travel. I know we have all been waiting for her to finally arrive but I suppose our welcome party will have to wait for the morning when she’s properly rested.”

They have been waiting? They knew you were coming. Beomgyu was always going to win, wasn't he? It was just a matter of time. He always does.

“That’s right. She can hardly stay upright from the fatigue.” He pulls you towards him, and you realize belatedly that he’s holding you up by the waist. “Pray tell me that our bath is ready.”

“Of course, my prince. And a fresh change of clothes too.” She chirps happily, proud of her immaculate service. “It’s all waiting for you upstairs.”

“Wonderful.” Beomgyu turns towards you and smiles, “Let's head to our chambers, love, shall we?”

Your spacious bedroom has an almost equally large ensuite attached to it where some servants were still fussing about, putting extra oils and salts into your bath to make it gentler and more calming, before Beomgyu dismisses them and goes about his familiar habit of bathing both you and himself. You barely register any of it, too preoccupied by the overstated luxury of the place around you to pay much attention to him undressing you and pulling you into the large tub–the water a perfect temperature, the smell heavenly, his touch both gentle and purposeful as he attempts to cleanse you of your previous life.

You feel both out of place and right at home, the two very different sides of you pushing and pulling as you look around the room. The way this bathroom is decorated and even the products he’s using look and feel more expensive than your entire life had been so far, and Beomgyu appears well aware of that fact and quite pleased with it too–happy that he could finally show off what he’s been dying to for so long. You always had a feeling he wanted to shower you in the finer things and you never understood or accepted it because you thought he was just another broke college student making stupid rash decisions in order to impress his love, but now you get it.

He makes sure to explain to you the source of everything he’s using and the rare ingredients that go into it, trying to appeal to that old part of you that had apparently yearned for spoils and riches. Of course these weren’t just simple shower products that normal plebs use. These were made specifically for you, just waiting for your arrival. He points out every aspect of the bathroom and the room attached to it that seems to be catching your eye at the moment and tells you how he chose them and where he got them from–how he chose the golden and brown accents because they’re reminiscent of the sunflowers you so adore–how he had the ceiling decorated in shining stars to resemble the stars you would see when you laid in each other’s arms in the palace gardens. It was all so meticulously planned and decorated just for you.

Is it really for you though? It may have been for a past you but are you still her? Can this extravagance be for you when you never even realized that anyone would ever care to spend so much money on a place that everyone else uses only to get rid of their waste or wash off the dirt and grime off their bodies?

But as Beomgyu continues to flaunt it all to you, you realize that even a room as ordinary as a bathroom is another space where the rich and powerful can show off their wealth. It’s a room where they go to shed the filth of the outside world away and relish in their highly curated luxury and beauty just as Beomgyu is doing right now–diligently scrubbing that real world off you and washing it down the drain until this fantasy mansion looks like it could be where you belong.

If just the bathroom was hard for you to wrap your head around, you can’t even begin to describe how lavish the connected bedroom is, but one thing that catches your eye amidst the exuberance of it all is the portrait in the middle of the wall facing you. It’s a portrait of you and Beomgyu, or rather prince Beomgyu and the person you were back then. He is standing behind you in all his royal garb and you’re in front of him dressed in the finest silks and jewelry money can buy, shining like his most prized possession as one of his hands rests on your shoulder and another is seen wrapped around your waist possessively.

“Do you like it, princess?” He asks after he dries you off with the softest towel you’ve ever felt on your skin, his hands almost mirroring the portrait as his slightly bloody lips follow the curve of your neck, not caring if he leaves small crimson streaks on your skin. “Does the place suit your taste?”

“It’s…” You utter slowly, eyes jumping around the room as Beomgyu stares at you with hopeful anticipation, waiting for the realization of all his effort, but as you say your next words, his expression falls. “It’s a lot.”

“A lot?” He scoffs, offended. “The you I know would never say such a word.”

You gulp. “Well maybe that person isn’t here anymore.”

Why would you say that? Why would you purposefully upset him when he’s shown you time and time again what he’s capable of? It’s a lie of course. She has always been there deep inside, slumbering but not dead, just waiting for him to come back and awaken her.

“Not there anymore?” He growls, pushing you onto the impossibly soft bed and climbing over you, not as gentle as he had been so far. “Bullshit. You just need a little reminding.”

He kisses you roughly, angrily, with the weight of centuries of longing that had turned sharp and tender. You can’t help but respond back. Despite your words, she claws her way out of the abyss at his beckoning.

“Why do you always have to make me work for it?” He growls, nipping at your neck while his fingers find their way between your legs, the easy practiced way he can get you dripping no longer such a mystery to you. He has honed it over lifetimes. “Why do you love torturing me?”

You? Torturing him? He has controlled you in this life and the first one and probably all others in between. He has manipulated and hurt you in countless ways and yet you’re the one hurting him?

“Because you deserve it.” You breathe out mournfully, “We deserve it.”

His swollen lips curl in distaste. “I don’t care. As long as I got you, I don't give a shit about anything else. Let me be damned for all of eternity as long as you're mine.” He kisses you again, the metallic bitter taste of blood combined with his natural sweetness so fitting for him, your corrupted angel. “Always mine.”

He pushes his fingers inside you and your pussy takes him easily, knowing who it belongs to before even you did.

The way he has you on your back with your legs open and your feet in the air is a scene you’re sure has recurred over and over again across your centuries with him, repeatedly laying his claim to your pliant body until you can no longer rebuke him, your body knowing what to expect now even if your mind still struggles to catch up.

You feel Beomgyu pull on your hand to wrap it around his cock, the silent order from him not needing to be said out loud for your body to start acting, your grip on him turning firm as your hand moves in that practiced way over his cock that has his jaw hanging open and his back arching into your touch, his eyes hungrily feasting on the sight of you splayed open and ready for the taking. But he waits, letting both your desires build up to an unbearable heat.

“Fuck, Beomgyu… just do it already.” You hiss, sick of the wait. He knows you're his. You've always been and always will be so he should just get it over with. But of course Beomgyu can't let it be that simple. He has to force you to say it. He has to rub your face in it so you won't dare disobey or deny him again.

“Is my princess in there?” He cocks his head to the side, his thumb flicking your swollen clit, making you bite down on your lip. You can’t bear the way he looks at you. It makes your skin burn.

“Yes.” A few hot tears fall down the sides of your face. Why bother fighting it anymore? He has won.

“Does she want me?” He continues, pulling his fingers out and making you whimper at the emptiness as he takes your hand off him so he can replace his fingers at your entrance with the head of his cock, hot and thick, taunting you with what he could give you if you bend to his will. “Do you want me?”

He leans down to press his forehead against yours, locking eyes with you and looking right into your core, forcing you to face him as you give in.

You let out a pathetic cry. “Yes. I want you. I will always want you.”

“Good girl.” He pushes inside you, letting out a heavy sigh of relief, like coming home after being lost for so long. “I missed you so much. I always knew you'd come back to me.”

He did. This entire mansion is a testament to it. And so you lie there on your back and take it, getting fucked open by Beomgyu, his beat up face not taking away from his beauty. If anything, his bruised and bloody visage contrasts with the backdrop of the elaborate and extravagant ceiling above him and serves to drive home the lengths he’s willing to go–the ugliness and horror he’s willing to let come pass so he can have you, so he can steal you away and keep you as a good, pliant fucktoy for the prince who had always been greedy for more than his fair share.

“Maybe I should thank the fool for getting you back to me.” He murmurs, making your eyes jump from the glittering chandelier above him to his sparkling eyes that cannot be dimmed even by the blackness around them, that have only been put off once by death itself before he revolted against it and came back for you. “Getting you to remember us.”

You frown. You know what he means. You were together before Taehyun came into the picture but not fully, not the way he wanted you to be. But now he's slowly getting back the you he's always been chasing, the you he may have only reunited with a few times over centuries. You understand that. Still that doesn't mean he can disparage Taehyun, and it doesn’t mean that you want to be reminded of him.

“Don't speak of him.” You don't want to hear it. You're here, aren't you? He won and you’re here. He should just let you forget what that has meant for you.

He smiles, more than happy to not speak another word of Taehyun ever again, and rewards you by bending down to kiss you as he fucks his cock ruthlessly in and out of you, fully devoted to helping you forget.

“Fuck, I really missed you.” He groans against your lips before pulling back so he can feast his eyes on you. “Now that I have you back I don't think I can give you a break until I show you just how much I missed you. Gotta make up for all our lost time.” He drills his cock faster and harder into you, the wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh ringing around the room so loudly you're worried that all other occupants of the house can also hear it. “Not gonna rest until all your holes are filled to the brim with my cum and you remember just how much I love you.”

“Gyu…” You whine at his loud promises, fearing the rest of the household is hearing his filth. “Keep it down.”

He laughs, fucking you harder. “Why should I? Everyone here knows who you belong to. They know their master will be fucking his princess every night. Every day. They may as well get used to it now because I don’t intend on hiding any of it.”

“What?” Your cheeks flush bright, surely he is not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“This isn't our old palace, princess. I don't have to hide what is mine anymore and I expect you not to either. And if that means they can hear or even see me claiming what is mine then so be it. It’s what I always wished I could do anyway.”

Yes, you know that very well–images of Prince Beomgyu’s attempts at inappropriate touches in public flitting through your brain. You shake your head, whining. “Not hiding, just common decency…”

“Fuck that. Gonna show the whole universe who this pussy belongs to.” He growls, and you feel one of his hands move between your bodies to reach your pussy, his fingers easily rubbing your soaked lips and making your thighs tense up.

“Beomgyu!” You cry at the sudden spike in pleasure, your pussy clenching around him when you get no escape from it, his hips incessantly thrusting against yours and barreling you towards what you know will be a blinding orgasm. “It’s too much.”

He shakes his head, fingers going faster. “Not enough. Never enough. Now cum for me, princess. Make a mess on my cock.”

As if you could have stopped it even if you wanted to. Your orgasm causes your whole body to seize up–your thighs crash around his thin waist, your pussy spasming on his twitching cock, your nails digging down into the flesh of his back as you throw your head back and cry out loudly, the irony of you asking for decency not lost on your grinning lover.

“That’s it. Good girl. Now take it. Take all of me.” He grunts, spending himself inside you, the first of the many times he promised you he would. The first of your lifetime together. “I love you. I love you so much.”

In the heat of it all, it takes you a second to respond, a second too long for Beomgyu’s liking, and he grabs your face and makes you lock eyes with him. “I love you.” He repeats, continuing to fuck his cum into you as he waits for your response.

“I-I love you too.” You gasp out, your nails digging even deeper into his skin, begging him to give you a break, the overstimulation ruthlessly gripping your own flesh. “I love you. Please.”

He finally slows down. It takes him a minute to completely stop, and you can see that he didn’t really want to but he does iit for you. “Did you miss me?” He asks, doubt and insecurity plaguing his swollen features, silently asking you to put his troubled soul at ease. He may be a cruel and calculating being sent back to punish you for your sins, but underneath it all he’s still your lovesick boy, your prince whose soul yearns for yours, and it would be the cruelest thing of all to deny him that one thing that keeps him from perishing.

You nod, reaching out weakly to play with his hair, your muscles cut down by fatigue then completely turned to mush by pleasure. “Yes, I did. I missed you even when I didn’t know who I was missing.”

He smiles gently at that, letting out a small breath of relief that conveys all his vulnerability before bending down to give you a sweet peck on the lips. “I’m right here. I promise to keep reminding you..”

You don’t know if he’s promising this to himself or to you, but it leads your mind to troubling questions.

“Are they going to let us stay together?” You frown, suddenly apprehensive at the thought of those cruel gods he’d spoken of. Now that you have him–now that you know exactly what you’ve been missing, it petrifies you to have him ripped away from you again so soon. If you must be damned to be with him, then let you be with him, damn it!

“For this lifetime, maybe.” He answers hoarsely, uncertainly. “Every time you choose me, we're doomed further. They're just letting us rack up the debt.”

“Choose? Do I ever have a choice?” Your question is innocent, your mind too scrambled to come up with an intentional attack, yet Beomgyu still perceives it as such.

“Of course you do. You always do. If you reject me enough times, you condemn me to a hell like no other, to being cut away from you forever.” He answers defensively, needing you to know that you’re not blameless in any of this, and you know you’re not because your heart spasms painfully at the thought of being forever severed from him the same way an artery spasms around itself to keep from bleeding out. “If I force you then it's the same. You have to choose me yourself. That's the only way we can be together.”

A sick feeling of realization hits you. You suddenly get it–why he let himself get beat up by Taehyun. He had to wait for you to choose him. If he had just killed Taehyun and took you away, it would’ve tallied up against him. He had to let you doom yourself. Even if all you’ve done to earn damnation is to hesitate when Taehyun asked you to run away. Even if you did it to save Taehyun, it didn’t matter. You choosing him will always be your sin.

He's right. These gods really are wicked and unjust.

“Do I choose you every time?” You ask in a small, shaky voice and he frowns, your question prompting what must be disturbing memories to spring to his mind. “Not always but most of the time.”

“What happens when I don't? Do you let me?” You hold your breath, anticipating his response. Does he let you be? Does he force you? Does he hurt you? Is every time you choose him similar to this time and your first life? Could you be pardoned by pleading that you’ve been forced into it or is the sheer amount of times you chose him enough to prove your wickedness beyond a shadow of doubt?

“Why are you asking about that now? You chose me in this lifetime. The rest doesn’t matter.” He brushes you off, goosebumps prickling your skin at his diversion. In his nonanswer lies the truth. No, he doesn’t let you. He doesn’t accept defeat. He never did and never will.

“Doesn’t that bother you, what they’re doing to us? Forcing us into this cycle over and over again?” You push tentatively. “Don't you want to be free?”

If you stop choosing each other, will you break this infernal cycle?

“From you? Never.” He tells you with all the certainty and conviction a man can hold, forehead pressed against yours, your breaths intermingling as if your souls are greeting each other. “Darling, if they give me the choice between heaven and you, I would choose you every time. My existence is meaningless without you, salvation is nothing to me if I can't be with you. I would go through this hell again and again just to spend these precious few moments with you. Let me suffer alone for lifetimes if it means I get even one day like this to feel your love once more.”

Your heart swells, different emotions warring inside of it–eternal love for him, happiness that he is so devoted to you that even death can’t keep you apart, anger that he won’t grant you salvation, hate for everything he’s put you through, horror that you will never escape, soul deep fatigue at the weight of it all–but you can’t even begin to untangle them from each other because he doesn’t let you. This is your reunion and he won’t let it be ruined by your doubts.

Instead, he flips you over, pushing you onto your tummy and pulling your ass up, the sound of him jerking his drenched cock to hardness the only thing you can hear over the ringing in your ears before you feel it breaching your pussy to fill you up again. He lays himself over you, his hips immediately go to work fucking you, making use of every moment he has stolen with you.

“Gyu…” You whine, mind too fried to care much about the way you’re drooling over the expensive sheets. “Too fast.”

“I’m sorry, princess. Just wanna make up for all the lost time. I promise I’ll be gentler later, will take care of you so well.” He babbles, the strain of the pleasure he’s getting from your tight walls evident in his voice. “Promise. Just be good for me tonight. Okay?”

You get it–his desperation, his insatiability. This is one of the only few times in his long, lonely existence when he gets to be with you and have you fully in this way–his princess brought back from the unfathomable and untraversable void of death and lost memories for him. And you can’t find it in you to deprive him of you right now. You’ll think about it later. You’ll worry about what this means for your soul’s eternal damnation tomorrow, but for tonight, you’ll let him have you. You’ll let your rotten souls rejoice in the company of their other half.

“Okay.” You mumble dumbly, letting him take you like a bitch as tears of overstimulation line your lashes and your fingers clutch tightly onto the sheets. You can’t even pretend that it doesn’t feel good, every thrust of his hips, every touch of his hands, every filthy word he says, every load he release inside you–it all shifts and molds you into the wretched lover he’s been searching for, the walls you’ve built up to contain her getting torn down with every position he takes you in until you lay limp with no fight left in you and it’s revealed that there is no one behind those walls. There never was. She was always you.

When he’s finally has his fill, and you’re more dirty and ruined than you ever were before the bath, he lays down next to you and takes you in his arms–his tight embrace suffocating and hot after what he just put your body through but he doesn’t care. You don’t care. You’re with each other, and that’s how your story always ends and begins. You've been here many times before and you'll be here for many more to come.

You are at the edge of sleep, almost falling over, when you hear a small sniffle and feel him shake ever so slightly under you. You look up to see his teary eyes and you lift your hand to his face to brush those very costly droplets away. “Why are you crying, baby?”

“I'm just so happy. I missed you so much.” He whimpers, his hold on your getting even tighter. “I love you.”

You know. You couldn’t have understood it so fully before but now that you know a fraction of what he went through to get here, you know that his love is not a mere mortal love. It has defied fate itself and it will live on for eons to come. As long as you're on this earth, he'll stay here to find you, and when you leave, he'll follow you wherever you go, be it heaven or hell or the unfathomable unknown. As long as you're together, his wretched and weary soul can find its peace.

“I missed you too. And I love you.”

And I'm sorry it has come to this. I'm sorry I let our once precious love grow so gruesome and hideous that this twisted ending is our only version of happiness.

_______________________________

A/N: aaaand that's the end of this portion of the story. let me know what you think of this ending. less death than usual lol.

would you rather get tyun's ending (mostly tyun focused) or continue the story from where this chapter leaves off (mostly gyu focused)? Or would you rather a new unrelated story entirely?

Here are some teasers for the two ideas

Tyun's ending:

“Where do we go from here?” You ask defeatedly and he narrows his eyes at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re clearly angry at me. You don't trust me.”

“Yeah, and?”

You frown too. How can he not see where the problem lies? “How are we going to stay together like this?”

“Are you thinking of leaving again?” Now he starts getting angry, vindictive, the wrath of the warlord in him cutting through the centuries.

“No–”

“Because I won't let you. All your bullshit excuses are gone. there is no war. You can't pretend you're going back for the greater good.” His voice is mocking on the last part, and you feel your face heat up.

“It was not an excuse!" You sputter. You can't believe he's saying this to you. "It was real!”

“You’re my wife. That's what's real and you should've stayed loyal.” He tells you unkindly, not interested in your explanations.

“So you want me to stay just out of principle even if you're just going to hate every second of being together?” It would be funny to see the way he has completely not changed even in this new life if it wasn't so painful.

“Maybe. But I certainly won't be made a fool of again and maybe it's high time you experience some consequences for your actions.”

Gyu's ending continuation:

“How could you do this? How could you be so stupid?” Beomgyu's response to you slipping out for the day seems like a wild overreaction. You know he insists on controlling every aspect of your life so you won't leave him again but going out to walk through the surrounding small village for a few hours could hardly have many consequences. Not when he apparently controls the whole village.

“You’re overreacting.” You roll your eyes at him but that just makes him freak out more.

“You don't know what you're risking. He could have found you! He could have taken you away from me!”

“What are you talking about?” You push him off you. “How would he do that when you know exactly where he is at all times?”

You scoff at him but the scared look on his face makes you falter. “You've lost him, didn't you?”

He doesn't answer you, and you watch his face grow paler. “What is he going to do? You’re immortal.”

“But I am not all powerful, and there are beings out there more wicked than me.” He tells you fearfully, reaching out to hold you once more.

Unrelated fic idea:

“Fuck, this feels amazing.” He groans and turns to you, “Can I use him every day?” He asks you cheekily and you grin as you hump against Beomgyu harder. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Look at him, he’s soaking my hand with precum.”

You hear Beomgyu garbled moans around Soobin’s cock and you question him. “What’s wrong, baby? Is Binnie using his big cock right this time?”

Beomgyu whines again and you laugh at him, but Soobin doesn’t find it so funny, not with his cock getting the full brunt of all of Beomgyu’s vocalizations. “Oh god, I’m close. Can I cum on his face?”

You grin widely. “Of course, Binnie. I’m sure Gyu wants to help out his hyung any way he can. He’s so needy he’ll let you cover his pretty in cum because he knows that will earn him a reward. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Also you can send and ask for any of the characters and I’ll answer as the character

#txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #beomgyu smut #sub!idol #dom!reader #dom!idol #sub!reader #yandere

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highladyandromeda · 6 months

Text

Shadows of the Heart

Part 1

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions.

Warnings: mentions of blood, but nothing particularly graphic

WC: 1k

[Prologue]

Three days drifted by before Mor finally stirred from her deep slumber, her body frail and still reeling from the mutated faebane she had ingested. Though she nearly fainted again once she saw Y/n across from her, surrounded by an amalgamation of healing salves and blood-soaked bandages. Rhys, looking haggard from days of ceaseless worry, was by her side in an instant, having anchored himself to the room, steadfast in his refusal to leave them.

The inner circle, their family, had rallied around, taking turns to keep Rhys company, with Azriel stepping up more than anyone. He told himself it was because of his duty as the spymaster, accustomed to the long, sleepless nights. Yet, in the quiet moments, it was Y/n who captured his thoughts, her name a whisper in the back of his mind. Rhys had introduced her simply as "a dear old friend," but the weight of those words suggested so much more.

Azriel found himself drawn to her, ostensibly under the guise of safety. He watched—the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the delicate flutter of her eyelashes, and the gradual resurgence of color painting her cheeks as Mor's condition stabilized. Rhys's tenderness around her was palpable; he hovered constantly, his hands gently tending to her wounds, smoothing salves, replacing bandages, and even brushing her hair with a care that spoke volumes. The crimson magic that danced around her injuries seemed as lost as she was, at times spiraling along Rhys's arms, at others, drifting curiously towards Azriel's lurking shadows.

Once, her magic reached out, touching the darkness before swiftly retreating, but not before his shadows whispered to him

Beautiful. They said. But tired. Tired. Wants to sleep.

Driven by a mix of concern and curiosity, Azriel had just hastened back to the room, alerted by his shadows to Mor's awakening, only to witness her launching herself out of bed in a frantic bid to reach Y/n. His quick reflexes prevented another fall, catching Mor in a steady grasp, and sitting her down.

"How—what happened?" Mor's voice trembled, her eyes wide as she took in the blood-soaked scene. "Why is there so much blood—wait, is that all her blood? Rhysand!" Her voice climbed, a note of panic threading through her confusion.

Rhysand's face, a mask of exhaustion and worry, softened as he turned to Mor, his voice low and soothing, "It's okay, Mor. You're safe now, both of you are. Y/n... she saved you."

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy as if the very walls were holding their breath. Mor's eyes, wide with disbelief, moved from Rhys to Y/n and back again, as he recounted the ordeal.

Feyre and Cassian burst into the room then, their expressions a mix of relief and concern. "How is she?" Feyre asked, rushing to Mor's side, her gaze flitting between the two women laid out before them.

"Awake, finally," Rhys responded, his voice threaded with fatigue yet underscored by a tangible relief. He remained anchored by Y/n's side, his hand lightly resting on hers.

Cassian moved closer, his gaze lingering on Y/n with a newfound respect. "This is some serious magic she pulled off," he muttered, his voice a mixture of awe and concern, "to save Mor like that."

Mor, gathering the remnants of her strength, attempted to stay seated, her eyes locking onto Y/n's still form. "But... why? Why would she do this for me?" The question hung in the air, raw and laden with emotion.

Rhys's gaze softened, "It’s Y/n… Could she really just stand aside and do nothing, knowing you were in danger, Mor?"

"But she—" Mor's voice broke, looking the most forlorn Azriel had seen her in years.

"I know," Rhys cut in, his voice firm yet gentle. “And you know that it was complicated back then. Promises were made. That doesn’t mean she has changed, not really.”

"Centuries, Rhys. It's been centuries. I wasn't even sure if she was... still among us," Mor whispered, the weight of years echoed in her voice.

"Centuries? Hold on, how do both of you know her?" Cassian, ever the one to voice the burning questions, brought the room's focus sharply to the heart of the mystery.

The room's attention swiveled to Rhys and Mor, with even Amren and Nesta quietly joining the circle. A silent communication passed between Rhys and Mor, a shared history in a single glance before Rhys cleared his throat.

"Well," he started, the word hanging in the air as he gathered his thoughts. "Without diving too deep into her story—out of respect for her privacy—it's safe to say that Y/n and I share a past. We were raised together in Hewn City... She was, quite possibly, my very first friend."

A ripple of surprise and intrigue swept through the group, each member processing the revelation in their own way.

“Why did she leave.” Feyre broached.

"It's... complicated, darling," Rhys pondered the best way to explain.

"To simplify, her father held a position of significant influence under my father's command, privy to the secrets of Velaris. Given how I became High Lord, he and his family chose to leave, out of respect for my rule, given Keir’s proclivities for rebellion.”

“What he doesn’t say” Mor interjected, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and sadness. “Was that he offered Y/n a position, he–we requested she stay. Repeatedly.”

“It was more complicated than that, Mor”

“Was it, Rhys? Mor bristled. “She left you when you needed her most, Rhys. We all felt the void she left behind.”

"It wasn't just about politics or positions," Rhys's expression turned somber, his usual charm and ease giving way to a moment of vulnerability. "Y/n…had her reasons, tied to her family's legacy and their own secrets.”

Feyre, sensing the tension, reached for Rhys's hand, offering silent support.

“It was difficult for all of us. I know it hurt you, Mor. We all had regrets.”

Mor sighed, turning around to lay back down. It wasn't easy to concede that her initial shock had morphed into anger, rooted deeply in pain. After all these years, the thought of being reunited with her friend under such harrowing circumstances, indebted to her for her very life, was a reality she hadn't been prepared to face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I promise there'll be more interactions between Azriel and Y/n in the next parts, I just wanted to set the scene for her complicated history. I also just love platonic interactions between the inner circle and want build up how Y/n is/becomes a part of their family.

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar series #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel x oc #rhysand #morrigan #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar

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mpregdimension · 5 months

Text

I melted back against the couch cushions, savoring the warmth of Santiago's muscular arms wrapped tightly around me. At 7 months pregnant, my belly had ballooned out enormously, though the sleepy Santiago still thought I was only carrying one big baby. If only he knew the truth that I had twin sons brewing in there.

"It's time for you to tell me how your three weeks in Colombia went. How're your parents doing?" I asked, craning my neck to nuzzle against his scratchy cheek. Santiago had just gotten back from another Colombia trip.

"They're good, babe" he mumbled groggily, planting a lazy kiss on my temple. "Mom keeps bugging me about when I'll finally bring you to meet them."

I managed a smile, though part of me worried his mother might not be as accepting of our relationship as she let on. Since I found out I was pregnant Santiago has stopped talking about his parents, children and friends like he did before, even though he travels to Colombia almost all the time to visit them.

"What about your...other family?" I ventured cautiously.

Santiago immediately tensed up, his eyes flashing open. "Paul, you already know I'm still in the same situation, there's no need to ask every time, please don't make me talk about that damn ex-wife," he grumbled, suddenly sounding more awake. "That shitty divorce is still going on for years, at least my boys are fine, busy at university without having to get involved in those problems."

Deciding to drop it, I just nodded and leaned back against his chest, breathing in his musky, familiar scent. Santiago nuzzled against my neck, his hands roaming down to cup my huge pregnant belly.

"Damn, you're getting so fuckin' big, babe," he purred in that deep, gravelly voice. "I can't wait to meet our little man."

Our little man...if only he knew. I worried my lip, debating whether I should finally tell him about the twins.

Before I could decide, Santiago surprised me by whispering hotly in my ear, "You know...it's been way too long since I pounded that sweet ass of yours. Why don't we head to the bedroom so I can really go to town on you?" His breath was hot against my neck.

My eyes widened in shock at the bold suggestion, panic fluttering in my chest. As much as I craved intimacy with Santiago, I couldn't risk anything that might inadvertently trigger labor prematurely.

"Babe, I...I really don't think that's a good idea," I stammered awkwardly. "The doctor said rough sex is off-limits this late in the pregnancy."

He let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. "Who said anything about rough? I was thinking nice and hard...Help get you all loosened up down there for when the big day comes." His hand stroked along my thigh teasingly.

I gulped nervously, my heart pounding as desire warred with prudence. Part of me was tempted to throw caution to the wind. But the protective father within wouldn't endanger the twins.

"Please, baby," I pleaded, putting my hand over his to stop the sensual motions. "I want the memories of going into labor to be peaceful, not because we got too carried away fucking like animals."

A frustrated groan rumbled from Santiago's lips as he begrudgingly pulled his hands away. His eyelids were growing heavy again, that burst of frisky energy fading. I could see him struggling between the urge to ravish me and the siren call of sleep.

Finally, with a defeated sigh, Santiago seemed to give in to exhaustion. "You're right, babe. We'll save that for after the little dudes get here." Within minutes, his breath had evened out into the steady rhythm of slumber. The lingering secret about my twin pregnancy is still burning in the back of my mind. Would it be better to keep it a surprise?

#mpreg #male pregnancy #mpregnancy #mpreg belly #mpreg birth #mpreg labor #mpreg kink #mpreg story #pregnant man #hombre embarazado #embarazo masculino #mpregdimension

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tomumess · 4 months

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Shigaraki Stalker HC's

oh no! it seems you've forgotten to take your meds, because the thumping on the glass came back. little did you know, it was Tomura's arm twitching against the window frame, trying to soothe the aching in his pants, the sight of your soft body in those cute pyjamas making his cock twitch uncontrollably. now it makes sense why your socks were always sticky after walking on the balcony...

don't worry if you're walking home at night, because you're never truly alone! Tomura always keeps a safe distance, occasionally making noises to startle you, relishing in your pathetic display of fear. it's not his fault you get scared easily, and that every shiver in your body makes his hands tremble, nails scraping against his neck in an attempt to soothe the urge to just take you right there.

you've noticed some clothing going missing before washing it, and some of them somehow reappearing a few days later. there's nothing more satisfying than licking the wet spots your pretty pussy left. Tomura's chin was covered with a mix of your juices and drool, inhaling the scent of your used panties.

when his impulses got too bad, he would mess with your pills, making you sink into a deep slumber. his hands already explored everything you had to offer, his phone full of photos of you in various states of undress in the most compromising positions.

he couldn't bring himself to fuck you just yet, wanting to save it for the right moment. that didn't stop him from rubbing one out and cumming all over your face, his fingers spreading it around, and licking it off of you.

Tomura would bury his face between your legs, rutting into the bed as he inhaled your scent, burning it into his memory. he accidentally left a few hickies here and there, he couldn't resist biting your soft breasts, the feeling making his body shudder.

after getting his dose of your body, he'd cuddle up to your unconscious form, whispering sweet nothings and how he would protect you, which quickly turns into aggressive threats, saying how he'll rip you apart if you ever betray him. it doesn't matter if you had no idea who he was, he was going to make sure he was all you're ever going to think about, to make you experience all the nauseating feelings he harbored because of you.

he would use your shirt as a pillowcase, crying into it from frustration and desperate need to have you. he would return it after your scent disappeared, but he kept a few bras and panties as memento.

his degeneracy knows no bounds, he had no shame in rummaging through the your trash, eating the leftover food, licking the used napkins, reading any papers you discarded.

say goodbye to any social media presence, because you'll often find your posts getting deleted, accounts banned for no reason. Tomura was not going to let anyone else get even a glimpse you, a sight that should be rightfully belongs to him.

#shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #mha x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura

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thinkinonsense · 1 month

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Magnetic──★ Logan Howlett x fem!oc: Chapter Four

╰┈➤Summary: After years of torture, Daphne decides how she wants to spend the rest of her life; at the bottom of a lake. Out of nowhere, Logan pulls Daphne from the water and finds her help. Now they must navigate how to live with their decisions.

╰┈➤C/W: mentions of death, suicide, cursing, age gap, mild violence, issues with infertility, slight sexual themes, mentions of body mutilations, blood, and sort of a hysterectomy (nothing super graphic)

ᯓ★ mdni.ᐟ

ᯓ★word count: 1.7k+

ᯓ★ spotify playlist link

ᯓ★ last chapter here

ᯓ★ A/N: Sorry for the chapter being so short. i had this idea and needed to right it. hope you enjoy!

✮⋆˙ It's been days and Daphne hasn't seen Logan around the mansion. She began to worry that maybe he was starting to regret his decision to save her and bring her here. It wasn't until day three while training with Storm, that she found out where he had been.

"Jean mentioned they would be busy these next couple of days," Storm says nonchalantly.

"Oh," Daphne let out under her breath.

The worst part of Daphne's attraction control is that it can work both ways. Deep down she was yearning for something she didn't deserve. She felt it once before and now he is dead. Maybe that's why Logan has been avoiding her; he feels like she is manipulating his feelings. Daphne figured that the best thing she could do for him was avoid him too; for his sake.

That is exactly how that week went. Not once did their paths cross. Logan disappeared with Jean while Daphne spent time training with Storm and some of the other students. During the evening, Daphne stayed in her room with Juna. Storm, Rogue, and even Jean would knock on her door to invite her to join everyone at dinner but she always declined; making up some bullshit excuse. Nighttime was a struggle for Daphne. She would fight off sleep by distracting herself with books, her cat, or pacing around the room until her legs hurt. It wasn't easy for her as her eyes would often drift into slumber at some point.

Tonight happened to be one of those nights.

──★

Within the walls of her slumber, Daphne awoke in the familiar glass cage, curled up, and barefoot covered in a puddle of her own blood. A loud yell in the distance urges her to crawl to the glass, despite the gush of blood seeping from her.

"Help!" Daphne screamed at the top of her lungs. "Please!"

After minutes of howling, she sees them. Bellinor, two guards, and the love of her life; tied up and blindfolded. Daphne panics banging against the glass frantically. She did what they told her, wiped out millions and now they would wipe out what she loved too.

"Please! Take me instead!" Daphne cried, face full of tears. "Take me! Kill me instead! He doesn't deserve this!"

They ignored her pleas; instead calling the bonded man a 'trader' and 'coward' for caring for someone so evil. Someone who could never truly love him back.

Daphne's powers were useless behind the special glass. Bellinor made her watch as he destroyed the only world she knew. In a split second, the bullet flies through his head. In a mighty roar, Daphne's eyes roll back to return to dark red. Everything around the men shakes angrily, including the floor and ceiling. Finally, the glass cell bursts open.

Like a true coward, Bellinor runs, telling the others to shoot her dead. Daphne tuned out their groans, screams, and cries for help. To her it was quiet.

──★

3:15 am

It started with the chandelier downstairs. A few students woke up and noticed. Next, were the doors and windows slamming, waking the adults. By the time anyone realized where it was coming from, the floors were shaking.

Logan steps out of his room, joining the others down the hall. Similarly to the students, he had no idea what was happening. That was until he saw Jean, Scott, and Storm outside Daphne's bedroom door, talking.

"What's doin' on?" Logan asks, confused.

"Your damsel is shaking the whole mansion at three in the morning, that's what's going on," Scott informs Logan. Storm smacks Scott in the chest, shooting him a glare.

"We are pretty sure she is having a nightmare," Storm states.

"It's horrific," Jean warns him.

"I'll check on her," Logan states. "Get the kids back to bed."

Storm and Jean nod, gathering the children before Logan opens the door. The room looks normal to him, that is before he sees the woman thrashing and intertwined in her bedsheets. As Logan moves closer to the bed, he can hear her mumbling with tears streaming down her pink puffy cheeks. It was devastating to watch.

"Daphne," He says, shaking her softly. "Hey wake up, sweetheart."

Logan repeats this twice until she jumps up with her heart pounding so hard that he can hear it ringing in his ears. There's no hesitation in Logan's actions as he pulls her into his chest. Daphne's wet tears leak onto his tank top with her mumbled apologies.

"I-I'm sorry." Her voice breaks as she speaks.

"It's okay, it's okay" Logan whispers into her head of curls. "No need to apologize."

It felt like a lifetime spent in his arms, Daphne thought; a lifetime well spent. She used his heartbeat to steady her own. Logan didn't make her feel like she was overstaying her welcome in his embrace. One of his hands tangled in the hair near her neck while his other sat on her lower back, thumb swiping back and forth over a small exposed slit of skin.

When Daphne stares up at Logan with her glossy green eyes sparkling in his direction, he thinks he might've fallen under a spell. He knew he shouldn't feel this way while she was in a vulnerable state, but anyone would feel spellbound under her gaze.

She shouldn't be staring, she thinks. It's not fair to give them both false hope. She should let him go; remind him that she's a liability. Daphne wanted to use every excuse to make him stay but she knew better.

"Sorry. You shouldn't have to save me anymore," Daphne said softly, avoiding Logan's hazel eyes.

Suddenly, the hand in her hair moves north to her jaw, gently keeping her in place. Logan shakes his head, "Like I said, no need for apologies."

"Right..." She hums, pulling back and then adding, "Well, I should probably let you get back to bed-"

"I could, um.. I could stay," Logan blurted out, cutting her off. "If you would like."

"You want to stay?"

"If you don't mind. I could watch over you in case you have another nightmare."

"You don't have to..."

"I wasn't getting much sleep before anyways." He reassures; standing up, and pulling over the chair in her room. He sits on the right side of her bed while Juna curls up next to Daphne. They sit in silence for a while and Logan is almost sure she fell back asleep; until he hears a whisper.

"Do you ever get nightmares?"

"All the time."

"Me too. I try not to fall asleep."

"What are yours about?"

Daphne blinks slowly up at the ceiling before answering him, "They vary; but tonight was the return of a painful memory. The man who captured me mutilated me then took the life of the man I loved."

Logan's body stiffened as she spoke. This didn't seem too far-fetched considering what Charles had let him see before of her life. He never saw a lover though. Logan didn't doubt that she would've had many of them, it seemed odd that none of them would've tried to protect her.

"Mutilated...?" He hesitated to ask.

"They cut me open so I wouldn't be able to have children." Daphne sounded numb, he thought. "I was left bleeding out in my cage."

"Daph..."

"Some nights, I can see my life as a mother. It's so silly but I can picture myself cooking dinner while my baby sits in their high chair; both of us waiting for my husband to come home from work." She sniffles quietly; letting her hand travel down her stomach, stopping between her hips to trace the scar left behind. "It is the sweetest form of torture."

Logan stares at the floor, trying to picture her fantasy. He saw Daphne standing in the kitchen, baby bouncing on her hip while she stirred a pot on the stove. She was right; it was the sweetest form of torture.

"What was he like?" Logan asked.

"Who?"

"The man you were in love with."

Daphne smiled, picturing him so clearly. "He was great. Our situation wasn't ideal but we made it work. At first, I thought he was out to hurt me like the others but over time, he would open up to me."

Logan wanted to question their relationship but knew better than to crush her dwindling spirit. Perhaps a part of him felt a sting of jealousy at how much she gushed over a man who helped keep her locked away.

"... it was like catching lightning in a bottle." She sighed. "I would give anything to feel it again."

"You'll find it again."

Logan watched as Daphne traced the scar on her lower stomach.

"Do you ever think about it..?"

"Think about what?"

"A family."

There is a long pause. Daphne wonders if she overstep, then again they didn't know each other very well. When she went to apologize, he cut her off.

"Sometimes." Logan shrugs. "But it's not realistic."

"Oh, yeah," Daphne lets out a dry chuckle. "I almost forgot you're an old man."

A small smile forms on Logan's lips at her laugh.

"Not everyone can be young and pretty like you, dollface." Logan noticed her shift onto her elbow to look at him. Her face turned a cherry wine color in the moonlight and her eyes went dark as they found his.

"You don't mean that." She shakes her head. "It's the curse talking."

He was offended by her assumption. I mean, look at her. Daphne was more than her mutation, more than her 'curse', more than those horrible moments that she thought defined her. It was a tragedy that she didn't see that.

There was so much that he wanted to say to her; to assure her that her life was not doomed, her dreams weren't far-fetched, and that she could be happy.

That's all she wanted, right? Happiness?

Logan could do that. Restore the light that left her eyes long ago. He was convinced he could give it to her.

Too caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed her muffled, "Goodnight, Logan."

As he watched her lay back on her pillow, eyes closed, smile still on her face, Logan realized he did not give a damn if it was her attraction control anymore; he was done for.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tags: @bethexo07 @marcybug @borapsycho @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367

@aylawylie @princessanglophile @mxtokko

if you want to be tagged for future chapters of Magnetic, reply and let me know <3

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zombiekooo · 11 months

Text

Taming You (Rick Grimes x Fem Reader)

Warnings: • Angry/Rough Sex, Dacryphilia (crying kink), Choking, Sub/Dom Play, Dirty Talk, Age Gap,

A/N: This is quite rough, so I will give you a warning. It is NOT noncon whatsoever (our Rick would never) but I’d like to say Reader does say ‘no’ and ‘stop’ but it isn’t because she hasn’t consented. Everything is safe sane and consensual on this page ;)

(9k words)

Rick watches as you walk through Alexandria’s gates with a gun in hand. You wear no expression, your head down to avoid any wandering eyes. You’ve got a smear of blood across your cheek, red droplets leaving a trail behind you.

He's startled. It felt like a splash of freezing cold water was poured over his head and awoke him from a deep slumber. Quickly, shame falls upon him.

The last couple of nights were a struggle for him. The thoughts of you seemed to enchant his mind whenever he'd close his eyes and fall back upon his bed after a particularly stressful day. It quickly became a routine to stroll outside, allowing the cool air to ground him from his perverted thoughts-- which he had been doing just now until you interrupted him. So when he sees the face from his dreams across from him, the very face he was trying his hardest to avoid thinking about, the guilt finally confronts him like a stinging crack across the cheek.

But oh, you would look so beautiful beneath him. Your eyes which were always narrowed would soften into a delicate, heavy-lidded expression just for him. Your frown would ease, and your lips would part and instead of scoffs, you would unleash pretty little moans he knew you were capable of.

That expression he was so desperate to see again would pop into his mind during his disgraceful fantasies. The first time he ever saw you, trapped behind cell bars in Terminus, the image of your youthful cheeks, rosy and plumped, tears glistening them and making them look like glossy red apples that he so badly wanted to bite into. It was beginning to drive him mad from how often he'd seen that exact expression in his dreams. The pure desperation in your face, grabbing his wrist so gently through the bars of the cell you were caged in. He remembers how wet your eyelashes were, the way your lips parted to speak when the building had blown up which had forced everyone to evacuate, and in a whirlwind of crashes and screams, seeming as if time had stopped, you whispered,

"Can't I come with you?"

His fantasies would play like a CD inside his head, thinking of how he could recreate that same expression on your face but from pleasure instead of fear. Would you be as defiant in the bedroom as you were in life? Or would you be submissive and pleading? Grabbing him with such neediness that you would cry out of frustration just for him to pleasure you, your lashes would cling together wetly and your cheeks would redden into an adorable rose shade that he would so happily lick the tears off of--

Stop, Rick.

He shakes his head, grimacing.

It wasn't like this before, these thoughts never existed until now-- or at least that's what he tells himself. It was just because he was safe, you were safe, in a community, together. No constant threat that kept you paranoid day in and day out. No question of where to go next or who keeps watch over the camp next. No, that was gone now.

Still, he knows it's terrible to think of you that way, even after all the time he's known you. You were nearly half his age, cold-hearted and stubborn-- you would never think of him more than the man who saved you.

But-- he knew you had a soft spot for him, and just that fact alone gave him some kind of hope, even if he may never act on it. Even if he shouldn't act on it.

Although he tells himself that you were off limits, here he was, standing on the street and watching you strut your way inside the walls. Past midnight. Similar to how you did nearly every day this week. His curiosity grew, and maybe the excuse to take a walk at night wasn't just to clear his mind anymore, but instead to wait for your silhouette to silently breach the walls of Alexandria and dip back into the shadows of your house, thinking that nobody had seen you.

You were breaking his rules. In fact, all week you had broken it, four times exactly. However, he never confronted you about it. If he was being honest with himself, it was because he was scared to look you in the eyes, he knew that if he were to do that, all he would imagine were those teary eyes he'd played over and over in his head for the past month.

But, he knows he couldn't keep letting you believe you were being sneaky.

Rick gathers the strength to reveal himself, exposing himself from the shadows he had lurked under for the past week. He was dressed simply. A brown jacket with a wool collar draped over a plain gray-sleeved shirt, paired with navy blue jeans.

The moment he revealed himself your head shot up to look up at him, instantly sensing his presence. He finds amusement in the way your face contorted into a surprised expression, your fast pace slowing down until you were nearly at a stop. Absentmindedly, you bring a hand to your cheek as if trying to cover the obvious bleeding wound from him.

"It's past midnight. How'd you get around the guards?" Rick asks almost cheekily, enjoying the way your face paled.

"Snuck out," You quickly respond with a shrug of your shoulder, keeping your eyes down.

Rick raised an eyebrow, knowing instantly you were lying. He'd seen the gates open for you-- you had convinced someone to let you pass.

He noticed the way you squirmed beneath his gaze and the downcast of your eyes. You were a shitty liar.

"Try again." He sneers. "Where'd you get that cut on your cheek?" His tone turned colder and the loose smile he wore in the beginning began to straighten.

"Tripped," You lie again. This time, he saw the way you leaned your weight side to side, your antsy fingers tapping at your gun. He took a step forward, closing the small gap between the two of you. The blood from your cheek had left a sheer trail of red down your jaw, slithering to your neck and finally dipping under your low-cut collar and between your breasts. There, he noticed your stuttered breaths and the uneven fall of your chest.

"How?" He asks again, examining the rest of your body with his intense stare. Your collar was torn, and your sleeves ripped up to your shoulders, leaving nothing more than some flimsy fabric to cover your exposed arm. As his gaze continued down (his concern stopping him from lingering at your curves) he noticed your belt had been lost, your jeans sluggish around your hips. A faint red mark of a boot was indented into your thigh.

It was obvious that you had gotten into a scramble with somebody.

"A walker popped out in front of me. I got surprised and took a tumble." You reply after a short pause, his gaze making you nervous.

Normally, if it was anybody else other than Rick, you would be scoffing and pushing past them with no more than a roll of your eyes. But something about the man in front of you intimidated you, even if he was the reason why you were still alive today. He reminded you of a panther. Nothing escaped his gaze... nothing. Which is why you felt so uneasy, you knew he would find out the truth even if it wasn't today. You had a hunch he knew that you'd been sneaking out at night, and it was only a matter of time before he would confront you about it. You just wish it wasn't today.

"That's a lie," Rick says, becoming more and more frustrated as you went on.

You swallowed, recognizing the annoyed tilt of his head and the tut of his tongue. He was getting angry, you realize, and it ran a series of fearful trembles down your body.

You don't make an attempt to step away when he takes another step closer. Nor do you react (other than a full body shiver) when his fingers graze the back of your neck, pulling down the hood that you tried concealing your face with. You watch the way his razor-blue eyes squint as they examine your face for any other wounds or bruises.

"I've seen you coming in and out these past nights," Rick says, proving your theory right. Of course he knew. He always knows. "Care to tell me why?" He adds.

You hesitate, fear crawling into your throat and lodging a lump to prevent you from speaking. You never had gotten in trouble with him before, but you knew how strict he was-- how terrifying he could be. You've seen it before. You vividly remember the way he held up that red machete and brought it down to slice the throat of the man who had trapped you, staining the same jacket he wore now with his blood. If you close your eyes, you can see the fury-- something kin to primal rage in the expression he made. The animalistic breaths he took as he wiped the blade clean, throwing the tissue he used to clean it onto the man and leaving him there to choke on his blood.

As morbid as it was, you couldn't stop thinking about it. The nod he gave to you afterward as if saying "You're okay now." The graze of his hand in yours as he leads you away from the scene. Your fascination for the man only grew since. Despite him being years older, he never seemed to completely leave your conscious. Always lingering inside your mind when you tried to fall asleep, or appearing in your dreams which had you waking up with your body feeling hot and the place beneath your navel feeling warm and tingly.

Maybe... you wanted to get caught just to see what he would do.

"I-" You choke. The moment you spoke his eyes snapped up to yours, his unforgiving gaze boring into you.

You were so aware of the heavy touch of his hand at your nape, unmoving. It felt like you were a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, reluctant to let you go. His body moved in front of you in such a way that it felt suffocating, his broad chest limiting your view.

"I was hunting," You confess, telling the first truth of the night.

"And tonight too?" He asks, feeling satisfied with your answer.

You nod, your lips pinching together. You began feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, the realization finally hitting you at how close he was. You could almost touch his chest with yours if only you moved an inch or so forward.

"Now answer me again," He says in a quieter tone, no more than a whisper. His face leaned down to yours, his nose barely grazing the lobe of your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, a contrast from the chilled air. "Where did you get the cut?"

You may have blushed from the deep growl of his voice and the proximity of his face to yours if it weren't for the circumstances, but right now all you felt was your blood turn cold and the hairs on your arms stand.

He knew you were lying. You were out of options-- out of excuses. But, despite the tremble of fear you felt, your pride was strong.

"I already told you," You snap back, trying your hardest to conceal your fear and perhaps excitement as well. "I. Tripped."

You felt a blow of air from Rick's nostrils, another irate tut spilling from his lips. He pulls away from your face to reveal the deep frown he wore. His brows furrowed, making his deep-set eyes look frighteningly dark. The grip on your nape tightens to the point of near discomfort but it unleashes another shiver from you along with a breathy moan of surprise.

Suddenly, he has you turned around, your back flat against his chest and his hand tight at your throat. His free hand slithers down to your hip and presses an unforgiving finger on the bruise on your thigh, causing you to cry out loudly and arch your back, instinctively pushing your bottom against him in an attempt to free yourself.

Rick watches you squirm momentarily, your cries cut short by the pressure he applied to your throat. A sick sense of satisfaction rules through his body when looking at your vulnerable state. Your back arched in an attempt to be released, your toes pointed to withstand the pull on your neck, the dusting of tears that hugged your waterline.

Shit, he thought. Calm it, Rick. She's just a girl.

"I'll give you one more chance," Rick says, feeling sorry for you. His thoughts were running wild, the fantasies he rewatched over and over in his head were becoming a reality. But his consciousness caught up to him, knowing if he continued scolding you in this matter, it would lead to something he couldn't take back. He had to give you an opportunity to escape.

The pressure on your throat eased, but the prodding at your hip never relented. You shot a hand down to Rick's forearm, trying to pull his hand off your bruise, but it felt like trying to pull the tight jaws of a dog away from its bone. It was useless and dangerous.

Rick was unbothered by the attempt. He watched as you licked your lips, your breaths coming in short puffs. He leaned his head forward, once again next to your ear. You turned your head, awkwardly straining your neck to look up at him.

He feels his heart lurch when you expose the devious glint in your eye to him, your teeth peeking through your curled lips in a half smile. Your face was so close to his which had him frozen. He couldn't take his eyes off the way your tongue darted out to lick at the beads of blood that trickled from your wound into your mouth. If he wasn't imagining things, he could almost say that your gaze turned lustful.

"No," You mouth,

He's stunned. It seemed like reality had caught up to him in that moment. The position he'd manhandled you in, the rough touches along your young supple skin, the words of intimidation he whispered in your ear-- to anyone else, this would've looked more sensual than just a scolding.

It takes him several seconds to process what you said.

"No?" Rick scoffs, looking down at you incredulously, his eyes glancing down to your chest where he can clearly see your exposed cleavage. He swallows, instantly glancing back up to your unmoving gaze.

"What will you do if I don't tell you? You gonna' put me over your knee and spank me?" You half scoff, using that same cold-- almost monotone voice you use when talking. Rick was unsure whether this was an attempt of seduction, or you were dead serious and were trying to get a rise out of him as you often had. It wasn't until you boldly pushed your hips back again, but this time intentionally grinding your bottom over his crotch that he finally figured out your intention.

Irritation fell upon him again when he saw your smug look. He wanted the tears back at your waterline, desperate to hear those soft gasps he had never heard before from you. He wanted to render you speechless until nothing but incoherent mumbles spilled from those pretty lips of yours.

He wanted to tame you, break you down into an obedient pretty thing.

Rick said nothing as he stared at you with the same expression he had on before, but this time with widened eyes. It had you nervous, thinking you overstepped a boundary (which you one hundred percent had) but when his hand slithered up your clavicle, caressing your jugular and up to your jaw, gripping it tightly in one hand, your questions left. There was a look in his eye you couldn't quite place. Something between desire, and lust-- but also something sadistic and predatory. It had you almost wanting to shrink away, coward, and apologize to the man. But he didn't give you the option.

"Do you know what you're asking?" Rick says, no lilt or pause in his tone. His stare was intense, his touch even more so.

The question struck a string of both fear and arousal inside you. The familiar feeling beneath your navel began bubbling with warmth. A feeling you know far too well during late nights alone with nothing but your thoughts of Rick. Imagining how the scratch of his beard would feel between your legs. If those piercing eyes of his would look up at you when tasting you, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. Maybe he would go fast, eager to taste all of you, or maybe he would be slow and steady, sadistic in his actions where he keeps putting off your orgasm until you weep and beg.

"Why don't you show me what I'm asking for?" You reply with a small nibble to your lip that doesn't go unnoticed by Rick.

Rick feels his breaths become shallower and arousal beginning to tent his jeans. He could hardly believe that this wasn't a dream. You were in front of him, writhing and gasping impatiently for him, practically asking him to take you. But his doubts begin to come back, chanting to him,

She's nearly half your age, dickhead.

But all doubts were wiped away when you shyly nudged his chest with your head, your hand running up his forearm and up to his bicep where you squeezed it, quietly admiring the muscle there. His attention is brought back to your youthful face, your eyes full of desire.

"Please?" You ask in a meek voice, your lips darting to wet your inviting lips.

And just like that, his resolve vanished.

He spins you around, his touch finally relenting from your bruise. His hand is back on your throat, forcing your face to look up at him. You notice the quick short pants he releases from his lips, his dilated pupils eating up most of the blue in his irises. Again, fear prods you. He stares at you for a second longer, analyzing your face for any sign of regret, but there is none.

He takes you firmly by the hip, dragging you forward with a shove to your lower back.

"Move," He commands coldly, sending another wave of fear and excitement down your spine.

Rick continues guiding you with a firm hand placed on the dimples of your back, eventually leading you to his house where he makes you climb the steps to his door.

Once he swiftly brings you inside, you're shoved cruelly onto the couch. You lose your balance and fall onto the pillowy surface, turning around with wide eyes and watching him shimmy off his jacket, gently hanging it up on the coat rack, unlike the way he had just manhandled you. He's staring you down as if you had just wronged him, rolling up his sleeves to rest at his elbows and revealing the ripples of muscle in his forearms.

He then approaches you, his boots loudly thudding onto the wood panel floors.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, you know that?" He grunts, a loose smile playing on his lips. It wasn't a kind smile by any means, it was almost patronizing-- unsettling.

You didn't know how to answer, so you kept your mouth shut. Your feet were tucked beneath your bottom, staring up at him like prey.

That's what you felt like. Prey. You've never felt anything like this before-- normally you had the upper hand over people, very rarely feeling fearful or intimidated by them. But Rick had you in a chokehold, and it scared you.

One leg kneels on the couch cushion next to you. You felt the dip of his weight and the manly smell of what you imagine is his laundry detergent and some kind of musky cologne waft to your nose. He was leaning over you now, the thick build of his body clouding the rest of your vision. One hand found purchase on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh covered by your jeans, the warmth of his palms seeping through the thick fabric.

"Turn around," He demands,

You look up at him defiantly, feeling bold.

"If I don't?" You say,

He cocks an eyebrow, and in one fluid motion, he spins you around himself. His fingers tangle in your hair, pressing your face down into a pillow rather harshly. He loops an arm around your waist, propping you up so you rest your weight on your knees. He's rough, but not to the point of pain or discomfort. He's simply showing you that he can do whatever he wishes without your approval.

You feel his narrow hips push against your bottom as he presses the weight of his body onto your back, pushing you further into the couch and nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs. You squirm weakly beneath his hold, but he doesn't relent and you hear a soft, demeaning chuckle from behind you. The hand that is looped around your waist rests at your stomach, then slowly trails down over your pelvis, then down to your core. Your body reacts instantly, jutting your hips back like a horny animal trying to present itself to its mate.

"Naughty girl," He whispers into your ear, "Who knew you would be so easy to pin down like this? You're not even fighting it."

"That's not--"

"Shut up." Rick says insultingly, rendering you silent instantly.

One hand slips off your jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Then he moves to the simple black tank beneath it, nearly ripping it off your body. He keeps one hand at the back of your head, keeping your face down and your ass propped up for him-- an easy position for him to admire and access all of you.

Then goes your jeans, tearing every article of clothing off of you other than your undergarments-- keeping some of your dignity still intact.

You felt humiliated in this position. Your arse up like a bitch in heat, Rick's heavy weight immobilizing you, his harsh commands that you actually listened to. You felt ridiculous, but you couldn't ignore the blossoming heat that came to life between your legs. You felt betrayed by your body, the way your pussy responded to his roughness, clenching around nothing as it anticipated him. No matter how much you wanted to fight it, wanted to be somewhat stubborn, your body just wouldn't comply. Your body knew its position, and that was beneath the man above you with your pussy on display just for him, your brain just didn't want to accept that fact yet.

You felt Rick cup your cunt from behind, and you couldn't help the way you thrust your ass against it. You heard another dark laugh at your blatant neediness. He rubbed back and forth at a tantalizing pace, feeling the wetness seep through your clothed cunt and moistening his hand. He was shocked at how easily you submitted before him. Never did he imagine you would rut your hips against him, expose your pussy so willingly to his eyes. You tried to maintain your stubborn façade, but the moment he laid his hand on your cunt, you had melted into a puddle of jelly, your mouth spilling open and your body falling limp.

That's right, He thinks callously, Take it like a good girl.

"You like that, don't you?" He asks in that same patronizing tone. It angers you, but the anger is quickly replaced with pleasure, nearly melting your mind into goo. His big hand, cupping your cunt as if he owned it-- owned you.

You don't answer him, and instead, you try to glare at him from behind. But it backfired once you locked eyes with him. His handsome face looked down at you, wearing the same deep frown of his. If you didn't trust the man as you did, you would be terrified just from his scary presence and the easy way he manipulated your body to spread yourself for him.

"Not answering me, still?" He scoffs, his glare deepening.

When you still don't answer, he responds by ditching his hand from your drenched pussy, making you gasp mournfully. Instead, he places both hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading your legs as far as they could go. You remained in the arched position you were in, a bit scared of what he would do if you disobeyed his silent command.

You feel the tickle of his fingers skim against your skin as he pulls down your panties, leaving your glistening pussy nowhere to hide. You bury your face in humiliation, feeling the blood rush to your head. When you don't think it could get much worse, Rick pulls apart your cheeks, exposing your entrance fully.

You couldn't contain the mortified squeal that escaped your lips. Rick had left you nowhere to hide, nothing to conceal your most sensitive parts with. You feel the cool air hit your vulva, and the wetness of your arousal trickle down your thighs. You didn't dare to move as Rick looked at all of you, frozen as you were afraid of what he might do next, frozen in the most vulgar position-- the curve of your ass, the arch in your back-- it was utterly shameless.

"Shit," Rick curses under his breath. He could only find one word that he could describe you, and even that didn't seem to justify what he saw. You were breathtaking-- literally, as he felt his breath be kicked from his lungs as he saw all of you.

"Look at you," Rick coos as he swipes his middle finger along your slit, passing by your clit that had you jumping from the sudden sharp pleasure. You couldn't see it from the way you buried your eyes in your arms, but he brought his finger to his lip, sampling you. "What a sloppy cunt. I barely touch you and this is how you respond?" He mocks, squeezing the softness of your thighs and earning a whimper in response.

"No--"

You're cut off by a high-pitched squeal that shatters past your lips. You felt a sudden wet prod at your cunt as well as the scratchy feeling of Rick's beard tickling the back of your thighs.

You nearly sobbed. His flattened tongue languidly dragged from your clit, all the way to your hole where he dipped the tip of his tongue inside you, slurping and massaging your walls. A deep, almost animalistic groan vibrated against you as Rick tasted you.

You dug your face into your arms as you cried out again. Your legs shook, your walls desperately clenching around Rick's tongue. Your head fogged with pleasure as you felt a coil of pleasure begin to spin inside your stomach. The way his long fingers pulled your sensitive flesh apart, his tongue breaching your walls, his groans that made you feel weak in the legs. It was overwhelming.

He propped your hips higher, nearly lifting your knees off of the couch as he brought his lips down to suction your clit. He let one hand reach over to grab at your hair once more, tugging your head back and away from your arms roughly.

"Don't hide your voice," He says lowly against your cunt, the scratch of his beard adding more ripples of pleasure as he moved his jaw to speak.

It felt so good and you lost any thought of trying to retaliate, eager for more of his wet tongue and soft lips wringing pleasure from your needy cunt. So you obeyed him, and once he let go of your hair, you stayed put in the position he left you in. Once he delved back into your pussy, you couldn't control your moans any longer, deliriously chanting praises and choking out his name, no longer hidden by the couch.

"No" You scream. "-- Rick!"

You didn't even know what you were saying anymore, your brain losing the ability to form coherent words. It was too much. The coil quickly began to tighten inside you the more his sharp nose nudged against your sensitive clit. The way he would move from sucking your clit with his plush lips to greedily licking inside, creating loud obscene noises from your pussy. Humiliation washed over you once again from the vulgarness of your body, responding so desperately and greeting his mouth so welcomingly.

You then feel a long finger sink inside you, gently rubbing in a 'come hither' motion against your plush walls and pressing into that sensitive spot inside you. Your body leaps forward, almost like trying to escape the intense pleasure, but Rick quickly catches you, pulling your body back into him.

"You ain't running, girl." Rick teases against your folds, the vibration of each syllable sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. He laps at your soaked cunt until you're trembling, your walls pulsating in tell-tale signs of your approaching orgasm.

"Rick, Please, Rick," You sobbed loudly, your hand reaching behind you to grip his hair, desperate for something to hold onto. He ignores your pleas and continues to finger you, pulling drawn-out cries of pleasure from your mouth. It isn't until he feels the rapid pulses of your walls, indicating your near-release, that he pulls away entirely. He then flips you around, placing a leg on either side of your hips to trap you beneath him.

You cry as your orgasm is denied, and when you see the smug face above you-- looking irritatingly handsome, you scowl.

You place your hands on his chest, nudging him weakly away from you. Even after you pleaded for more of him--after he brought you to near brink of ecstasy, you were pushing him away stubbornly. So desperate to keep the remainder of your dignity. Your face was scrunched in faux anger, the telltale signs of tears at your lashes. You were panting hard and your legs had pressed themselves together in an attempt to alleviate some of the ache inside you. Even your fingers were digging into his shirt as if telling him not to go.

He doesn't budge at your feeble attempt to push him away. He has his face above yours, looking down at you with a tinge of pride in his cold eyes. His hands caress your sides lightly, a sinister smirk appearing once he sees the way you squirm away from the ticklish sensation.

"Asshole.." You whisper, but your eyes betray you once you look down wontedly at his crotch, looking at the visible bulge.

"Pretty girl," He reflects smoothly, shutting you up with a surprisingly gentle kiss on the lips.

You feel your face flush with heat when he kisses you, the words he spoke to you ringing in your mind, immediately erasing any lingering anger toward him.

Pretty girl.

You moan as you feel your body melt into his touch. You make fists in his shirt, now pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. His beard scratches against your chin, his hand slithering behind your head and holding you in place as he forces his tongue inside you. You feel overwhelmed with how passionately he kisses you, smothered by his masculine scent that had your brain hardwired into thinking of him each time you smelt anything that even resembled it. His hips were heavy on your own, his body trapping you. His unoccupied hand was rubbing up and down your waist, loving the way he felt the curvaceous dip each time he passed your midsection.

You don't know how long the kiss went on, only breaking apart to breathe for a split second before being attacked again by Rick's lips and tongue. You felt as if he was injecting some kind of poison into your system with every swirl and caress of his tongue, clouding your brain with pleasure and erasing every thought aside from him.

Eventually, Rick pulls away with heavy pants, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. You noticed the faint blush on his cheeks and the plumpness of his lips now swollen and red from the kiss. His eyes hardened with lust.

He then straightens himself, sitting upward on his knees as he inches his body up yours until his hips are level with your chest. You watch as he undoes his belt with a snap above you, leaving it still hooked through his jeans as he then undoes his pant zipper, fishing his cock out from his briefs.

You're already licking your lips, eyes strained forward as you admire the long length so close to your face.

He was slowly stroking himself, paying close attention to the tip as he pulled back his foreskin to reveal the sheen of precum atop it. He was girthy more than he was long which had you imagining how amazingly he would stretch your walls to accommodate for his size. His tip looked flushed and desperate, eager for any kind of stimulation. Your eyes left his cock reluctantly and looked at the man above you, and you couldn't help but admire how pretty he looked, his brows scrunched in pleasure and his bottom lip captured between his teeth. The sight alone had your core throbbing.

Gently, he guided your head toward him, canting his hips forward. The wet tip grazed the corner of your mouth, and you stuck out your tongue just enough to lick away the dribble of precum from the head.

"You wanna suck it?" He hums, his hand leaving his cock and rubbing a thumb across your lips. His actions seemed gentler, his expression softening as his eyes dart over the planes of your face, admiring every freckle and beauty mark on you. His other hand was scratching at your scalp, pushing the hair away from your face.

You don't answer which earns a light scoff from the man, but you don't miss the almost invisible tilt of the corner of his lip, then as if you had switched the channels on a radio, his gentleness was gone. He breaches your lips forcefully with the head of his cock which forces you to open your mouth to fit his girth comfortably on your tongue. You gag at the intrusion but quickly adapt to the heavy weight on your tongue. Now with the view of his face staring down at you so intensely, it had you shifting restlessly beneath him, unable to escape his predacious eyes no matter what you did.

He didn't give you much time to process the length and girth of his cock inside your mouth, and he begins to shallowly thrust, barely grazing your uvula. His jaw drops into an 'o' shape as he finds purchase in your hair, forcing you still in front of him and using your mouth for his pleasure. He watches sadistically as you struggle, your one eye closed as you do your best to massage your tongue alongside his thrusts.

"Just like that," Rick coos, bringing his hips closer to your face, forcing you to accept more of his length.

You try your best to accept him all at the angle you are in, proudly taking nearly all of his length, his balls resting at your chin, but you gag when he starts sliding down your throat, which has the man above you moan and tilt his head back. Your body squirms and tears begin to fog your vision, your breaths becoming limited. Rick stalls for a moment, running his fingers across your jawline adoringly and watching as you squirm pathetically beneath him with his cock slid down your throat. Then, he removes himself, his cock bouncing after being released from your mouth. He watches as you desperately gasp for air, nearly choking on your own spit. But you surprise him when you dive forward again and take him between your lips after you regain oxygen.

"Greedy girl," Rick scoffs, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. He allows you to suck him at your own pace now, satisfied with the way you flick your tongue beneath his foreskin and the way you purse your lips around his tip.

You moan at the praise he gives you as you rub the tip of his cock along the velvety walls of your cheeks, creating a vulgar bulge from the outside.

Spurred on by the open-mouthed moan he releases at the sight of you, you run your hands under his shirt, loosened from his pants being undone. You half expected to have him scoff at you and tear your hands away, but he doesn't. He simply looks down at you, inspecting your every move. You feel the hardness of his abdomen flex in response to your touch, and his breaths become louder-- almost sighs. You trail your hands up and rest them on his chest, admiring the way his chest heaves with each breath. You notice the content hum drawl out from his throat from your touch.

"So good for me, so obedient." He praises, but that patronizing tone that you expected to hear from him wasn't there. Instead, you're surprised to feel warm with pleasure at his words, the sudden urge to please him more tugging at your brain.

You suction your lips tighter, bringing a hand to the untouched length of his cock and you match it to the speed of your mouth. You keep a hand on his body, trailing up his shoulders and admiring the strength he held there too. As you felt along his body you noticed raised lesions indicating the scars hidden behind his clothes, and you vaguely imagined the people he killed in order to stamp those reminders onto his flesh.

The thought alone had you moaning around his cock. The deadliest man you've ever met was above you, watching your every move like a hawk even as pleasure contorts his features and soft moans escape his parted lips. The proof of his murders was plain as day on his body-- in his eyes and in his walk, and yet somehow you feel the urge to submit to him entirely and let him do anything he pleases with you.

The remainder of the fight in your body begins to leave and you feel yourself submit to the man before you as the fact that he could literally do anything he wanted to you settles into your brain. Rick watches as your eyes become glassy and your moans more frequent around his cock. You lose any smart responses to irritate the man, finally succumbing to your fate and allowing the pleasure of the man who is fucking your mouth finally win. You bob your head faster, working your tongue to touch everywhere you could reach.

"Thaaaats it," Rick says, watching as you slowly melt into submission. Your mouth loosened and allowed more of his cock to penetrate your mouth. He indulges in a few more deep thrusts into your throat, making you gag and choke until he pulls out and rubs his soaked cock on your cheek, enjoying the fucked out expression on your face. He watches as you nuzzle his cock with your face, pressing dainty kisses along the shaft paired with a shy smile.

Now that was a sight he never thought he would see.

You felt the solid weight of his cock on your face, shiny with your spit as he slowly canted his hips to drag it on your cheek. You could smell the musky scent of his manhood which had you nearly reeling, your patience was wearing thin and the thing you wanted most was for him to be inside you, pounding you to ecstasy while murmuring dirty words into your ear, making you feel helpless in the best way possible.

"Please," You moan, the desperation in your voice so prominent. You were reaching behind your back, finally losing the last bit of clothing and revealing your breasts from their confinements.

Rick shamelessly looks at your chest, running his hands over your ribcage and gently grazing the underside of your tits. You felt his cock twitch against you and you lean down to take him between your lips once more, massaging your tongue beneath his foreskin and humming at the taste of him.

Suddenly, he slides down your body, his cock leaving your lips with a 'pop'. His hands return to your legs, his head dipping down to leave scratchy kisses between your thighs.

"Sit up," He commands suddenly. You obey him albeit being a bit confused. He pulls you close to his body, practically shoving your head into his chest as his hands grab at your ass, lifting you up with incredible strength. You release a surprised squeak that has him snort.

"M'not fuckin you on the couch," He explains as he places a kiss on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The small act of affection was enough for you to melt into his embrace, and so you hook your chin over his shoulder, placing a few kisses of your own on his neck.

He then lifts himself off the couch by his knee, your body tightly secured in his arms. You feel much too aware of the man's hands on the back of your thighs, and the concern that you may be too heavy crosses your mind, but the thought is quickly wiped away when Rick begins walking down the hall to his bedroom, acting as if you didn't have your legs wrapped around your torso-- or your bare pussy rubbing against his clothes and your naked breasts pressed against his hard chest.

He basically throws you once he enters his bedroom, a devious smile quipped on his face. He's on top of you before you have a chance to comprehend what has happened, his lips smashing hard in place of yours and your thighs forcefully spread apart so his narrow hips could slot between them. Once the man is back on top of you, you pull at his collar blindly, your separate hand already making progress at shoving down his pants. He takes your hint and leans back onto his haunches, grabbing his shirt from the bottom and sliding it over his head, tossing it away. He then leans back down to smother kisses along your neck.

"Pants too," You demand, regretting your words the moment they came out of your mouth.

"You think you get a say in this?" He says, incredulous. His hand crawls up to your neck, covering your jugular entirely with the span of his palm. He applies steady pressure to your throat as he levels his face with yours, glaring down at you with a sneer at his lips.

He doesn't give you the chance to apologize, squeezing your throat until you choke when you open your mouth. You feel the intruding prod of his cock at your entrance, making you writhe under him. When he sees the way your eyes widen and tears hug your lashes, he eases his hold, letting you catch your breath.

You break down, your patience wearing thin. All you wanted was for the man to just fuck you.

"M'sorry, please-- Just-- you can do anything to me!" You cry out in frustration, rambling without thought. "I don't know, just-- Pl-Please, -- I need it, Rick--I need you so bad," You sob, the frustration building up until its limit was breached. Your tears now fall down your cheeks, your hands tightly gripped around his wrist to keep his hand from moving away from your throat. It felt like an anchor, a daunting, warm anchor pressing you into the bed. You choke on your sobs as you shift your hips down, trying to get his cock to penetrate you. You were disoriented and frustrated but more than that, you were so fucking needy for the man to just take you and slam his cock inside you, making you scream and cry and beg. You didn't care. You just needed him.

Rick pauses. The way your eyes reddened from your tears-- making the color of your irises become highlighted and sparkly. It had him writhing. Your pretty voice cracked with sobs, chanting his name over and over as if you knew no other names but his. Your nails clawed down his back, trying to push him impossibly closer to you, and your legs were locked around his hips to make sure he couldn't escape.

"Shhhh," He utters, placing a hand on the side of your face which you instantly accept, turning your head to kiss and lick at his palm like a touch-starved dog. You shot a hand to grip his wrist, keeping the hand at your head still as you brought a finger into your mouth, licking and sucking it as if it was his cock.

"I didn't mean to," You beg around his fingers. "M'sorry," You say again but this time with a sniffle. Rick smiles-- the first genuine smile you'd seen today. It was warm and thoughtful, enhancing the handsome crowfeet around his eyes. You had stopped sucking his fingers just to admire it as you felt a fuzzy sensation rise to your chest, alongside the deep ache of your throbbing core.

"It's okay, pretty girl," Rick says, leaning down to kiss your cheeks. He notices the way your body reacted to the name he had given you, the moan that vibrated around his fingers, and the flutter of your lashes gazing up at him. You were looking at him so devotedly, your eyes filled to the brim with trust and affection, and most of all, lust. He knew that when you said he could do anything to you, you truly meant it.

He teasingly rubs his cock up and down your slit, grazing your clit as he drenches himself with your wetness. He reaches down to kiss you, catching your glossy lips in a gentle rhythm, unlike the rough and passionate ones from before. He feels warmth ooze into his brain as if you had him under a spell, melting away any remaining thoughts or worries and forcing all of you to cloud his conscience.

Then gently, he breaches your hole, his attention fixed on the way your jaw drops.

He could feel the way your soft walls fluttered around his cock, adjusting to his girth. Your face had scrunched up in discomfort, but you were distracted when he placed a soft kiss on your brow, his gaze fond.

"So good for me," Rick says, licking at your earlobe and sinking his cock further into you and sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his balls against your ass. "Look at you, taking me so well. Does it hurt?"

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands. You were suddenly hyper-aware of his handsome features. The speckling of black and grey littered across his beard and hair, reminding you that he was much older than you were. How cute the curls on his forehead grazed his furrowed brows, a droplet of sweat running down right beside it. Those ever-so-intimidating eyes were staring at you with such affection that it was overwhelming, almost making you forget the fact that this was meant to be some kind of punishment. But the way he held you so possessively almost had you thinking that there was more than just lust between the two of you.

Rick raises his brow, giving you a teasing look as you forget to answer his question. "Not gonna use your words?" He says without venom in his voice, tightening his grip around your neck as a reminder of what he is capable of doing to you.

He breaks you away from your deep thoughts, and you don't think before speaking, your eyes still trained on the attractive man before you,

"You're so handsome," You say, holding his cheeks firmly as you lean in to kiss him.

Rick raises his brows, flushing at your words as he returns your kiss. He wasn't expecting such a cute response from you, but at least this time you answered him, albeit it not remotely relating to the question he asked. Still, he couldn't deny the race of his heart as you kissed him with your hands cupped around his cheeks, his cock buried deep inside your pulsating walls, and the word 'handsome' ringing in his head. He felt like a schoolboy all over again.

He smiled in the kiss. Maybe you'll never learn to answer his questions properly.

"Need you," You moan after breaking the kiss, your lips grazing his. "Need you so bad,"

"Oh, you'll get it, sweet girl. Don't have'ta worry." Rick teases as he licks your ear. He wanted to push you to your very limits, make your voice raw with pleads. He couldn't deny that he wasn't being mean to you, torturing the sweet teary-eyed girl beneath him-- but he loved it. He loved watching you become glassy-eyed with want, and your insults turning to pleads. It was the best feeling ever, to turn you into a babbling mess of moans and cries.

He pulls out, rubbing his cock onto your clit, slapping it lewdly, watching as you arch your back and drape a forearm over your eyes.

"C'mon!" You sob, "Please just fuck me, Rick! I can't-- I can't take anymore. I've been good!" You slap at his chest angrily, trying to stifle your cries of frustration and hide the fact that you were crying. You weren't looking at him, too embarrassed of yourself.

Rick finally relents and shoves his cock in one go inside you. He peels away your arm to see that face he longed for.

Your mouth falls as he thrusts into you quickly, your hands flying to the pair that are locked on your throat, and your tears finally spill like a waterfall.

Rick's heart nearly leaps from his chest. Your eyes are half closed, your lashes dripping with the residue of your tears, and your eyes are shot red. When he squeezes your throat tighter, strangled cries croak out and your nails drag at his skin, leaving a beautiful sting in their wake. He's thrusting remorsefully, sending your body bouncing back and forth with every pound to your soaked pussy, your tits recoiling up and down in a memorizing tempo.

Each time he slams his cock inside you, another pair of tears trickle down your beautiful rosy cheeks and into your open mouth. He can't help but kiss you, tasting your tears and swallowing your cries.

"This what'ya want? To be fucked like a whore?" He asks, his lips lingering atop yours as he speaks over the loud slapping of skin to skin.

"No-" You manage to spit out over his tight hold on your throat.

"Then what's this? Your walls are eating me up so well, you lyin' to me, girl?"

He sends you reeling forward with a slap to the pussy. Reflexively, you push a hand against his chest to try and slow him down, but he doesn't budge, rather, he pushes more weight atop of you, crushing you with his naked body. You sob, shaking your head.

"You've got such pretty cries," He coos and finally lets free of your neck, allowing you the freedom of deep breaths. You're lightheaded when he releases you, unable to even process his words. "Your cries are just for me, hm?"

"Only you--" You say before getting cut off by a moan once Rick's fingers find your clit. You dizzily wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly to your chest as pleasure numbs your brain. "Just you, it's always been just you," You confess deliriously.

Rick hums, satisfied with your answer. He feels his orgasm approaching rapidly, so he begins to rub tight circles on your clit which has you responding by clenching tightly onto his cock. His moans grow louder, more like the grunts of a wild animal and it has you spiraling toward your release.

"That's right. You're mine." He says, then buries his face between your tits.

You hug his head, burying your nose into his curls, breathing him in as you feel the cord inside you become pulled taught. Your hands find his neck and shoulders, enjoying the way his muscles ripple with every thrust. Once again, you're reminded of how powerful this man really is, and it has you tumbling over the edge.

"Yes, Yes! Rick--" You babble, arching your back as you feel the waves of pleasure swamp your body. Your pussy clenches like a vice, feeling every vein and ridge of Rick's cock pummeling inside you, and like a string that's been cut, your orgasm washes over you.

Your cries go silent as ecstasy clouds your mind, blossoming heat tingling in your navel and rising to your mind. Rick fucks you through your orgasm, purposely holding off his own to watch the way your eyes roll back to your head and your trembling body tenses. It isn't until you cry from overstimulation and the trembles in your body turn to full-body shudders, that he pulls out, bringing his cock to your breasts and jerking himself until he comes with a loud moan, painting your chest with milky white stripes. You watch lazily as you feel the never-ending warm spurts of come drench your tits, memorized by the expression Rick makes. His mouth is agape, his abdomen flexing with each wave of pleasure, and his moans become strained as he works himself to the end of his orgasm.

It was the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

After his balls are emptied, he collapses beside you, pulling you in tight against his body, undeterred by the mess he made on your chest. He peppers kisses along your jaw and shoulders,

"You did so well, pretty girl," He says as he caresses your leg-- over the bruise you had obtained. His palm smooths over it, almost as if quietly apologizing for earlier. He then kisses away the tears littered across your cheeks, uttering more praises with every peck.

You're still regaining your breath and your cunt pulsates from the aftermath of your orgasm, but you feel a sweet fuzzy feeling envelop your chest, and you turn your head to meet Rick's lips, melting into his embrace and the warmth of his kiss. The two of you stay like that for several moments, simply panting and kissing each other in each other's embrace.

"Was I too rough?" Rick says momentarily, glancing at the red, irritated marks left by his hands. He suddenly looks concerned, planting small kisses across your jugular.

"No," You say with a small smirk. Only now had you properly replied to a question of his. He notices your smirk and can't help but smile himself, pushing your face back into his chest as he scoffs. Again, some time passes, and Rick speaks up again, only this time, hesitantly.

"I'd like it if this wasn't just a fling," He says, searching your eyes for any flicker of rejection. "I really do like you, even if you are a pain in my ass." He adds with a hint of a smile.

You roll your eyes in faux irritation.

"I've been yours since the beginning," You say cupping his cheeks and placing a featherlight kiss on his brow. Rick looks at you with sparkling eyes, the biggest smile you've ever seen him wear is plastered on his face. He holds you tight against him by your waist, taking your lips roughly in a passionate kiss.

"That's what I like to hear." He says, hugging you into his warm chest.

A/N: Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

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