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gyuswhore · 4 months

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Never Shall We Die (3; final)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »»

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags: hoshi loves thighs, corruption kink to the mAX, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), breast play, p in v sex (unprotected, 1800s contraception will make you prefer it but pls dont do this irl), making out

[AN]: final part oh my god if youve read the other parts up till now, THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it, im really proud of this fic and im so happy so many of you have enjoyed it so far. @highvern betaing as always ty for not giving up on me. AS ALWAYS, PLS TELL ME YOUR THOTS IN THE RBS OR THE REPLIES OR SEND ME AN ASK LITERALLY WTV MUAH MUAH HAPPY READING <3

THIS IS THE NICEST PRISON Hoshi has ever been in, which was saying something, because he had been in quite a lot of prisons.

But it was uncomfortable nonetheless, six grown men tied up and shoved into a crouching space to be done with as the men that prowled above pleased.

Hoshi would be lying if he said he hadn’t had to restrain from pushing some of those sorry soldiers into the ice waters beyond the glaciers. He had resisted, the crew had resisted, but just enough to convince them of their unwillingness.

Hoshi had realised early on that there was no possible way of getting aboard Tigress without somehow climbing aboard the King’s boat first. The king wasn’t about to simply hand Hoshi’s ship over, and there was no indication that they'd wait till after nightfall to depart.

Hoshi also knew that the King would refuse to have him die so easily in the waters of the Green Islands, his pride depended on it. He imagines the man drawing up the specifics of the most gruesome execution the Kingdom would ever see. Hoshi was counting on it.

The bounds could’ve been broken out of and the locks somehow picked, but Hoshi also knew that he had to wait. Wait for you to find him first.

“What’s taking her so long?” Jun asks. He’d been the most anxious out of all, the shaking feet and restless moving making it clear.

“The bomb won’t…go off still strapped to her, will it?” Minghao asks and Hoshi isn’t quite sure he wants to know the answer.

“It shouldn’t. Not until she pulls the tab. But…”

“But?” Hoshi whips around. “Why is there a but? You were supposed to make sure there was no but!”

“Big bomb, more boom, less predictable!”

“Are you sure we can’t break out and look for her ourselves?” Mingyu grumbles, the most compromised with his longer limbs folded in uncomfortable positions.

“The minute they know we’re loose they’ll swarm her. There won’t be a way to get to her, not without fighting off every last bastard on this ship. They’ve taken our stuff too, we don’t stand a chance.”

They did, actually, stand a chance. But that was only if they were to break away and head straight for Tigress that was empty and standing right beside this very ship. But they couldn’t. Hoshi couldn’t. Not without taking you with him.

Nobody dares to suggest the easier route, and he doubts it’s just because of what he wants.

But panic was beginning to trickle into Hoshi’s veins anyway, the closed off brig refusing to give him any indication of the time of day.

The sun was only beginning to set when they were taken to the ship, and he knew they were near done for if they didn’t finish what they started before nightfall. He can’t tell how long it’s been, and it eats away at his insides.

Please be okay.

And then he hears it, the sound of a body hitting the floors with a loud thud, a chortle of air before it’s knocked out. He finds himself sitting up straighter, pressing his hands to bars of the prison, trying to peer out the narrow walkway that leads to the doors.

And then you appear in the lamplight, haphazard and ruffled up beyond measure.

The knife in your hand drips with blood, your shirt torn at the arms, your hands bloodied and bruised.

When Hoshi sees your face he almost doesn’t recognise you.

There’s angry blooming marks of red and purple all across your neck and collarbone, your eyes bloodshot and red, watering like you’d been swimming in salt water.

“Who did this?” he asks before anything else, watching you drop to your knees in front of the prison, unanswering as you fumbled with a giant ring of keys in your hand.

You jam each key into the lock, twisting it to no avail. Your hands are shaking.

The crew finally twist out of their loose bonds, Minghao lurching forward immediately, swatting your hands away. He picks out a few skinny pins from his boot, picking the rusty lock. Despite the strange angle, the bars creak open within seconds.

“There’s…There’s ropes hooked onto the ship on the main deck.”

Your voice sounds like you’re speaking through sandpaper, talking while struggling to emerge with the bomb you had.

Hoshi doesn’t know what to do when he crawls out of the space.

He’d had it all figured out in his head, what would happen in every possible outcome. You getting hurt wasn’t in any of his universal conclusions; especially not on this ship. They’d kill his crew, they might even kill the King with themselves, but you were meant to remain unscathed.

“Why–why do you look like that? What happened?” Nothing registers in his head, not even when Jun is pushing him out into the hall.

“Get up to the deck and get out across the lines!” Jun gruffs in his ears. “That bomb’s gonna go off with us still on here.”

He sees the canister that lies in the same prison they had just exited, he sees your mouth moving without sound. All he can think of are the distinct fingerprints around your throat and how it looked like somebody tried to kill you before they tried to kill him.

“Soonyoung,” he hears you say in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for him to snap out of it.

His crew is looking at him expectantly. He looks back at the door and sees the crumpled bodies of the prison guards.

So much for leaving quietly.

The minute Hoshi is out the door of the brig, he finds a chest next to the collapsed, bleeding soldiers. Kicking it open, he can only scoff as he finds the entire crew’s weapons in such close vicinity.

He feels better with his dagger at his hip, along with the rest of his knives that he slips into the loops. Even more so with the rest of his crew armed and ready.

“We know where the deck is.” He swallows, eyeing his crew’s weapons in their ready hands. He knew they’d agreed to ensure the clean sinking of the ship, but the fallen bodies on the floor were an ode to a different route they’d have to take. “Don’t hesitate if someone gets in your way.”

Taking cautious steps to the upper decks, he finds more bodies collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and unconscious. He opts to ask you the details later, wondering how you were able to take down all these guards by yourself.

It isn’t until they reach the stairs that lead to the main deck that he comes across a guard.

Before the witness can raise any alarm, Hoshi’s slamming the butt of his dagger into the side of his head, knocking him clean unconscious as he falls off the side of the short railing.

Clambering up the steps as quietly as possible, he raises a hand behind him to signal his crew to halt, peering into the main deck first.

The sun is still out, but low in the sky as it dips in the sky. There’s a few people on the deck, pacing and moving about in preparation for departure. Angling his gaze, he finds ropes suspended over the edge of the railing, parallel to the water.

He can’t see Tigress, but he knows that’s what the ropes are hooked on to.

“Jun,” he beckons. “How long till the bomb on the other ship goes off?”

The bomb Jun had planted in the first ship they had arrived in should be going off any time now, and Hoshi finds himself needing it to go off now.

Jun barely opened his mouth to reply when the ship shuddered.

For a moment, Hoshi thinks the bomb in the brigs had gone off, but when he finds the clambering of boots to one side of the ship, opposite to where the ropes tied to Tigress, he realises their surrogate ship had given its last gift to the crew.

The rest of the ship would be bounding to the main deck to inspect the noise soon, so he shoots a quick, “Hurry!” behind him before stepping onto the main deck.

The entire deck is occupied with the ship that lies a ways away across the expanse of sea, the beginnings that would soon lead the entire ship to be engulfed in flames. It’s tilting at a dangerous angle.

Hoshi stands as he uses the crew straight towards the ropes that lead to Tigress. Glancing, he finds Mingyu and Chan already hanging on the suspended ropes, making their way towards the empty deck of their ship.

Hoshi keeps his eyes on the occupied men on board, still staring at the lightshow that was their old ship. It isn’t until one of them turns, eyes towards the stairs that lead to the lower decks, that his eyes dart to the unfamiliar men on the deck.

“Fuck,” Hoshi curses, before lunging, grabbing the man by the shoulders and covering his mouth, dragging him wordlessly to the edge before throwing him off the ship and into the icy waters below.

“Go!” he hears you rasp brom behind him, ushering him to the ropes.

The crew is gone, Jun making the last jump to land on the deck. They’re running around, pulling ropes and fastening the sails to push the ship off into open waters as soon as possible.

There’s two ropes that tie the two ships together, and Hoshi ushers you onto one of them, pushing you to suspend yourself before he follows.

“There’s not enough time, go to the other one!” you tell him, pushing him to hold onto the other tattered rope.

Soonyoung eyes your state, “Are you sure you can—”

“Yes! I promise I can, please, before they cut both the ropes.”

So he trusts you, eyes straight ahead to the railing of his ship, gripping the rough, frayed rope to push himself towards the deck. His hands burn, but he finds himself moving ever closer to his final destination.

His hand grabs hold of the wooden railing of his Tigress at long last, pulling himself onto the deck of his beloved ship. Immediately whipping his head to his right, he tries to find you reaching the ship with him. The crew is preoccupied in attempting to get the ship ready for departure, he finds your form nowhere.

When he looks back, the rope he had climbed was gone, leaving gaping space in its absence. He trails the second rope, from the hook that had dug into the railing of Tigress’s wood, trailing it to the naval ship’s deck.

What he sees puts his heart in his throat.

You stand on the deck of your father’s ship, swarmed by now alert guards and soldiers who swarm you, yelling profanities and orders as they watch their prisoners get away right in front of them.

Hoshi watches as you lift your dagger, and cut the last rope that ties you together, free to fall and hit against the hull of his ship.

He calls out your name in what could only be described as a guttural scream.

His crew halts whatever it was they were doing, taking the steps to realise what had just happened.

Hoshi’s boot meets the top of the railing, ready to take the plunge into the water. He’d climb back up the ship and get you out. He doesn’t know what you were thinking, what he was thinking when he left you there, but he’d get you out.

Arms pulling him, he’s yanked back and positively thrown onto the deck.

“What is wrong with you?” Minghao yells, pushing his captain back as he springs up.

“She—”

Your father emerges from the crowd of guards and soldiers that run rampant on the deck, approaching you at the railing of the main deck.

Hoshi sees the hand that remains on his shoulder, the blood that covers the still bleeding wound, the effort it takes him to simply walk.

The bruises on your neck, the wound at his shoulder that looks like it was slashed through by a knife.

And then it clicks in Hoshi’s head, what had truly happened in the hours that you were out of his sight. And all he sees is red.

WITH THE WAY THE words on the pages seem to double, you would’ve thought you were going mad.

You’re a child, barely grown into your own body as you sit in the dimly lit library of the palace, utterly exhausted, wishing to be anywhere but sitting at the wooden desk with your name on it. The moon barely shone through the window, your only source of light the fireplace that burned in the corner and your lamplight.

It was a time where you felt like you could prove yourself, that perhaps, the reason your father refused you his approval was because you were simply not working hard enough. And now, at an hour where you should be fast asleep in your four poster bed, you attempt to understand diplomatic structures and everything that made your country what it was.

It was late, and there was nothing you would’ve liked more than to put your head on the table and rest your eyes for a few tantalising seconds, which you do, right over the book you were reading.

You awoke in the same place, shaken awake by a panicked looking servant, the sun shining through the great windows of the palace library.

It seems your disappearance from your bedchambers had put the entire palace in disarray, not realising the princess was fast asleep behind the giant pile of books other servants had already skimmed past thrice.

Not only were you unable to recite the rankings of the constitutions with the vigour your father required, but you were unable to give him a reason as to why you were absent for both breakfast and morning lessons.

He made the servants kneel in the throne room for hours, and did not fail to tell you that it was all your fault.

And now, in the ice cold of the Green Islands, old and wise enough to know that your father simply needed a reason to despise his heir, you accept the hands around your throat as his final act of terror.

Red faced and arms shaking, your father does not speak to you as he presses down on your windpipe with all his might. Your vision is going dark and splotchy, and you decide, for a moment, to let him have this moment.

He’s too preoccupied in applying his pressure to realise that you’ve raised your right foot enough for your hands to fish out your knife from its place, taking positivity in the handle of your knife that fits in your hand.

Before you can lose consciousness, you raise your arm high, and plunge it directly into his neck.

Howling, he releases you from his hold, both of you dropping to the floor of the ship with a resonating thud. You cough, sputter and hack, cold hands finding your now warm neck.

Your father lays clutching his shoulder as he remains in agony on the floor, and you realise you missed the crucial plunge in your own disarray.

It was good enough, rendering the old man incapable of finding his bearings.

You watch as he writhes on the floor of the quarters that almost became your figurative deathbed, the same hands that wrapped around his own daughter’s throat now clutching the shallow wound that renders him useless.

Standing over him, throwing your own shadow on his body, you feel a surge of power, a rush of adrenaline that shoots straight to your head. Perhaps this was your circulation returning from the deprivation, but you let the feeling imprint in your soul, let your father’s broken figure bring you satisfaction.

You leave him there, writhing in pain, digging your knife under the lock of the quarters, pulling back to break it away from the door. The guards stationed outside do nothing as you leave, and it isn’t until you’ve taken to lower decks that you hear the distinct yell of, “Your Majesty!”

Two more guards, who don’t expect an altercation from their princess, simply buffer as you send your knife plunging into them both. You do it deep this time.

Nobody was innocent, you knew these people as your father’s closest men, and knew that all of them were to remain silent as their King murdered his daughter. And when the remorse doesn’t do that thing where it trickles in after doing a bad thing, you decide you weren’t part of the innocents either.

It’s easier than you would’ve expected to get to the crew in the brig, letting out a sigh of relief as you appreciate the familiarity of people on your side.

And when Hoshi took his place to guide everyone out and into the open space of the main deck, you let your racing mind rest and decide to trust the man in whatever decision he made to lead you all out. And he did, he led himself and his crew right into the ship that was theirs, safe and where they would have the upper hand.

Hoshi didn’t know it when he climbed onto the ropes that lead to his boat that he wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t stayed, hadn’t used your voice of authority to keep the soldiers from attempting to shoot at the escapees, cut the rope while Hoshi remained suspended from it, still only halfway there.

You didn’t look at him when you sliced both ropes before either party could pull back, didn’t register him screaming your name across the void, pretending it wasn’t taking everything out of your strength.

But you couldn’t jump into the water, not now when a dozen of the royal guards remained ready to take the plunge to save their princess as their duty. The same guards that would comply with their king when told the princess was dead for reasons they all knew but were to forget.

The bomb had to go off first, and you had to keep them away from hooking another line to the ship in the meantime. You were operating on a flawed plan and an overenthusiastic crowd of guards that were moments away from shooting a canon straight into the side of the disconnected pirate ship.

The distraction comes in the form of your father parting the crowd of soldiers like the red sea, swatting every soldier that attempts to help his bleeding form for anything it was worth. He approaches you at the railing, and for once, you don’t look at the ground in his presence.

“Bold,” he heaves, the effort in his voice apparent. “Bold of you to think you could slip away.”

“I haven’t tried to slip away, father,” you correct. “I’ve stayed right here, even after you failed to kill me. And I, you.”

“Nobody is going to listen to you, child. Give in. This is the easy way out,” he says.

As if on cue, Jun’s bomb goes off for the second time, but this time the ship shudders with more force. It has your father unbalance and fall, along with multiple other soldier’s stumbling. You grip the railing tight, counting on your father’s need to live.

Despite your horrid throat and the ache in your body, you announce as loud as you can. “The bomb is in the brig, this ship is sinking.”

The fallen king trembles in a rage you had never quite seen before. Any other time of your life, you would’ve wished for the ground to swallow you whole to be the subject of such anger.

Except, in the setting sun, a burning ship in the background, a pirate ship that awaits you, and the ground beneath your feet that was actively sinking into the freezing water; you smile at your doomed King.

“Get to the brig! Secure the lower decks, do not let this ship sink or so help me God!” His voice rings across the deck, spittle blowing from his mouth at the situation.

And just like that, your father gives you the final gift of clearing the main deck out for you, leaving but a few straggling soldiers that are too preoccupied with either the sinking ship or their bleeding sovereign.

Looking back, you find the crew of Tigress standing at the railing, you find Hoshi already half over the edge and send him a slow nod.

Turning back to your father that remains on the floor of the ship that would become his coffin, you utter your next words; for yourself, and the girl that was every second before this, all the way to her first ever memory of sad:

“You’ve taught me to be a ruler fit to be the best for our Kingdom. Consider your death my first act of service for the Crown.”

And then you jumped into the darkening void of the waters below.

THE COLD FEELS LIKE every nerve in your body ceased to work.

It was nothing at first, the temperature so intense it had your body numb in the face of shock. And then it grew, to a striking cold, and then a feeling that pricked every inch of your skin like a million needles plunging into your body. It was only getting worse with each passing second, before it was so painful it was hot, going from cold to searing and blistering like you’d plunged into the licks of flames.

Nowhere in your body did you find a rational sense of mind, something to tell you to kick, flail or float. The warped sky was an orange through the green, only more vibrant. Like there were two ships actively burning on the surface of this water.

Hoshi’s face appears behind your closing eyelids, like a mirage or a taunt. Like he was there with you when he wasn’t.

Would he come for you? Would he take the plunge for the girl he held in his arms, promising her something to fill the gap of a companion, right before she killed her own?

You’d given him what he wanted; your father, his worst enemy, dying as he sank slowly into the bottom of the ocean. You’d run your course of use, and if he was as smart as people claimed, he’d leave you to suffer the same fate as your father.

He could find his freedom elsewhere.

And you would find your freedom in the close of your eyes, and the sinking feeling of nothingness.

Except, you feel a hardness against your body, stronger even than the current of the waters. Moving impossibly upwards, you remember opening your eyes to find a leather cord suspended in the float of the water, before you remember nothing.

THE GREEN ISLANDS WERE on fire.

But as unnatural as it seemed, Hoshi had no inclination to register anything but the way the ship in front of him tilts so far out it's already half submerged in the waters. He’d assumed they might have to ready the cannons, but with the way debris and hollowed wood floats in the waters below, they would not need to.

The King was about to be introduced to Davy Jones’ Locker at the hands of his enemy and successor, but Hoshi could not care enough right now to relish in it.

Right now, he stares at the direct circumference of water your body had made contact with and disappeared into, like the world would explode if he lost his place.

“Should I jump as well?” Mingyu asks, already half taking his boots off. However, when the man turns to find his captain gone, he lurches over the railing to find his captain diving into the water through all the debris.

Hoshi lets the momentum of his dive take him as further down as possible, whipping his head around as soon as his eyes open into the abyss. The water ripples and erupts in showers of bubbles as broken pieces of ship come apart to fall into the water. It blurs his vision immensely, any ripple that could be you in the water coming out to be yet another piece of wasted wood.

The deeper he goes, the more the water presses into his ears. He was a good swimmer, good at holding his breath when needed, but even he had limits.

When he cannot see any sign of you, he begins to feel the churning of something skin to panic brew. Panic was never good, not this deep in the water.

Twisting and turning, flailing about in place, moving dangerously closer to the burning ship that continued to drop flaming bits of killing slabs, he finds no sign of you in the water.

Instead, he watches men in uniform sink deeper and deeper in their failed attempts to stay afloat.

All he can think about is if they were losing the battle for air, then so were you, somewhere deeper in the void than he was. He prays that he’s looking aimlessly, that you’ve already somehow made your way to the surface by yourself, and you were safe on the deck.

The beaded bracelet that remained on his wrist, but belonged to you.

“A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

Even without the encasing on his wrist, you had given him more than enough reason to want to come out of this alive, to want to live beyond just for himself and his duty to the crew he’d taken in.

He chose the life of a pirate because it was his only out, and every member of his crew that he recruited in succession, he acted as the hand he had needed so desperately in that awful brothel where his mother despised him and his father, a faceless man of Port Ash.

Amphitrite was not kind, it was a lesson he learned quickly in his first ventures out at sea. So he too, had to learn to be unkind, to survive in the horrid bellies of ships that weren’t his own. And when Tigress came into his life like a vessel of hope, he found a home in her merciful wood, in the ship that he could call his very own.

Hoshi lived as a free man on his ship, with his crew that had become his brothers in ways beyond what the thick of blood could offer. He did not care if he lived or died after that, as long as it was on his ship, in the waters that held no quarter for anyone, but gave him everything that nothing else could give him.

And so when you approached him with a proposal so bizarre yet so apt for a man like him, he could not refuse. It may have been the way he saw himself in you, terrified of the prospects but thirsting for an escape more than the fear that came with it.

Besides, the king was a nuisance that needed to go, and he found himself agreeing to play the hand too complicated for you.

What he did not expect was to end up here, in the depths of the ocean in the most uninhabitable part of the earth, trying to pull you out of the cold, unrelenting sea.

Hoshi realises in that moment that this might ruin him, the possibility of breaking the surface without you.

He decides that if the heavens do not let him find you, he would simply drown in the same waters that gave him purpose, and find peace with the idea that he would lay rest in the same waters as the person who might have given him something more.

Kwon Soonyoung, the deadliest pirate to cleave the seas, was in love with you. A princess, so undeserving of a man like him; a bastard, a rogue, a good for nothing criminal.

And when he spots the all too familiar build of your form, the linen shirt under the corset he had tied for you just hours ago, the dark brown trousers that signified the change he’d brought into your life, he swore to leave everything he’d ever known to thank the skies and seas for bringing him to you.

His burning lungs, screaming and searing for air, grabbing for your suspended arm that looked as defeated as your closed eyes. Tugging you towards him, he wraps his arm around you to press you to him as tight as he could.

Relief. And with the warm sting in his eyes that he doubted was from the salt in the water, he’s sure of everything he’s felt with the feeling of you in his arms.

With the bruising on your neck, the bleeding wound in your father’s shoulder, he finds it within his breaking body to begin kicking upwards.

Every limb, every cell, every hint of life in his body shrieked with its efforts to make him stop. There was no air in his lungs and he’d lost track of time in his search for you, he doesn’t know how long he has.

But if the blots of nothingness in his eyes were anything to go with, he doesn’t presume he has much. In a last ditch effort, he attempts to kick his boots off to weigh him down a little less, holding your dead weight tighter than anything.

He was so close, he could feel the warmth of the upper levels of the water change in its temperature on his skin. The glow was near blinding as the orange refracted on the disrupted surface of the ocean, so close yet so far.

Inch by inch, kick by kick, memory by memory, he does everything left in his drained power to touch the surface.

And he does, breaking out hand first into the burning air of the world above, taking the longest gasp of air he ever has in his life. Once he’s sure he knows where he is, he pushes you up further on his chest, your head resting against his collarbone, still unconscious.

“Stay with me, princess,” he pants into your ear, hoping you could hear. “I’ve got you.”

Chan and Mingyu are in the water beside him, pushing him towards the pulley that awaited them.

Mingyu makes an attempt to take your weight of his already struggling captain, but Hoshi finds himself holding on to you tighter, simply urging him to help him back on the deck.

The minute your head hits the wood of the deck, he’s checking your pulse. There’s no regard for the chaos that ensues around Tigress, both him and his crew too preoccupied with the way you were not breathing.

“I–I can’t feel anything,” he stutters his words as Seungkwan places a less panicked hand at your neck, under your nose.

“It’s weak, she’s taken in too much water.”

In an instant, he reaches for his knife at his hip, only to realise it was gone, lost somewhere in his rescue.

“Knife,” he rasps before repeating louder. “Someone give me a knife!”

The minute a hilt is in his hands, he’s pushing you over, to reach the back of your constricting corset, pushing his knife into the complicated sailing knot he’d tied it into before, breaking it free. With both hands, he takes hold of the top of the corset and rips it clean in half.

Turning you back over, he presses his hands over your clothed stomach, pushing into it with all his strength in an attempt to get the water out of your system. He keeps his eyes on your face, and when he sees no sign of you coming round, he feels another set of hands pushing him off.

Seungkwan takes over for his weakened captain, pushing into your stomach harder, attempting to get a break out of you.

“Why isn’t she coming around, what’s going on?” He throws the question aimlessly as he takes your unmoving face in his hands, trembling from everything.

Only a moment later, he hears the glorious sound of you sputtering like something was stuck in your throat, promptly spilling out an ungodly amount of water onto the deck as you retch loudly.

Sitting up from the force, your hands clamp onto the deck as you cough and heave, Hoshi’s hand coming behind you to thump your back hard, pushing you to throw up any remaining seawater from your body.

The sight of your back moving up and down, the audible sound of you taking in air; it was enough for Hoshi to simply lay on the deck and pass out.

You rear your head and look up at him, both of you still breathing heavily.

“You’re okay,” he assures, gulping. He takes your face in hands cupping it very gently as he speaks to you. “Go with Seungkwan, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

Nodding, you let yourself be helped up by the rest of the crew, watching as you’re led to the lower decks of the ship.

“Open your shirt, let me see the wound,” Mingyu says, and Hoshi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Looking down, he sees his shirt soaked in red, sticking to a wound on the right side of his torso. He didn’t even know where he got it.

It looks like a shallow gash, but enough to leave a scar. He takes it better to have it tended to while he was still high on adrenaline and he couldn’t feel much of the pain.

By the time Mingyu and Minghao are done cleaning him up and Hoshi’s standing upright with wobbly legs, he finds the two burning ships beyond his own mere floating structures of wood that were in slow flame. There’s too much debris, too many bits of everything that bob in the large expanse of water to make out any bodies.

“There’s nobody,” Mingyu tells him. “Most of them were in lower decks when it all went down. Trapped themselves.”

“And…?” he asks in silence.

“He stayed on the deck until it sank,” Minghao informs. “Yelling about how he…about how he should’ve finished her when he had the chance.”

“Horrible king and somehow an even worse father,” Mingyu scoffs. “Made it better to watch him die.”

“He didn’t suffer enough,” Hoshi croaks as the marks on your throat dot his vision.

Just then, floating in the water, illuminated by the final streaks of setting light, Hoshi sees it. A darkened purple cloth right next to the hull.

“That,” he points out. “Get that out of the water.”

The late king’s purple cape laid on the deck of Tigress, darkened with water, but also with his blood.

To the Kingdom, this cape would be the last piece of their King that was gone too soon. But for every person on this ship, it would forever be their spoils of war.

Hoshi makes sure the cape will be dried and stored, ordering his crew to begin their slow journey out of the Green Islands, before he too crumples onto the deck unconscious.

IT WAS A SPECTACLE to see Hoshi in his element.

Something about how he seemed to beam, like this ship was charging him a different kind of energy. It was infectious, the rest of the ship decreasingly sour as they put on musical performances on the main deck while they cleaned the floors.

As relieved as you felt, the tight ball of anxiety refused to leave the pit of your stomach as you grew closer to the Kingdom. Nothing could prepare you for the shitstorm you’d have to deal with the moment you’d step onto the soil off a pirate ship of all things—let alone as Queen.

The first few days following the ship's exit from the Green Islands were difficult, if that was all you had to describe it. You took to your hammock for most of the day, curled up as you pretended to sleep, only waking up when one of the crew would come down to force feed you and to make sure you hadn’t died.

You knew they were doing all this to make you feel better, and somehow it was working. More than halfway through your journey, you began to feel more like yourself, emerging from your cave to visit the deck on times other than the nights.

Even now, as you sit on the floor of the deck with Seungkwan, who hands you an all too familiar stack of parchment, you feel nothing as you take them into your hands. As you read his handwriting scrawled in ink, you appreciate your past self for having the sense to keep them all.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” he says to you. “Had us worried for a while there.”

“Sorry.” You smile weakly. “But thank you for…everything. I don’t think I could ever express how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. All of you.”

“I’d like to think we’ve gone past the status of mere business partners,” Seungkwan chuckles. “Lion befriends the bear? Whatever it is. But know we’d do it again.”

Blinking back the sting of tears and doing your very best to not let the warm feeling in your chest overwhelm you, you place the letters on the floor next to your folded legs. When you look up, Seungkwan's eyes are on your neck.

“They’re taking their time to fade, aren’t they?” you say.

Seungkwan has a hard look in his eye, “I guess you didn’t need your letters to remind you of anything after all.”

Your mind wanders, drifting past how easily this crew could have been forgotten in the unforgiving elements. Perhaps you would have let the man that wrapped his hands around your neck finish his job.

“Was getting captured part of your grand plan?” you ask Seungkwan.

“Hm?” It takes a moment to realise what you may be questioning him about, smiling slightly. “What makes you think we went in with a plan?”

“I thought I asked you to man the wheel?” Hoshi stands above the both of you.

“Not to batten down the hatches,” he side-eyed his captain. “Clear waters ahead, the wheel does not need manning.”

You zone out as they squabble over nothing, not finding the heart to be entertained by their back and forth. Seungkwan either loses or forfeits, because you feel him rise from next to you, only for his captain to take his place.

“What are you thinking about?” Hoshi asks.

“Everything,” you sigh.

“How come Seungkwan gets a thank you for your service and I don’t? Need I remind you who jumped for you and who didn’t?”

Rolling your eyes, you answer him, “Thank you, Captain Hoshi Kwon, I am forever indebted to your service.”

He chuckles in exaggeration, “Oh please, all in a day's work.”

“I mean it.”

“Hm?”

“I never did say thank you. But you did jump for me when you didn’t have to.”

“Who said I didn’t have to?”

“Our deal was done.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Our deal was to get you out when you jumped. I merely honoured that promise!”

“Merely?” you raise a brow. “Was it all merely a matter of conscience?”

His gaze locks with yours. “Don’t ask questions you know the answers for. I would’ve jumped even if you asked me to rope myself to the mast.”

“Please. I have enough blood on my hands and I haven’t even sat on my throne yet.”

“Blood is only on your hands if you tell a soul of what you’ve done,” Hoshi utters. “You’re the only living soul who knows.”

“And you are…?”

“Pirate. Our word means nothing.” Hoshi smiles.

The thought hangs in the air as you take in the man in front of you. He’s changed an era’s worth, yet all the same. His hair is longer, going from his initial shorter crop to curling around his ears, shielding his eyes. It makes him look younger, like a boy with much to live for.

That, and the multitude of notable scars he’s added to his collection, many of which have somehow been because of you. The wound at his torso is doing better, but far to go in its quest to heal.

Hoshi senses something amiss even after his sermon. Breaking his gaze, he turns to look straight ahead at the raised bow of the ship instead.

“Do you know how I got my splendid reputation for being the filthiest pirate on the seas?”

You can only stare, “I have a few guesses.”

He chortles, “Other than my criminal status.”

“Tell me.”

“Unnamed sailors have the odds of a peanut facing its inevitable fate of being crushed under a straggling boot. Pirates don’t see the government as their enemy when they’re own supposed brothers are more likely to jam a cannon in their mouths.”

He lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, “My mistake wasn’t that I was on the losing side in my early days, but more about how I was leaving nothing behind when I was done.”

“How humble,” you hum.

“Dead men tell no tales. When it’s worth it, it might be better to leave a straggler or two to live to tell the tale. A routine stab in the jugular can turn you into somewhat of a myth.”

“Am I a survivor?” you question.

“You may be sovereign on land, but you’re also an unnamed pirate,” he responds, turning back to lock eyes with you. “And you’ve left nobody to tell the tale.”

No one listens to a pirate, and everyone listens to a Queen.

“This isn’t to say there won’t be a legend that follows you.” He quirks a brow as he speaks. “Shows up and claims her father and his entire ship and crew sank at sea, only to befriend his sworn enemies in the aftermath. And then it evolves; she sent a cannon through her fathers ship, he died at the end of his own daughter's sword, she cursed him to captain a crew of the undead for eternity.”

“Have I planted the seeds for yet another ghost story?” It’s difficult to not giggle at the thought, despite how morbid.

“You’ve given yourself substance,” he says, a little stronger than before. His eyes too, wander to your neck and the bruises that refuse to budge. “Beyond just a royal or even a pirate. You did it for your honour as a human being, and that may be braver than anything I have ever conquered.”

In your anxiety ridden, feeble mind, your thoughts had convinced your conscience that everything would be over the minute your father’s heart stopped beating. That it would bring you peace at last.

And it did, especially when it felt like you’d gotten rid of this constant monster under the bed that had followed you far into adulthood. But from the bleeding heart of the creature emerged yet another one of its brethren, and then another and then another.

Smaller albeit, but monsters nonetheless. Problems nonetheless.

Weeks of this, and in one short interaction, Hoshi seemed to have given you the key to turn this monster into a pet.

On instinct, you feel your hand reach up, brushing against the skin of his cheek. It’s an all too familiar setting, seated on the deck of a ship too close for anybody but yours’ comfort. But without the rum and resentment, of course. And how you doubt he’d pull away this time.

Very lightly, you brush your lips against his. It was nothing but to simply feel him again, to feel a semblance of familiarity.

You feel him take your hand that rests on his cheek to place a kiss on your palm, nuzzling his nose into the concave of your hand.

Everything that was to come seemed a little more possible in that very moment.

Even more so when his fingers found the sensitive areas of your coloured throat, when his lips closed against your jaw, only to trail lower and to press into the marks his fingers continue to trail tucked into your neck.

That night, when slipping into your hammock felt like the most unbearable prospect in your near future, it couldn’t possibly be worse than uttering your next question to the man that seems to fix it all.

“Will you stay with me?”

With nothing but the light snores of the rest of the crew and the creaking of the ship, both you and Soonyoung laid in a hammock most definitely not meant for two. Head on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart beats under his scar, it’s bliss.

The feeling of his warm body against yours and the scent of him settling in your lungs, you decide that this was enough. At least for now.

IT WAS DIFFICULT TO give yourself the full list for obvious reasons, but it does seem to help when you tick off all the possible reasons why your patience has run as thin as it has.

Sitting at the decorated seat at the convened court of old men appointed by your father, you briefly wonder if you should finish them off too amidst your flash of anger. The men continue to squabble and babble about the next course of action, slamming their wrinkled hands on the pristine table and sending their own daggers of threats to the other inhabitants of the table.

“If you’d like to send a search party for the King’s body, be my guest,” you finally speak, having had quite enough when the throb in your temple worsens. “But remind me what troops you’ll be sending to the North if your best men will be gone for months attempting to find a body they never will.”

The dispute in the North side of the Kingdom was taking up most of the conversation anyway, and you doubt they’d put customary burial rites over their own glory of victory the North would bring.

“Your Majesty—”

“I would happily jump on the next search ship for my father,” you lie through your teeth. “But I watched him drown in front of my own two eyes, and as the next sovereign I cannot let you waste our resources for something that will both risk our soldier’s lives and have them come back home empty handed.”

Perhaps you had come off slightly more heartless than you intended, so you quickly add, “Please, let my father rest in peace.”

That seems to end the conversation easier than you had expected, but they’re quick to jump to the next issue not long after.

“The court would also like to bring light upon the palace guests.”

Tightening your jaw, you slump against your seat slightly. “What about them?”

They remain silent as their mouthpiece attempts to form the right words for the following question, mostly because you’ve addressed this multiple times beforehand but they continue to sit restless.

“Allow me to help you, Lord Bridge,” you sit up straighter, intending to put this matter to rest. “My guests will remain here for as long as they do, and if you have any more arising issues towards my guests I will only take it as your collective issues towards me.”

In the moment of silence, you continue, “The Kingdom is in a place of instability as we are all well aware. I find it most appalling that you remain fixated on trivial matters of the palace’s domestic code of conduct than you do for the wellbeing of this country!”

Silence yet again as you wait for their forcibly rehearsed chorus of apologies.

“Our greatest apologies, your Majesty.”

The pain in your temples becomes near unbearable as you dismiss the table after that, screeching your chair as you push it back as loud as you possibly can to do nothing but spite the men.

Turning the corner out of the room, you catch the open gates that lead to the paved gardens outside, the sun seeping into the marble floors indoors. Taking an instinctive step towards the gardens, you find most of the crew sprawled onto the grass as they soak in the sun.

Chan and Seungkwan look like they’re wrestling, their laughter ringing throughout the open court while their captain snaps at them to cut it out, only to get roped under one of their headlocks all the same.

There’s a call of your name and a giant wave from Mingyu, who spots you from beyond the flower beds. Still leaning against the gates, you smile and wave back.

Years the halls of the palace had gone, never hearing laughter in its walls. And something about watching them let themselves ruin the petunias and laugh so loud it echoes, heals you just a bit.

Even that night, when you find yourself in your giant four poster bed you’ve slept in since you were a child, this time dozing under the arm of another, you feel the itch of a healing wound somewhere in your heart.

Soonyoung laid with you for every night on the ship since that night, and stayed even here where the space was big enough to host the ghosts of your worries if not distracted.

He had found you on that first night in the palace still awake, haunting the library fireplace with another stack of papers to keep you company.

“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked as he picked up some of your documents.

“Clearly not,” you huff. The papers were mere decorations as you attempted to find an excuse to leave your rooms.

“You realise you won’t be much of an effective monarch if you exhaust yourself to death?”

There was no answer to that, especially when you were absorbing nothing of your new duties. You’d expected to fall asleep on the armrest of the uncomfortable settee whenever it was that you exhausted your brain of thoughts, even then refusing to sleep in that large bed.

He’s awfully persuasive, because as he tucks you into those very sheets, about to leave but not before placing a kiss on your forehead You stop him.

“Stay. Please.”

True as he has always been, he does.

THE CROWN IS HEAVIER than you had expected, even more so when it remains on your head for longer than your previously practised sessions walking around the throne room. The crew was exceptionally good at giving you things to train with, including fraudulent rodent scares to ensure the crown would not topple from your own head the minute you rise from your coronation.

And now, as you finally remove the decorative piece from your head after your actual coronation to replace it with something lighter for the following ball, you find relief in the fact that you’d only ever have to wear the actual thing only a few times in your life.

Everything moves as smoothly as it could, the decorated pirates that saved their Queen from a horrid shipwreck taking up most of the attendees attention as they either question inquisitively or send snarky remarks to the men who are well versed in how to rebut in true informal manner.

The past months had taken up more of your time than you had anticipated, and during the latter half of the still twinkling party, you attempted to spot the person you’ve been trying to corner all night.

Soonyoung stands at the edges of the gathering, empty handed as you watch him reject yet another offer for a drink from the trays that float about. His attire is the most formal you had ever seen, his face scrubbed and hair pushed back for the glorious occasion.

Approaching him from the sidelines, you take hold of his wrists and pull him towards one of the many doors in the ballroom and into a hallway you knew for a fact was rarely ever frequented.

“I feel I haven’t seen you ages,” you say once you’re sure you’re alone.

“Probably best for you to keep busy,” he replies with the smallest smile.

“Have the wrappings on your wound come off?”

Looking at his covered torso, he runs an instinctive hand over where the wound was. “Just a smaller patch now, but it’s nearly there. Disappointed it won’t scar too much.”

“Disappointed?”

“These are my spoils of war, miss princess,” he adds with a smirk, before correcting himself. “Ah, miss queen?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring,” you comment.

“The crown suits you.” His voice is soft and sincere.

Scoffing a little, you answer, “I would hope it did.”

“Although, I do prefer you in trousers and a knife.”

Laughing, you can only agree. Especially in your heavier than yourself dress and jewels. “I think I prefer them too.”

At the mention of your new status, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be milling between your new subjects?”

Keeping your eyes on his face, you wait until he meets your gaze. “I have more important things to attend to.”

He breaks eye contact first, and you can feel the distance grow further. One reach and you could take his hand in yours.

But you don’t.

“I know I’ve been quite busy, but…” you trail off as you attempt to find the words. “Is something the matter? What’s going on?”

With a long sigh, he runs a hand through his kept hair, effectively tousling it a little. “I was going to wait until after the ball to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He makes no moves to look at you when he utters his next words. “The crew and I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. We’ve taken up enough of your space and it’s best if we don’t intrude any further.”

It’s like you’ve taken a blow to the chest, the air knocked out of your lungs as you register what he’s just said. “You’re….you’re leaving?”

“I would think we’ve both gotten what we wanted. We had a deal.”

Deal? Why was he mentioning that now?

“Are you going to abandon me too?”

His head snaps up to finally meet your eye, mouth opening closing as words betray him.

“What happened to what you said about gaining you? All of you?” There’s a blatant accusation in your words.

“And you have! We’ll visit. Assuming the state doesn’t want my head on a pike anymore,” he chuckles uncomfortably.

In a moment of desperation, you take his hand in both of yours; his scarred, gnarled hands that tell you even in the dark who’s warmth it is that you feel every night next to you.

“Stay. Stay with me, please,” you plead. “I can’t live in this place alone, I despised it when I was young and I’ll only despise it even more now.”

Soonyoung brings his other hand to clasp over both of your own, eyes closing as you hear him take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

“So am I! I can’t possibly rule a kingdom by myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone—”

“I don’t want someone! I want you!”

He begins to whisper your name, moving his face away to blink rapidly.

“How do you feel about becoming a pirate king? I can never forbid you from the waters, that’s your home, and you will have it.”

He does not look at you, but you know he’s listening more intently than ever before.

“But I ask you as someone who loves you more than I have ever anything else, will you stay and marry me?”

Soonyoung falters as he absorbs the fact that you’ve just proposed to him.

“I—” he stutters. “The court—”

“The court wouldn’t dare to deny me the man that saved my life.”

You squeeze his hand tighter, moving impossibly closer.

“And even if they do, I'm ready to fight for the man who fought for me. So answer me as a man and not a pirate, Kwon Soonyoung, will you marry me?”

Soonyoungs mouth enclosing over your own is all the answer you need as you feel him break free of your hands to let them find your waist instead. Amidst the pile of fabric he pushes himself into you as close as possible, letting your hands guide his head to move against your mouth.

It’s everything, as you grip onto the back of his shoulder, pressing unforgettably into his open mouth. He takes in your bottom lip between his own, sucking before letting go, only to engulf your mouth once again.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the apple of your cheek, hot tears spilling from your eyes. “I promise, we’ll figure everything out.”

He shushes you when he feels you shudder in his hold, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “No need to torment your pretty head. Not right now.”

For once, you listen to your pirate captain without a fight, simply feeling the stretch of your lips as he moves down to capture them once more.

The pressure of his hands isn’t nearly as strong as it would’ve felt without the layers upon layers of fabric that cover your form, but standing in this desolate hallway, you swear his fingers might as well be caressing your bare skin underneath.

The thought sends your mind into a dazzling spin, letting go of his mouth with a gasp, suddenly needing to take a step back.

“I have to—I have to go back inside,” you breathe into his slick mouth. “Meet me outside my quarters at midnight.”

As scandalous as it was, you could not deny how alive it made you feel to be like this, meeting in darker corners in the dead of night. But for now, you allow him to fix the bits of your ensemble you could not see. With the bad of his thumb, he blends in the smudges of your rouge, swiping at your lips ever so delicately to ensure he leaves no trace of himself. Tucking the loose strands of hair back behind your ears, and finally, fixing the encrusted crown on your head, a flash of one of the diamond’s gleams reflecting onto his perfect face.

“You’re beautiful.” There’s a dazed look that graces him. “Beyond beautiful.”

With one last innocent press of your smiling mouth onto his, you promise him your midnight.

BY THE TIME IT was finally an appropriate hour for you to excuse yourself for the evening, you were near to exploding entirely.

Whispers of “Are you alright, your Majesty?” plaguing you through your already racing mind. It was beyond difficult to keep the constant shaking of your foot unobvious, however you could not simply up and leave whenever you wanted—at least not yet. The monarch would remain in an unstable authoritative position for quite some time after ascension, and with the unorthodox situation at hand, you assume you’d really have to push yourself if you were to be of any use as sovereign.

But when the time finally came and you were escorted out of the grand ballroom, only mere ticks away from the resounding bells of midnight, you were holding back from breaking into a sprint. Outside your quarters it was empty, but you remain steadfast in your refusal for your ladies in waiting tonight, promising you could dress yourself for bed on your own.

Standing at the double doors of your rooms, still the princess’ quarters as you refuse to move into the Queen’s rooms, you stand waiting. The two guards remain staring straight ahead, and you wait for the clicking of your ladies to go muffled before you ask.

“Has the Captain approached?”

“No, your Majesty.”

You try not to feel disappointed, despite knowing the midnight bells were yet to sound. “If he does, allow him in, please.”

Opening the double doors, you half wish you had let your ladies help you out of the god awful dress, tight and loose in all the wrong places. The jewels are thrown haphazardly on your vanity, needing the heavyweight of them off of your body.

Perhaps months of little to no bedazzling had rendered you incapable of wearing anything mildly less comfortable than linen and leather, but you suppose you’d slip back into the habit just as easily as you slipped out of it. Your nightgown feels like heaven on your tired, tired body, and the dimly lit interior of your bedchamber is only encouraging you to slip under your covers and fall deep into sleep.

That was one thing about the ship you doubt you’d ever miss.

Three rapt knocks outside of the heavy double doors have you sitting rapt at attention, hastily making your way to the door from your vanity. Pressing the front of your nightgown down, you open the door slightly and poke your head out.

Soonyoung stands at the door, nervous of all things, still clad in his full suit. You smile as you let him in, closing the door to turn the lock.

“Your guards mortify me.”

“Oh? So they’re doing their job right?” You walk up to him and grasp onto his lapels, pulling him down to meet the lips you’ve missed so much despite only being hours apart. “Why? Has this big bad pirate found his match in the palace guards of all places?”

“Hmm,” he’s humming against your lips. “I could take them both.”

Giggling like you were in love, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.

“I hope you weren’t bothered too much,” you say. “The aristocracy seem to have being a pain in the ass written in their birthrights.”

“I think they were too scared to approach, probably thought I’d start swearing and snatching the pearls right off their necks. Some of them were bearable, asked me how long my sword was.”

It’s difficult to not laugh at that, “Well?”

He raises his brows unceremoniously, “Won’t you like to know?”

Taking the opportunity while you giggled uncontrollably at the situation, he goes back placing never ending kisses to your mouth. Sighing involuntarily, you melt into him once again, infinitely more relaxed than in the hallway.

Soonyoung’s eyelashes brush against yours in a whisper of their own, only reminding you how close you were to him in the moment. His kisses go from soft and fleeting to something with a little more vigour. The warmth of his mouth goes back to overtaking the lower half of your face, sucking and licking into your mouth like his life depended on it.

If your mind was reeling when his hands were merely ghosts of pressure over your heavy dress, the feeling of his palms and fingers so distinct over your nightgown, the only thing separating you two, is enough to have your knees begin to buckle.

From your waist, they move to your back, before caressing back to the sides of your waist, thumb running in circles. Gentle handfuls of your flesh, bunching and letting go of the material of your nightgown. Very soon, his mouth leaves yours and instead moves to your jaw, the air in the room letting you feel the wetness that he leaves behind as a passionate trail.

He soon reaches the junction of your jaw and neck, leaving a particularly long suck in the area that has a gasp leaving your mouth. Remaining in that area, you feel the pleasant graze of his tongue on your skin, only making you tilt your head farther out to let him carry out his loving.

Your mind wanders back to the hands that grope you in ways that would defame you, the unseemly palms that have you needing to feel him all the same.

With grazing hands, you slip your fingers underneath his jacket, pushing it off one shoulder. He understands the message, flicking it off of his frame before loosening his cravat and throwing it somewhere behind him.

Unlatching from your neck, he comes round to face you to find your face the epitome of disconnected and dazed.

“Can you wait for me on the bed, my love?”

“But—” The thought of him being even an inch away was most aggravating, but he cuts you off before you can refute.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Soonyoung rests his forehead against your own, taking your hands in his. “I’m right here. I just need to take this awful suit off.”

Your face must have been peculiar because he’s immediately jumping, panicked. “Uh—do you not want me to, we don’t have to, I just thought—”

“No!” you yelp, wide eyed. “I, um, I’ll wait. On the bed, I mean.”

He lets you walk over to the giant four poster bed, pushing the flow of your gown down when you realise how high it had ridden, cheeks burning scarlet at the thought of exposing so much.

Hearing ruffles from behind you, you cannot bring yourself to look back at him, already extremely lightheaded and afraid that the sight might make you faint altogether.

Perhaps you were experiencing a delayed case of sea legs, because it’s more difficult than usual to make yourself comfortable on the soft beddings. You make a futile attempt at slowing your breathing.

By the time Soonyoung is done, meeting you in the middle, you keep your eyes on his face as he’s immediately climbing over to kiss you softly. Hand on the back of your head, he guides you to lay flat, adjacent to the headboard so you’re laying on the breadth of the bed.

He handles you like you were made of glass, and it only makes the strange ache between your legs increasingly present and uncomfortable.

Noting a cool feeling on the base of your throat, you open your eyes and catch the leather cord that dangles from his neck, the letter opener charm that’s attached to the end of it connecting you two as your lips part. Just beyond, through the dip of his collarbones and the valley to his chest, you catch the scar that curls above his heart. Even lower, you find the smaller wrappings of his scarring wound.

You trace over the edges of the new addition, shaking hands as you try your best to not brush over the wound.

On the other side, Soonyoung has his hands on shin as his body hovers over you between your legs. Curling around, he caresses the skin of your bare calf, drifting to the back of your knees. He takes the opportunity to lift your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist.

The action has gravity doing what it does best, the hem of your nightgown dropping to bunch over the junction of your leg, your entire thigh exposed for the air.

Soonyoung takes no time to let his hands wander higher, taking light handfuls of the flesh of thighs, dragging his grip further and further up.

“Nearly tipped the ship over when I saw you in those fucking trousers,” he says, eyes closed as he drags his mouth over the inner part of your thigh.

The sound that leaves your mouth is breathy, mind preoccupied with how quickly he was making his way towards the apex of your thighs. He’s using his mouth like he used it on your own lips, nipping at the flesh before biting down hard.

“Soonyoung!”

Tongue running over the patch, he sucks on the area to sooth the bite. It’s taking everything out of you to not twitch uncontrollably in his hold, the heat in your core reaching temperatures you’ve never experienced.

Unlatching himself from your thigh, Soonyoung rears his head slightly. The sight has your head rolling back, mind drifting to the face of the man who’d visited you in your dreams, the same man that had now made home between your legs.

Before you realise it, the bunched hem of your nightgown is flown upwards entirely, fluttering as the fabric lands on your stomach.

Your heat is bare underneath, evident with the way Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the now fully exposed part of you. Your chest continues to rise and fall as you lift your head to look at him, eyes half closed and mind muddled.

“What…What’re you doing?”

Soonyoung looks like you’ve disturbed him from a trance, snapping up to look at you as you ask him your question.

It hardly registers in his mind. What was he doing? Was it not obvious—

Ah.

If the mere sight of your bare thighs weren’t enough for him to release his load onto the sheets untouched, your unawareness might just end up doing it for him.

Of course you didn’t know why he was at eye level with your cunt; women from this world were not supposed to know.

The buzz in his mind renders him useless for a few moments as his vision blurs, the pain in his lower region unbearable. The thought of him being the first person to do this to you, to pleasure you like this; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it till the end of the night alive.

Screwing his eyes shut, his palms full of your thighs, he drops his head and counts to ten.

“Will you let me show you how a Queen is meant to be worshipped?”

Wet mouthed and unhinged eyes, your arousal was doing nothing but multiplying at the sight of him.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

It takes you less than a moment to nod your head, eyes locked with his.

Bringing a hand closer, he dips one finger into the beginnings of your hole. Bringing some of the glisten onto his fingers. Your lips are parted and he brings a second finger to gather your arousal, rubbing over your entrance ever so slowly.

The motion makes you let out a heavy exhale, gripping onto the bunched fabric at your stomach till your knuckles turn white.

With little warning, you feel his fingertips push and drag upwards, right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately, he’s rubbing your arousal all over the area, rubbing your clit in rhythmic circles with both fingers.

You can’t stop it when you throw your head back and let out a slight whimper, relishing in the feeling that overtakes every last sense and capability, anticipating the next surge of pleasure that courses through your entire body like you've been struck by a bolt of something.

Vision obscured, you loll your head to the side when you feel his fingers retract, confused.

All you catch is the outstretched nature of his tongue, and how it lands directly where his fingers were.

You let out the loudest moan yet, back arching off the bed as he licks a forceful drag up your cunt before moving back down your clit, circling your hole with the tip of his tongue, right before repeating. He flicks your nub right where he’s found you twitch the most, back and forth as your hips begin to fail at your suppressed stutters, his hands needing to pin you down onto the sheets to continue.

He becomes more generous, laying his tongue flat now as he massages your nub so good. Your thighs are closing around his ears and he does nothing to stop you, nearly suffocating between them. Hips going from their stutters to a grind, you find your hands flying to his hair, grip tighter than you thought you’d come down with. It doesn’t help that he’s now taken a finger to circle your entrance while his lips suck on your clit.

“Soonyoung.” It’s all you can say, throat incapable of forcing anything but his name, the burn behind your eyes only making it harder to not say it louder.

When he pushes the finger in, it has you letting out a moan, the foreign feeling against your walls only forcing them to clamp onto his digit. Gradually, you feel his pace quicken as he slides his finger in and out of your hole, his mouth still doing beautiful things to your cunt.

It doesn’t take long for him to shove in another finger, stretching your hole as you let out a constant string of noises through the pleasure, ever-building as every passing moment only scrambles your brain further.

And then you feel him groan, a vibration throbbing through your system.

It’s suddenly all too much, and before you can tell him what’s going on, you’re rendered incapable. You don’t know where your limbs fly, but all you feel is white hot and overwhelming to an unbelievable degree.

“Oh–ungh—” Your body is telling Soonyoung all he needs to know as he only pushes into your pussy even further, letting you ride out your high as you claw at him in every way possible.

Inevitably, the feeling subsides and you realise you’ve been reduced to sobs, tears streaking the sides of your face. Laying flat with your head still on the sheets, you stare at the ceiling of your four poster, trying to remember where you were.

Barely noticing the man that now hover above you, you hear him whisper. “Are you alright?”

Nodding weakly, you don’t even try to lift a finger in the remaining aftermath.

“I need words, my love.”

Swallowing thickly, you give him a breathy, “Yes.”

The lower half of his face glistens in the light like unorthodox diamonds, and all you can think about is how you need him closer to you.

You make an attempt with your nightgown, your trembling arms, still coursing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Soonyoung decides to help, hands pushing your spine into an arch as he pulls the slip up and over your head, now entirely bare in front of him.

You watch as instead of throwing the fabric away, he brings it to his mouth to wipe the slick off, tainting the gown with your essence.

Mouth over yours in a salty kiss, you pull him into you as close as humanly possible, needing to feel his heat, his weight, his scent as close as possible. His mouth reaches your throat again, lips brushing over the expanse as he places open mouthed kisses over the nearly faded marks.

His hands are lingering once again as they ghost the sides of your breasts, thumbs coming close to your nipples before retracting in a caress. He takes them in handfuls as he goes back to busy your lips with his own, massaging the mounds with a pressure just enough to have you reeling.

Flicking your nipple lightly, he goes back to circle the bud with thumb again. Making himself further familiar, his fingers begin to pinch and pull at them, pressing down to get a noise out of you, one that you sound as you breathe into his mouth.

Trailing over your stomach, he pushes himself off of you. On his knees, he takes the distance as his chance to look at you in your entirety for the first time. Your fucked out expression and your lack of words is doing nothing but fueling him, your loud breaths somehow more sinful than anything he could ever do to you.

In one swift motion, he’s slipping his arms beneath you, pulling you up so he can lay you against the headboards and pillows. You barely register what’s happening, having given yourself up to him long before.

Grabbing one of the millions of cushions on the bed, he swings one over. Using no strength of your own, he lifts your hips and places it down beneath you, effectively propping you up.

And then he’s meeting you at eye level, hands cupping your face. “I need you to listen to me, darling.”

He waits for confirmation, of which you can only nod, still seeing mild stars. “Do you want to stop?”

It's a visceral reaction; the violent shaking of your head, the hand that flies to his bicep. “N–no!”

You pause as he grips onto your upper arms tight, right as you continue. “I just—a moment. Don’t stop, please.”

Leaning down, he places a long kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving his head to fit into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the skin below your ear.

“I’m right here,” he whispers. “For as long as you want me.”

His kisses go from desperate to something with a little more intent, pressing his lips into your neck consistently. Oh so gently, it begins to feel like a draught. He turns into calm just as he could become chaos, bringing you down from the after effects of his own actions.

The hum that leaves you is unthinking, fingers remaining deep in the roots of his hair. Your own nose is pressed against his hair, his scent mixed with sweat infiltrating your nostrils. It fills your head with a pleasant buzz, one that you feel force a pull at the corners of your mouth.

“I meant it when I said it,” you murmur into his hair. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Raising his head, he meets your eye, smiling slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for making you believe I was trying to leave you.”

“You weren’t?”

He presses his lips into a line, exhaling as he drops his chin to his chest. “I’ve needed to be selfish my whole life just to survive. Leaving…I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten on that boat in the morning without taking you with me somehow.”

Moving back to look at you, you realise very quickly there’s more to the mere glassy look in his eye. “For once, I wished to be anything but a pirate, to be anywhere but near the sea. Not when you wouldn’t be there with me.”

Taking one of his beautifully decorated hands to your mouth, you kiss the soft of his palm. “You’ve done more than anyone ever has to protect me.”

You laugh against his hand, “This is my turf, captain. Let me protect you… protect us.”

Something injects you with a dose of bold, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his raised shoulders. “But…I believe we were in the middle of something. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

The smirk that graces his lips is immediate, pushing you back down onto the sheets as you let a laugh escape you.

And then you feel something warm graze your bottom lip, pointed in the way it pushes inwards. He’s brought the glinting letter opener charm up to your lips, the trinket pinched between his fingers as he continues to keep it on your mouth. He kisses you deep as the metal remains between you two, your hands run across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple as he props himself between you.

“I love you,” he cuts between the kiss to groan, the charm dropping from between your mouths to your chest.

“I love you, mmh—” His fingers have found your clit mid confession, rubbing quickly as he attempts to get you all hot and withered again.

Your legs raise on instinct, back arching as he rubs you mercilessly, the pressure building quicker than it had before.

“I–I think—” you start to tell him, and it seems it’s all he needs to remove his fingers entirely.

“Soonyoung!” you yelp, landing on the bed with a thud.

Looking down, you find his hands wrapped around the length between his own legs, and you realise this was your first time seeing it. Past the white-oozing slit, his tip is a painful looking red. If his hands weren’t already pumping and he hadn’t already lined himself up to your hole, you would’ve taken him into your own palms, done exactly with your mouth that he’d done with his own.

But you can’t find it within yourself to stop him when you feel the initial push of his bulbous tip against your hole, the stretch causing you to drop your mouth open.

“Fuck,” you hear him curse, and when you look up you find his own eyes screwed shut. His hands grip the plush of the pillow beside your head as tight as ever, face askew like he was holding himself back from combusting entirely.

Slowly, you feel the stretch turn into something akin to a burn, a sting in the back of your eyes. You let him push himself into you at his own pace, the never ending battle between your mind and your refrained hips ever present as you attempt to keep them at bay.

He keeps his pelvis flush against yours ince he’s sheathed himself inside you entirely. BOth of your pants fill the thick air of the room, the throb of your walls around his shaft leaving a tremble in his forearm despite your forsake.

Hand somewhere above your head, you feel Soonyoung pull out ever so slightly before pushing back in. Just like this, in shallow thrusts, he pumps himself in an out of your walls in a slow pattern.

It begins with a simmering tremble of pleasure that prolongs as he drags his cock in and out, and then in and out, and then—

Your eyes fly open when you feel his hips slam against yours with a resounding sound, fingers gripping his arm as he does it again, your moans penetrating the air. Before you know it, he’s hiked your legs up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking as he goes back to snapping his hips into you.

“Oh, Soonyoung.”

Your nails are digging into his bicep like it was the only thing tying you to this earth, the only thing keeping you from passing out entirely. He’s taken up a brutal pace, pistoning into your clamped walls with a vigour unmatched.

All Soonyoung can hear is the stretch of your moans and groans directly in his ear, the obscene squelch of both of your fluids mixing at your middles. Your hands have migrated to his back, clawing at the skin like you’ve been utterly possessed.

He can’t seem to mind, not when they’ll simply become reopening wounds every time he’ll have you like this, all to himself and no one else. He wonders vaguely if your guards outside can hear the way you’re losing yourself in him just as he is in you, wonders if it appalls them that a filthy pirate gets to have their Queen in his arms as her vindictive pleasure.

One hand rubbing over your slick clit, he pulls back to sit on his heels, the angle allowing him to keep ever part of you occupied, his spare hand coming up to toy with the pillow of your breast.

It’s all too much, for the both of you as your collective noises become increasingly frequent and high pitched.

And then he’s pushed you over the edge, the shake of your thighs electrifying as you nearly scream out in the bliss of your high. Hands moving every which way to find a grip as you let the feeling crash into you over and over again.

“Oh, that’s so good, so good, oh my goodness.”

You’re still in the middle of your climax when Soonyoung can’t take it anymore, letting himself release his load inside of you like a mark. It’s a mess of force and pleasure as the both of you lose sight of your strengths and weaknesses, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into your walls only prolonging your orgasm even further.

He continues to thrust, continues to play with your nub, continues to flick at your nipples despite the orgasm subsiding. It’s all suddenly too much all at once, the sharp jerk of your body and your voice asking him to stop.

“Soon—Soonyoung, it’s too much.”

Hands coming to a halt and his thrusts slowing, you feel him ease himself out of you.

It’s a sight Soonyoung doubts he could ever forget even if he tried, your still pulsating walls doing everything but keeping the milky white of his load inside you, globs of the liquid spilling out as you shudder near lifeless on the bed. His hands grope at the inside of your thighs, pulling your lips apart to take in the mess he’s made.

He can’t help himself when he pushes two fingers into your hole, feeding his cum back into your hole right where it belongs.

You’ve only barely started to come round when he meets you at eye level, plopping next to you on the bed.

“Hi,” he grins.

“Hi,” you breathe back, hands coming up to touch his face.

He lets you breathe for a few moments as he finds himself getting off the bed to find your tainted nightgown, moving back to you to spread your legs and wipe you clean as best as he could.

You find it within yourself to allow him to pull you into a sitting position, a cup of water from the nightstand pressing against your tired mouth.

“Come on, just one,” he urges as you slump against his chest.

You take a few sips as he coaxes you into drinking the full cup and half of the second helping.

He gives up as he holds you against his chest, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair to push past your face.

“Are you alright?” he asks you. Your eyes are closed when he leans down to place a peck on the apple of your cheek.

“Mhm,” you muffle. “Want to sleep.

“I’d let you, but…”

“Soonyoung, I can’t go again,” you whine.

He chuckles, “I meant to ask where we could find some sugar around here. You barely ate anything at the ball.”

“The kitchens?” you answer with a floating question mark.

Soonyoung can’t help it when he squeezes you so tight it has you complaining loudly, not being able to sustain the love just in the tiny expanse of his heart.

“Come on, let’s get you some cake before both our hearts give out.”

BUNDLED UP IN WARMER clothes, the only thing the palace walls hear is the tiny whispers and giggles of you and your lover as you make your way to the kitchens.

It’s empty at this time of night, the dying embers of the fireplace the only source of light. Soonyoung uses every last bit of his thievery to manage to find a basket of dough balls, the syrup more readily available at the table in the centre.

The tingling in your brain can’t seem to decipher the overwhelming happiness that floods you from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. Especially when you call out his name amidst his shuffling, your heart can’t take the grin on his face as he hurries to join on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Arm looped through his own and your head on his shoulder, you decide you’d be quite okay dying like this.

The dough balls are cold and the syrup is probably a little too sweet, but you can’t possibly complain when it warms you just the same.

“I’ve despised my name my entire life,” Soonyoung starts in the silence, picking at the insides of his treat. “Some old merchant sailor was giving his ship away in exchange that the taker would take care of it. He’d built his Tigress from the first board to the last sail, but the years had made their mark. It was practically falling apart when I took it off his hands.”

He pushes the remaining bit of the pastry into his mouth, muffled as he continues, “He had a strange name, said it was given to him by his crew when they realised he was born without a name. Hoshi. I liked it well enough so I kept it.”

“Soonyoung—”

“That one. I wanted to replace the name I loathed, the one my own mother gave me.” You watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Ash is my birthplace, my mother worked in the brothels where I was born only because she couldn’t get rid of me.”

Taking one of the hands that wrap around his arm, he brings your fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of each one. “I despised that name, until I heard it from your lips.”

“Soonyoung.” It felt right on your tongue, like you were destined to say his name.

“Yes, my love?” He smiles softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says as he kisses you again. “Thank you for keeping my name, thank you for giving it life.”

You take the opportunity to grab one of the syrup soaked dough balls from the basket and stuff them into his mouth. “Enough, don’t tell me all this luxury’s made you soft.”

It was a jab but a lighthearted one in any case, you loved to see this side of him and you doubt you would ever get enough of seeing him like this. Vulnerable with his softer smiles and squinted eyes.

Bringing one of your digits to your mouth, you suck the remaining syrup off your fingers.

Soonyoung is quick to take notice as he takes your hand and brings your fingers up to his mouth, running his tongue over the pads of your fingers to take in the remaining sugar left on your fingers.

He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on the tips of your fingers, making sure every last hint of sweetness is gone.

And then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth as he moves against your lips slowly.

Breaking apart, you whisper, “As much as I’d love to, the bakers will be coming in any minute now.”

Soonyoung’s grin is dangerous, and you find out why the minute you feel his arms loop around your waist and under your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor of the kitchens.

You squeal before you can help it, his lips finding home in your neck as you laugh as loud as your chest would allow.

You could get used to this. And you will.

THE SERVANTS CARRYING THE giant stack of plates nearly topple over when you sprint past them, yelling a loud apology over your shoulder as you do nothing but hasten your pace.

The paper in your hands is clutched tight in your fists as you run to where your carriage awaits, near yelling at the driver to make it to the docks before the streets would be full of the early morning merchants and bakers, slowing the gallops of the decorated horses.

The town is waking as your carriage races past, the beginnings of the new day making itself known as the sun peers through the gaps of the houses. You’re incapable of sitting still, your heels tapping against the floors of your cabin incessantly as the docks grow nearer and nearer.

And then you see it, the rush of dock handlers that see the royal carriage slow to a stop in front of the boardwalk. You slam the door open before any of the tens could do it for you, breaking into a sprint as you find the distinct flag of the royal crest wave high on the other end of the docks.

You had already seen Soonyoung off in the dark of the night as he made his way to the ship that was near ready to depart as you slide to stop in front of the anchored ship.

There was nothing sane about what you were doing, the chortles and shocked noises of sailors and merchants deaf to ears as you finally spot him near the prow.

His eyes meet yours and he has to do a double take.

Panting and needing to hold onto your knees for support, you peer up as you watch him run towards the ramp that leads down to the docks to see you, to ask why you were here when he’d kissed you goodbye mere hours ago.

By the time he meets you at the wobbly boardwalk, you’ve somewhat recovered.

“Are you alright?” he asks you as soon as you’re within earshot, hands grasping onto your upper arms in evident concern.

“I had to tell you, this came in right after you left.” You brandish the paper clutched into your fist, smoothing it over as the light catches the red stamp at the bottom.

It takes him less than a minute to realise what it said, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth gaping like a fish. “They…They said yes?”

“They said yes,” you repeat, nodding furiously as you break into a smile. “We can get married, Soonyoung, they said yes.”

His arms are crushing you before you know it, wrapped around you so tight as he buries his face into your neck, repeating it like a mantra, “They said yes…”

By the time you part, he keeps his arms around you, still embracing you in front of the entire port. You take hold of his face bringing it closer to you.

“Three months, and then you come home,” you breathe. “And I get to marry you, in front of everyone.”

Soonyoung lets his lips meet your own in a chaste kiss as he corrects you, “I get to marry you in front of everyone.”

There’s a thud of something nearby, and you look up to find the crew of the Tigress hanging over the railings of the newly appointed naval ship that looked suspiciously like a pirate’s.

“He can’t come back home, if he doesn’t leave!” Seungkwan yells over cupped hands.

You’d like to send him an affectionate gesture involving your middle finger, but choose to save him in front of the crowded port.

“You’ll miss me, Seungkwan, just you wait,” you send him a pointed glare that he simply scoffs at.

He might miss you, but you’ll definitely miss the lot of them when you return to a significantly emptier palace.

“Don’t let the royal snobs walk over you, you’re a better sailor anyway,” you tell Soonyoung. “Not that I needed to tell you, anyway.”

“I promise on our future wedding to be a complete menace.” He grins at the declaration as you admire him in the morning light.

One last time, you memorise the dips and hills of his features, pressing your final kiss into his lips as the voices telling him to hurry it up grow louder.

He blows you a kiss from the railings as the anchor is hoisted, and you send him one right back.

As your carriage trudges its path back to the palace, at a pace more acceptable for both the stamina of the horses and the integrity of the structure, your eyes remain glued to the shrinking ship that fades into the distant horizon.

There’s a pang in your chest, one that brings a tear to your eyes. It’s all very dramatic, the way the melancholy makes a home in your heart. An inkling tells you how you’ll probably become quite used to the feeling, learn to greet it like a friend.

For now you enter the lighter palace, and take your place on the chair in your study and find solace in the ideas your mind brings.

That no matter how long Soonyoung will remain far from you, he will always come back home to you.

Always.

[AN]: ty for joining my babies on their journey, i cannot thank you all enough for reading all 48fuckingK words of this i love you guys truly!!! thank you for all the reblogs and comments on the other parts, it makes me genuinely so happy to see you guys enjoy this universe that i've built. I read every single comment and know i appreciate all of it so so much <3

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merakiui · 1 year

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PLEASE, elaborate more on the idea of being a vulnerable maiden who became a general's spoils of war. Honestly, I wouldn't mind being criticized by that man, let alone being full every night after he used me.

OTL I need him carnally. Just war-driven, mostly heartless Lilia who isn’t afraid to do what must be done for the sake of victory in battle!!! >v<

Imagine General Vanrouge who, in the wake of a battle that leaves your defenseless village in ruins and aflame, finds you amidst the debris. You’re injured and cradling your stomach; he assumes you may have sustained an abdominal injury with how desperately you clutch the area, and he surmises if it isn’t treated you’ll eventually bleed out or it’ll become infected. So he’s sensibly callous when he decides he’ll put you out of your misery, as there’s no way he’s taking you along. He needs to lead his men elsewhere to recuperate and regroup after a hard-fought battle. But just before he can deliver a killing blow, your arms shoot out in defense and he spies the rounded bump you were once previously protecting.

Ah. He understands now. You’re with child.

Normally he wouldn’t care. Life and death are essentially much the same when you’re trapped in war: it’s cruel suffering. But something about you strikes a chord within him. He bends down to where you’re huddled on the ground and slides his mask up so you can be at ease. Even bloodied, bruised, and broken, you’re a pretty thing. He’s not normally swayed by tears or pleas for salvation. War hardens anyone, especially those on the frontlines. Yet there’s so much potential growing inside you—a little one you love and care wholeheartedly for. This is the only time he’ll make an exception. No one says anything when he lifts you with ease, carrying you like one might carry a bride, and gives the signal for his men to regroup at the designated checkpoint. You’re terrified, too startled to move in his arms, but you’re not dead. And being scared and alive is a fate far more relieving than death. Or so you hope.

You’ll be allowed to live under a few conditions. One: You must be watched over by soldiers in intervals, as Lilia can’t take any risks. You might be a spy or a danger to his troops. He has to think objectively. Two: You’ll live like a soldier. Of course there will be some degree of leniency, considering you’re carrying a child. Lilia will make sure you’re safe and well-fed (or about as well-fed as you can get with war rations) so that you won’t lose your baby. Three: You must always be honest. Though General Vanrouge can be intimidating, he isn’t a monster. He’ll listen if you voice logical complaints. He’s somewhat softer on you knowing you’re pregnant, so if something’s wrong you must tell him. This is especially important as the months pass and your due date draws near. Lilia has to make appropriate plans for the day when you’ll inevitably give birth, so knowing ahead of time will be useful. Four—and this one is a strange one: You must service General Vanrouge whenever he wishes, as it’s a fair trade. He wants to be rough, especially if he’s frustrated with the outcome of a battle, but he keeps his strength in check. You’re allowed to set the pace, to ride him if it pleases, to pick which positions he fucks you in because it has to be easy and comfortable on your body, especially depending on how big your bump is. You’re the only one he’ll make these exceptions for. It’s a special, rare honor.

The soldiers observe their general’s taken quite the liking to you. But then they all love you, too. You know how to cook delicious stews when they manage to scrounge up enough ingredients for one. But no one can love you more than Lilia. He’s grown fond of his sweet spoil of war. <3 it’s a good thing he claimed you, otherwise Death himself would have made you his and Lilia is always defying him on the battlefield.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #n/sfw #he’s taking over my brain help orz #i need him!!!!!

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angel-of-the-moons · 5 months

Note

I think Khonshu would benefit a lot from being tied up and given an hours-long edging session tbh (the incredulous logistics of an ancient deity as demanding as him actually staying bound and rendered immobile aside, of course). See if he’s still crabby and snippy after he has to beg for mercy from his puny li’l human lover who hardly ever has the opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine.🤭

A Promise Kept

Khonshu x Fem!Moon Knight!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, Teasing, Dom(?) Reader, Sub(?) Khonshu, Edging, Verbal Binding, Grinding, Handjob, Blowjob, Thigh-Fucking

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah, this is basically a part 2 to my other Moon Knight!Reader fic. The Dusty Bird Man gets his 👀 But the answer to that is also yes

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

It had been almost two months since your confusing and arousing encounter with your god, Khonshu.

Two months since that night on the couch, and the bastard hasn't even so much as hinted that he cared--or even remembered--what happened that night. But you knew he felt it, you could tell he thought about it; in the subtle way his hand would press into the small of your back before battle. In the way you could feel his eyeless gaze linger on your body as you danced between your foes in a bloody concert and blur of white.

You could feel it on you even when it appeared you were alone in your camps, or hotel rooms in your travel; the way eyes unseen slowly raked your form, leaving cold prickling bumps in its wake.

Despite the fact you knew of his newfound attraction to you--or perhaps more accurately, your body--he had not voiced it. And most likely never would have, had you not.

He would have let his fascination and arousal fester within him, locked it away into his own imagination to entertain him on silent, windless nights.

But, that didn't need to happen. Not now.

You couldn't take the tension anymore, the ache between your legs that refused to be satiated by means of your own, none o f your vibrators or silicone toys enough to ease the burning need your depths craved to be filled. Nothing could compare or come close to how electrifying it felt to have his hands on you, leaving you wondering how it would feel if you took it just a bit further...

And thus was how your bargain with you benefactor started. You played him at his own game; talked in the same labyrinthine patterns of honor he reveled in. No mortal bindings could keep him restrained or bound.

Nothing but his words and promise to let you entertain yourself kept him in line. His pride would not allow him to break carnal oath. Like a demon at a crossroads, Khonshu struck a bargain with you. Your pleasure for his, yet he was not allowed to touch you. And if he did, you would stop entirely and never venture into this territory again. The premise of such a situation had his ancient blood singing at the prospect.

But he had no idea you could be this maddening.

The way you were on your knees before him, skin bare, save for the silvery-white cloak he'd granted you enshrouding you with his power; wearing him on your bare skin in such a way that he had never thought to see any of his chosen, let alone you. The holy article flowed and hung like silk over your bare shoulders, down your back, covering your head and much of your face, concealing the mischievous glint you help in your eyes as your tongue lazily running up and down his thick shaft, your diminutive fingers tracing every thumping vein beneath the searing, velvety skin.

It was a worship he would surely have enjoyed, had he not made a binding promise not to touch you, to push and press you into the position that he wanted; to take you in the way he knew without a doubt you wanted him to.

But your own pride and ego could sometimes match his own, and he knew you would not abandon this game just to know what it felt like to have his entirety deep within the hottest, wettest recesses of your body that his divine ichor may burn forever inside of you at the mere memory of it.

He growled, a deep, menacing tone that would terrify any other mortal away from the path of teasing and testing the patience of a god this way; to try and push him past his breaking point. And, infuriatingly--pleasurably--you did not relent in your pace, one of your hands pumping his shaft as he sat before you, perched on the ruins deep in the desert, the carnage of the battle you fought still littering one of his ancient, ruined temples while your other hand crept up his thigh so achingly slow until your fingers curled and cupped the large testes that hung beneath his cock, heavy with his godly seed.

You palmed them, your fingers teasing and pressing in such an erotic way it had every nerve in his body tingling while you sucked the tip of his cock past your swollen lips, your tongue tracing the slit and tasting the ambrosial fluid dripping from it, humming appreciatively at the taste of him; pumping the rest of his length lazily in your fist.

Khonshu growled again, his hips bucking slightly to try and force himself just a bit father past your soft lips, to feel more of your tongue trace the underside of his shaft.

He felt so enraged he nearly fisted your hair as you pulled back, a heavy trail of saliva connecting your tongue to his cock as you leaned away, finally looking up at him with sadistic mirth in your eyes.

"Giving in already?" You jabbed playfully, your tone almost innocent as your tongue ran along the shape and curve of your slick lips. "And here I thought the God of the Night Sky would be able to control himself better than some horny teenager."

His chest rattled with a dismissive huff as he felt his outrage simmer low in his belly, mixing with the strange pleasure that he felt at you denying him as he looked down at you. "A test," Khonshu sneered. "I will not give in like you think I will."

You slowly trailed a finger up from the underside of his cock all the way to his tip, swirling another bead of his precum around the crown almost lazily, smirking at how he twitched and the massive girth jerked in your palm, veins thumping beneath your soft skin. "Oh, c'mon... and you called me pathetic? It's only been an hour. You've been squirming this whole time, old man."

His fists clenched so hard he could feel his tendons strain with his effort to reign in his self control, to pull and stretch it to its absolute limit as your haughty voice teased and poked at him like a fool poking a tiger with a stick.

He dropped back against the crumbling stone, forcing his tense shoulders to drop as he looked at the night sky--his night sky. His moon shining down on the sands of Egypt while the two of you engaged in your little rendezvous.

"Guess you can teach old birds new tricks." You murmur with a giggle, sliding your tongue around his flushed head and pulling him into your mouth, soaking and coating his tip with your saliva before pulling back, reveling in how his ashen abs flexed taut at the loss of heat, at how his voice nearly trembled with frustration.

His cock ached and twitched, throbbing and swelling as you hang your tongue out of your mouth, dripping heavy globs of your spit onto his length, using your soft yet calloused fingers to spread it and pump him harshly, clenching your legs together at the heady groan that slithered out from within him.

His head was still turned to the sky, beak pointed at the stars like a bony compass as you knew he was still trying to ignore how you were teasing him. Your cunt throbbed painfully, drooling onto the sands below, coating your thighs in a hot sticky mess that you refused to tend to just yet in favor of aggravating the creature that was basically your boss.

You swore he almost snapped again, feeling his thighs flex beneath your palms as you released his cock, using his legs as support as you shuffled closer.

His head snapped down to look at you, holding back the urge to thrust towards your missing touch; until he felt the soft and heavy weight of your breasts pressed around his dick. Khonshu growled approvingly as you used your hands to press the mounds of flesh tighter around him, arching and pulling your body in a way that stroked him.

It was not the wet, tight heat that he wanted... but it was very, very close to it.

He hadn't anticipated you to do this, shuddering and feeling his heart sing in his chest at the assault of pleasure you were attacking him with; his hands gripping the edges of his crumbling, makeshift throne as you chuckled, grinning widely up at him as you dipped your head down, licking around the head of his cock each time you rolled downwards, swiping away each fresh bead of his precum that he dribbled out for you, letting some of it roll down his throbbing shaft to drip onto your breasts as you worked him over.

Khonshu's cock was so hard you could swear the damn thing could probably fuck a hole into a steel wall if he really wanted to. Your cunt pulsed and clenched around nothing at the thought of what it could do to you if he fucked you, instead.

But no, that would happen later. Maybe. If he obeyed the rules of your bargain, that is. You could do whatever you wanted to him, make him cum at your own leisure to get back at how he treated you before.

And oh, how you were enjoying this game. You almost couldn't believe it, the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you sliced down the interlopers that were raiding his temple to sell the artifacts on the black market; the tension after that came to a head when he began to mock you in such a way, circling you in a predatory manner, jokingly talking about how you got distracted, slipping in the sand and almost toppling over as a shotgun round blasted you in the chest.

You would have yelled at him like you normally did had his hand not slowly crept up the curve of your spine, his fingers pressing in ever so slightly and leaving a blazing trail that burned through your linen trappings and armor like they weren't even there; cold sweat trailing down opposite, battling the warring hormones raging in your blood.

It was then that you couldn't take it anymore--the adrenaline colliding with your repressed arousal is what led to this boiling point.

Khonshu hissed from an unseen mouth, his fingers crumbling the stone beneath his unearthly grip like dry, stale bread as you continued to fuck him with your tits yourself.

You bite your lip as you felt him twitch in between your tits, the soft squealching of skin on skin only aided by his generous precum; softly glowing against your skin in a transparent sheen as the entire length of him ached for that blissful release.

You hum as you continued to work yourself up and down in an almost lazy rhythm; a wicked thought creeping up in your mind.

Your clit throbbed and your folds dripped with neglected need. Gods, you needed something to offset the ache or you might break the rules of your own game just to feel something...

Gleeful joy thrummed within you as Khonshu groaned loudly when you pulled away again, deep chunks falling away from his throne while you licked your lips.

"Why did you--"

"Ah-ah," You giggle, standing up, your breasts glistening with his divine fluid, nipples pebbled in the warm desert air. He looked down to see how slick your thighs were, and some part of him felt smug; knowing this was just as much torture for you as it was him. He was almost impressed with your restraint to avoid pleasuring yourself. He figured you would be so cocky as to make him watch you touch yourself while denying him his own coital release--

His thoughts came to a screening halt as he watched you move, picking up your cloak and turning around, draping it across one of his thighs as you inched backwards between his legs.

You grabbed his cock in your small and soft hand, lifting one of your legs briefly to slip him between your slick, hot thighs. For a scant moment, his heart hammered within his chest when he assumed you gave up, wanting to take him within you finally.

But that wasn't what you had planned. Khonshu tipped his head back with a low huff, shuddering when he felt your clit throb against his shaft, your sweet nectar dribbling around him lewdly as you squeezed your thighs together.

The hem of your hood concealed your eyes once again from his view as you looked over your shoulder at him, but he knew all too well what your wicked grin meant.

Khonshu once more resisted the urge to just thrust against you as you braced yourself with your hands on his thighs, your ass pressing flush against his groin before you rocked your hips forward, a relieved moan sighing out of your lungs at the blissful drag of his searing skin on your aching sex; his veins adding delicious friction to your swollen bundle of nerves.

"Fuuuuuuck, that's so much better..." You groan loudly, perhaps putting just a bit too much emphasis on your voice just to egg him on. You briefly look over yourself at him again as you grinded down with his cock between your legs; "What's the matter, old man? Nothing to say now?"

Khonshu grunted loudly as he flexed his hands to relieve the tension aching in his joints, feeling his cock slip between your legs, pleasuring you as you essentially used him to masturbate yourself.

Oh, how he wanted to scratch that itch, to relieve himself of that tight, boiling pleasure that rolled around in his belly that he hadn't indulged in... in millennia. A carnal dance he hadn't performed in recent memory, but still looked back on with recorded, expert skill.

Your moans only pushed him even further, the small huffs and puffs; the whimpers and murmurs that babbled from your lips as you continued to grind down on him.

Your body wept around him, the slick noises adding adequate lubrication to give the most pleasurable glide as his cock disappeared between your thighs only to stand out prominently from between them when your ass and back were pressed flush against him once again.

He knew that if he so much as leaned in to your space, he would have broken his word and lost. His pride stabbed him too greatly in his psyche to allow him to fail at this; regardless if he craved you to cant your hips at just the right angle to let him fill you to the brim, to let you ride him until you both crumble into sweet oblivion.

But of course, true to your own word and devious machinations... you didn't. You just continued to grind and slide yourself up and down the throbbing length of his shaft, his tip leaking viscously down your thighs.

He felt a wonderful stab, his sack drawing tight when you whimpered loudly, his name finally tumbling from your lips in a breathy whisper.

Draped in his cloak, his magic; his blessing like a veil had him growling. You looked perfect like this, naked, needy and draped in holy linen as though it were the finest gossamer veil, your body dripping from pleasure that you were using him to give yourself...

You were beautiful, he supposed, bathed in the light of his moon.

And he felt his climax finally beginning to crest, the soft fat that hugged around your concealed muscles squeezing his cock, the wet slide of your clit against the veins that thumped hard beneath his skin has his heart skipping a beat.

Khonshu hissed, not wishing to give you the satisfaction of hearing him announce his impending release; instead grunting, letting you set the pace (as frustrating as that was to him in the moment) and leaning back, and allowing him to enjoy the view of you that he had from behind as you bounced in his lap.

He reclined, his palms itching to grip your hips and slam himself upwards to meet your rolling hips as their tempo increased in rapidity. He wanted to press his thumbs into the dimples at the base of your spine, bend you forward and arch your spine...

The first second as he came almost blinded him, his head dropping back as he groaned deeply in relief; his hot seed spurting forth as you continued to grind and stroke him against yourself, moaning appreciatively as the divine sap coated your skin, the luminescent fluid glittering on your skin like liquid moonlight, illuminating you as he almost entirely painted your skin with ghostly, ethereal light.

"Oh, fuck, Khonshu--" You hiccuped, the sight of it as he just kept cumming on your thighs sending you careening over that edge; coming undone around his cock with a joyful sob as your orgasm tore through your body like ripples on the surface of a still pond after dropping a stone in it.

Your body slowed, panting as the haze lifted from your brain, the fog clearing as your mind cleared. You reach up and laugh, looking down at the glowing mess he'd made of your thighs (and impressively enough, part of your belly) as your hand stroked the smooth, bleached bone of his beak as you felt his heart beat agaisnt your back through his broad chest.

"Mmmm... that was... nice." You commented contentedly, letting yourself relax and grow limp in his lap, your eyes closing as you tip your head back against his chest.

His warm hands slipped around your body, trailing down your belly and to your thighs, his fingers dipping into his seed to spread it around his bare digits.

"Wait, what are you--"

You were interrupted when he lifted a hand and slipped his cum-coated fingers into your mouth, his flavor invading your senses in every way possible, almost making you instantly black out again as a violent aftershock ripped through you the moment his hot ambrosia trickled down your throat.

"You forget, little dove." Khonshu chuckled darkly. "That our bargain was for you to have your fun. And you already have."

Your eyes grow wide as his fingers continue to stroke your tongue, his free hand wrapping around your thigh to draped your leg over his, spreading you open for him as he lined his cock up against your fluttering entrance. You practically sobbed around his fingers as your body burned with renewed desire; stinging almost painfully with delicious overstimulation.

"Now..." He spreads more of his seed over your clit, tapping it softly, the sensation enough to cause your blood to boil and another orgasm to sweep through your very pores like a tsunami.

"Allow me to demonstrate why I am also a god of fertility."

#🌙 answered #Khonshu x Reader #Khonshu x you #Khonshu moon Knight #Moon Knight khonshu #Moon Knight #Khonshu smut

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coff-in · 4 months

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aaAAAA I've been lurking and um um um I have brainrot from two of the previous asks >_> What if what if

Younger Sister Reader from the I love you more than I should post x Yandere Andrew post Decay route?? And they have the same toxic thing going on from that one post where Andy threatens to off himself if the reader moves an inch from his side. Like all I can think of is Andy having a shit ton of romantic feelings for reader that the reader is just coming into realization about while also reeling from the fact that, yk, Ash is dead? Andy telling his baby sister that he doesn't want to live if he can't have her (romantically, carnally, etc.) I just really want a jealousy scene where reader like...looks at another man and Andy is like "So. You want me to die?" and then reader has to comfort her older brother in a variety of ways that are decidedly not very sibling-like. Andy basically going "date me or I die" and reader is just. panicking.

notes from coff-in: i had trouble writing a ficlet or headcanons for this for some reason so it's just me fucking word vomiting my thoughts directly. also also also, thank you!!! i would've never thought people come to lurk on my blog, GUH IT'S SUCH AN HONOR!!! ur going to make my heart explode

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] is 1 year younger than ashley, incest, NSFW

i think it would mostly play out the same as yandere andrew with the older sibling but with more incestuous overtones. all i can think about is andrew and baby sister [reader] going out shopping or something. baby sis [reader] asks one of the employees where she could find some seasonings or something and the employee points to the aisle and leaves, then andrew comes up behind [reader] saying “did you really need to talk to him? hm? maybe you just wanted to ogle at him up close, huh? is your big brother not handsome enough for you anymore?” [reader]’s like “no no no!! I just needed to find the chili pepper, im sorry :(” and andrew makes her kiss him with tongue in the aisle to calm him down.

they’d have to get a job together, this is non-negotiable to andrew. preferably the same position so they’re close to each other but i think he’d settle on being in the same workplace in general if reasoned with enough. baby sis [reader] hides back into her shell again like she did when nina died but she doesn’t come back out this time. faced with the loss of her big sister ashley and the possible suicide andrew threatens her with, [reader] just deems it safer for her to be as introverted as possible. she’s still has some independence and autonomy but it’s only around andrew if that makes sense. she’ll cook and clean and entertain herself at home with or without andrew but in public she’s very introverted and clingy with andrew. andrew isn’t complaining about any of this though.

andrew’s very happy that he gets his baby sister to himself now! with all the fucked up shit they’ve done together he’s not too conserned with introducing themselves as a couple even if people put two-and-two together that they’re blood related. i can see him being very physically close and intimate with his baby sis [reader]. a hand on her lower back, hand holding, a finger curled in her hair, sleeping in the same bed, and like… a lot of sex. [reader] loves her brother and he’s been respectful when it came to sex. it took her a while to properly figure out how to feel about andrew’s romantic attraction towards her but she does feel the same way too (whether it was natural or something that was fostered while on the run). he likes to leave hickeys on her neck and other obvious places so people know who she belongs to.

every morning they wake up together in the same bed and say “I love you” to each other and they do it again every night before they go to bed.

i also think about semi-public sex with them, too. andrew gets jealous somehow and drags [reader] into an alleyway and forces her on to her knees and flops his cock on her face. “how about you show your big brother how sorry you are, huh?” she tries her best to take him into her mouth but she’s just really bad at it because she’s never done this before. andrew doesn’t mind, though, and praises her for her effort and eagerness because he can’t be mad at his baby sister for that long :) he cums into her mouth and her cheeks get filled up too quickly and some of his semen spills out of her mouth as she tries to swallow it all and andrew’s like “aww, what a good baby sister you are :) it’s ok if can’t swallow it all. i’ll have more for you later.”

i love this idea, thank you ‘nonnie.

----

coff-in

#cobweb in the coffin #tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #tcoaal x reader #the coffin of andy and leyley x reader #andrew graves x reader

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hongtiddiez · 9 months

Text

10 BL Boys I Want Carnally

shitfuck i forgot i was tagged in this too, thank you so much @williamrikers !

10) Jim Jaruek {Moonlight Chicken}

It's no secret I love the "older" men of BL - I am the old man connoisseur after all - and Jim is no exception. Whoof.

9) Arm {Kinnporsche}

Bas is beautiful and I have a competency kink, okay? Arm is everything to me.

8) Fan Ze Rui {Kiseki: Dear to Me}

Chen Yi and Ai Di may have been my favored couple from Kiseki: Dear to Me but I also have fucking eyes and the way he climbed in Zong Yi's lap plays on a loop in my head.

7) Chen Dong Yang {Kiseki: Dear to Me}

Listen, I don't wanna talk about it. I see old man, I wanna fuck that old man, okay? Let's just say I understand what Chen Yi was about.

6) Chan {Kinnporsche}

Some of you are probably following me from my Kinnporsche brainrot days. Yes, I am still a Daddy Chan fucker to my core.

5) Fluke Gawin {Anything BUT Not Me}

I'm so sorry Fluke, you are sooo so sexy but I do not fuck cops (there is one exception.) Pisaeng and Saifa could get it though.

4) Bunnakit Songsakdina {Manner of Death}

This smug little shit. This absolute cheeky bastard. I adore him, your honor. (My competency kink rises once again.)

3) Inspector M {Manner of Death}

I am a simple man, I see Great Sapol and I lose my mind. To say I'm excited for Wandee Goodday is an understatement. Inspector M could get it on looks alone, but risking his life to stop the corruption in his precinct? We love a man with morals. The only cop allowed.

2) Chef Guy {Bake Me Please}

Using one of my gifs for this because I didn't like any of the pictures on Google (or they were gifs from moots lol.) Peach and I are built so different because I would have been in Chef Guy's arms from day one. If any man looked at me like this and whispered my name? Fuck all the way off, I'm done. What do you want gorgeous, just say the word. (Do you think if I ask really nicely he'll let me kiss every one of his beauty marks?)

1) Papang Phromphiriya {Anything}

I don't need to say anything. You all know. I want him to squish me like a bug. I want to kiss him with blood on his teeth. I want to kiss his scar so bad. I'd live in a garage with him and raise our rowdy activist kids.

no pressure tags, sorry if you've been tagged! @kennyomegasweave @poomphuripan @sndrys @callipigio @first-kanaphan @sparklyeyedhimbo @porschesbabydaddy

#tag game #papang phromphiriya #poom phuripan #great sapol #fluke gawin #tul pakorn #peter knight #liang che #hsu kai #bas asavapatr #earth pirapat #moonlight chicken #kinnporsche #kiseki: dear to me #manner of death #not me the series #bake me please #be my favorite #enchante

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masha-nikita · 4 months

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The Archetypes of Red Rose, White Rose

I need to balance my brain out due to sudden onset of depression. It is the result. Rommel is probably the only general who, even if you draw him from the back, he's still recognizable- flowers, a camera, and love for beauty. Rommel has a Venus-Mercury conjunct with a direct Neptune influence; he is going to appreciate artistic expressions.

In fact, this colored-doodle with an unintentional Mucha vibe has the energy of his wife Lucy in mind. According to some sources, Rommel wrote home to Lucy daily, as it was reported to be his mental crutch- I imagine it to be transcendental emotional support, not unlike my own experience, my own relationship with our Tumblr community here. Whether you guys interact with me directly or not, you keep me alive. My sincere thanks to you.

Lucy was a formal dancer in Danzig with a decent middle-class background, her father seemed to be a land owner- Lucy being able to do art, probably added to his admiration for her- fellow artists, angelic companionship.

I suppose he did need emotional supports, and a lot of it-- Rommel is the only high commander with whom Kessering "the smiling Albert" did not get along-- which is a feat. After all, Kessering was very renowned for his exceedingly cordial and diplomatic temperament. The same could be said of von Rundstedt, the calm, gentlemanly, old Prussian field marshal. These two could put up with some bad BS from any one else, except Rommel. He was too intense, too mentally off-balance, too difficult to deal with for his colleagues.

There are a few things I noticed from Rommel's biography (including the Trail of the Fox, 2005), that allow me to make some observations. His love for Lucy appears to be non-sexual. They had their only son 12 years after marriage. That is a pretty long time, not customary with a Scorpio man who has a 8th house Mars (who is supposed to have at least above average sex drive).

As a matter of fact, Rommel had a daughter with Walburga Stemmer before his marriage with Lucy was finalized. At that point Rommel’s family felt the need to step in and strong-armed him back with his fiancée-- one reason being to prevent the young lieutenant from the pitfalls of sex and alcohol. In my humble opinion, the subtext here might be Lucy would not lead him astray in that regard, therefore his conservative family would rather have him marrying Lucy.

A side note, Stemmer family still holds a collection of hopelessly romantic letters from Rommel. Did Rommel write comparable letters to Lucy at that point in time? A bit hard to tell.

I could not recall which article comments that Rommel was "hen-pecked' in the household, but Lucy was dominant at home, that part had been very true.

Ouch, I don't know, some aspects of this living environment must've been toxic to Rommel no matter how much some folks wants to romanticize it. It is horrible to be in a friend group where there's a mean girl boss who takes pride in ruling over her husband and turning any girl who crosses her into a persona-non-grata. But I digress. Back to my title.

Nevertheless, for me, Lucy being archetypal White Rose still holds water as a concept.

The Red Rose- White Rose archetypes originated from the same-titled short novel by Zhang Ailing, one of the 20th century's greatest female writers. She depicts love's tragedies as Chin dynasty fell apart and China marched into an era of post-colonialism, world war II, civil wars and partisan conflicts-- and eventually, modernity.

White rose is your ideal wife, the guardian of your family's social standing. She is angelic, she seems docile, she reminds you that you are from a place of honor and integrity, not of seedy backgrounds and carnal desires. White rose kills love by loving you, by being stable, by calming you down whenever you freak out. Very slowly, she castrates you, she brings you home to domesticate you.

The Red Rose symbolizes those dark desires, a black hole that sucks you in to have sex with you, a fragrant bed, a sex dungeon you do not have the will power to claw yourself out of. Red rose loves you by conquering you, destroying you and everything you represent and cherish with triumphant strides. Very quickly Red rose tears you down, burns all your bridges, until you are beyond recognition, until you are flesh, blood, fire and desire, a literal mess.

It is implied in Ailing's novel that men invariably choose the White Rose, because they are human, all too human. Marrying her, he regrets it; not marrying her, he regrets it even more. Such is love's tragedy in the face of humanity, and tragedy is the only inevitability in Ailing's universe. That's why I pull Lucy in as a faint through-line in my Montgomery x Rommel fanfics... not that I am going to write any more, I don't think so.

And yes, Red Rose is synonymous with Bernard Montgomery, in my fandom brain's humble opinion.

I know I am weird.

#fandom stuff

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agent-whiskeys-sweetheart · 5 months

Text

Guilty Pleasures

Pairing: Loki x F!Reader

Summary: You are a maid living in the palace on Asgard. When you hear of a plot to kill Prince Loki you know something must be done. After saving his life he offers you a wish in return. After struggling with your decision, you come to Loki with an interesting proposal.

Warnings: some violence, some blood.

Word Count: 5,012

A/N: I do not know much about actual Asgardian traditions and folklore based in Norwegian mythology. I'm kind of just making this up as I go along lol. So please don't study technicalities too closely.

Dear Ingrid,

I'm at my wits end, dear one. I am plagued by worries. Now that my brother has sealed the marriage license, Ragnar and I have only three months until our wedding. Not only did I not agree to this marriage but now I am being driven mad with anxieties about the match.

He is a palace guard. Surely he knows much about love. However I find myself defenseless at the thought of romance. Perhaps he will make a fine husband and will one day make me happy. However, I know this can only be if I please him in turn. How can I ever hope to do that when I don't know the first thing about lovemaking.

I need a tutor. One who can guide me through the delicate act of intercourse. If only such a thing were real. I would spend every coin I had to know the things which I do not. Perhaps I might find a book in the palace archives about such carnal acts. That may be a good place to start. I only wish you were still here with me in the palace my friend. I'm happy to see you working so closely to animals in the stables. But I do miss you dearly. Especially in times such as--

Heavy footfalls caught your attention as you picked up your pen, looking down the long corridor. Just as you were about to set about finishing your letter, two burly men appeared from around the corner up ahead. You were currently stationed at a small writing desk which was just around the corner from the back tunnels which led to the kitchen. It was a quiet place where you could write to your friend in peace. In fact, before today you had never seen anyone use these passages. Despite there being plenty of walking room, the two men marched in the middle of the hallway where they would surely cross paths with you. Before you could think to move, the man closest to you caught the back of your chair in a large fist and set it off balance. You wobbled for a moment before finding your footing again.

"Watch it, scullery maid." He spat gruffly over his shoulder before the two men vanished around a corner. Something about them was odd to you. Asgardian soldiers, while tough, were often kind. The clear act of disrespect did not ring true for a man of Asgardian honor. The urge to stay seated was strong but you found your curiosity was stronger. Shutting your journal, you crept off in the direction the two men had gone. It didn't take long to find them since they lumbered quite slowly under the weight of their armor. You kept around corners and in shadow as you followed their silent march to who knew where.

They were running out of places to go, you thought as you noticed where you had ended up. It was a crude escape route which let out into the throne room. It was hidden behind the King's throne, which was impressively large. What business would these men have there?

They stopped before the exit, fidgeting with their armor. You stood behind, around a dark corner. With their backs turned you were able to try and get a better look. They wore classic Asgardian armor like the rest of the palace soldiers. That's when you saw it. Their capes were fastened incorrectly. As if by clumsy hands that didn't know the proper uniform etiquette. These men weren't Asgardians. That's when you knew your bad feeling had turned into something dangerous. They talked quietly but you were close enough to hear.

"Alright, you remember the plan?"

"Do I-- Bloody hell, yes I remember the plan. I sneak in and subdue the prince, then I spear him through the neck. It's not fucking hard."

At this you threw a hand over your mouth. Assassins.

"It's about time someone showed that cocky little raven headed prick that a Jotunn does not belong on the throne of Asgard."

They were plotting against Prince Loki. You couldn't wait to hear anymore. If you, a maid, had any chance of saving your Prince you had to act fast. You knew a passage that would lead out into the throne room so you beelined there. At this point you had absolutely no plan. You just knew you had to get the prince away from his throne before those bloodthirsty men got to him first. Soon enough you found yourself at the grand doors which would lead you into the throne room. With a steadying breath, you pushed them open.

You had expected the room to be filled wall to wall with politicians and nobility, allowing you to slip in unnoticed. However you were offered no such grace. It was empty, save for the royal family on their thrones. All eyes were suddenly on you. To burst into the throne room unannounced certainly would mean death for you. But if it meant your life for the Prince's then you'd happily make the sacrifice.

His was the first form you assessed. His chin had been propped in the palm of his hand until you'd come into the room. At the disturbance he perked up, a smile gracing his lips as if he was thrilled by the disruption. His eyes didn't leave you for a moment, studying you hungrily. Who was this delightful mischief maker, come to relieve his endless boredom? Your eyes however darted nervously to the side of his throne, keeping an eye out for his unwelcome guests.

Running down the center aisle until you were standing before the throne, you fell to your knees in humility. "What brings a young maid before me with no summons?" Boomed the Allfather.

"Husband, lower your tone. Look at the poor thing. She's frightened. Hear what she has to say." He seemed reluctant but eventually spoke.

"If Frigga commands it, so do I. Tell us, girl, what your business is here. Pray that it pleases me." You took a calming breath.

"Forgive me, O Great King, for this unacceptable breach of tradition. I sit humbly at your feet today because--" Before you could continue, you could almost swear you heard the latch on the secret entrance clicking behind the King's throne. You were running out of time.

"Because what, child? My patience is growing thin."

"Because ... I have come to seek Loki's blessing."

This made all of them perk up in curiosity. It must have been a long time since Loki was asked for a blessing with the way they all peered back at you incredulously. Then the Allfather shifted in his seat, adjusting his robes as if he had made a decision.

"Trickery, which I'm sure has been plotted by the Trickster himself. I suggest you go, girl. Before I find myself in an unforgiving mood."

"No, please--"

"I didn't plan this father." Loki interrupted you, speaking up for the first time. His voice was like warm honey to your ears. "Frankly, I'm quite curious what else the little mouse has to say." The two stared each other down for a moment before the Prince once again took the lead. "Why do you seek my blessing child?" He leaned forward on his elbows, as if he were on the edge of his seat awaiting your response.

"If it pleases you, My Prince, this is one request which I should wish to remain private. Thus I wish to share it with you privately." Everyone in the room focused their attention on Loki, whose expression gave no indication of what he might be thinking. The moment felt eternal before he finally stood and strode across the room until he was standing just in front of you, only inches away. As he leaned down to whisper in your ear you caught a glimpse of his throne. Just beside it you saw one of the men from earlier with a compact crossbow aimed at the Prince's back. This was the moment. Just as the arrow was unleashed from the bow, you pushed the Prince aside just in time for it to find its home in your shoulder rather than his back. It stung like Hel but you knew Loki was safe. You had done your duty.

Everything around you began to happen rapidly, plunging your mind into a dizzying frenzy. Guards emerged from the hall, the royals were off their thrones and rushing to Loki's side, the assassins were being whisked away to what would surely be a painful death. And all the while Loki stayed by your side, keeping you still and looking deeply into your eyes. Whatever happened now, it was worth it.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Time had passed. Of that you were sure. How much time had passed, however, remained a mystery. The room around you was empty. And quite large, you noted. This recovery room was easily three times the size of your personal quarters. You were awestruck by the ornate gold fixtures on the walls and the plush deep comforter which laid atop you. This was much grander treatment than you'd ever been given.

As if on cue, a healer came rushing in from the double doors. "You're awake. I hope you slept well. How are you feeling?"

"Confused. How long have I been sleeping?"

"Don't worry. You've only been asleep a day. With an arrow in your shoulder, I'm surprised you didn't sleep longer." You looked to where the arrow had been and saw nothing but a bandage stained red. It didn't hurt at the moment though you were sure it would soon enough. While you would have gladly given your life, you were still grateful for the miracles of Asgardian medicine.

"You seem to have done a good job of repairing me."

"Of course. Each healer is highly skilled and trained in their craft. Of course Prince Loki made sure that you received extra special care."

"He did?" You gaped. Royalty had never treated you special before.

"Absolutely. No expense spared for the girl that saved the Crown Prince's life." You nodded, feeling somewhat embarrassed by the praise. You had only done what any Asgardian would. There was no reason why you should receive better treatment because you were simply following your sense of duty. "Speaking of the Crown Prince, he wished to be the first to know if you woke up. I've already sent a messenger to his rooms. Expect to see him shortly." With that nerve wracking news, the healer saw herself out. You wished she had at least closed the door on her way out. Now every noise in the hallway set your nerves alight. You decided it was best to just shut your eyes and try to rest a bit more before the Prince was to arrive.

Those ideas were quickly squandered as the sound of very precise heeled boots entered your chamber. Cracking one eye open you saw the silhouette of the Trickster God in the doorway. My, he moved fast. You opened both eyes fully and let yourself take him in. He was dressed quite simply now though he still had a cape flowing behind him in a dark emerald billow. He took slow calculated steps as he approached your side, eyes never once leaving yours. Your breath left your chest as, for the first time, you realized that you were in the ever closer presence of royalty. Your entire life you'd never been in the same room as royalty despite working in the palace. Now the Crown Prince was at your bedside, hand tenderly retrieving yours.

"I am elated that you are awake. I was afraid things might turn for the worse. Yet you are strong. You fought well my little mouse. You should feel proud. You've done your ancestors well." You could do nothing more than nod, transfixed by his deep gaze. "How are you faring?"

"I've only just woken up but I feel no pain as of yet."

"Good. I can make sure the healers help keep it that way." You winced. You were about to do yet another stupid thing. Refuse the Prince.

"Please don't do that, my Prince. There are many others more deserving of the healers' help. You truly honor me by treating me so nobly but I will be fine on my own. I assure you, I am no hero."

"But you are, sweetling. You saved my life today. You, a humble maid, saved the life of a god. If you think you dishonor me by treating it as a proud accomplishment I assure you that will not be the case. In fact, I would like to show you just how truly grateful I am."

"All of this has been more than enough. Really."

"I'm afraid that while I fully intended to reward you regardless, tradition dictates you must receive the proper honor for your actions. Each royal family member must designate to you, a gift. One they feel is worthy of the act of saving my life." You couldn't help the groan that escaped your throat. This whole thing had started out of service to the royal family. Now they wished to serve you? You couldn't let this be. "That is why I've come here. To designate to you mine, the most important gift." You squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze, unsure of what he was about to bequeath you. "To you I give ... a wish. Anything your heart desires, you may wish for it and I will make it so. Absolutely anything you desire. If you take my hand, the deal will be sealed with magic and I must concede to any wish you make."

"No. No, I'm sorry my Prince but this is far too much. I could never accept something like this. It wouldn't be right."

"Your humility in the throne room made me feel as though you'd say that. So I discussed things with my father. He is willing to forgo the proper tradition. Under one condition. You cannot refuse his gift ... or my gift. But that's only half of the gifts you were meant to receive. Can you accept this compromise? I can assure you that my Mother's gift would be sickeningly extravagant." He teased with a smile.

You hesitated. This level of kindness was unlike anything you'd ever received. Why was a god pouring so much into you, a simple girl? After a moment, you knew you had no choice. So you nodded.

"I need your words and your hand, or else this magic means nothing." You lifted your hand to meet his, taking his grip firmly.

"Yes. I accept the wish." With this, a brilliant green light snaked between your arms as if binding you before disappearing as quickly as it had come. You blinked for a moment, unsure of what to say now. "The Allfather ... has he decided upon a gift yet?"

"He has and he bade me tell you. He would like to promote you to a higher paying rank with a better set of living quarters. He feels that one who is such a true asset to the royal family should live as grandly as she wishes." You nod in resignation. For a moment, you look around the room and imagine that they were your own personal living quarters. It didn't seem so terrible when you looked at it that way.

"Now, little mouse. What is it you wish?"

"You want me to name it right now?" You asked frantically.

"Calm down," He laughed. "If you need time to decide, of course I would be happy to grant you that. However, I should warn you ... as much high respect as I hold you in, I am still a prince and a god. I will not be made to wait forever." You nodded your understanding.

"Of course, My Prince. If I may, I have a journal which got misplaced before this endeavor. I had started a letter to a friend in it. If this notebook were able to be retrieved so that I may finish my letter, I will make a decision as soon as I've heard from her. I'm afraid I'm sorely in need of advice on this matter. It isn't often I'm given a wish like this."

"Consider it done. Just tell me its location and I'll have it brought to you as quickly as possible. This friend, where does she live?"

"The palace, My Prince. We used to work together as maids before she was promoted to stable hand. Her quarters are by the stables."

"Excellent. I'll be expecting a speedy response then." With that, he stood and began to make his exit. However before he could completely disappear, he turned back to you. "If I may give my own advice ... I know a 'royal wish' seems frightfully intimidating. If I were you, I'd just think of what is most important to you. Then think of how you can accomplish this goal. That way you can make your wish as effective and meaningful as possible. Just make sure it's something that you want. You more than deserve it." Then he was gone.

Sweat beaded at your forehead as the adrenaline of having a candid conversation with the dark prince coursed through you. However the cool air calmed you down soon enough. With a heavy mind you began to contemplate what you might wish for. If better pay and living quarters was already taken care of, you were unsure of what else you might wish for. There wasn't much you truly desired.

Just as you were about to run yourself rampant an attendant arrived at your door with the journal and a fountain pen. "Thank you." You bid him well before hurriedly cracking open the page you had left off on.

By the Norns, what a day this has been! Before I could even finish my penstroke a couple of men crossed my path. Men with plans to assassinate the Crown Prince Loki. Through what I can only describe as equal parts bravery and stupidity, I tracked them down and saved the Prince's life while injuring myself in the process!

I now write this from the grand recovery room. I do so wish to indulge you in every detail but I've been put on a dreadful timeline. For saving his life the Prince has granted me a wish. He said that anything I desire will be mine. He expects a response quickly but I could not decide without your wisdom. Please ... I have nothing to wish for. Help me on this matter my dear friend. I will eagerly await your reply.

Signed, Y/N

Folding the paper haphazardly, you called out for a healer who would deliver the message to the right people. Once it was out of your hands you nearly collapsed from exhaustion. You had been through a wave of every intense emotion one could possibly feel in just a few short hours. You needed rest now more than ever. Knowing that it was out of your hands until receiving her reply, you decided to get some rest while the medicine made it easy for you to fall asleep.

"By all the gods, please. Show me the right path." You called into the night before tucking yourself in and falling into a dreamless sleep.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A few days later you received a knock on your door. You had fully recovered by now but they had left you in the recovery room until a new chamber could be found for you. In only a few short days you had already become more accustomed to a grander lifestyle. However you felt yourself shrink into that tiny maid again upon hearing the knock. There were only two things it could be. A messenger with news from Ingrid. Or Prince Loki, having grown impatient and ready to hear your final answer. With a shaky hand you opened the door. It was a messenger. Joyous day, you thought.

He handed you the letter. You thanked him wholly and closed the door, tearing the letter open as you sat on the edge of the bed.

Dearest Y/N,

Such excitement! Of course I miss the biggest event of the year while brushing manes. You ask for my advice on this but if you read your last letter in it's entirety, you've already answered your own question.

The thing which plagues your mind above all else; your impending wedding night. You've just earned a royal wish from the god most well known for his sexual prowess. Ask him to tutor you! While he may find you brazen, that's the worst result that could come of the request! If he must fulfill the wish, then I say this is your opportunity to know that which you do not. Please keep me appraised of the situation. I will look expectantly and impatiently for your next letter.

Signed, Ingrid

As soon as your eyes finished scanning the words you were utterly dumbfounded. What exactly was she suggesting? No, it was quite clear what she was suggesting. There was no way in Hel you could ask for sexual lessons from the God of Mischief himself. He was a god. He would not lay with such a low creature as yourself. In fact, you were sure he would laugh at the idea. But then again, he had said he would honor the request no matter what it was. And Ingrid was right. Loki's ... skills weren't exactly a well hidden secret. You had heard he actually quite enjoyed corrupting an innocent thing like yourself in the ways of desire. Maybe it was the best thing you could wish for. You fought with yourself endlessly as you tried to think of something, anything else. The thought alone made your cheeks heat.

So many wishes in all the nine realms, and this is what you had come to? You felt as though something better waited out there for you. However, Ingrid's little idea stuck far more than you had hoped. With a deep sigh, you opened the door to your room. There was a guard stationed there at all times, per Loki's request. "Please tell the Crown Prince Loki that I've decided on my wish." You told him to which he nodded and immediately marched in the opposite direction towards the Prince's chambers. Every second you spent waiting was like agony. You paced and read and slammed your head into a pillow but still you waited. After an hour and a half a guard finally knocked at your door, telling you that Loki was ready to see you now.

With a deep breath and a brush of your skirt, you followed the tall man across the palace to the threshold of the Prince's chambers. The walk was much quicker than you'd expected which hadn't allowed you much time to breathe. Thus with a head of scrambled thoughts you entered, ready to acquire your wish from the Prince.

"Nice to see you again, mouse. I apologize for the delay. I was stuck in a fruitless debate with my father. However, I'm delighted to see you've come to a decision. Sit." He gestured to the sofa beside him which looked deep and lush. You obliged, taking in the sight of his royal chambers as you did so. Corner to corner, the room was exquisite. Gold plating and fixtures, surrounded by velvety green curtains and furniture. If you had thought the recovery room was large, it was nothing in comparison. The room you stood in now was only the front room of many. The walk seemed miles long. Once you were sat snugly beside him, you finally took a much needed breath.

"Still nervous, I see. Perhaps it would make you feel better to make your wish now, without hesitation. Get this weight off your shoulders and the hard part will be over. What is it you wish, pet?"

"I can't believe I'm going to ask this," You mumbled under your breath. "You see, my Prince, I am to be wed in three months' time. Yet I know nothing of what it means to be a proper wife. How to properly please my husband. I'm sure you know that your reputation exceeds you when it comes to certain ... skills. I'd like for you to show me what you know so that I may collect my own knowledge to please my husband with." You were absolutely certain that the god's lip would be turned up into a disgusted sneer. However the expression you found upon looking at him was quite different. Rather than repulsion you saw genuine delight and curiosity, a playful fire lighting his eyes.

"My, my. Such sweet proper words for such a ... filthy request."

"I'm sorry, My Prince. You're right. I don't know what made me so bold. I never should have asked for something so clearly inappropriate. Not that I wouldn't like to-- you know what I-- you're very handsome is all I mean. I'm afraid I've made such a mess of this. Perhaps I shouldn't have made the wish at all. I'll see myself ou--"

"Enough!" Loki's thundering voice filled the chamber, giving you your first real glimpse of fear by his hand. You sat back down and held your gaze on your lap. However he was quick to stop you, drawing your chin up to look back into his eyes. "I'm sorry to raise my voice, sweetling, but you've become frantic. Are you afraid that I am displeased? I can assure you it is quite the opposite. As you've so boldly pointed out, I'm quite well known for my talents. How do you think I acquired such talents in the first place? With the help of bold little morsels such as yourself. It would be an honor to pass on my legacy of pleasure to one less experienced in its ways. Besides ... you yourself are not by any means an undesirable prize. If I might be so bold myself, you are one of the fairest I've laid eyes on in several moons. It will be a treat to unravel you bit by bit before dressing you back up all nice and sending you off to pleasure your husband."

"Really, My Prince? This doesn't upset you?"

"Far from it. I consider myself quite up to the challenge." Seeing the enjoyment in his eyes made a small smile creep to your own lips. You weren't sure if you were happy this was happening or if you were just grateful to have the answers. Was some part of this because he was so handsome? Was it because he was the prince? Right now, you couldn't make out what you were feeling. All you could do was breathe.

"I must say, I expected this conversation to turn out quite differently. Forgive me if I seem shocked or lost for words. Only a few days ago was my first time sharing the same air as one of royal blood. Now, the Crown Prince himself says he'd be delighted to give me such intimate lessons. I hardly know what to think. My thoughts are a mess."

"My first piece of advice; stop thinking. You're so caught up in thinking about the future and the past that you can't see the moment right in front of you. It's passing you by. Just breathe and stay here with me, in this moment." You did as he instructed and took a cleansing breath. This time your breathing somehow made you feel ... lighter. After a moment, Loki continued. "That very much applies to your sexual encounters as well. If you are invested in each moment as it comes, everything will feel new and exciting. If you can show your husband how engaged you are with him, you'll have him wrapped around your finger. Then he'll be willing to invest in you as well. Like a well fitted puzzle. And with my help, you'll do so with ease mouse."

"I certainly don't doubt you. Your words alone-- I can tell you know of what you speak. I just hope that I am up for the challenge myself."

"Whether you see it or not, you've got a fire inside you dear. Just waiting to burst forth. I have a feeling you'll see it too. Soon enough." The man began to lean forward slowly before placing a small peck on your cheek. The intimate display of affection made you blush deeply. "What a pretty sight. Already blushing for me. I can't wait until the lessons start. Perhaps you should see yourself out now. I feel as though I may forget to be a gentleman if you linger."

"Oh." You blurted, confused by this. You were sure that he had already begun his lesson and yet he was asking you to leave. You blushed harder but it wasn't pleasant as before. It burned like shame.

"Don't seem so downcast, little mouse. You asked me to teach you and I do have a scholarly way about me. I'd like to formulate a curriculum and a plan for making this work successfully. I'll send for you once I'm ready to begin properly. Until then, think dirty thoughts for me pet." He gave you a dashing wink which was your clear cue to hustle back to the recovery room. Every step made your body feel more and more like lead. By the time you were in your room you had just enough strength to collapse on top of the comforter. You didn't even bother moving as you shut your eyes and let sleep take you.

The past several days had seemed like a blur. You never would have imagined in your wildest dreams that you'd be awaiting luxurious quarters in the comfiest bed you'd ever slept in after striking a magic sex deal with the God of Mischief. If you ever said it aloud you would burst into laughter. It was all so fantastical. So far beyond belief. You were sure the next time you awoke it would all prove to be a dream.

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