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twotiime2 · 9 months

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Reality Adjustment, Pt. 2

[[ Discord RP log to follow. The content has been edited for ease of reading on Tumblr.

tws for: existentialism, authoritarian deprogramming, heavy themes of unreality and being unable to trust your own senses, a nightmare sequence involving body horror with sexual themes and blatant propaganda/thought control, intent toward child harm (like hardcore), mentions of pregnancy, guns.

if you come across it and i haven't warned you, please let me know so that i can add it to the list. ]]

Simon awoke with a yawn, causing his ears to pop. His seat, a very well cushioned, tufted leather chair whose wooden legs were secured to a carpeted floor with bolts, trembled and shook lightly. All around him was the quiet rumble of a loud but distant engine. Other seats, like his own, sat in pairs up and down the length of the mahogany wood cabin with its round window ports through which sunlight poured in. Between each seat in each pairing was a finely made antique oval side table with a small shaded lamp and two velvet-lined indentations to hold cups. There was even a bronze handled drawer in the front of each table, accessible from either chair. These pairs of fine antique seating were separated by a wide walkway, whose carpeting was only slightly darker in color than the rest. The entire floor had a fine checkered pattern of burgundy and dark grey.

There was no one else in the room, though, with him. Only the oddly out of place finery, and sunlight through the little circular windows on either side of the forty foot wide room, some hundred and fifty feet in length. Overhead, the wooden ceiling arched slightly, with a single rail of cherrywood running the length of the room directly overhead of the darker carpet path that ran between the seats and their tables. From this, every twenty feet, hung very small chandeliers of elegant design and their crystals being of many hues, swaying gently as they dangled from black chains and casting everything in soft rainbows that were largely lost in the daylight but when the sun caught one of them - a shard of vibrant color danced briefly across some part of the room. The trembling of the place kept the tinkling sounds of the crystals in a constant white noise that was a beautiful as it was calming.

- - - -

Simon's first thought upon waking here was, Train? That would explain the slight rumble, the nice seating, but he had never been on a train this fancy or that dared to have some goddamn chandeliers in it while it rumbled and chugged along. He checked himself over, already having moved from confusion to slight irritation; why had he gone from nearly murdering a kitten to waking up somewhere completely different, without any idea how he had passed out or where he had been deposited? This wasn't another different Consensus, already, was it?

He grumbled to himself about "Goddamn bullshit reality-hopping, why can't I just stay somewhere," while he got up to complete his personal once-over.

- - - -

He was dressed in crushed velvet, leather, and satin finery, all of it in Victorian gentleman's fashions of the highest caliber - complete with a top hat and a dainty chain which held his folded spectacles with their rounded lenses, one tinted red and the other blue. His entire outfit was a mismatched series of black and white patterns which managed somehow to never have the same color touching itself anywhere across the entire affair.

The most adorable feminine voice came from a little ways behind him as he stood to check himself over.

"You shouldn't use such bad language. Maybe you're not staying anywhere because you can't decide who you want to be."

- - - -

He whipped around, caught at an awkward angle and ready to throw the top hat to the chair, to see the girl who spoke- oh. She matched her voice, and him, nicely. Her admonishment of his language brought out a reflexive, "Uh- sorry, I didn't think anybody else was here…"

Her words made him frown, though. "What to do you mean by that? I know who I am; it's everyone else who wants me to be- to act how they want."

- - - -

She came and sat in one of the chairs nearby, maid's dress kept primly in place, despite how short it was, by her laying her hands gently in her lap. She regarded him with sympathy through eyes mismatched. "Then… who are you? My name is Castor. Miss Simone Castor. I'm one of the cleaning staff here aboard the Gemini."

- - - -

He sat back down in his chair and took off his hat, setting it in his lap so that his hands could fiddle with the brim and texture of its fabric. "…Simon Castor. Whether that's who this reality expects or not."

Being faced with a maid-girl version of himself that he thought was cute was… uncomfortable, at best. Simon tried not to look at her too much. "What's the Gemini? I was just at home- some alt-me's home, that he probably got on his Union salary- and kinda conflicted about how to deal with a fairy that looked like a kitten. In my- in our?- colors."

All his displeasure at waking up somewhere new and strange had evaporated as soon as he realized this one was a far more personal-to-him space, possibly not even real in the sense of consensual reality's… reality. This wasn't some random new place; this was somewhere that had a strong connection to him.

- - - -

Her eyes practically shone with stars as she fangirled her answer to his question. "The Gemini is the most beautiful and wondrous of all the airships, anywhere in the Imagi Nations. It's become my home, and even though I'm just a maid, I've never been happier. I meet interesting people from all over the Nations, and I get to listen to their stories and their dreams, and be there for them when they have problems, and it's… it's just the best!"

She tilted her head quizzically at the rest of what he said. "Alt you's home? I suppose I'm happy for Alt You being part of a Union, sometimes the workforce can be hard to live in. But I'm sorry they took your home? I've never seen a fairy. Or a cat. I have a stuffed bunny, but… I haven't seen a real one of those either."

Her eyes took him in more carefully.

"You seem very sad. And frustrated. But… and I know it's none of my business, but… if you know who you are… why does it matter where you wake up? Won't you still be you?"

- - - -

That… was not a reality he was even remotely familiar with. He sort of wished he could share the visual of the kitten with her, just so that she would have that experience and knowledge, but he knew he had no way of doing so, which was also just slightly frustrating.

"…I'd explain the nuances of what I said, but, I don't wanna bum you out with the details of my usual reality…" He didn't want to dull this girl-him's sparkle, what she had of it and how she comported herself. He was kind of sad that he hadn't cultivated that sort of naïve kindness, actually, which fit into her observation of him pretty accurately.

"…Every reality I end up in, if I want a chance to be me, I've gotta fit the mold… the Union- the Technocratic Union- I was recruited by them 'cause I'm- I was- talented with computers, and had connections to a group of people they couldn't track down. And anybody who's in the Union has some serious rules to follow, or else they get brainwashed into compliance, or they just get killed for being a threat to the stability of reality, the way most people know it. If I don't fit their rules, it gets way worse for me, if I'm a member of the Union in the particular reality I wake up in. Which I have been, the last couple times."

And he just explained why everything sucked for him anyway. Of course. He couldn't help himself. "…Sorry if that, uh, upsets you, Simone."

The Imagi Nations. Was he in his own head, or was this another reality entirely? Simon was finding he couldn't trust himself to know, anymore. Maybe he was just going for-real nuts.

- - - -

She listened, obviously not understanding everything he said, but Doing Her Best™️.

"So… is following all of these rules a big part of… being you? Is that why you do it? You said you know who you are… and that the only way to get to be you is to join others and follow their rules."

She looked down at her hands in her lap. "I can understand that. I always wanted to fly in an airship, but… I was never good with the machinery and the smoke and the grease and the coal and stuff. I'm good with maps, though, and I understand how all of it works! I've read many, many books on aviation and ballooning and mechanical theory… but…"

She gave a little shrug. "I'm just not a mechanic, is all. So, I found other ways to be helpful aboard ships, and now…"

She looked around, beaming with excitement. "Now I get to sail the skies in the Gemini."

- - - -

He frowned down at the hat in his lap. "…No, I… I don't like following those rules, a lot. Having structure in my life is nice, and all, but mostly I just kind of like all the cool technology the Union has. I don't want to fight monsters in the field, I'd much rather be part of the division that makes all the field operatives' cool toys." He swallowed. "Not that being in the field and fighting monsters and protecting reality doesn't feel good, you know? It's important, I know it is, I nearly got killed by a monster, myself, before all this weirdness started happening- I don't want anybody else to have to go through that. And I feel like being with the Union and following their rules and stuff is a better way to do that than trying to work with people who don't have all the Union's resources, much less by myself."

Finally, Simon looked at the sweet, kind, bright-eyed Simone, with a sort of pleading to his expression. "I guess… I guess we've both settled, rather than doing what we really want. I'm sure you could figure out a better way to operate an airship like this; it doesn't have to use the stuff you're not good with, not necessarily. Where I'm from, we also had steam-powered engines- and eventually we figured out how to produce energy in even cleaner ways, and package it up so that it could power things without having to be generated constantly. If we're anything alike in more than looks, Simone, I'm sure you could figure something like that out. You could absolutely be the pilot, not just a maid." He looked down at his hat again. "…If you wanted to. I know that can seem like- like a lot of work and responsibility, and this might be preferable to maybe messing something up and crashing the ship of your dreams."

Simon went quiet, considering his own sentiments. Much like this girl, he was good at solving other people's problems, but had a hard time translating his advice into his own actions.

"…I know I'm scared of failing, on my own. The structure of the Union is… safe, I guess, 'cause they know what they're doing and if I mess up, it's not a huge deal- someone can pick up my slack. If I were trying to do all this myself, if I wanted to do it alone, it'd be so much harder to figure out the hows and the conditions and everything. 'Cause I'm not a monster-hunter by nature, I'm just a geek with a brain that works well with computer logic. And I don't know what to do with that on my own, when I know all this other stuff is way more important. I need some kind of direction or else I get paralyzed by indecision, I guess."

He sighed, heavily.

"…I dunno. Sorry. That was a lot."

- - - -

"It doesn't sound like you need direction," she offered, kindly. "It sounds like you have a direction… you just need the… resources?… of those other people. Or, maybe some of your own!"

She smiled. "Maybe if you had your own workshop to build in, and parts and stuff to make things with, I bet you could do just as good as those other people! Better even, without their rules telling you what not to do!"

She beamed at him. "You could build your dreamship, sir! I'm sure of it!"

- - - -

Simon considered this quietly for a moment, staring down at that hat he woke up in. When he had seen the R&D Division of the Agency and what they were working on, he had been inspired- he wanted to help innovate on their ideas so very badly, to take their work and notch it up and make it function exactly how they wanted. That was what he always did when he had the chance- he took something that existed, and he wanted to make it better. With those skills, he had always broken things down by tearing into their base code and exploiting flaws, making viruses other people needed or wanted, between projects where he tested the limits of what a virus could do to the code it was built on. He was always trying to find or make better parts for his computer, so that it could do more than top-of-the-line, expensive hardware big companies peddled to consumers (apparently at the whim of the Union, based on what they thought the consensus could "handle" being added to their reality without it breaking down entirely)…

"…Maybe. I'd have to work within the rules until I had built up my resources… but the big thing is, I know what the Union can do- I don't wanna be on their shitlist. People who do things too fast and break their rules, who break away from them, they get hunted down because they're dangerous to how the world wants to work. Or… how they make sure it works? Rogue elements are likely to break the illusion of reality for people who don't know monsters exist, and then the monsters… they could do whatever they wanted. It'd be chaos. I don't want to be considered someone who would do that."

- - - -

She offered a sad, understanding nod. "I know how it feels to have to stay in your place, when nobody wants you to be yourself. You said I could be a captain? But… girls aren't allowed to be pilots. Or mechanics. I suppose… I could cut my hair very short, and… um…"

She blushed, looking away. "… I could bind… my chest…"

She swallowed uncomfortably. "Maybe if I did all of that and wore men's clothes, nobody would know it was really me! I know they say that women aren't all untrustworthy, but I… I guess enough of them are, that… society just doesn't want us doing important things on our own. I mean, what if we messed it up? Or what if we changed something important? I don't like it… but… the Nations' leaders have been in charge of how things are, since forever. They must know what they're doing, right? What's best for everyone?"

She looked thoughtful. "But… I suppose if I cut my hair very very short and hid my chest, to fit in… tried to talk with a deep voice maybe? If I put enough dirt and grease on my face and hide my hands in work gloves, maybe nobody will notice that I don't fit in, and I can do what I really want to do. Do you think?"

- - - -

Simon frowned at her.

"…I think you could do your utmost and change how people see women, here. Be unabashedly a girl and do what you wanna do, how you're gonna do it, and don't let anybody tell you they know better. If you change something important, maybe it wasn't that important- or maybe it was outdated and needed to be changed- but regardless, generally speaking, if people who have had power for their whole lives are in charge of how everyone else lives, they're not going to make the best decisions for everyone 'cause they don't have everyone's perspective. They only know what they know. "

His eyes went far away, imagining the men in Congress he had seen on TV while with his dads and how they argued, twisted the rules to their own ends, and kept anyone who didn't agree with them, down.

Simon supposed that might apply to the Union, too, even if something in his head railed against that idea and made his stomach do flips.

"What do men know about being a woman, anyway? Like, really know, not just what male doctors have studied about the objective, physical facts of women, and what they think they know about how girls's brains work. Being men, they don't know shit. So you should try and challenge those old, wrong beliefs, if you feel up to it- 'cause you deserve better, and so does every other girl, and nobody is gonna realize that, if things stay the same way they've always been."

Do "normal" people in the Consensus deserve better than a safe, stable reality?

Is that really what they're living in, if the monsters are just hiding, but still doing horrible things within the confines of the rules of reality anyway? Twisting the system so that they can get away with their crimes? Are people entitled to knowing how the world works?

It would… it would drive some people insane. It would prove some insane people to actually be entirely sane. It would have consequences he couldn't possibly account for.

Was the Union doing the right thing? Or holding the world back?

The lessons about the world the Union had imparted on him from hours of conditioning railed against the idea that the Consensus could handle their own safety, if they just knew what they were up against- but everything he knew from what little time he had as a Hunter, what Madison had proven to him, and all of his allies, was that humanity could find a way to fight anything. They had a will, and the tools to do something with it, even if some of them died in the process… some people weren't ready, but that was true of any war, wasn't it? Any change? It would be resisted until it couldn't be, and then they had to make of it what they could.

There may have been a war for how reality should be, that he had never paused long enough to think about, being fought for as long as monsters had existed.

And did the Union really have the right to decide their version of reality was the most correct one? Were they really the shepherds that humanity didn't know they needed? Or were they keeping their domesticated, normal human stock, in the dark on purpose, so that they could control the rest of reality for themselves and never really be challenged about that?

What side was he on?

Simon's mind was conflicted, and he was starting to get a stellar headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and breathed, trying to halt his thoughts for a moment.

- - - -

Simone listened, seemingly struck and a little uncomfortable with the notions that he was imparting to her. After his long silence, she said, very softly - as if almost whispering to no one - "I'm only one girl. I can't change anything."

- - - -

Her soft uncertainties brought Simon back to the moment, despite his nagging headache, and with it his conviction brought from years of stories of one man, one hero, changing things because they had been empowered to do so. Because they had a responsibility to do what they could, with the power they had.

His fist very gently knocked against his forehead a few times, then came to rest on it.

"Yeah, that's true," He started, just as softly, "But- you- even if you're the first, you won't be the only one. You won't be the last. If you can achieve something you want this desperately, despite everything against you- you'll be an inspiration to everyone who comes after you, you know?" Simon put his hand down, eyes still closed against the pain in his head, but grew calmer in feeling as he spoke. "That's how heroes happen. One person decides something needs to change, so they do their best to make that happen- and yeah, it's hard, and yeah, it hurts, often- but making the path for others to follow is hard, and there are gonna be things you'll have to fight so that they don't have to. You don't think you're the person to do it; nobody who changes things thinks they're the one person who can make it happen. But nobody else is gonna step up unless someone does first. And if you want it bad enough… well, then that someone's gonna be you, isn't it?"

Simon opened his mismatched eyes to look in their feminine mirror, sympathetic but understanding of his own conviction in this principle.

- - - -

"I… I just want to be a pilot. I don't know if the world has to change for that… it'd be nice if the world were better, but… I don't want my life to be pain and hurt, to make my dream easier for someone else to get to be happy. Do I really have to do all that? Can't I just… fly? Or… or, I guess, stay a maid? It's not what I want, but at least I'm in the sky, and on a beautiful airship. I don't like cleaning, or always having to wear a maid's uniform, or do everything the custodians ask of me, or any of that stuff… but… I'm in the ship, aren't I? Does it matter if I can't fly?"

She shut her eyes and held herself. "It feels like it matters… but I'm not a revolutionary. I'm just an airship enthusiast with some self taught skill at maps and navigation and how the bridge works. My dream isn't to change the world… it's to fly."

She looked at him, lost in a whirlwind of unfamiliar thoughts.

"What do I do, to make my dream come true, even though I'm a girl?"

- - - -

Simon considered her discomfort for a long moment. It reflected in him; if anyone else were trying to tell him all of this, he would have been uncomfortable and lost on where to start, too. But he felt like he had a solid enough grip on the rules that he could work with, in, or around them, for his goals. They weren't much- he just wanted to make cool things that could help people, and keep people safe- but they were perfectly achievable if he planned right.

"I don't know how things work here. How does someone usually become a pilot? Forget about the prerequisite of being a boy, I mean, what are the steps for it?"

- - - -

She sniffled and looked up at him, confused. "A boy? No, no, boys can't be pilots, either."

She then stood, trying to wipe away the tears that had begun to form in her eyes and straightening her uniform as best as she could and stood up straight, before offering a curtsy. "Captain."

A fluffy, fat, persian cat that was black on one side and white on the other, wearing a monocle and a tiny top hat, then strode leisurely down the aisle to where they'd been talking and offered a single "Mew."

Simone nodded urgently, "Right away, sir!", and hurried away to an old-style tap-phone with a cone for speaking and another for listening, hung from the box by a cable. She picked up the listening cone and tapped the bar three times, before saying into the cone mounted to the box, "Captain Whiskers requests minced tuna to be served for dinner, with a milk saucer and yumyum paste."

- - - -

Simon had to do a double-take. This just went from reasonable to completely ridiculous.

- - - -

Captain Whiskers bid his passenger farewell with a nod and then turned, tail held high and anus proudly displayed as he sauntered back toward the bridge.

- - - -

Simon muttered quietly to himself, "What the fuck."

Once Simone was off of the phone/loudspeaker system, he addressed her again, jabbing his thumb back toward the cat-captain. "OK, nowhere did you imply this society was run by cats."

- - - -

Simone hurried over to him and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you for your help." She licked his nose.

"Thank you." She licked his lips.

"Thank you." She licked his jaw.

"Thank you." She licked his nose again.

He awoke to the frantic licks of the tiny white and black kitten with the mismatched eyes, as it stood with its rear paws on his upper chest and front paws on his cheeks.

- - - -

Simon startled and nearly threw the kitten off of him- but after just a handful of milliseconds, did not, in fact, chuck the little fuzzbutt across the room, instead reaching up to pull him off of his face after scrunching his nose up at the cat-breath and licking. "Augh, okay, okay, little guy, I'm awake," he muttered, settling the kitten onto his chest instead. "Did I pass out…?"

He cast his eyes about his immediate vicinity, trying to get his bearings again.

- - - -

Instead of answering, the kitten circled the spot he'd laid it on, on his chest, before pricking at Simon's undershirt with its tiny claws to make sure this was acceptable place to lay by happy-paws'ing the shit out of it before settling into a kittyball.

The room was dark and Simon was again in his underwear and an undershirt. It was much the same as he remembered it from waking up here last time… except with a kitten on him, and this time there was no sunlight coming through the curtains.

- - - -

Simon did his best to reach for his glasses, remembering they should have been on the nightstand next to the crystal-clock, while also calling out for his maid.

"…Otome? Hello?"

The kitten's purrs of contentment were genuinely pretty comforting, despite his earlier moral crisis over its life. He pet it with his other hand.

- - - -

His glasses were right where they should have been. Otome, however, did not respond.

- - - -

That brought a frown to his face. He gently held the kitten to his chest as he sat up, then stood from the bed, moving to the doorway that lead into the living room so that he could turn on the lights for the bedroom. What had happened? Why had he passed out? Given the time (02:22, nice), it was likely Otome was asleep… he should let her know he was awake, and figure out what happened. Or maybe go back to sleep and wait til she woke up on her own… he didn't know her schedule, after all.

After the lights were on, he turned the VDAS in his glasses on, fixing his gaze on the little kitty again. Was it still acting up?

[[ OOC REPETITION WARNING ]]

- - - -

His glasses seemed to be just… glasses.

When he flicked the lights on, every action figure and stature was featureless, faceless, white, and without discernible emblems or clothing. Like pose dolls, each one was a unisex nothing. His framed art and metal posters were all white as well, with grey writing on them.

The computer was on, its screen black and scrolling the same message over and over again, line after line, in barely visible off-black text.

DO NOT QUESTION

EVERYTHING IS FINE

YOU ARE SPECIAL

DIET AND EXERCISE

WORK IS IMPORTANT

OBEY AUTHORITY

DIFFERENT IS DANGEROUS

MONEY MATTERS

LEADERS LISTEN

DISRUPTION IS CHAOS

INNOVATION IS RISK

BODY IMAGE MATTERS

SCIENCE IS THE LAW

SLEEP BUT DO NOT DREAM

EVERYONE IS WATCHING YOU

LIFE IS TOO SHORT

EVERYONE HAS THEIR PLACE

BE WHAT IS EXPECTED OF YOU

CHANGE IS DIFFICULT

PUBLIC PERCEPTION MATTERS

TECHNOLOGY IS NECESSARY AND COMPUTERS ARE THE CORNERSTONE OF ALL GOOD THINGS IN THE FUTURE

Even the screen of his phone was doing it, though the message was different.

STAY INFORMED KEEP READING ALWAYS CHECK SOURCES

There… was nothing in his room that was how he remembered it. Even his mismatched socks, laying next to the bed beside his shoes, were only 'mismatched' by a fraction of a color… not even enough to call it a different hue.

[[ REPETITION ENDS ]]

- - - -

Oh, Jesus Christ. Simon held the kitten close, squeezed his eyes shut, and made his way out of the room, trying to get some respite from the sudden onslaught of subliminals coming from all of the media in that room. He looked down at the kitten again. Was it real, at least? Could he bury his face in soft fur and feel it purring and have some kind of anchor to sanity?

They both walked the dark hall into the room where he had met Loane, Simon fully expecting more of… that, from his room, in this room's various displays of media, and dreading it. None of this had been so blatant before.

- - - -

The kitten remained as it had always(?) been… fuzzy, soft, tiny, black and white, with one blue eye and one red eye. Upon closer inspection, however, he'd been wrong about its sex.

The hallway and rooms beyond were too dark to see, but he did hear Otome's voice, sleepily, coming from somewhere ahead and to the right.

"Sir? You're awake?"

- - - -

Simon held the kitten close as he approached Otome, keeping her softness against his hands and her warmth against his chest. "Yeah, I am. What happened? Did I pass out again?"

- - - -

"Again? You've-- I mean, Sir's been asleep for days. Ever since the accident at Sir's office. How is Sir feeling? When did we get a cat?"

- - - -

Oh, shit, Otome could see the cat! Reality had turned slightly to the left, it seemed. "Oh. I… thought I remembered waking up the day after, when Loane came to check on me. Sorry it's so late, I just, uh, I thought you'd wanna know I was up."

He waited in the intersection of the living room and the hall leading to Otome's room, for her to come out and be seen. "I dunno about the cat- but she's kinda perfect, right?"

- - - -

"I don't know… I mean… isn't she a little… different?"

- - - -

Simon scritched the kitten behind the ears. "She's my favorite colors. I'll take the 'different' as a win, on this one."

- - - -

"But… different is dangerous. Why don't we get a normal cat? We can put that one up for adoption. I'm sure some defective family will want it."

- - - -

Simon's lip curled, and he stepped back a couple of feet, trying to draw Otome closer. "…Different is good, Otome- you're different, I'm different, every person is unique, and that uniqueness is like, essential to the human experience. Are you okay?"

He had a feeling she was going to be some blank-faced propoganda-doll, too.

- - - -

"I'm fine, Sir. Could you help me down?"

He heard the faintest, familiar feminine voice from all around him, but from so far away.

"Wake up!"

- - - -

He tried to see past the darkness of the hall and actually see Otome. "Down?"

He never woke up by his own volition, he had no idea how to start now. Even if this was definitely not a good… whatever this was. Dream? Version of this reality? He couldn't tell anymore.

- - - -

"Please, Sir? I can't serve you like this."

[[ OOC WARNING FOR THE SEXUAL BODY HORROR SCENE ]]

"Simon, you've got to wake up!"

"They're inside your dreams!"

"Fight it! Wake up! Please!"

The lights around him came on, as every bulb in the house lit all at once. Everything was white, save for the cat in his hands - still as he remembered it. At the end of the hall, hanging by a series of thin chains, was a life-sized and seemingly alive woman-shaped sex doll with its only feature being a hole where its mouth should have been. Tiny hooks studded its nipples, outer labia, and its nostrils, keeping all of these places open and perky looking. Larger hooks impaled the collarbones and pelvis, to keep it upright. Its body was obviously extremely lifelike, but was still a blend of silicone and flesh, artificial in the light but real in the dark. From the blowjob-hole came Otome's voice.

"Does Sir want something to help him sleep?"

- - - -

Like something out of Hellraiser. Simon was not expecting that drastic of a nightmare-vision, and he clutched the cat close to him, shuddering and closing his eyes to try and shut out that visual- but it was too late; it already overwrote his idea of Otome and all of her strangeness.

He backed up into the hall again blindly. Out loud, to nobody, he frantically whispered, "I don't know how to wake up! This is really fucked up!!!"

He needed some clothes. He needed to get out of here. Simon definitely wished he were anywhere but in this house of horrors.

[[ SCENE TRANSITION TO MENTIONS OF PREGNANCY, CHILD HARM, MORE REPETITION AND THEMES OF HUMAN SUPREMACY/IMPLIED GENOCIDAL IDEAS, PLUS MENTION OF NAZIS ]]

- - - -

Simon fell backwards over a box, barely caught on his way down by a firm hand on his back and his arm. He was wearing his normal clothes - casual clothes from before, not the suits he'd gotten used to - and he was standing in Al's Army Surplus, having tripped over an ammo box that was tall and thin and metal and olive green… and probably from Vietnam or something. Connor shook her head at him disapprovingly. "Watch where you're going, or you're going to end up dead."

She turned her attention back to the portly old redneck behind the counter.

"Seven of them. We're going to need rounds fitted for nine mil and standard twelve gauge. Preferably something silver on the outside and incendiary on the inside. Not poppers, though… we don't want any collateral damage to nearby civvies."

The cat was gone and, judging by the light through the windows and the big analog clock on the wall, it was around 3 in the afternoon.

- - - -

Simon's eyes widened in shock as Connor caught him, Madison, the woman he'd only met through their mutual recruitment by the Agency all that time ago. He took her help to stand, shaky, and looked around as if he had no idea how he had gotten here (because he didn't, of course). "I… Connor? What'2 going on?"

Was QDiv trying to fix their mistake? Was he just traveling through his memories as his mind shattered into a million pieces, as he was physically kept in a looney bin or something? He couldn't recall ever being with Connor on a Hunt, much less against werewolves… He had to play along for a second, just to get his bearings. Again.

- - - -

"Well, I got holla' point oughtta do th' job fine. Ain't nothin' speshul 'bout 'em, 'cept theys' gonna make a real bad mess'a things when they hit. I c'n fill 'em up full'a fire juice, f'swhatcha wanna do."

She nodded, ever resolute. "Do it. We'll take six magazines for the nines and thirty two shells."

She slapped down a trio of hundred dollar bills, though the faces on them were … was that a nazi soldier's portrait on american money?

"How long?", she asked.

"Few hours. Prolly less'n three."

Connor nodded and gestured with her head for Simon to follow her out. Outside, was a civilian humvee covered in Hunter symbols… he knew they were Hunter symbols… but he couldn't read any of them.

"Once we get the rounds we need, we can head out. We know where they'll be and we know when. We just have to be there to make it happen," she said while climbing in on the driver's side.

- - - -

Simon frowned at her as he followed her out.

"I- No, Madii2on," he nearly tripped over her name, tongue getting in the way of his words again after years of not having to worry about that, "What the fuck are we doiing here? Wa2 that Natzii2 on your money? What??"

This was not a reality he was familiar with, either, even if it had all the trappings of his oldlife.

- - - -

"What do you care who's on the money? It all spends the same, now get in. We have a job to do."

- - - -

"Becau2e the natiion ii2n't run by fuckiing Nazii2, Madii2on!" He was being a little petulant, but he definitely also was not getting into that fucking humvee. "II don't know what fuckiing job you iintend two be doiing, either! What the fuck ii2 going on?!"

[[ DIRECT CHILD HARM AND HUMAN SUPREMACY REFERENCES ]]

- - - -

"Seven werewolves are laid up in Wintram Central's OB wing. They went in as a group, all pregnant and about to deliver. We're going to go down and keep an eye on them, check out the fathers to see if any of them are lycan. If they are, we wait until we have the rounds. But, if they're all human, we flash some badges, get them outside and pop them, real quiet. I already have a tarp down in the trunk. That way they can't pass on the gene to anyone else. When we have the munitions we need, we go in there and clear out the maternity ward. Mothers and cubs, one two, just like that. Seven mass murderers and however many they would have birthed, all in under ten minutes. Now get in the fucking jeep, Gemini, we've got work to do!"

- - - -

"What the fuck!" He backed up from Connor. "Werewolve2 about two giive biirth- you're planning two ju2t, ju2t off them?! No fuckiing way! II'm not gonna murder a bunch of mom2 and theiir brand-new kiid2 ju2t 'cau2e they deciided two exii2t!"

Simon kept backing up, away from both not-Connor and Al's storefront, along the sidewalk. "Nope. No way. You'd never murder kiid2, Madii2on, II know that. Fuck thii2."

Maybe if he wanted it hard enough he could go back to the cat-flown airship and get away from this mess.

- - - -

Madison angrily climbed out of the humvee, words burning themselves into her skin like brands, fresh and hot and sizzling and smoking as her skin reddened and dug into her flesh without her notice. She drew her sidearm as she approached and leveled it at his head as the words came close enough to be readable.

A mew from nearby drew his attention as she began yelling at him like a drill instructor, "Get in this truck and help me kill the enemies of Man or so I will put you down, as a traitor to your own people! You think you know what's best!? YOU!? I've killed thousands in this war for peace and I will kill thousands more to win it!"

DEATH TO THE ENEMY

BULLETS ARE THE VESSELS OF RIGHTEOUSNESS

WRATH IS A VIRTUE

THE UNCLEAN DESERVE TO DIE

EARTH BELONGS TO HUMANITY

NO ONE DEFIES THE MESSENGERS

MARTYRS AND MURDERERS AND VICTIMS WE ARE ALL THE SAME IN THEIR EYES

The mew was louder this time, coming from the corner of the building. It was his tiny kitten.

"You can do this!"

- - - -

Simon socked Not-Connor in the face, putting all his force behind the left-hook.

"NO!"

- - - -

Her jaw was as hard as steel. He not only heard but felt every single bone in his hand, from his knuckles - down his fingers - and down to halfway along his palm, shatter inside his hand.

She gripped his shirt and lifted him from his feet, growling in his face.

"You pathetic traitor. I knew you didn't have the balls for this life. You never did! You were a spineless, worthless shit stain when I found you and you're even more disgusting now. Slithering around, licking the heel of every Technocracy shoe that passes by and is close enough to stick to, like the pus slime that you are."

She threw him backward, landing hard against the wall to Al's.

"All so you could pretend to be somebody, with their toys and gadgets, instead of the nobody you were when that monster nearly got your sorry ass the first day on the job."

She pulled back the hammer on her handgun.

"I've passed bowel movements with more drive than you've had since the day we met."

- - - -

Simon's heart dropped like a rock, racing like a rabbit having a heart-attack, chilling his bones even over the aching fire in his dominant hand. He held it against himself, tears welling up from the pain and fear, but faced Not-Connor (a manifestation of the Messengers?) despite it all. The iron feeling of her jaw reminded him of the ItX Terminators they had worked with, but her words only spewed fire and hate, opinions and feelings even the most advanced HIT Mark couldn't possibly have had.

She drew her gun on him on the floor. He swallowed the fear in his throat. Turned out, he couldn't banish nightmares like these by hitting them really hard, even if their spouted hatred welled up all of his own like bile at the back of his throat.

That's what she embodied. That self-hatred, that feeling he always had of kicking himself when he was down and going lower, saying these things to himself like they were true.

But this wasn't true. This wasn't even real.

None of it lined up with what he knew, and that meant anything could happen.

Simon did his best to pull himself off of the floor, trying to ignore the aches in his body where it had believed it impacted the wall and concrete. He set his jaw.

"Gue22 there'2 no rea2oniing wiith you, then."

- - - -

The first bullet tore through his left shoulder, sending white hot lances of pain through his entire left side, even as his felt his clavicle break inward and his shoulder blade break outward, with the shuddering thunder of kinetic force ripples that shot through him in waves that took only microseconds to make their way through him and back.

He couldn't hear anything but the silence of a deafening tone, stronger in one ear than the other. Then the burning sting came, of exposed tissue, and a feeling like something had spilled on him. He didn't need to look to know he was bleeding. Probably badly.

Her mouth kept moving as she no doubt gloated over how feeble and inferior he was. It was a kind of tragedy, really, that even when deafened, he still knew exactly what she was probably saying.

"▄█▀ █ █▚▞▌ ⬤ █▚▌ ◣▌ ⬤ ▐▄█ █▬█ ▅▀▅ ▀▄▀ █☰ ▀█▀ ⬤ ▀▄▀▄▀ ▅▀▅ ▐◀ █☰ ▐▄█ ▐◣ ! ▐◣ █▄ █☰ ▅▀▅ ▄█▀ █☰ ! "

- - - -

Despite everything, Simone's voice, distorted as it was, chimed over his deafness from the gunshot. You have to wake up! Please!

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on her voice through the pain, to make it clearer. He had to shut this stupid, brutal dream out, and focus on that one constant.

END SCENE

#ooc #para rp #discord rp log #somewhere in another reality...#dddne #mta rp #WOD rp #mage the ascension #hunter the reckoning #technocratic union

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dabis-azure-songbird · 9 months

Note

May I please request a songfic for Miroku for the song What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner?

Of course you can, my dear! I'm sorry this took me way too long. I'm not quite sure if I like how I wrote it, but if you like it and are happy with it, then that's all that matters to me! :) ♥ I wanted to write it differently and I also kind of get weird with songfics for some reason. ANNNDDD~ Kudos to you for picking one of the best songs ever and also my favorite Tina Turner song probably. I'm sorry if the shortness is also a problem. I know you waited forever on this. :/

You must understand how the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react

That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl

Opposites attract

You were way out of his league. So much more than he knew he deserved. A good and selective girl with a wild and untameable boy. Yet, here you were entangled in his arms and sheets on occasion. Even when you knew he could easily harm your heart on your sleeve in his sometimes crude and vulgar ways. You did your best not to fall for him. A constant battle to keep your shield and your feelings hidden away. But that was just it... If you didn't have feelings for him, if you didn't have feelings for each other, why did you both have to hide them away?

It's physical, only logical

You must try to ignore that it means more than that ohh ohhh

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

What's love, but a secondhand emotion?

Who needs a heart, when a heart can be broken?

You were both friends, yet it thrilled you both to slip and dance between the shadows of his linen and retreat to his room with him as a lover sometimes. Almost as much as it hurt to see him speaking to another woman that wasn't you.

He caused you such confusion. Such frustration. Such pain. Such...bliss.

He hadn't realized he could feel so much shame when your eyes landed upon him as his hushed whispers met her ears. Neither of you knew what to call your feelings for each other, but they were there. And they were growing inevitably.

The two of you were two magnets dancing and rejecting each other carefully.

Your touches still set him on fire and made his breath catch in his throat. Almost as much as his made your heart rate surge. Even as you both used each other as comfort from others and the agony of the world.

"But whatever the reason, you do it for me..."

"Huh..?"

"What's "love" got to do with it?"

His dark eyes met yours in a gleam of moonlight. Is that really what you were going to call your feelings for him? Is that what this had become? A domino or secondhand effect of falling once the other noticed the glint in the other's eyes. Neither of you was sure who fell first, but one thing was certain, you both had caught it now.

And he knew it as soon as his hands nor eyes even wanted to travel to another woman.

#miroku req #miroku x reader #songfic #miroku songfic

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legendsofmyriad · 7 months

Text

Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 22: Making Headway

Calloused palms outstretched, Azra influenced another fork of red magic into the writhing tempest. Crimson and ruby washed along the riled grey to lend comfort to the terrified souls inside. It’s all right, he soothed, detaching the remaining life force from the ashes. You can rest now.

He lost track of time and the number of spirits he helped on their way, but eventually, the shrieks and cries subsided. What had greeted him as a frenzied mass tempered beneath his power, departing the realm of the living with whispered gratitude and a final, relieved breath.

Boot soles crunched at the excess grit and sand on the patio behind him. Her presence ghosted up his nape to tickle at his cheeks. The alluring, sweet aroma of deadly Osimer blooms that followed in her wake captivated his senses, and stabilising his magic, he stole a quick glimpse. Delicate lilac flecks in her eyes shifted as she observed him.

“I brought you some water and something to eat,” Lilith said, carrying the covered plate and the filled bottle to the bench. “Professor Spark asked me to remind you not to overwork yourself.”

Azra pondered whether Bartholomew had requested she relay that message or if it was a ploy to disguise her own concern. Regardless, he grunted in acknowledgement and attempted to return to his work, but her proximity flustered him, the staggering emotions emanating from her provoking his concentration.

“The storm isn’t proving too difficult to fix,” he told her, low and distant, hoping to quell her uncertainty.

“I didn’t ask.”

“No, but I can feel it.” With a slight dip of his head, he inhaled deep and slow. “Or are you forgetting what my power permits me to see?”

Teeth gritted and fingers flexing, Lilith endeavoured to conceal her mounting agitation. “How could I forget,” she replied levelly, a biting undertone lacing her voice, “when that same power caused so much harm?”

Azra’s arms buckled under a rippling pang, but he managed to brace himself against the uncomfortable sensation. Within the depths of his wounded soul, he wanted to apologise, to mend the fractures between them and leave the war in the past. But the more he ruminated, the more he wondered whether it would be simpler if she held on to that animosity she harboured for him. Would it be fairer to let her get on with her life without him, never having to see his face and be haunted by the memories of the lives he plundered, the friendships and loved ones he callously ripped away? With him gone, she had the chance to start anew, free from the constant reminder of the heartache he had inflicted.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be staying long,” he assured her, continuing to hush the storm. “I’m going back to Solgarde as soon as this is done.”

“Rather presumptuous of you to think I’d worry,” Lilith shot before she could withhold the remark. Once it was out, there was no stopping the rest. “No, you’re perfectly capable of looking out for yourself. And only yourself. Altair keeps telling me you are remorseful, but you are just as cagey as ever. Or is that only with me?” Her chest rose and fell with her pounding breaths in a rhythmic dance of exertion as she expelled the discomfort from her body. “It doesn’t matter. At least I know once you have served your purpose, you will be leaving.”

Her words crashed into him like arrows, nesting in the devotion he housed for her and meshing into a spinous wreckage. Tainted and split, her own affection cracked even more. Little of the light remained.

That time is over, he reminded himself, imagining the faded imprint on her heart where her love had once flourished and bloomed year after year. His own flickered just as waning. Do not do this to yourself. Do not do this to her.

He bit the inside of his mouth until he almost tasted blood, fighting back the crushing desire to confess every shred of fondness he still nurtured for her. Footsteps fading, he allowed the solitude consume him.

It would be better this way. By isolating himself and his destructive gifts, he could decrease the likelihood of inflicting more pain. He would provide help wherever possible, but then he would vanish again. A ghost. A spectre.

Collapsing onto the bench, he cleared the residues of magic fizzling on his palms. With some reluctance, he decided to take a longer break than planned to allow the more persistent marks to melt before resuming his task. He knew he should have worn gloves, but he loathed the restraint of the taut fabric and clasps burrowing into his wrists.

He squirmed and manoeuvred until his back met the wall, and placed the plate that Lilith had brought him on his lap. A bowl of shrew berries, citrus pieces, and an assortment of oat clusters rested in the middle of the platter.

How many times had she silently delivered him food and water in the early hours, restless nights ravaged by work? How many yawns had she hidden to hold her warm body against his and ward off the unforgiving nighttime chill? Rarely had she instructed him to go to sleep or acknowledged the exhausted, bruised smudges under his eyes. Instead, she had loved him. Supported him in ways he didn’t deserve, and now… now all of that was lost.

He popped a cluster and a dripping section of yellow fruit into his mouth, wondering whether that was for the best. Let the past rest, he told himself. Let time seal the hurt. For you and for her.

Determined not to dwell on matters she couldn’t resolve, Lilith briskly made her way into the lab. Waves of heat from the working machinery engulfed her, washing away the stinging cold and soothing her bitter aches. She would have traded anything to be in the common room at The Citadel, cocooned in a fluffy blanket with a steaming hot tea in hand. Rain ricocheting off the windowpane until it was dampened by the insistent crackles beneath the engraved mantelpiece. Tiny gusts tunnelling down the chimney for attention and coaxing the flames. Peace. That was what she wanted. A quiet hush that melted her worries, a pocket of time where she was permitted to exist without expectations or obligation.

Yet she didn’t have the luxury of lingering in those comforting thoughts. The Core needed waking, Myriad teetered on a precipice, and the flickering fireplace and tempestuous nights would have to wait until the nine worlds were secure.

Clicking over tile and aged wood, she loosened the first few buttons on her jacket and fanned the heat from her face as the churning equipment became almost stifling.

“Ah, there you are!” Bartholomew said, excitement exuding from his features and his eyes shining with renewed enthusiasm. “Come, I have something to show you.”

Lilith followed him to the cluttered worktable, books and browning research papers haphazardly scattered and piled along the surface. Findings and ideas were already taking shape in the opened notepads resting on the corner of the wide desk.

“This may be a bit of a stretch, but I believe if it is conducted correctly, it has a high chance of success,” Professor Spark said as he shuffled the sheets and located the required textbook. “To wake The Core, we need to kick start the ecosystem.”

“Like plant trees and clear the atmosphere?” Lilith questioned.

“Not exactly.” He flipped the pages and tapped on a diagram that showcased the intricate connections between four distinct elements, arrows and cryptic symbols intertwining them. “A long time ago, The Core gave these blessings to four of the worlds of Myriad when they were in need. A magical bird was given to Delorem, pure temporal essence to Eternity, a unique water to Skuld, and a rare mineral to Prosperia. Nothing could taint them or mix with them, so they should still be in their original states.”

“Even the bird?”

“It does not breed as others of its kind do. Their numbers may dwindle, but they would never go extinct. Combined, these four elements have the ability to restore the land.”

As she contemplated the plan, she grazed her fingertips over the musty, crinkled maps, wandering around the stones and trinkets holding down their edges. It spread out to her like a promise, inviting her into a world of adventure and untold stories. And at that precise moment, vulnerable. The few things she had read about The Core since arriving at the lab were enough to indicate how severe the matter was. With little time to spare, they were racing to keep ahead of the ticking clock, and each passing hour amplified the threat of impending chaos.

“Two academy students are already in Eternity and Delorem, so I will contact them with the details,” Bartholomew explained. “While they are collecting the bird feather and the temporal essence, you and I can travel to Skuld and Prosperia.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me, professor,” she agreed.

“I shall call them now. Be prepared to leave once I return.” Lilith playfully saluted, her mischievous grin matching his own, and he bounded down the steps to the communication console.

“Off on another venture,” Altair commented quietly, relaxing against the low worktable. Despite the excitement in her aura, he noticed the wearied, thought-ridden pinch on the bridge of her nose. He didn’t need to question what occupied her mind. He knew the cause was outside fixing the storm as they spoke.

Without uttering a word, he brought her in for a supportive embrace. “It will be all right,” he promised. “You will grow around the wounds.”

“I thought keeping my distance would make it easier,” she admitted, “but it hasn’t. One second, I see him wanting to say something, and the next the icy wall descends, and it’s like we never knew each other at all. I haven’t exactly helped, I’m fully aware of that, but… I wish he would just say what he needs to.” She stepped back, inhaling the warm air to suppress the surge of emotions threatening to overflow.

“I shall talk to him while you are away,” Altair offered. “It would hardly be fair for me to speak my mind with you about the situation and not him. Who knows? Perhaps we can resolve this. Find a way for you both to be comfortable.”

“It would take a miracle, but if you’re up for the challenge, you may do as you wish,” Lilith said. “But right now, duty calls, and I had better not keep it waiting.”

Bartholomew adjusted the dial inch by inch, fine-tuning the frequency and flicking the switches beside it as he listened for a stable rhythm within the static hiss. Fluctuations in the communication lines disrupted the visual display, stubbornly persisting before an abrupt pop terminated the transmission for a fourth time. With a grumble, he planted his hands on his hips.

Stooping over the controls, he flipped through Oscar’s reports, skimming the vivid descriptions of various types of flora and occasional anecdotes about his travels. Weeks had passed since he last wrote, briefly describing an outskirt village he had come across and his eagerness to delve into his next research endeavour.

With a flick of his wrist, Professor Spark activated the holographic map, projecting a detailed model of the area Oscar had mentioned. “Swamp land,” he muttered to himself as he enhanced the image of the watery copse. “No atmospheric disturbances, no localised weather events, no magical traces.”

If Bartholomew hadn’t become accustomed to Lilith’s aura, he would not have realised she was standing right behind him until she spoke, her footsteps so light she may as well have been a mouse. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

“I cannot reach Oscar,” he answered. “He is currently on Lucarian charting vegetation growth for me, but my attempts to communicate are being blocked.”

“By him?”

“No. There seems to be some sort of disruption to the connection.”

“Is he okay?” Lilith questioned sharply, mind alight and poised for action. “Did he mention anything unusual or voice any concerns before you lost contact?”

In a composed gesture, Bartholomew turned from the map and shook his head. “At this stage, there is no need to panic. Since the gateways are still re-establishing themselves, signals can waver and take a while to settle. We should be able to talk to him soon.” She concealed her doubts behind a calm facade, but the slight crease by her eyes betrayed her apprehension. “Professor Bevan, perhaps you could monitor the Lucarian channels for me while Lilith and I are away?”

Altair hummed his agreement and huffed a memory-filled breath. “You wouldn’t believe the mishaps Citadel students can get into, yet they always manage to find their way back.”

“Not all of them,” Lilith said, two sets of bespectacled gazes resting on her.

Glimmers of remorse festered, and Altair lowered his chin. He supposed, when he dug through the thick layer of optimism he liked to approach situations with, that not every student returned. Some were left scarred, some wheeled home on clicker horses, tormented by what they had experienced. And some never made it. All those empty classroom chairs, all those spaces where they had once shone with energy and ambition. Curiosity had grown bored with them and abandoned them to wither. It wasn’t always glorious adventure they found, but a cruel reality that was not as merciful as fairy stories.

“I am certain that it is a signal issue,” Bartholomew assured them. “The tablet I gave him is active, and I have set up a memo for him. Once the link is back, he should receive it.”

“I will keep a close eye on the communications,” Altair promised. He glanced over to Lilith, offering her a reassuring look that smoothed away the furrow of worry.

Bartholomew patted the man’s shoulder in gratitude and made long-legged strides around the lab, gathering items from drawers and cabinets and stuffing them into his satchel. “All going to plan, our venture should not take up too much time. I know where to locate the mineral in Prosperia, and the folk on Skuld used to be rather friendly, so if that is still the case, I cannot see us encountering any problems in attaining the water.”

“Until logistics find a way of intervening,” Lilith pointed out. “Never assume something will run smoothly just because you expect it to. Theory and practice are two different beasts.”

“Spoken like a true warrior,” Bartholomew noted. “In any case, we should get going. I shall prepare the gateway.”

Lilith’s unblinking scrutiny dawdled on him until he was out of earshot, and she redirected her focus to Altair. “Contact me as soon as you receive any news from Oscar,” she said, “because if we do not hear from him by the time I return, I’ll find a way to Lucarian and bring him home myself. I refuse to let anybody make a habit of putting our students in danger, I don’t care who they think they are or what power they possess.”

“Of course, Commander Cleaver,” the professor of magic replied, sensing the combative instinct within her taking over. “You will be the first to know. And if we are dealing with a tricky situation, I have ways of getting a message to Sunbreak agents.” She offered him a grateful nod, and he reciprocated the expression, wordlessly expressing his support of her judgement; the pupils of the Citadel had endured enough, and despite Bartholomew’s intentions and his budding friendship, Altair would not allow innocents to be cast into the flames in order to test the severity of the inferno.

#legends of myriad #legendsofmyriad #fantasy #fantasy writing #story series #writblr #writeblr #creative writing #fantasy story #writing #fantasy series #original fiction #original fic #original writing

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entangledptsd · 3 months

Text

fun things i am dealing with rn

- adjusting to my arm being in constant burning and/or stabbing pain and weaker than normal, having to not use it (feelings of low self-worth and guilt for not being productive enough, i wanna take care of my gf goddammit)

- my whole sex deal from the very beginning (scared to make noise, scared of being touched, scared of feeling pleasure, automatically shutting down all arousal whenever it surfaces re: mormon brainwashing, scared to ask for help with anything because what if someone uses that as an excuse to violate me, scared to speak up when something's wrong for fear of upsetting whoever's violating me. laying on my back is a trigger. traumatic amnesia's a bitch. the little i do remember is staring up at the bathroom lights wishing for my clothes while my own biomom made me bleed in sensitive private places with her cruel hands, and that's my earliest memory. that was my introduction to my body. guilt, shame, fear, disgust, body horror, avoidance)

- attachment issues (scared to let anyone get close because to me closeness means being violated, constant masking, last night i mentioned that i need to get my birth control this weekend and my gf gave me the mildly exasperated Look she usually gives me when i've forgotten something important and i thought she was mad and wanted to just disappear so i got out the creamed corn because she likes it and i'm. i'm not afraid of her, i'm afraid of causing anger or disappointment. i know she's not going to hurt me or give me the silent treatment or manipulate me or anything, it's just that my brain and body still haven't quite caught up with time or circumstances)

- my whole sex deal from more recent things (after a guy i liked tore out my heart and danced a jig on it with his stupid soccer cleats i went into a new stage of dissociation because he was my first real foray into sex and i caught feelings and everything went to shit in more ways than i can count. my ex was a form of self-harm and a numbing method, between all the sex i really didn't want but agreed to anyway and the copious amounts of liquor every night and the way i told him about my most fucked up self-hating trauma kinks because i felt like i deserved to be treated like i was subhuman on account of how that's the way i grew up and also the fact that i was knowingly exposing myself to HIV without protection, still in shock the tests came back negative on that last one and more than once i've woken up in a cold sweat to recheck those tests)

- feeling like i'm not allowed to have anything i want unless i pay through the nose for it and like i'm inherently fucking awful (i was raised as a slave, therapist, housemaid, nanny, and caretaker, taught over and over again that i was just there to make others' lives easier, told i was abusing the adults around me anytime i dared to act like a child or be inconvenient. literally was called "slave" in Spanish with a side of mocking laughter for years by the woman who birthed me. the message that i was less than nothing and meant only to satisfy the needs of other people got hammered into me more times than i will ever fully remember. my instincts to protect myself and take care of my needs got shot right through so i'm trying to resurrect them i guess. i was told that i was insensitive and selfish and had too much self-esteem for needing space from my siblings, for having my own personality, for ever saying "no," for feeling any emotions of my own, for expressing myself honestly, for wanting to play with friends of my own. the rest of the mindfuck came when she started acting like she cared to get me to open up and then used what she got out of me to hurt me and others. the whole "some people are born evil" philosophy she had going on that she took out on me. this was exacerbated severely by the whole jail/homelessness ordeal more recently)

- religious trauma (that's a longer list than i can even begin to understand still, but it's showing in my pagan practice the way i fear being a burden or an inconvenience to my gods. i've also been unraveling the new age and mormon philosophies lately and finding them mostly the same, which worries me. no i did not ask to be abused before i came into this life, i do not have to forgive anyone ever at all besides myself in order to heal, i deserve to be loved even if i don't know how to fully love myself, fuck)

#yeah fun #idk man i just need to get this out of me so i'm putting it on the internet ig #too many things floating around my head and at least i don't want to die anymore so that's nice but this shit still hurts

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monamourbladie-mb · 3 years

Text

Better?

Anakin Skywalker x reader [SMUT]

lets... not mention how long i was gone, okay? 😅 i won’t be gone like this again, i promise 🥺 i’ll get right back on requests and such, i just really REALLY struggled on this for some reason... ive got honestly no clue why but eh, here it is. i hope it was worth it! sorry the request took so long anons. 💕 ALSO big shoutout to @anakinswhore for lowkey giving me the inspiration to finish this 🥺 (everytime i almost scrapped this i remembered that my favorite fic writer on tumblr told me i got this, so i knew i couldn’t give up on this :’) thank you so much!

Plot: Anakin gets home from desling with the Bad Batch and is cranky. To help them both unwind, Anakin decides to bring Y/n with him while he showers.

WC: 2.3k

warnings: finger fucking, piv sex, unprotected sex [sorry it’s awkward to write condoms n shit like that— let’s pretend the force works to prevent pregnancy 😭]

Y/n had set down her holo communicator and sighed in frustration, looking at the time.

It was nearing 11 pm, and Anakin had yet to respond to her call. He had promised to call her the moment his mission with the Bad Batch was over, and it was almost 4 hours over the time he had promised.

She grumbled to herself and set it into her desk drawer, standing up and walking to their bedroom. Since it was getting late, she decided to start getting ready for bed. She decided to forego a shower and take it in the morning instead, her exhaustion and worry getting the better of her.

Sliding on her robe, she put her (h/c) hair in a small bun, laying on the bed. She pulled the sheets back and sighed softly as the cold, sheen silk covered her body.

Laying on her side, she did her best to suppress the fears of why Anakin was taking so long to talk to her - trying to stay in a positive mindset. But of course, the turmoil and constant loss from the War made her think differently.

As her mind grew darker, her need for sleep depreciated as she grew more worried. Huffing in frustration when some time had passed and she still hadn’t fallen asleep, she sat up and grumbled to herself.

It wasn’t like she could call Obi-Wan or another member of the council to see if he was alright - it could raise suspicion since, besides working alongside him during some battles, she wasn’t always in contact with him during the War.

Just as she was about to get up to get some water, the door opened and she felt Anakin’s presence through the Force.

She immediately jumped out of bed, retying her robe and rushing out to meet him. “Anakin! Are you okay? It’s so late-“ she began as soon as she saw him.

He sighed snd shut the door, immediately taking off his robe and throwing it over the back of the couch. “I’m sorry,” he said somewhat sternly, sounding exhausted.

“For what, Ani?” she frowned, crossing her arms. “Being late. As always...” he grumbled, walking over to her and kissing her cheek gently. “I didn’t mean to be, the mission went overtime, and we ran into some trouble.”

“Was it successful, at least?”

“Yeah, thankfully. Wasn’t at first, but, we got Echo home safe.”

“So... why do you seem so... down?” she bit her lip, following him into their bedroom.

“I’m exhausted, sweetheart. Completely drained. I’m sorry if I seem off, I was just put under tons of pressure between Rex and Hunter. They got in a big fistfight, and I had to break it up...” Anakin replied, sitting on the bed and sighing, resting his head in his hands.

“Oh, Ani...” she sighed, resting her hand on his shoulder snd rubbing it gently. “I’m sorry, I know the war is hard enough to deal with.”

He shrugged after a moment and grunted, leaning his head back as he sighed. “I think I’m going to take a shower and forget about this God awful day, I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine, I get it. I was planning on taking a shower too, actually, but I might later then.”

Anakin glanced over at her for a moment, sliding his tongue over his lips and letting out a low hum when she doesn’t move, “Aren’t you coming then?”

She raised a brow in confusion, “What? You want me to come with you?”

“You said you wanted to shower, right? Do it with me, no harm in that,” he responded.

She bit her lip, thinking about all the possible endings. She cautiously stood up, walking over to him, “You sure? I can wait, it’s no problem...”

“Y/n,” he said firmly. “What did I say?”

“You said come shower with me,” she repeated. Anakin nodded, “Well, do you want to or not?” he smirked slyly, crossing his arms and watching her curiously.

She took a moment to look up at him, moving up to kiss him gently, “Better get a move on then, you know I prefer it very hot,” she smirked.

He rolled his eyes playfully and deepened the kiss, moving his hands down her back slowly until she pulled away, “Now you’re the one holding us up.”

“Alright, alright, go and get things ready. I’ll be there.” He kissed her forehead gently then pulled away, walking out of the bathroom.

She suppressed a giggle and smile as she skipped to the bathroom, all the thoughts rushing through her mind as she imagined what could happen.

“You’re tired. He’s tired. I’m sure you’re just showering, don’t get your hopes up.”

Boy, that was a lie. She was brushing out her hair and Anakin stormed into the room, pressing her firmly against the counter, crashing his lips onto hers. She gasped into the kiss and dropped the brush onto the counter, gripping onto the counter sides to keep her up-right as he left no room between him, her, and the counter.

Her eyes fluttered close as he cups her cheeks, moving his human hand down the side of her face to her jawline slowly. “Take it all off,” he mumbles, his voice muffled against her soft lips. “I have other things in mind.

She whimpered against his mouth and pulled away for a moment, her chest heaving as she almost was gasping to catch her breath, “What about showering-?”

“Who says we’re not showering?” he smirked, undressing her with his eyes. She swallowed thickly at his gaze and moved to start striping down slowly, keeping eye contact with him.

“Now look at you, all riled up and nervous,” Anakin smirked crossing his arms and watching her.

“Don’t... don’t look at me like that,” she said softly after she got her bra off, her hands starting to tremble from excitement and straight nerves.

“Why not? It’s getting you to tremble, I like it,” his voice gets darker as he moved closer to her, kissing behind her ear. He moved his long fingers over her panties and hooked them in, slowly pushing them down as they fell to her ankles.

She felt shy and exposed as he pulled away to admire his prize, his eyes growing darker as he watched her. He moved his large hands to her smaller waist and pulled her flush against him, keeping his gaze on her face now, “Are you going to get in?”

She nodded, trying to pull away but his grip on her hipbones was too tight. He loosened his grip just enough for her to slink into the warm shower, and he followed suit right after.

He moved his hand to rub her back gently, keeping his ever-darkening gaze transfixed on her smaller body.

She purposefully tried to ignore him, keeping her back turned to his front as she wets her hair under the warm water trickling from the showerhead, trying to occupy her mind with anything but the obvious - she and her lover were showering together.

Anakin trailed his hands lower then moved so his front was placed firmly against her back, kissing the back of her neck, “Don’t ignore me, sweetheart. You’re on edge, let me help you.”

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous, I just,” she turned around and looked up at him and her breath hitched, gripping her hair tighter.

There her lover stood, towering over her with water droplets running down his long darkened brown curly hair onto his toned chest, the small droplets falling down his body over all his muscles.

An involuntary whimper escaped her lips as she shamelessly studied his figure, every inch, every angle... he was just perfect.

“You’re staring,” he smirked, his chuckle low as he pulled her flush against him, looking down at her with dark eyes, “take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said quickly, immediately slamming her lips onto his in a frenzied, heated swift movement. He let out a low growl against her lips in content as he pulled her as close as he could get her. She let out a soft moan into his lips as she felt his hard length press against her, causing her to shudder in anticipation.

“Now you’re needy, what changed, my love?” he pulled away from the intoxicating kiss to kiss and suck across her neck, making her moan softly, “I c-changed my mind,” she stammered, her mind blank and fuzzy with lust as her core began to throb with need.

“I can see that,” his voice was smooth yet deep, knowing he could do the slightest thing and get her riled up even further. He moved his hand and pushed her thigh up near his hip, moving it so he had more room as he danced his thumb over her clit slowly.

Her head fell against his chest and she let out tiny breathy whimpers against his skin, her hips jolting in surprise from the newfound pleasure, “Ani—“

“You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you? You were acting all innocent earlier, and now that I'm rubbing my fingers all over you you’re a mess,” he clicked his tongue in teasing disapproval as he moved his pointer finger to slide into her heat quickly, alongside his middle finger.

Her eyes widened and she moaned loudly in approval, her heavy breathing against his chest quickening with each ministration.

“Ani, I j-just want you— please—!” she looked up at him with a lusty, needy gaze through her lashes, biting her lip to suppress more moans as he fucked her with his fingers. He grunted in response and curled them against her sweet spot, smirking at her reaction, “Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?”

“N-No—! I want your... i want y-your... fuck, Anakin!” she moaned in response, her hips starting to shake as Anakin knew how close she was already.

He chuckled darkly and leaned against her neck, sucking roughly over her already darkening hickeys as he started pounding his fingers into her harder, rubbing her clit faster, “Use your words, little one, I know you can.”

She threw her head back in ecstasy as she moaned, falling off the edge into bliss as Anakin fucked her through it with his fingers, his eyes wandering across her body now quivering from intense pleasure, water droplets falling from her hair down her breasts.

She went to speak when he silences her with an intoxicatingly passionate kiss, cupping her cheek with his metal hand as he helped her ride her high out, “Good girl...” he mumbled against her lips.

She felt completely out of breath, gripping his bicep for support as he pulled his fingers out of her, using his metallic fingers to brush away some of the wet hair from her face.

He moved her body further from the warm water of the shower so she wouldn’t get water in her eyes as he leaned her against the wall. Keeping his hand firm on her hipbone, he moved her thighs apart gently and began to pump himself slowly, his breathing picking up.

He looked in her eyes and saw an intense lusty gaze he hadn’t seen in them for awhile - and he immediately knew she wanted to continue. He moved his free hand to cup the back of her neck, moving her closer so he can kiss her deeply as he pushed himself into her quickly.

She gasped in surprise against his lips, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt him fill her up completely with one swift thrust.

She arched her back against him, gripping his back weakly as he immediately began rocking his hips into her at an unrelenting pace, grunting in her ear, “So fucking tight for me, angel... And so needy, letting me take you in the shower like this...”

She would never admit verbally just how much she loved his dirty talk, his dirty-natured words sending sparks throughout her pussy and her body as she gripped his hair tightly, “Please, this is all I’ve needed,” she moaned almost out of breath, her heart beating out of her chest as she tightened around him.

His loud growl in response edged her to start to roll her hips against his cock, and he smirked in response, leaning down to kiss across her throat, “So—fucking—tight...” he grunted into her ear, his cheeks burning bright red from the mixture of the hot sex and steamy shower.

Her legs buckled and he immediately gripped her closer to him and the wall, moving her to lean back against it more as he lifts her leg to get a deeper angle, causing her to cry out in ecstasy as the pleasure grew too great.

With her already sensitive, her high build much faster than usual and she gripped his hair tighter, digging her fingernails into the back of his head as she panted, her eyes rolling back, “Anakin—!” she moaned weakly.

He recognized that needy, breathy moan all too well as he knew she was close without her needing to say it. He kisses hot open-mouthed kisses across her throat and collarbone, moaning for her to cum for him as he lazily moved his finger down to rub her through her orgasm; the constant throb of her walls sending him closer to the edge.

She let out a loud breathy moan as her high overtook her, letting out small squeals and moans into his ear as it washed over her. She immediately felt numb as it ran through her, the sight of her moaning and the feeling of her throbbing harder causing him to cum. He leaned his head against hers, moaning shakily as he leaned against the wall to steady himself as he fucked them through it, his metal hand firmly on her hipbone to keep them upright.

Her breathing was shaky and uneven as they came down from their highs, and he kissed her hurriedly and softly, “Better?” she muttered against his lips. Anakin nodded softly and chuckled, pulling out after it had fully faded snd pulling them back under the direct range of the water, “Much, much better.”

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #hayden christensen #star wars #anakinskywalker #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars smut #hayden christensen smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

#john shelby fluff #john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby reader insert #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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The (Un)Dateables Catch the MC Dancing/Singing By Themselves

Full disclosure, couldn't think of anything for Luke... Sorry.

Diavolo

There are some human rituals that Diavolo finds just fascinating… One of them being the act of filming yourself dancing to a short clip of music then posting said film to the internet. He hears it's a surprisingly popular human world activity!

So maybe the MC shouldn’t have been AS surprised by his reaction when he walked in on them doing the latest internet dance craze alone in the RAD Student Council room. They have figured that he would scold them for doing something so silly in such an important place… but he actually seemed intrigued!

Actually, scratch that. He was delighted!

Maybe it’s his human world fascination or because Barbatos never lets him have any fun - or maybe he just wanted the chance to be a part of something with the little human - but he insisted that the MC teach him the steps to whatever they were doing so he could join in!

A couple hours later, Levi and Asmo are running around to all their brothers and thrusting a viral video of the MC and the Prince of Hell dancing together on whatever the Devildom version of TikTok is...

And somewhere parallel to that, Lucifer is trying desperately not to choke on his own coffee as Diavolo sends him that same video over chat with the message:

Diavolo: Lucifer! Lucifer!

Diavolo: I think I’ve become a meme! :D

And lo, a new TikTok duo was born.

Barbatos

Afternoon tea at the Castle is both a very extravagant and yet casual affair. Barbatos always provides the best service and the grandiose setting of the palace give everything an air of splendor, but getting to actually sit and chat with the butler is anything but stiff and formal.

It’s usually calming more than anything. The kind of activity that shouldn’t feel as relaxed as it is but always somehow turns into a tranquil, dare say familiar, experience.

So it really should have been expected that the MC would feel comfortable enough to sing a little om--in the garden’s gazebo while they waited for Barbs to brew their tea. They must have thought they were alone… but not really.

Very few things that happen in the castle without Barbs knowing about it. He was bound to walk in on them eventually. 🤷‍♀️

And of course Barbs, being Barbs, left no hint that he was listening until they were pretty much done with the song. All he did was quietly clear his throat from where he had been standing, leaving the MC to wonder if he had been standing there the whole time... (Seriously, this man could be a ninja. He’s so hard to notice sometimes…)

When he brought their cup over to them, he just smiled at their embarrassment and caught their chin between his fingers...

“While I had intended to prepare oolong tea for us tonight, perhaps I should have brought you chamomile instead? I would hate for such a lovely voice to get strained... Should I go fetch us some now?”

Barbatos used Charm! It was Super Effective!... MC fainted…. 😔

Simeon

Libraries are usually quiet places and the RAD library is no exception. Unless a natural loudmouth like Mammon or Asmo passes through, most of the time it’s dead silent in there.

Now, the RAD library is also HUGE. If you were to walk from on end to the other, you’d pass by hundreds of shelves of old tomes, spellbooks, novels, scrolls, songbooks… just almost every kind of print in the world. Someone can go in with a friend and, if they weren’t paying attention, lose track of them for an hour at least.

So the MC could honestly be forgiven for thinking that they could sing to themselves without anyone noticing. What were the chances that a demon student would want to go by the Christian fiction section???

Well, though it was true a demon may not want anything to do with the overly Jesus-y stuff, an angel may enjoy poking some lighthearted fun at it. Or at least one angel in particular, anyway.

Poor MC could have gone from singing to screaming when Simeon came up behind them and popped out one of their earbuds! Though he wasn’t particularly sneaky or anything, they just had their back to him and he thought it’d be cute to see them jump… 🙄

That still didn’t stop him from smiling inches from their face like he totally didn’t know exactly what he was doing right then.

“I’m sorry, MC, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Whether or not the MC wanted to complain, they get cut off by a warm, gloved finger pressed against their lips.

“You really shouldn’t be singing in libraries, MC… They’re meant to be quiet places. But if you’d like to sing somewhere else, I’d love to come along! I think your voice is just stunning, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Translation: Someone’s looking for a private show... The sly bastard... 😖

Solomon

The MC's first mistake was rummaging through Solomon's things and assuming everything would be fine.

They weren’t doing anything nefarious, they were just looking for a particular spellbook of his, but Solomon keeps his laboratory bedroom at a near constant state of clutter.

They can't really remember how it happened… Maybe their hand brushed a bottle that knocked over a test tube then rolled across a table to hit something else and so on - but as they were searching they found themselves struck with a sudden uncontrollable urge to… dance.

Dance with all their might! Dance like the world was ending!! Dance until they could no longer stand!!! DANCE DAMMIT DANCE!!!

And that's how Solomon found them. Moving and shaking like their life depended on it in the middle of his bedroom… It didn't take him long to work out what happened.

You know that French Dancing Plague? The one that caused a town to dance until they dropped? … Would you believe that he may know a thing or two about how that started? Not ALL of his experiments are successful you know.

The merciful man would have cured the MC of their affliction on the spot. … But the clever man sees an opportunity. 😏

What's the harm in doing a little dancing when he can have such a lovely partner all to himself, yeah? 😌

And so, he let the plague consume him and danced the night away with the MC in his arms (with the spell needed to the cure the “plague” still totally in his memory, of course).

Meanwhile, it had already begun to spread to Luke and Simeon… then got carried to the House and Demon Lord's Castle… and then to the rest of Devildom as all of Hell's denizens danced for hours utterly mystified by their own actions.

The event would later be known as "The Festival of Madness," Devildom historians to this day still don't know what caused it… (and he's not itching to explain either. Let's let that just stay a little secret between him and MC, cool?)

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #this was only written for the dia idea #and i can't write solomon in a way that's not chaotic...#obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me undateables #obey me datables #obey me date those guys now

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nyashykyunnie · 3 years

Note

Might as well hope on the bandwagon. May I please request a Father Xiao scenarios? Maybe his child can be a half-adeptus like ganyu (Child auto-corrected to Childe when I was typing this xD)

A/N: took me awhile to think of a Xiao hc cuz I was tryna choose between some scenarios AHWHEGW Also SAME, MY PHONE AUTCORRECTS INTO CHILDE ALL THE TIME AHAHAGAGSG AND YES XIAO HAVING A HALF-BLOOD CHILD EEE NGL HE GONNA BE EXTRA PROTECTIVE AHADHJADGS I’m so excited for this ehehh. Also tyvm for the req!!! I hope you enjoy this anon!! Btw this was supposed to be for three charas but I got carried away with xiao so ahah,.... Woops =w=;;

𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛! 𝕏𝕚𝕒𝕠 x 𝙶𝙽! 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍! ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

. 　﹢　˖ 　✦ ¸ .　﹢　 ° 　¸. ° ˖ ･ ·̩　　｡　☆　　　ﾟ＊　｡　☆ ✦˖

Having a child, with his own blood running through your veins, you being the spitting image of him- Was the last thing Xiao could ever imagine ever happening to him.

It’s understandable that he was really shocked to know you are his. Xiao is, after all, the Conqueror Of Demons. He is more than used to being in battle, always being on high alert and ready to slash any enemy down since it isone of his duties as the Vigilant Yaksha who protects Liyue.

Xiao was very cautious around you. With your small and fragile body, he feared that even touching you was enough to kill you. The Wangshu Inn keeper had to teach him ‘how’ to hold you because Xiao’s fear of holding you might just make him stay ten feet away from you at all costs.

He watches over you from afar, always ready to strike at whatever dares to bring you harm.

Though, most of the time, the yaksha is always leaving you to Verr Goldet’s care so he can fulfill his duties. It was fine at first- Until Verr had to talk to Xiao about it. He told him that he shouldn’t be too focused on that job.

She told him the possibilities of his constant negligence of you, she told him you might grow “Deprived From Fatherly Affection”. Xiao was shocked of course, he didn’t really know that.

He felt guilty, he was so blinded by not wanting to inflict any form of harm on you, he didnt expect that it’ll inevitably lead you to growing some unwanted mindsets and habits.

Xiao isn’t really one for affection, there’s no need to explain that. Majority of his skills are more on the ‘slaughter’ and ‘exorcise’ expertise.

Regardless, he is not just a protector of Liyue now, he is a ‘father’ now. Specifically your father. This new responsibility isn’t something he will run away from.

Don’t expect much from him though. Xiao is still hesitant to some extent, he’s trying to figure out how he will interact with you.

Unlike him, you’re fragile. More fragile than glass. He’s afraid of exerting accidental force that will lead him to hurting you. You’re just too small- so small can’t even reach pass his knees(Please this yaksha is just overthinking too much)

Baby steps, that’s what he’ll do. Slow and steady so he wont be too overwhelmed.

He starts off by simply talking to you, maybe even playing with you for a bit with enough begging. Xiao slowly got used to handling you as time went by. Verr was even suprised at one point when she saw Xiao handling you during your tantrums.

Xiao made good progress with you. He didnt even know that he was unconciously getting attached to you, he didnt know that he adored your presence. He didn’t realize that he gets a little frustrated when he needs to leave you behind. Xiao developed his ‘father instincts’ to such a level to the point that he sometimes wished his Yaksha responsibilties were less demanding.

When you are trouled with nightmares- Xiao will put some stuff to wardoff evil. Though, he also heard that child mortals are more effectively comfoted if they are sung a lullaby, so he’ll do that. Just... Don’t tell anyone else or that will be your last (maybe)

The immortal sometimes even comes home with new clothes since he knew that children grow and he wouldn’t want to see you struggling with the small fit ofyour clothing. He also makes sure to put some spells on them too to ward off evil.

Xiao unconciously spoils you, his mind always drifting; ‘Maybe they’ll like something like that. Mortal children I’ve seen are fond of those stuff’. Naturally, he’ll make a way to afford that small gift for you. If he cant, then he’ll just learn how to make it himself.

He loves you, he just doesnt know how to convey that. Being an adepti, being raised as a machine for war- Love wasn’t something he is great at. But even if it’s that, he’ll still strive for you secretly. Xiao will no doubt make the most descreet efforts to adore you. He still doubts himself even after all the progress he’s made in becoming close to you.

“Silk Flowers!” You squeel in delight as you spotted a bouquet of it from afar. You dash off from Xiao’s side, making the adepti startled and call out your name.

But still you were a child, of course you just kept running and running until the ground beneath you rumbled at what seems like caused from footsteps. Your feet wobbled and almost knocked you off of your feeting. Then it stopped, a huge shadow looming over your small figure. You look up only to have the color of your face drained.

“D-Daddy!” You cried out in absolute horror, falling down to the ground. You were terrified, how could you not? Monsters were real, and one of those monsters was about to murder you in cold blood. “Daddy! Help!”

Just at the beast was about to swing it’s flaming axe towards you- The wind shifted, as if slicing through the air and knocking back the mitachurl.

“How dare such filthy demon dare to even make their presence in front of my child, let alone even dare to strike!” Xiao growled, his eyes flaming gold from raw fury as he walked with the air dancing violently around him. “ I’ll make you pay”

Xiao’s voice was flooded with resentment, his primodial jade radiated as it felt it’s master’s sudden abundance in power. He spun it as his Yaksha mask formed in his face. At the roar of the enemy, Xiao leapt forward, striking the demon in overwhelming speed. He moved so fast it’s too the point the mitachurl wasn’t given any chance to react. But was it done? No, not even a little bit. That demon frightened you to the point your voice faltered in calling him. He has seen you in tears but never to this extent. Xiao was fuming as he plunged down, his anemo spears stabbing the enemy with no hint of sympathy.

When he finally finished the kill, Xiao’s mask disintegrated and immediately walked to your crying state. He clicked his tounge, feeling a huge pang in his heart as he saw you this disheveled.

“Da-daddy!” You wailed, reaching your arms out for him desperately as your tears clouded your eyes. “Waah!”

He wanted to scold you, he really did. But the sight of you crying like this made the words stuck in his throat. Xiao instead lifted you in his arms, letting you bury your face on the crook of his neck and sob freely. You soaked his shoulder and Xiao didn’t complain, he just rubbed your back to let you know he is there.

“Does anywhere hurt?” His nonlachant voice rung in your ears softly, stealing your attention. “If there is, better tell me now or those wounds will cause further damage in you.”

“[Y-y/n] is bad.” You hicupped. “[Y/N] is so bad daddy is now ou-ouchie. Daddy now hates [Y-Y/N]”

“Hate? You mortals have odd ways of thinking” Xiao sounded a little rough, making you flinch. “Don’t be ridiculous, I would never bear such hostility towards you. Moreover, I’m not hurt. I’ve lived for thousands of years, pain is something minimal for an adepti such as myself.”

He scoffed.

“On the other hand, your life is counted by only one hand. You have yet to experience what life will truly bring you.” Xiao’s voice started to soften bit by bit as he softly squeezes your small body towards him more “However, I am your father. If darkness decides to crawl at your feet and even when you are frigthened of what’s ahead- Call out my name. I’ll always be there.”

“Da-daddy promises?” You look up to stare at his amber orb. “Daddy will make monsters go bye-bye?”

“Yes” He simply answered. “Now stop your noisy crying, we’re going back to eat.”

He appears cold, his way of talking always straight to the point, but still he loves you. Adeptus Xiao, the guardian yaksha, his power will not simply be used in order to slaughter the darkness creeping around Liyue. With his Vision and might as Alatus, the Golden-Winged King,... He will protect you at all costs and raise you no matter how he is troubled regarding his difficulty in making much of emotions.

You are one his greatest gifts, a treasure he will sincerely hold in his heart forevermore. It doesn’t matter if his karmic binds attack him, he will venture out of it for you.

A/N: AIGHHTT AAAA ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITTING FOR XIAO HNNN, Did I do good??? AAAA I DUNNO AHDKSGF. I hope you all liked it hngghhhh ;___; Also I’m sorry for being inactive a lot AAAAA, school is starting to get mre and more demanding. I have more hcs upcoming so dw! I wont end up completely turning into a dead ghost!

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin fic #genshin imagines #genshin xiao #vigilant yaksha #xiao x reader #xiao x gender neutral reader #xiao #adeptus xiao

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

Violent Sleeper ~ Min Yoongi

His smile grew as soon as he saw you sat down at the dining table as he made his way downstairs, shaking his head as he crept over, sitting beside you, taking you by surprise.

“Good morning,” you hummed, placing your phone down on the table. “How did you sleep?” You proceeded to ask, watching as his head nodded, but his eyes told a completely different story.

“It was nice having someone sleeping beside me,” he hummed.

Straight away, you could tell that something wasn’t quite right. The way Yoongi faltered over his words instantly raised your suspicions, but as his eyes continually looked away from you, you knew that something was going on.

Regardless, you stood up from the table and made your way over to stick the kettle on, grabbing two mugs from the top shelf. From behind you, you could hear Yoongi yawning, disguising it as best he could when you looked around.

“Are you sure that you slept alright?” You asked, still not entirely convinced by his previous response, “I bet it must have been weird having someone else in the bed with you.”

His head nodded, allowing his smile to grow. Sleeping with you wasn’t just like having a person beside him, Yoongi felt like he had a whole family beside him with how much of a wriggler you were.

“It felt nice waking up this morning and seeing you beside me though, it’s definitely something that I could get used to,” you hummed, spinning over to the fridge to grab the milk carton.

“I’m glad you slept well.”

You shrugged his comment aside, finishing making two cups of coffee before returning to the table, choosing to sit opposite him rather than beside him.

“Be honest, because I feel like there’s something, you’re not telling me right now,” you asked.

Yoongi’s eyes looked away from you as he wrapped his hands around the mug. A small breath came from him, biting down on his bottom lip, desperately trying to fight off yet another yawn that tried to escape him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you move a lot in bed?” He asked you, feeling guilt him as soon as your eyes widened in surprise at his question.

“Not really,” you admitted, beginning to sense the direction that the conversation was going in. “Was I that much of a bother last night?”

“Well, no…kind of…a bit.”

An apology uttered itself before Yoongi had the chance to visit as your head fell into your hands, feeling a bright red blush dance its way onto your cheeks.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Yoongi tried to assure you, “I got a couple of hours sleep anyway.”

Your head shook once again, as yet another apology faltered from your lips, unable to so much as bring yourself to look in his direction.

“If I have a bruise on my leg by tonight, it definitely wasn’t from you,” he teased, but rather than help you to feel better, his comment only made you feel ten times worse.

You always knew that you struggled when you slept to lay completely still, but you never imagined that you could move so much to cause someone else so much disruption.

Unlike you, Yoongi could definitely see the funny side. Your sleeping habits were a complete contrast to your usual quiet self. It almost felt as if you came alive at night, tossing and turning, kicking your legs out whenever you began to feel uncomfortable.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you muttered in embarrassment, “you probably don’t ever want to share a bed with me again, do you?”

His head shook, “I do, don’t be silly. It just might take me a little bit of time to get used to having someone in my bed again, that’s all?”

“You mean get used to someone who sleeps so violently?”

Reluctantly, his head slowly nodded, as guilty as he felt, he knew there was no point in lying to you as it would only make things worse for the two of you in the long run when things began to get more serious between you both.

“I’m just used to not having any disturbances when I sleep by myself, that’s the only problem,” he tried to assure you, “I’m sure with a few cushions I could learn to protect myself from your wayward limbs flying around the place.”

“You’re going to be black and blue sleeping next to me,” you frowned, brushing your hair through your messy hair.”

Yoongi’s head shook with a chuckle, “it’s not as bad as you think it is, maybe you were just a little bit more restless because you were getting used to a new place.”

Yet, as Yoongi spoke, the throbbing pain in the bottom of his leg told a different story. It wasn’t until he tried to sit himself up and head downstairs, did he feel the full effects of a night beside you and your constant movements.

But there was no way he was going to let that deter your relationship. “I’m sure if you continue to be a little bit of a violent sleeper, we can figure something out. It’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about or feel apologetic over. I’m sure you get annoyed with me all the time when I’m constantly making music or humming around you.”

“That’s different,” you whispered, shaking your head across at him, “you constantly tapping against my leg doesn’t hurt me, but me striking you with my leg is obviously causing you some harm.”

“It’s really no big deal.”

“But it is,” you argued, feeling your raise ever so slightly. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to protect my feelings or lie about anything, I want you to be honest with me so that I can try and make things better.”

His head nodded, despite much of what he said being the truth, he was far too scared to say anymore and end up causing you anymore harm.

“I’ve told you everything,” he fibbed, looking away from your gaze. “But we can work on that another time, this is our first morning together, and I don’t want to focus on the negatives, I want to start doing what normal couples do.”

“Most normal couples I know don’t even say two words to each other in the morning,” you laughed, “they’re always far too busy to even say hello to each other.”

Whilst his head nodded in concurrence with you, Yoongi could definitely see himself spending many mornings like this one waking up beside you.

“It feels like I’m living a bit of a movie,” he began to speak up, “this is always how I imagined adulthood going, a hot drink in hand, the sun streaming through the window, and company to talk to and tell them how I plan to spend my day.”

“So, how do you plan to spend your day?” You quizzed, “seeing as you took the day off just to spend time with your new roommate.”

“I plan on spending my day doing absolutely nothing,” he proudly informed you, “I’m just going to enjoy morning, afternoon, and my evening.”

You smiled back across at him, “and does your roommate get to be a part of all of that, or does she get kicked out at some point?”

“I plan on keeping her here all night long once again.”

“Really?”

“Definitely, no questions asked.”

---

Masterlist

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mxvladdy · 3 years

Text

Unrepentant: Chapter One

Yoz! Finally, I sat down and edited this! (Yaay I'm slow as fuck)

I loved writing Diavolo's True Form piece (Located Here) so I wanted more and really to write this headcanon I've had since he was introduced! It is suggested to read his true form before this but you do you and live your best life.

Anyway idk how long this will be but all the true form stuff will be in this fanfiction :)

Hope ya like!

Word Count: 4k

Rating: General

The Devildom moons glint high above you outside your bedroom window. Their perpetual radiance casting dancing shadows across the walls. The solace of your empty room envelops you like a warm hug. It pulls the stress of the day away off your shoulders leaving you sleepy. Dropping your book-laden bag to the floor you flop face-first into the freshly washed sheets of your bed.

Exam season was rolling in fast and all of the academy was gearing up for the students' and teachers' inevitable breakdowns. From personal experience, you saw firsthand what happens when a demon gets stressed out. Even the lesser demons you know can cause some major damage when they reach their boiling point, though it pales in comparison to the havoc the big seven cause. Just yesterday Beel lost control in the middle of cram school after the teacher refused to let them out on time for dinner. Poor Lucifer was still scrambling to pay for the damages and trying to find a replacement in time for next week's lessons. Then, on the same day at the other end of the campus, Satan all but totaled a classroom in a fit of rage after another student dared to try and correct him. Bless the Old Gods themselves that at least Levi and Belphie were easy to deal with during these times. They were both book smart and beyond capable with their studies, they just lacked the wherewithal to put the effort in. Well, Belphie was more guilty than Levi when it came down to it. Most of the time Lucifer could be seen dragging Belphie to class by the ankle, face stormy with rage. It was humorous to watch-just from a distance.

As for you, you figure it was best to just be out of the direct line of fire. One too many brushes with death in the Devildom for your comfort. During this time of year, it became almost a sport. You got really good at dodging large pieces of furniture and spells during exam week when the brothers finally start coming to blows. Not that you fault them, they were just letting their aggression out as any good primordial being would. But, the lack of sleep and constant fear of annihilation by bookshelf is murder on your grades. After a few meetings with Lucifer and Diavolo, you all decide you should stay in the palace till after exams.

The palace.

You smile softly to yourself tracing a thumb over your clavicle. Your finger ghosts over the healing black marks running down your skin. It was rocky at first, rebuilding your relationship and trust, with Diavolo after your "run in". He acts like you were made of spun glass and eggshells, physically trying to keep as much distance between the two of you as possible. All the while you had to butt head with seven of the strongest and most bull-headed men you had ever met. Their protectiveness towards you tried your patience in ways you never expected. It took what you are pretty sure was your guardian angel to finally get the brothers to relent. With Simeon acting as your chaperone you start to live again. It was nice to finally feel comfortable around the demon again. Seeing him return to his normal candor and temperament again was a breath of fresh air. Thinking of him makes you flush, the cool air of your room burning your cheeks as you recall all the stolen evenings in his and Barbatos's company. All the hours spent laughing at their outlandish assumptions of modern human social norms while they tried to guess if they were correct or not, and then there were the nights where it was just you and the prince. He was nothing but cordial and proper, just conversations between two friends.

A nice glass of port and dinner...maybe an errant brush of fingers when there was no need to touch a time or two. Perhaps a gaze held too long to be considered appropriate.

You groan into your pillows, feeling your heart flutter. You couldn't deny he was fascinating, and yes, perhaps you were a little infatuated with him. Who wasn't? You say it on the daily how other demons fawn over him. He is one of the strongest of their kin after all. Power is a huge part of the Devildom hierarchy, and he exudes it in spades. To a demon, he is the peak of their ideal. Yet, to you, from a human perspective, you enjoyed his personality and jovial nature. It was a side very few got to see of him and you cherish each moment you got to enjoy in the privacy of his quarters.

Of course, watching him crush an unruly usurper without a second thought was kinda hot. Hmmm-

A sharp rap at your door startles you. Was it time already? "Door's open Simeon!" You yell over your shoulder grabbing your robe and go behind your room divider to undress.

"Good evening!" The angel chirps entering your darkroom. With a wave of his hand, he lights your fireplace. The bright flames dancing to life to chase away the cold of the perpetual night.

"Show off." You come back around your divider to face him. He shrugs with a bashful smile offering you the tray he brought with him. His lithe fingers grab the few bottles he needed, leaving the rest for you. You unscrew the lid on one of the jars of salves specially crafted for you. You inhale, humming in delight, and the fresh scent of honeydew and lavender wafting up at you. "This one is new!" You beam dipping a finger in your eye the soft green goop. It was warm to the touch and made your finger go numb.

Simeon nods, twirling his hand in the air to make you turn around. "You mentioned stiff joints last night so I made something to help." His hand strokes over your back while he mutters to himself. "This is healing up nicely, though the color is becoming more opaque." You nod in acceptance. The curse- taint- whatever it was when Diavolo injured you hadn't stopped at just mental damage when it struck you. It took root on your body, burying itself deep and spreading through you like an uncontrollable flame. It wraps and twists itself around your arms, shoulders, and sides joining and merging with itself to rest around the tender skin of your neck. You found it beautiful in its own right. Like those ornate chokers in Levi's animes or the ones Mammon wore in some of his high-end modeling shoots. Yours was just as gorgeous but very permanent.

"These are coming along nicely," Simeon remarks looking over your back. He rubs some of his sweet-smelling ointment into your sides. He traces over some of the more intricate lines, they radiate power heating his celestial skin in a way you could not sense. The marks pulse in warning, threatened by his celestial power. Simeon frowns, taking his hand away. "It looks like Lucifer marks have been consumed completely now too."

"Really?" You crane your neck trying to see Lucifer's mark at the base of your neck. It figures Lucifer's was the last to be consumed. Solomon had hypothesized that since he was the eldest and thus the strongest it would make sense that it would take longer for Diavolo's blight to consume it. So far he has been correct.

Over time you watch as all the brothers' marks were taken over. Their bright colors bleed out to be replaced with an iridescent black. It was a little unfortunate since you loved the colors of their marks, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Simeon hands you a jar over your shoulder while he inspects the growing marks on your back. "I increased the dosage in this, your arms were still itchy, correct?"

You nod, taking the jar. You grimace as your nails scratch the delicate glass. Your skin wasn't the only thing that physically changed after Diavolo's magic took root. Your nail plates gleam black now, no longer clear and flimsy like human nails normally are. They are sharp now with lethal tips. They could gouge stone like it was tissue paper and even pierce the hard shell of a demon's skin. Beel had been impressed by the nick you gave him during P.E. It healed quickly so no harm was done, but it frightened you still.

Tutting, you shoot your fingers a scathing glance. As a defense mechanism, this new addition was great, but daily life was a pain. Your hands tore through everything if you weren't careful. Delicate pillows and sheets were kept far away from you lest they turn into ribbons. It was beginning to look like the brothers had adopted an unruly cat let loose in the halls.

Asmo fussed over you for days trying to figure out the best way to care for them. He wasted some nice clippers on you until he landed on a heavy-duty nail file. Your manicure only lasts a few days at best, but it was better than turning your pillows into pin cushions. Aside from your skin and nails, you could see better in the perpetual night of the Devildom. The blue haze of the twin moons is cleaner now. Every surface their light lands on shines like a beacon illuminating farther than you could see before. Gave Mammon a good scare walking the halls in complete darkness, you didn’t need a light anymore just the moons.

It was utterly fascinating to you, and Solomon. The mage takes every opportunity he could to poke and prod at your changes and charts them down with feverish excitement. So far, much to his displeasure, you show no more magical prowess than when you first arrived in the Devildom but he was certain you should. For now, no one knew what to expect so you were to just monitor yourself and check-in with Solomon and Simeon daily till they deemed this settled.

"There," Simeon finishes examining your back and neck, making sure he covered the entirety of each mark. "Looks like everything is in order. I'll leave you to rest for the evening." He wipes his hands helping you back into your robe before tidying up the small mess he made.

"You sure?" You ask following him to the door. "I feel like we haven't hung out for ages! I could fetch us some tea." You smile up at his soft face. You miss just hanging out with him. As of late all he has been to you is an on-call nurse. It would be nice to talk with him and Luke about something other than you for an evening.

Simeon smiles but shakes his head. "Perhaps tomorrow, Madame Scream has a few new cakes out this month. Luke has been talking my ear off about them and I'm sure he would love your company too." He eyes the door knowingly. "But for now someone else wishes to steal you away." He bids you goodnight then, leaving you clasping the doorknob and looking about into the pitch-black hallway.

It's in the moment you lock your door and turn to crawl into bed that someone knocks on your door. Your heart leaps in with an indiscernible emotion before beating fast with excitement, your brain following along slowly after it. You couldn't stop the smile crossing your face as you made your way back to the door. Something deep within you knew who it was. "Dia!" You swing the heavy door open and hug him tight. The moment your body makes contact with him you feel amazing. The grind of the day is gone, chased away by his warm arms encircling you. "I thought you were busy all evening?"

He chuckles swaying from side to side. "I was! But, what kind of prince would I be if I didn't throw my weight around every so often?" He leans down and nuzzles his face in your crown. He smiles into your hair. You were smelling more and more like him each day, it was titillating.

Dia breathes deeply taking in your sweet clean scent and savoring how his smokey amber smell was mingling with it. It was faint now, perhaps only strong enough for him, Barbatos and Lucifer can discern. Soon though lesser daemons will take notice of his scent mingling with yours. He makes a quick note to tell Simeon to look into a stronger ointment, it will be needed soon. Diavolo pulls away, clicking his tongue. He glances down at where your nails punched through the thick fabric of his waistcoat to graze his skin. "Do you have time for a drink? Barbatos went topside today and purchased a bottle of whiskey barrel age wine. It smells simply divine ." His gold eyes glance up to the large grandfather clock in the corner of your room. It was far past polite visiting hours, but he couldn't give less of a damn, despite the warning of his closest circles.

The nobles were beginning to notice how much he favored you and thus the court was beginning to talk. They were beginning to question his loyalty to the goal of the program, his fascination with one mere human raised concerns throughout his family members. "Why are you spending so much more time with that one?" They ask claws and fangs clinging as they nash and hiss at him, so many of his bloodline still refuse to use glamour believing it was an insult to their heritage. "They are of no importance, playing favorites could lead to a disaster for your crown." He knows many of them would love that.

For him to lose his neck and the crown so the old ones could rule again was a dream for many of them. Diavolo grimaces inwardly, they weren't wrong either. He was infatuated with you. Even Lucifer was beginning to express concern. While having you and the program was raising his ratings and the morale of the general populace, those of royal blood were beginning to create factions again. So far many were loyal, but the ones starting to make waves were the oldest in the circle.

He had plans in place of course, pieces on the board ready to move at a moment's notice. It would be messy when it happens and with you still in his kingdom...such actions were best to be avoided. No, for now, the brothers were enough protection from potential defectors and nay-sayers. He will do as he pleases, especially when it revolves around you.

"That does sound good," You agree tapping your chin in thought. It's been ages since you last drank a human liquor. All Diavolo's ports and sherries, while delicious, did not affect you. You missed the warmth that settled in your stomach after a good drink. "A good drink could calm my nerves. Give me a minute to change?" You step back into your room to scurry back behind your room partition leaving the massive demon to stand at your doorway.

"Nerves? Do you need more time for your finals?" He lumbers in coming to stand by your bed. He licks his lips staring at your rumpled bedding. It was still warm from you sitting there with Simeon. Deep down in his stomachs turns detecting the cherry sweet scent of the angel covering your sheets. He wanted to rub his body on the bedding, erasing that weakling's scent from what was his- He pulls himself back forcing his fangs back down. He trusted Simeon, no one was better suited for healing demonic wounds than an angel.

The prince observes your shadow scurrying about behind the paper screen. "There!" You jump from behind the screen in an oversized shirt. The fabric drapes down to rest just past your knees, the sleeves long and folded several times. "Ready to go?" You come back to his side slipping on your slippers.

"But of course!" He offers you his arm. "Though I am perhaps a little overdressed for the occasion, no?" He ribs, teeth flashing in jest. You accept his arm squeezing it tight and look him over dramatically.

"Yes, very much so...What good is a nightcap if you are still dressed in your day clothes?" You tug at his pressed white tie. For the first time that day, Diavolo laughed freely.

The walk from your room to his was a long one but filled with idle safe conversation. You jump from talks of the upcoming garden parties to what this week's lunch menu will be. Neither of you was blind to the prying eyes and ears lurking in the shadows of the corridors. You were unfazed by them now after months of coming to visit Diavolo and Barbatos during the evening. You became accustomed to their judgmental gazes and gossip over time. You nod politely to one of the visiting earl's and his entourage. They pass, many eyes looking you over curiously. "Earl Jan and his entourage have taken a liking to you." Diavolo rumbles watching the demons wander off to one of his many smoking parlors. "He finds your many human idioms and stories refreshing."

"Really? I have classes with a few of them they-"

"Young Prince." Diavolo stiffens by your side lurching to a halt. His hackles rise.

"Pleasant evening Lady Marquess?" The prince calls out not bothering to even turn around to acknowledge the baroness. You turn though curious as to who drew such vitriol from the normally genial demon.

The baroness scuttles out from where she had been standing, the shadows around her falling off like an elegant cloak. Her pale mandibles click in distaste when your eyes meet hers. Her hundreds of spider-like eyes latching onto you unblinkingly before flicking to Diavolo's tense back. "You missed our meeting on the upcoming festivities. I have some more requests on the dress requirements for the ball." She pauses head listing down to look at you again. Even without lips, you could feel her scowl of disgust. "It would be good for your little pet. Their dress attire at the last one was... lackluster."

Bull. Asmo and Levi had designed your outfit for the last ball. It had been amazing, the crowds looking on with jealousy and lust as you clung to Dia's arm. You don't have to look at Diavolo to feel his displeasure. "Such asinine topics like that can wait till tomorrow." He sniffs pulling you closer. His free hand comes up to grasp your hand around his bicep. “Good night Madame.”

You keep your eyes forward letting Dia escort you. The Marquess hisses quietly under her breath, something dark and biting in their native tongue. Diavolo goes rigid in head-snapping about inhumanly fast. The temperature in the hallway drops.

"Dia." You call in warning, breath wafting up in great puffs from the chilled air. He ignores you, turning his full attention to the interloper. He replies in turn voice simmering with rage. She wilts, head tilting down into a mockery of the usually appropriate bow when speaking to him. Beneath the fringes of her bangs, you could see a smirk playing on her lips. She struck the exact nerve she was looking for. "Dia," You pull on him more adamantly. "Come please?" His shoulders loosen at your words. His gold eyes drifting down to look at you.

"We will speak of this later matrona." He leaves the matter at that leaving with you in haste. The rest of the walk is tense, his eyes now darting to each shadowy corner in case another guest jumps from them.

"I apologize for that." Diavolo sighs the moment the doors to his private quarters close. He loosens his tie and tosses it to his smoking chair by the fire. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll be out in a moment." He smiles at you before disappearing into his bathroom.

You take a seat kicking off your slippers to dig your toes into the plush hide of some animal you didn't know the name of and pour out two drinks for you and Diavolo. Waiting for him to reappear you eye the treats laid out on the table next to you. They looked too good to ignore. Popping a few tarts into your mouth you groan at the sweet citrus and mint creme that coated your tongue. Your ears twitch at the creak of the bathroom door.

Burly arms drape over your shoulders as Diavolo bends to nuzzle your neck. "Too good to wait?" He chuckles. You flush hyper-aware of the sugar cookie crumbs on the corner of your mouth.

"You said help myself." You reply after swallowing.

The prince hums. "That I did." He raises a thick finger up to collect the crumbs around your lips. "Ah- Barb outdoes himself again." He licks his finger coming around to take the seat next to you. Diavolo busies himself for a moment propping his feet up on his footrest and taking the drink you prepared from the table along with a good handful of sweets. Despite his casual demeanor you still could feel his agitation thrumming through your markings.

"I'm sorry." You blurt out. He looks up at you with a frown. "That confrontation in the hall, what the Marquess said was about me wasn't it?" You didn't know what her heated words meant, but the context of the exchange was quite clear.

A glint of pain flashes through his golden gaze. Diavolo goes for his drink, downing half of it in one large gulp. "You have nothing to apologize for. " He licks his teeth deep in thought before dropping his head back with a grunt. "What are politics like in your realm? Are they all-" He waves his glass vaguely.

You sit for a moment thinking hard on what you remember of human politics. "Most countries are no longer run by royal families. Though they still have a lot of sway with laws and the like." You take a sip. "But, back when royal families were more prevalent I would say they were like this." You mimic his little hand wave with a little smile.

"Homicidal and power-hungry?"

"Quite so." You chuckle looking into the fire. "Perhaps I can take you on a mini trip to go visit some old palaces?" Diavolo perks up intrigued.

"Where do you have in mind?"

"Maybe Italy?"

His eyes grow dark. "And why there?" He bites out. You shrug feeling as though you just crossed an unspoken line.

"Just-well. Your name, at least in human culture, is Italian, and you slip into it so casually. I thought you would like it..."

"I am not looking for you to humor me." He cuts you off. His glass thunking heavily on his oak side table, amber liquid sloshing over the side. "I get enough of that from the court. I only wish to spend time with you." You acknowledge him with a faint nod curling into your seat. "Ah-no, no mi giglio." Diavolo reaches for you, scooping you up to sit in his lap. "Forgive my agitation. If it is somewhere you wish to go then I would be happy to take us... The south is beautiful this time of year I hear." A shuttered look crosses over his eyes before he blinks it away. "Shall I get started with preparations?"

He pulls you in closer, your heat seeping through the thin layers of clothes separating the two of you. He feels you melt into the soft planes of his body. His closeness soothing the itching of your bandaged and oiled skin. Dia falls silent listening to you nod off on his lap but does nothing to stop you. Closing his eyes he instead enjoys the feel of his pseudo mark upon your body vibrating in harmony with his magic. Stroking your neck and spine he is unable to control the flood of unwanted memories bubbling to the surface of his mind. As you sleep peacefully unaware of your wishes he spends the rest of the evening watching the flames die down, lost in a waking nightmare.

#obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me fanfic #obey me au

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murderslugs · 3 years

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Slasher Bf/Gf Scenarios/Imagines! || Meeting Them

Jason Voorhees (Friday The 13th)

You were out with friends, and it was getting awfully late. But still, there you were, with a flashlight and a backpack with a first-aid kit, some snacks, and water in it, just in case, walking through the abandoned camping trail with your friends. You guys had grown up in a town not too far away from the little old camp, and you’d heard all the stories that surrounded the place. For years you had just dismissed it, you all had passed it off as a local legend or rumor, but still there was a little spark of curiosity. Of course, this is what led you to where you reside now, exploring the camp in search of something peculiar, maybe a story to tell.

“Maybe we should go home...It’s late and I’m not feeling well..” your friend, Ruby, said wearily. It was true, you could see the illness in her dark, drooping eyelids. “Oh, bullshit! You’re fine, just drink some water and go throw up on a tree or something!” another friend yelled out. You just rolled your eyes. “Shut up! She doesn’t look too good, Otis! I think I should bring her back to the car to sit down.” You said with concern. To the dismay and groaning of the group, they let you and Ruby on your way back down the trail and to the car while they continued down the path.

As you made your way to the car, Ruby fell close behind in your steps. Your flashlight flickered continually, and then suddenly gave out; leaving you two in the dark, and the pale moon barely illuminating through the trees above you. “Shit,” you muttered to yourself, hitting the battery pack to the light repeatedly. “Stop, quiet,” Ruby whisper-shouted. That’s when you heard the rustling of the branches getting closer. Closer. Closer. “Maybe we shou…” You turn around, to see Ruby gone.

“Ruby? Ruby?!” You shouted out, to no response. You turned frantically, searching for any sign of her presence. A large man in a ski mask and an old, ruined jacket stood before you, silent. Before you could turn to run or get around him, you felt a sudden pressure on the side of your head, and then you saw black.

Michael Myers (Halloween)

It was Halloween night, and you were home from college for fall break. Your mom insisted that you took your younger sister trick-or-treating, even though you refuted that she was 12 years old, and could handle herself. So, you just took her block to block instead and sat on the corner of the street for her to walk down to the other end and get to all the houses. It was a small town, so there were never really concerns about kidnapping and such. It was just never a problem, you guess.

“Go, Riley. You’re a big kid, you can go down the street.” You groaned, tired of her constant whining. “But (y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn), It’s dark down there!! There’s not a street light at the end!!” she whined insistently. You sighed heavily and pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Here. You can use the flashlight on my phone, just don’t snoop through my info.” You told her, handing over the old smartphone, and pulling a pumpkin-shaped sucker from her trick-or-treat bag. “You owe me this.”

You unwrapped the cheap candy and popped it into your mouth, leaning on the house fence as your sister skipped down the sidewalk. The leaves rustled in the trees, and suddenly you heard footsteps behind you, and whipped around to see who it was. It was on the quieter side of town, and it was getting late. This meant that there shouldn’t be many people out, so there shouldn’t be someone behind you. But still, you came face-to-chest with a tall man in a dark blue jump-suit type outfit, and a white mask. You panicked, and thought quickly about how to fight back. Unfortunately, he seemed to be faster than you, and your mouth was covered as you were picked up and carried off into the darkness, legs kicking uselessly.

Carrie White (Carrie)

You were at the library when you saw a pale girl browsing through the young adult fantasy section. You observed her actions, as she readjusted her dress and collar. She carefully picked a book from the shelf and flipped it to the back to read the description. You saw a flash of the cover, and realized it was one of your favorite series, Chronicles of Narnia. You hesitated but stepped forward in a bit of excitement.

“That’s a good one, I, um, really recommend checking it out.” You told her with a smile, and she looked up, seemingly a bit taken aback. You realized this, and took a step back to give her space. “Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you...I’m (y/n).” You stuck out your hand, and she just looked down at it, book in hand. “Carrie...Sorry, mama never liked me talking to strangers…” “No, no, it’s okay, I underst-” “No, it’s okay...She’s been gone a while now.” She looked down.

You stood awkwardly, feeling a bit bad now. “You seem kind enough. I’ve got to go, but we can talk again another time. I come here every Sunday, around noon.” Carrie said quietly, smiling softly and turning, taking Narnia with her. You sat to yourself, a bit confused about the interaction. You shook your head and carried on. “Next Sunday it is,” You thought to yourself.

Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

There was a new girl at school, as you had heard. How could you not have when everyone was talking about it? She had moved here recently after some sort of tragedy occured, or so you’d heard. It was rumored that she had to have surgery cause someone tried to kill her, she was all stabbed up and shit and nearly bled out. You can’t imagine how awful that would be, and you kept thinking about how she probably came here for a new start, and wouldn’t want people asking about it, but you knew it would happen anyways.

It was 3rd period, Anatomy, when a girl you’d never seen before walked into the classroom. This, of course, must have been the new girl. She was absolutely glowing, even from afar. Her hair was voluminous, rich, and dark, her skin was clear and shiny, her eyes were sharp and bright. It took your breath away trying to take in the sight. The girl’s heels clicked as she trailed to the back of the classroom, to where you were. She sat beside you, at the lab table.

You tried not to look at her, after all, you didn’t want to seem weird. You looked at the floor and over to her shoes. A few drips of a thick, crimson substance were on the floor beneath her, seemingly originating from her shoe. You wondered for a moment if she was hurt. Or, could she have hurt someone else..? It scared you a bit to think about the second option. God knows this school didn’t need another bully, or anything worse than it.

You were tranced, stuck in your own looming dark thoughts, when a velvet voice came to your ears. You snapped your glance up from the floor, to see the girl looking at you, specifically. To your dismay, blood rushed to your face out of embarrassment. “I’m Jennifer. Do you have a pen I can use?”

Billy Loomis (Scream)

You were in your brand new house, you had moved out and into the next town over from your parents. You wanted to be further away, but you knew that your mom would be upset, she was always so protective. She even said that she expected you to come visit her on the weekends. The relationship was a bit exhausting sometimes. But now, you were in your own house, and it was great. You could decorate it however you wanted, you could have whoever you wanted over, you could do basically whatever.

Though, for now, you decided to just make some off-brand pizza rolls and blare some music, maybe even dance around a little bit. Season Of The Witch by Donovan was playing on your stereo when suddenly your phone rang. You paused the music, and quickly answered. Normally, you would check the caller ID, but you were in a good mood and it completely slipped your mind. I mean, who cares if it's a scam caller? You can just hang up. To your surprise, it wasn’t a familiar voice, but didn’t seem to be a scam-caller. Maybe a wrong number?

“Do you like scary movies?” The other line said. You were suspicious, and for a second you considered that maybe it was a survey. It didn’t seem to be a harmful question, so you replied, “Yeah, duh. If you don't, you're pretty lame.” You turned the music back on, but turned the volume down. He asked a few follow-up questions, and you gave your honest answers. You just strolled around the kitchen, occasionally checking the timer on your food so that it doesn’t burn.

You had your phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder, and you had on oven mitts as you grabbed your pizza rolls from the oven. “What’s your name?” The caller suddenly asked. You paused for a second as you put the cooking sheet on the counter. “Why do you wanna know..” You asked cautiously. “Well, I wanna know the name of the cutie I’m looking at.” He said, and your heart damn near stopped. “Excuse me..?” You hung up and quickly ran to the doors, double-checking the locks and locking the windows and shutting the curtains. You grabbed a knife from the silverware drawer and locked yourself in your room, where you eventually fell asleep in the dark silence.

Thomas Hewitt (Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

You had just moved out to the country-side to start anew, planning to start a small farm and just live in peace on the quiet little land. Little did you know, you had neighbors across the field that weren’t exactly the type of neighbors that you could ask for a cup of sugar. You were hanging the new drapes for the windows after having taken the old ones down. They were old, dirty, ragged. Honestly, the old farmhouse was sort of let to rot for a while, and you knew it. It was cheap though, and you were up to the challenge. You decided that you would decorate it, clean it up, and make it like brand new, even with the little money that you had.

As you were hanging the drapes, you kept looking out into the distance of the rolling fields outside the window, littered with patches of wild flowers in the grass. You fantasized about making gardens, maybe even building a little stable for a horse or two. It was a lovely thought; there was a small village a little while away from the farm that you could ride a horse to if you wanted.

Though, some distance away in the field, you saw the figure of what looked to be a man wandering in the field. You weren’t too worried, as you had all the locks in place, it was the middle of the day, and he looked peaceful. So, you just forgot about it and went on fixing up your house, unpacking, and getting the rest of the things in place. Although you had been there about a week, you still understandably weren’t completely unpacked.

A few hours later, you were doing a bit of drawing on the couch and taking some time to relax. That’s when you heard a thud on your door. Just a single thud, that’s all. Still, you had reason to be concerned, as you were sort of in the middle of the country and it was starting to set into the evening. You quietly walked to your bedroom and grabbed a shotgun from the closet that you kept for protection, a tradition in your family. You carried it with you as you checked the door. You looked through the thin peephole, but saw nothing. You opened the door to find a paper stuck to the door by a rusty hatchet, buried deep into the oak. Your heart rate spiked as you tore the note from the door and read it. “Welcome to the neighborhood, pretty person” was spelled in crude handwriting.

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girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years

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Prince of Nothing IV

~ Part Four of Five ~

Release Date: December 19,2020 @ 12 p.m. (GMT-4)

Word Count: 18K

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you…

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would’ve never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, and vivid, as well as implied, descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

“No.”

YN’s eyes widen in shock before she tries to cover it up. “No?” What do you mean no? YN was so certain that Jungkook wouldn’t hesitate to jump at the chance - proving her point.

Jungkook’s hands trailed up the side of her body, fingers gently dancing across her torso until they reached her neck where they settled on either side of her neck. The tense skin was massaged with such efficacy that YN couldn’t help the way her eyes rolled back. He observed this reaction with a smile on his face, then tentatively his lips brushed hers. From where his hands were placed, he could feel the racing of her heart. He could feel how the blood rushed through the veins - his blood, what little of it she had swallowed making its way home. Their kiss, if it could count as that, lasted only a few moments. Yet it was enough for Jungkook.

“No, I won’t sleep with you.”

In a second all hope leaves YN, if she couldn’t distract Jungkook with sex if it wasn’t truly all he wanted then what? Seeing her downtrodden expression Jungkook chuckled then he pulled YN in closer, hands sliding down towards the back of her dress. “I won’t sleep with you darling, but I will make love to you and fuck you if that’s what you want.” Before his words could even sink in, Jungkook used his strength to rip her dress open. Exposing all but her chest which lay pressed against the prince’s.

“Your wager?” YN asked again, unwilling to let him have the upper hand. Not when so much was on the line.

Jungkook chuckled, “Oh darling, how you never fail to amaze me.” Seeing her stone cold expression he acquiesced. “If I win you’ll be the mother of my child.” Aware of what would follow, Jungkook crashed his lips onto YN’s soft plump ones, not giving her a chance to change her opinion. What followed suit would cement their unspoken future and cause great suffering to many.

“The prince?” Soojin’s lips were puckered, chin wrinkling in the way a child’s might when tasting something sour. The maids around her stood perfectly still barely breathing, they were too familiar with the expression on the princess’ face. Having been by her side for longer than she could remember they could recognize the pouty lips, furrowed brows, hooded eyes, and the pulsing vein in her temple. It signified a tantrum was incoming - surely to be the worst they had suffered as of yet. “Well?!” Soojin’s voice raised almost into a shrill. The typically refined Soojin had lost all of her demeanor in the past couple of days. Though the bruising around her neck had faded, the one around her heart had not and the ugly scarring it would leave was sure to affect not only her but everyone around her.

Finally one of the maids stepped forward, bowing deeply demonstrating her submissiveness to the lioness in front of her. As if that ever spared prey from being eaten. “My apologies, my lady. The prince is still not out.”

The scream that tore out of Soojin was guttural in nature, More like a growl than anything else. Though the tantrum lasted quite a while very few of the staff were harmed, and at that very minimally, the same could not be said for the princess’ chambers which were left in such shambles the entirety of the furniture had to be discarded. Yet it was not the thousands of dollars lost, nor the raging Seo striding down the hall that was to be a concern but rather her destination: the prince’s chambers - YN YLN inside them.

Nothing spreads quicker than gossip in the palace and no one moves faster than the help, so Soojin wasn’t surprised to arrive at Jungkook’s door and see the usually present guards absent. They too would’ve been informed she was heading there and likely wanted to avoid facing the lionesses wrath. The heavy african blackwood doors had the Jeon sigils engrained in it - making it obvious who resided inside. Normally it would’ve taken a lot of effort to even open the door, it took two extremely muscular men to open it. Though in her rage, it only took a slight push from Soojin for them to slam open.

Soojin expected a lot upon entering: to find her lover and his mistress entangled in the sheets putting on a show for anyone. Clothes scattered all around, champagne bottles, and wicked smiles placed on both their faces to taunt her. Instead the room was pristinely clean, bed made, and Jungkook was buttoning his shirt. “Can I help you with anything?” He asked, voice with a hint of roughness to it. They way it typically did after he had sex. The only thing that gave away his infidelity was the unkemptness of his hair and the slightest hint of a bruise around his neck. Soojin scoffs, incredulously that he would do this to her after everything - after all his promises.

“Four days...I haven’t seen you in four fucking days!” Soojin no longer cared for maintaining appearances in front of Jungkook. Clearly he held no care for them.

Jungkook sighed, leaning on the bed to put on his boots and tie them. “Frankly I don’t see what you’re so upset about. What I do with my lover has nothing to do with you.”

“Your lover,” Soojin couldn’t help the sardonic smile that broke out on her face. “Have you no shame?! Parading your whore around in front of everyone while I look like a fool.”

“You looking like a fool has nothing to do with me.” He chuckled, the vase Soojin threw his way was easily caught by Jungkook. The prince gently placed it beside him on the soft bed.

Soojin’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly, she could feel the rage growing inside her. If Jungkook was ice then she was fire. It was just like when she was younger - the fire would grow and spread consuming everything that stood in its path. In this instance, an insolent little girl who sought herself better than a princess queen. “I won’t be held responsible for the consequences that befall YN due to your reckless actions.” At that the prince stilled, the air in the room suddenly becoming frigid as goosebumps rose on Soojin’s skin.

“And I won’t be held responsible for the consequences that befall you if anything were to happen to YN.”

“So you see your majesty, it would be reckless to allow this liaison to continue. Though I understand the prince has needs and would never dare interfere in his private affairs, this isn’t just about him. It’s about the needs of the crown.” Soojin despised king Jeon the II, she found the old man unnerving. Everytime his coal black eyes met hers, she felt the king saw through every facade and deep inside her soul. She assumed that is what had allowed him to maintain power even when his commanders, alliances, and sanity slipped his hands. Jeon exuded power, but his was strong and sturdy like a stone. His son’s power though was like water: constant, changing, tranquil, and tempestuous. Even hard stone was no match for the power of the sea. Everyone was aware of it, even the king in his fleeting reason, knew the time for a shift was rapidly approaching. Soojin couldn’t wait to get rid of the old haggard. To get rid of his lingering glances. Still she knew when to play her cards right, the only person to force Jungkook to submit would be his dear old dad.

“You are right my child. Jungkook is far too reckless to take a Kim for a whore. It's enough that I allow one Kim to remain in my court - but two and the people may believe I am beginning to slip.” His voice was harsh, the laugh sounding more like a croak. The kind an old toad might make.

Soojin had to resist the urge to grimace, “Nonsense your majesty. No one would ever believe that. Everyone is aware that your reign is far from its end.” Which is exactly why once YN was out of her way, Soojin would make sure to get rid of him. She could hardly be queen if her husband wasn’t on the throne. The king may be the head, but everyone knows the queen is the neck.

“Oh my darling, I am well aware that you have always been on the side of the crown unlike many others that would use it for their own interests. Not to worry, I will make my son see reason. If he doesn’t well -”

“I am sure he will sire. Jungkook cares for you very much and he would never disobey his father.” Soojin wondered how much venom she could spill into the world before she eventually poisoned herself. She consoled herself by remembering that she was surrounded by vipers ready to strike. No mamba can compare to the jaw of a lion. Unbeknownst to Seo Soojin, the Jeon’s were no ordinary snakes and unlike lions who massacred their preys before eating them snakes consumed their prey alive.

“Very well.” King Jeon turned around waving over a guard, “Call my son, it is time we have a talk.” Before turning back to Soojin before him, “You are excused my child, take care of yourself.”

“Of course your majesty, take care of yourself.”

“Have you heard?”

“It is the talk of the whole castle.”

“Well do you think he’ll actually do it?”

“He would be a fool not to, plus it isn’t like he has a choice.”

“He’s the prince of the nation. Of course he has a choice.”

“Not against the king he doesn’t.”

Sana turned around, wet rag in her hand as she whipped it towards the two gossiping maids who screeched at the possibility of their garments being ruined by the dirty water. “What are the two of you yapping about?!” Sana had simply been trying to salvage what was left of YN’s garments that had been ripped to shreds by the prince. Not that it mattered, Jungkook would probably buy her even nicer dresses and it wasn’t like YN had asked her to. She had seemed so disgusted when she walked back into her rooms. Heading straight for the shower and barely even sparing Sana a glance. Not that she cared, the less she had to interact with the mistress, the better in Sana’s head. Still, appearances must be kept up for the sake of the prince. So she gritted her teeth and cheerfully declared that she would wash her clothes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Sana? Probably run back to your lady and tell her everything.” Irene sneered, smoothing down the front of her dress and fixing her strawberry blonde hair.

“Please what good would that do me?” The bitch deserves everything that’s coming to her. YN had explained her side of the story to Sana long ago, but she saw through the innocent facade she played. Why would the prince ever be interested in a stupid commoner like her when he had every woman at his fingertips? No. She had seduced him, even if YN may never admit it. Sana knew she was a wolf in sheep's clothing - just like her.

“Because without someone to report on, you’ll lose the prince’s favoritism. Or do you actually believe he cares for you?!” Irene laughed and the other maids around her began to laugh too. Sana rolled her eyes, returning to the soapy water in front of her.

“I’m no fool. I use him just as he uses me.” But her tone wavered towards the end, which only caused others to chuckle beside her. It wasn’t until one of the girls beside her took pity and told her what was happening.

“The prince and princess Soojin are to be wed in seven days' time.”

YN had been pretty much left to her own devices after spending several days and nights locked up in Jungkook’s bedroom. YN wished she could say the whole experience had been unpleasant, but the disgust she felt was more towards herself than the prince. She had enjoyed it deeply - every single part of it - though she would never admit it to anyone. Not even herself. So YN bathed herself multiple times that day, scrubbing her skin until parts of it bled, then she nearly tore off her hair for every time she saw it all she could imagine was Jungkook’s hands tangled in it. Every time she viewed her hands, all she could remember was how they would entangle together. Her lips were dry and swollen from all the kissing and sucking the prince had imparted on them. YN had never felt more like a whore - never felt more like a toy. In a move that was meant to give her power over the prince, all she had done during their trysts was find herself thinking what if? What if we had met in another time? Different circumstances? Could I love him? Could he be different? What if he changed? Is he capable of change? Would I love him if he did?

It was those thoughts that plagued YN deeply hours after she returned and she sat still in her bed. Vito curled resting on her decolletage as she envisioned a different world where Jungkook was kinder, where he hadn’t caused her so much pain. Where they had met the way one should. He would have met her brother, introduced himself and promised to care for her, Jungkook could have been perfect. YN found herself getting lost in that what if, until reality came tumbling through her door.

“I’ll fucking kill her!” The door to the bedroom had been slammed open so harshly, the entire room had shaken slightly. It had frightened Vito so much he raised defensively and even YN had been ripped away from her daydreams. Jungkook was livid pacing back and forth as Morte was coiled around his arm, perfectly still despite her master shaking violently. YN had only ever seen him like this once and even then, there hadn’t been a murderous gleam in his eyes. YN cautiously slipped down the bed, her bare feet landing on the carpet. The second she was on the ground, Jungkook swept her into his arms leaving barely any space among them. YN had no choice, but to push her palms against his chest trying to leave some space between them.

Jungkook’s arms tightened around her torso, as YN resisted, eventually Morte unwrapped herself from his arms and formed a link with Vito around both their necks. Tying them together in more ways then one. “Who are you going to kill?” YN knew, Sana had mentioned it when she had brought her clothes back up. YN hadn’t paid much attention, even in her dally she was aware the Jungkook of her dreams and the one in front of her were two distinct beings. Though a part of her longed for the other Jungkook - she wanted this one gone from her life. Jungkook leaned his head close to hers, their lips brushing and it took all of YN’s willpower not to grimace.

“My wife.”

“You can’t. You promised me you would marry her, you promised the king there’s no going back on your word.”

Jungkook chuckled, “I can’t very well marry a corpse can I? Plus, I already have a queen.”

YN shook her head, “You can’t get out of this. I only promised I’d carry your child, not that I would be your queen.”

“You don’t have a choice in this, my darling.” Jungkook smiled, his teeth snagging and softly pulling YN’s bottom one. In his eyes, YN could see the lust pooling and she found herself amazed at how quick his mood could shift.

“I would rather join my brother than wear the crown on my head.” YN whispered harshly, as her palms kept pushing against Jungkook’s torso.

“That’s funny considering your brother doesn’t have a head.” The prince’s cruel words cut straight through YN’s soul. Instantly she was brought back to the rain, her brother’s beaten body, the lifeless eyes that peered at her as his body hung from the gallows. “Oh didn’t you know. I had his head removed and stored in a box, it is my most prized possession. If it wasn’t for him, you and I would’ve never met.” All the fight left YN’s body instantly, if not for Jungkook’s arms around her, she would’ve crumbled to the ground. “I really should give him a proper burial as a thanks. Oh well, there isn’t really much left to bury anyway.” The king Jungkook faded from her memory, until all that remained was the cruel beast in front of her. He seemed to take glee in her soulless eyes for he kissed her with such frenzy that could only be imparted by the happiest of people. Meanwhile YN could feel herself fading, her last remnant of hope being extinguished.

After a while of no response the prince finally seemed to notice that state of his beloved. “YN?” His hands grabbed a hold of her cheeks and forced her to look at him, only she didn’t. Though their eyes met Jungkook knew that she wasn’t viewing him, her mind in a far away place. “YN.” His grip tightened on her, as he hoped the pain would cause any sort of reaction from her. Even if it meant she would recoil, scream, hit him, it was better than having her empty gaze pierce into him. “Answer me YN!” His fingers were digging deeply into her cheekbones, his nails leaving indents into her face. Jungkook knew he was hurting her, but he didn’t care. React damn it! Do something! Finally someone did. Vito uncoiled himself and struck Jungkook’s hand, digging his fangs deeply into the prince’s palm. It shocked him so much, he jumped away letting go of YN completely. YN fell to her feet and fell back onto the bed, she had yet to react but Vito had placed himself on his owner’s neck, hissing and ready to strike once more.

Jungkook was in such shock, he didn’t even consider the fact that the snake had attacked him. Didn’t even think about commanding Morte to reproach. Instead he cradled his hand and looked at YN in a mixture of shock and fear. The way a child would when they had just broken their favorite toy. “I-I’m -” but he couldn’t even bring himself to say the words. He wouldn’t mean them because he truly wasn’t sorry. Jungkook only regretted having gone too far and hurting YN in a way which might be irreparable. Instead of attempting to make amends, Jungkook took a deep breath and turned around leaving YN truly alone for the first time since they’d crossed paths. As he closed the bedroom doors, he waved the guards away stating the “lady needed some time alone to herself.” Certain that when he returned in the morning, YN would be back to her usual self. She had to be.

The sun would set and rise three times before YN spoke again.

On the dawn of Wednesday morning, Sana knocked on the bedroom door bringing with her a plate of food which would be left uneaten like the others before. She didn’t know what exactly had caused her mistress to regress to such a state, but figured the news of the wedding must have done so. Her heart filled with bitter jealousy at the thought, but she coaxed another perfect smile on her face. “My lady, pardon the intrusion but I have brought you food and news from the crown.” YN didn’t really acknowledge Sana’s presence, only Vito seemed to be aware of her. His red beady eyes glaring at her as his tongue sniffed the air, as if entirely sentient the snake moved its head towards the bedside table. Tentatively Sana placed the platter there before, smoothing over the front of her dress.

“The King has requested an audience in private with you, my lady.” Sana glanced over, YN had been bathed and dressed every day at the prince’s insistence much to the maid’s annoyance. Particularly because YN didn’t seem to react no matter what she was subjected to: on various occasions Sana had ‘accidentally’ placed the water too hot only to make it too cold in an attempt to find warmth. She had tugged her hair too harshly, pinched her skin whilst dressing her, and even stepped on her. Yet YN had not so much as flinched, the woman finding herself in a deep dissociative state. The only indication of reasoning Sana could see was Vito that in the past couple of days had become far more active. Hissing and bearing his fangs everytime Sana imposed any type of miniscule harm on his owner.

She must be a witch. Probably enchanted the prince as well. Sana casts a glance towards the book laying upon the vanity: the black and red book taunting her. Perhaps the book offered some insight into her, Sana had never seen such a book in her life but it looked too opulent to begin to someone as poor as YN. It could be a gift from the prince. That only infuriated her more, all Sana ever received was pats on the back and harsh love making only to be tossed aside the second he had satisfied himself.

“We must get you ready, my lady. The king must not be kept waiting.”

YN had only entered the throne room on two other instances, both signifying further entrapment, but they had been at the hands of Jungkook and Soojin. Perhaps this would go differently, though something deep inside warned her that this meeting with King Jeon wasn’t a cause for celebration. Not when he had been plotting on murdering his son and accusing her. Not when she was technically his son’s mistress and the cause of all the turmoil in court. When she entered, the King laid sitting on his throne. It stood out harshly compared to the rest of the room, being made from a rare gemstone that seemed to absorb all the light in the room. The crown perched upon his head was dark in nature too, making it all too obvious that he was the dominant one in this conversation.

“Welcome, I’ve heard a lot about you Kim YN.” King Jeon stared down at the girl before him, trying to assess who she was, what she wanted, and how he could best use her to his needs.

Bowing deeply YN spoke, her voice soft yet clear. “You summoned me, your majesty?” There was a slight tremble in her hands she tried to hide by gripping her skirt tightly.

“Ah I did. There is something I wished to speak to you about.” The King waved his hand, indicating she could rise and YN did, slowly, as to demonstrate she was no threat.

“Yes sire?” If speaking to the prince was like walking on eggshells, then speaking to Jeon was walking on the edge of an active volcano. One which could go off at any second.

“I want you to murder my son.” The King’s voice was clear, no stutter whatsoever as if he were commenting on the weather and not the assassination of his own kin.

YN struggled to speak, unsure of how to react. She was a cornered prey, with no possible way of escape. “I-I’m sorry your majesty. I d-don’t understand.” YN couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, all the stories she’d heard as a child coming back to her. How the King was cold and callous but his eyes were even colder. Dark black pools that would make the devil shiver, yet so clear they reflected whoever he was staring at - reflected their true intentions.

“Look at me Kim.”

YN obeyed, but he was too far away for her to make out the exact color of his eyes. Even then, it was quite difficult to see with the tears threatening to spill.

“You know what you must do, yes? Or what the consequences will be…”

As YN stared at him, all she could see was a cruel man that would do anything to remain in power, even spill the blood of his own son. The apple never falls far from the tree. The King’s hand tightened around the seat and YN was certain that in the next few moments he would force her to agree to something she could never envision herself doing. Even if he was the object of her loathing and tormentor - YN could never kill Jungkook. She had to cling to the last bit of her soul that still remained.

Please someone save me.

A harsh knock was heard and the doors opened to Kim Namjoon. “Pardon the intrusion, your highness. You asked me to inform you if anything happened in the outer lands.” YN almost cried tears of joy upon being interrupted, it could have even been Jungkook and she would’ve thanked him. “Ah yes, you’re dismissed.” The King waved her away as of nothing and YN couldn’t be more glad to have his eyes off her. She bowed deeply once more before hurrying out the door, managing not to break down until the doors behind her were entirely closed.

YN didn’t know how long she spent there sat on the floor as tears streamed down her face. It wasn’t until the door creaked open once more that she wiped her face and stood up rapidly. In her haste, she stumbled somewhat but was steadied by a hand grabbing hers. “Pardon my lady.” Namjoon’s smile was soft, reassuring and YN couldn’t help reciprocating it. “Nonsense, my lord.”

Namjoon’s other hand came to lay upon hers, encapsulating hers in a warmth YN hadn’t felt in a long time. “Have you had time to read the novel?” His brow raised inquisitively.

“I must admit I haven’t. Things have been busy as of late.”

His chestnut eyes were warm, “I can relate. The castle has been in such a hectic state the gardens have been left unattended.”

Now YN was left to be confused, “Pardon?”

Namjoon looked around as if to ensure no one was listening in, he looked so childlike at that moment YN couldn’t help but giggle. “Well, they’ve not taken care of their blossoming flower.”

YN rolled her eyes though the smile, and the rosey dust that spread across her cheeks revealed her true feelings, “Do you have a tendency to be so brazen, my lord?”

“Hm,” his fingers tapped gently on her hand. “Only when with an intriguing companion, my lady. Only then.”

“I don’t see anyone like that around here.” YN stated as she casted a glance around, in the corner of her eye she caught sight of a figure lingering behind a column but they quickly vanished.

“You must give yourself more credit my lady. Though you are right, you aren’t intriguing as of yet only queer.” It was the shift in his tone that brought YN’s attention back towards him.

“Oh? When shall I be intriguing then?” She tilted her head coyly.

“After you blossom of course.” Namjoon seemed so serious, all humour vanishing from his tone. “Though whether you will be a lily or an ivy has yet to be determined.”

“It is entirely possible I will be both.”

“Ah, that is true.”

The two of them simply stared at each other, before distant voices could be heard echoing through the halls. Namjoon raised her palm towards his lips, placing a tender kiss. “Excuse me, my lady. I must be going.” YN nodded before allowing Lord Kim to walk away as his words and warmth lingered with her far into the night.

“What’s this?” Jungkook looked at the large book in Sana’s chipped hands, he never understood why she manicured them considering they would only get ruined. Still it was better than the old weathered hands most maids had, hers were soft yet bony. They lacked the thinness yet sharpness of Soojin’s but didn’t possess the roundness and frailty of YN’s. “It is lady YN’s.” Sana hated attaching the prefix. It put YN above her, yet the last time she hadn’t the prince had severely punished her. It was as Jungkook’s hands traced the letters in the front cover that he identified what was written: The Golden Ones. A sinister smile spread across his lips, perhaps I should give YN more credit. “And how exactly did lady YN come to possess such a book?” His mouth twisted, full of mirth. It was the exact same as Jungkook’s copy. Ironic that he had spent his entire life searching for it only to have been right under his nose the whole time. Perhaps assigning Sana to be a double-agent hadn’t been such a waste of time after all.

“Lord Kim Namjoon gave it to her as a present.”

“Did he?!” Jungkook tried to hide his disdain, though the imprint of his fingerprints was left on the wood of his desk from gripping it too harshly. Placating his growing vexation, the prince smiled. “Very well Sana. You’ve done well.” The pat he placed on her head was patronizing - it was meant to be. People like Sana only obeyed if they thought it would prove how useful they were. So long as Jungkook fed her scraps of affection and not a full course meal, she would keep coming back. “Is that all?” She asked, before quickly following it up with. “Have I not satisfied you, your highness?”

Jungkook nodded, “Oh yes. But a story book is hardly evidence.” He let his fingers tap against the wood rhythmically as if in deep thought. “I need something concrete that proves your theory.”

Sana’s smile was forced, but she nodded and bowed nonetheless head touching the ground. “Of course, I shall deliver you concrete evidence of lady YN’s betrayal.”

“You’re being reckless Namjoon. There is no point in pursuing the girl.” Seokjin rested his head against the cherry desk. It was old yet prominent standing as the centerpiece in their strategy room. Namjoon casted a glance at the people beyond the manor walls, those rallying in clear protest against the Jeon’s and their rule. They remained both aware and unaware of his existence. Even if they were to peer at him directly, they wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Namjoon wasn’t entirely sure they could recognize Seokjin, and he was the entire face of their operation. “It would be reckless not to pursue the girl.” He refuted as he let the curtain fall back into its rightful place, walking towards Seokjin and massaging the back of his neck. Seokjin groaned, swatting Namjoon’s attempts to distract him away. This was not a matter Seokjin would simply be dissuaded on.

“There must be a reason why Jeon is so willing to risk everything for her.”

Seokjin laughed incredulously, “When has madness ever made sense?” Seokjin simply couldn’t see what the big deal was. “She is nothing but a poor child that got caught up with the Jeon’s. She’ll probably be made to bear an heir and be tossed aside like all the Jeon women are.”

Namjoon shook his head, “No, Jin. It isn’t like that. She isn’t a pawn, Jungkook is planning on making her his queen. A king is nothing without a powerful queen.” Everyone knew it. It was the reason why the Jeon empire was failing. It was the reason why Seokjin’s claim to the throne didn’t stand a chance. As Namjoon’s father had always said: men are trees but women are seeds. If Namjoon was correct about YN, then she was the final piece needed to guarantee them a checkmate. If not, win the whole game.

Namjoon had to be smart though, for if the prince caught wind of his plan it would all be over.

On the evening of Thursday, just three days until the wedding between Prince Jeon Jungkook and Princess Seo Soojin, YN laid sleeping peacefully in her bed. It was a calm evening, barely a breeze could be felt in the night sky. It was also unnaturally warm, so much so Sana had suggested to her mistress, cracking the balcony doors and windows open. But YN politely refused, afraid something would crawl in or she would grow cold. Her sleep was pleasant, it was the first time in a long time YN was not plagued by nightmares filled with her brother’s lifeless body or Jungkook’s mental games created just to torture her. She was resting comfortably, until a slight creak caused Vito beside her to rise from his slumber and hiss suddenly. When YN’s eyes shot open, she saw two masked figures staring at her.

Her screams were quickly muffled as a cloth was forced into her throat and her body was grabbed by the two men. YN struggled against them, limbs flailing in an attempt to land any sort of blow on them. Vito too sprang to her aid, but was grabbed and thrown against the head board. Unwillingly YN was lifted and dragged off the bed. She managed to wretch an arm free and attempted to grab onto the sheets - onto Vito - but the snake was too far away and the men were far too strong. Capturing her in their grip once again, they managed to pull her into the bathroom where YN saw that bathtub full of water, finally understanding what was happening. YN fought like never before: kicking, scratching, she even managed to get the gag out of her mouth and began biting them. If the grunts of the men were anything to go by - and the harsh way one of them yanked her hair - she had inflicted some pain on them.

“Please! Help! Someone! He -” As if she weighed nothing, YN was grabbed and dumped into the ceramic tub. Her head knocked harshly against the back and YN felt something warm trailing down her head, as she gazed up dizzily. “Please, y-you d-don’t have t-to d-do t-this.” YN begged and pleaded, tried to reason with them but they wouldn’t listen. After everything she had endured, it couldn’t end like this. After all her suffering as a child, the loss of her parents, her brother, everything she ever held true. It couldn’t possibly end like this. I don’t want to die.

Strong arms grabbed a hold on her head, pushing it under the water. YN tried to hold her breath for as long as she could, trying to get her body to calm down so as to not consume more oxygen than necessary. Even then the seconds ticked on, YN could feel her chest begin to tighten the pressure beginning to mount the second she was about to breathe in water. YN was wretched out of the water, allowed to breathe only to be shoved in once again. With little air now, YN began to panic. Eyes anxiously looking around for anything to grasp onto. Anything that would serve as a life jacket - there was nothing. Her captors moved the moonlight now reflecting their golden armor.

YN was retched upwards one final time before being plunged back in, held down there longer. YN’s vision began to become blurry, chest tightening and lungs burning as her body forced her to breathe, only instead of air water rushed in. She was burning. She could feel herself burning from the inside out. Her mouth opened as she choked on the pain, only for more water to rush in. YN felt the last pounds of her heart as her senses faded, all her memories flashed before her eyes. The last was unfamiliar to her: a lily entangled by a snake its color changing from black to white. Vito? Eventually that faded too, as YN felt herself slipping into nothingness...slipping into death.

Baekhyung’s hands disentangled from YN’s head as he lifted her hand from the water and checked her pulse. “She’s dead.” He stated, looking at the Seo guardsman. The man raised an eyebrow before checking for himself, seemingly content. “Thank you for your help. I’m sure your aunt will compensate you greatly.” Baekhyung rolled his eyes, “Didn’t do it for her. She’s simply an eyesore.” It wasn’t necessarily true, but with YN out of the way it would certainly facilitate things. The men walked out of the bathroom and then the door, not sparing a glance towards their surroundings. For if they had, they would have found the most peculiar sight, a bloated ball python struggling for its life, water droplets escaping its mouth. It took several minutes for the ball python to give up the fight. The second Vito took his last breath, YN took her first heaving, herself out of the water and breathing in air for the first time in twenty minutes.

YN cast a glance toward the bed where her pet snake now laid dead, before pulling herself out of the bathtub and running straight for Jeon Jungkook’s room.

YN’s knuckles rasped harshly on the blackwood of the prince’s bedroom door. When the prince didn’t answer the first time, her knocks became more incessant until YN was pounding so harshly the wood was beginning to bend under her force. She should have cared more about drawing attention to herself, but YN had just survived an assassination attempt and knew murderers didn’t linger long enough to be caught. Finally, the door creaked open, barely a sliver but enough that YN knew Jungkook was acknowledging her, inviting her in. A part of her hesitated, unsure whether this was all another elaborate scheme done by the sadistic prince in order to have her bend to him. No, this doesn’t seem like him. The Jeon’s weren’t fond of hiding in the shadows and hiring assassins. All of their ploys were done recklessly and with an audience. Since YN hadn’t stepped in, it seems Jungkook had decided to come out. He was still in his evening wear - his eyes took in YN’s disheveled appearance and a tear streamed face. He crossed his ankles together, leaning against the door frame.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of having you come banging on my door at this late hour?” His dark eyes met hers, “Have you finally decided to speak to me or are you going to continue this ridiculous charade?” It isn’t until he noticed the blood on her head that worry crosses over his features, raising his hand to caress her.

YN ignored him, instead choosing to answer a different question. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Seo Soojin’s room, when cleaned up, was actually quite beautiful. The reds and velvets mixed nicely with the fine gold accents. Normally guests would be a cause for celebration, as very few visited Soojin these days. Soojin would have been elated to have the prince himself in her chambers any night - but not tonight. Tonight Soojin sat seated on her bed, hair laid over her shoulders in nice neat waves. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, voice hesitant as she looked around the room for anything that could serve as a weapon for Jungkook or herself. Jungkook stood in the center of the room, though he had never been in her room he held no interest in all the trinkets she had decided to adorn it with. That wasn’t why Jungkook had suddenly decided to visit, not after YN had barged into his own bedroom and clung onto him. Not after Jungkook had to persuade his beloved that she would be safe in his bed with Morte guarding her.

“Can’t a husband visit his wife in the middle of the night?”

“We are not yet wed.” Soojin was unsure of what game Jungkook was playing, her eyes sneakily stared at her door. She couldn’t see the shadow of her guard's feet.

“I would hardly think that matters when the ceremony is in a few days' time.”

Jungkook approached Soojin’s bed slowly, his footsteps careful and calculated each one of them measured to ensure the tamed lioness would see exactly where he was at any given time. As he reached the edge of her bed, Soojin leaned back to rest on the headboard allowing Jungkook to crawl onto the bed until the prince was mere inches from her. Soojin swallowed thickly, nerves eating her alive. “Plus you’ll get everything you have ever wanted…” His hand caressed Soojin’s cheek tenderly. “To be queen and bear my heir.” His soft touch turned harsh as he pulled her towards his lips. “I thought we’d get a head start.” With little hesitation their lips crashed against each other, full of hatred and passion.

In those moments of pure unadulterated lust, Soojin swore Jungkook had never looked more beautiful. His sweat caused his hair to curl towards the ends, framing his face perfectly. Despite how badly she clinged to him, his arms, his back, chest, legs, his every breath - Jungkook barely touches her. He kisses her, but it feels empty. Even when he finally does enter her, it lacked intimacy and felt robotic. The prince was harsh, demanding, and entirely selfish in his needs. Though Soojin did enjoy it thoroughly, it was clear to her that Jungkook was only searching for his own high rather than hers. Eventually the two reach their peaks, climaxing together as Jungkook fills Soojin to the brim.

Then as quickly and quietly as he arrived the prince untangled himself from Soojin. Redressing himself before leaving her room, not sparing the young princess a glance. Seo Soojin cried that night for the first time in years, memories of her youth plaguing her as she recalled the fateful day that set in motion the rest of her life.

Thirteen year old Soojin was already a beauty to behold, even at such a young age. Despite being born a woman, she was exceptionally bright and cunning. Under different circumstances, she would’ve surely become a great inventor or even a great ruler. Sadly she was born a woman to a noble family who had long ago set their eyes on the prize of the land - a prize their only daughter could help them get. While Soojin had never met prince Jungkook, they had been engaged since she could remember. Having been raised with tales of the great Jeons and how Jungkook was the kindest and fairest prince in the land. Soojin could hardly contain her excitement at what her future might hold. The following week, she would embark to court and finally meet her beloved. Still, even at such a young age Soojin possessed little patience and great ambition. Seven days was far too long a wait.

“Come on Soojin, it is this way.” Kim Yoona yelled from far ahead, Soojin jumped over the rocks that were littered across the ravine, careful to watch her steps so as to not slip. They were deep in the forest, far from the watchful eyes of maids and guards, Soojin wasn’t afraid though. She knew the fate that would befall anyone who attempted to cause harm to a Seo. Much less the soon to be princess. Yoona had told her of a fortune teller that had apparently predicted the Jeons rise to power and the birth of the prince. She was notable throughout all the land and since hearing her tenacity for telling the future of those destined to be great, Soojin wanted hers read.

After crossing the water they trudged through more forest ground before finding a small clearing. The two girls abruptly stopped as they came face to face with an old cottage resembling something out of the fairy tales they'd read. “This must be it.” Soojin stated, marching forward once the shock wore off. There was nothing to be afraid of; she was certain of what her future would entail, she just needed the confirmation. Before Soojin could knock on the door, it was opened by a middle aged woman dressed in rags.

“Are you the witch?” Was the first thing out of Soojin’s mouth. She lay unimpressed as Yoona soon joined her side, stunned into silence.

“Are you the Seo girl?” The fortune-teller reproached, causing both young girls' eyes to widen, before the fortune-teller allowed them in. “It’s two hundred to have your fortunes read - each.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Yoona protested, but Soojin fisted the money out of her wallet before throwing it on the nearest table she found. “There, now tell me my future.”

“How about I tell you a story instead?”

Soojin rolled her eyes dramatically, “I don’t want a story. I want my future, tell it now.”

The fortune teller smiled, taking long steps before reaching a chair. She took her time sitting and making herself comfortable before finally turning towards Soojin. “Tell me child, have you ever seen a lion and snake play together?”

Soojin frowned, “What?”

“They are opposite beings in nature. Warm-blooded and cold-blooded. A union between them would never work.” The witch grabbed the pile of money and began to count it, “A lion takes several mates but always stays within his pride. A snake lives a solitary life, its only companions the flowers it lives alongside.”

“You’re making no sense!” Soojin’s hands balled into fists, as she began to raise her voice in frustration. “You’re speaking in riddles, talk clearly.”

“She means that the match won’t last.” Yoona, who had remained quiet until then, finally spoke up.

“That isn’t true!” Soojin screamed, head whipping back and forth between her friend and the witch. “Who will marry the prince if not me?! I am to be a queen. I will bear a son and become a Jeon. Our marriage will unite the kingdom and ensure prosperity for the kingdom.” The words were not her own, but those she had been raised hearing.

“Ah, a queen you will be and a son you will bear. A Jeon though is not a name that is given but granted. Read up on your history child, this union will only breed destruction.”

Soojin didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. The witch was lying to her. She simply wanted to embarrass Soojin, that's why she was making up all those lies.

Yoona excitedly pounced on the opportunity, now that Soojin was out of the picture perhaps she had a shot. “If not her then who? Who will marry the prince?”

Soojin turns to glare at her supposed friend, furious at the hope that had filled the young Yoona now that she believed Soojin to be out of the picture.

The fortune-teller looked out the window at the trees that surrounded them, “This winter has been long, but spring will come again. When it does, the flowers are always the first to bloom.”

“Flowers?” Soojin asked, at the same time that her friend drew her conclusions.

“A Kim?! I’m a Kim. Does that mean I will marry the prince?” Yoona asked excitedly, unaware of the glare now being cast her way by Soojin. Poor Kim Yoona misunderstood, her family though they held the last name, held very little power and had only managed to amass their fortune through their loyalty to the Seo’s. Something the young child, unbeknownst to her, ruined that very afternoon. Still much like young Yoona, Soojin too did not know the difference between Kims - they were those who simply possessed the name while others who were blessed with it. When they were walking back towards their homes and Yoona accidentally slipped on the rocks and dove head first into the ravine, Soojin couldn’t bring herself to care much. If fate wants her to be with the prince, then she will surely not drown. The princess thought as she walked away and headed home preparing for her upcoming trip.

“This winter has been long but spring will come again. When it does, meet me where the flower’s bloom.” YN had awoken alone in her bed in the morning, surprised that neither Sana nor Jungkook were around. She supposed it was a blessing in disguise for the note left on her pillow would have surely been the subject of questioning. It had taken her a while to decipher what exactly Namjoon had meant by the note, but figured that overthinking would be exactly what would be expected of her to do. So, YN headed towards her vanity but stopped cold when she realized the book was not there. I could’ve sworn… YN searched high and low through her bedroom in a manner that was discrete yet thorough. She felt eyes on her and didn’t know if they were guarding or threatening.

Sana must’ve placed it elsewhere. It would be strange considering the maid never moved any of her stuff without explicit permission, but it certainly was a possibility. YN sighed, looking at the note once again tracing it with her finger as she pondered on what the lord’s intentions might have been in sending her that message. If it had been something unimportant, he surely would have communicated through his staff. It was the way of the palace. If it was urgent, Kim Namjoon would have come himself. No, this was something different. YN’s eyes danced once more on the small piece of paper, observing carefully as if the paper would suddenly reveal a secret to her, that was for her eyes only.

“Where the flowers bloom…” What flowers? YN’s eyes widened as she recalled something her late mother had taught her. YN had been too young to remember much of her parents, even the few memories she did have were obscured. She did remember her mother always plotting lilies though, it was the only thing that she had been able to cultivate while they lived in the harsh areas of the city. Their garden, if it could be called that, had been barely a meter long. Though their father insisted that she try to grow vegetables, because they were always so expensive at the market, she only grew lilies. Even if they always died. Lilies were delicate beings and required extreme care and stable environments - something YN hadn’t known much of growing up. There was another thing about YN’s mother’s garden: she always complained about the ivy weed that threatened to consume it.

Where flower’s bloom? Lilies required care, attention, and warmth. It needed round the clock observation. An ivy, on the contrary, could potentially grow in any type of environment even the most inhospitable ones. The passage ways!

It seems Jungkook had kept his promise of locking up the passageway, but YN had figured it couldn’t be the only one. Certainly a castle this old and large must have various entries and exits privy only to those who reside in them. So YN looked in the most obvious place she could think of. It wasn’t difficult to gain access to Jungkook’s bedroom, and the palace had been fairly empty as of late so there weren’t many lingering around. It was rather difficult though to escape the eyes she felt. Jungkook had promised her a brand new security detail, though she had assumed he meant guards. Now she was uncertain. Everywhere YN went she felt eyes and as she peered around the prince’s room, it was no different. Morte was nowhere to be seen but YN couldn’t be sure the snake was hiding or if she was accompanying her master.

“Psst.”

It came from behind her. YN spun around only to face the wall behind the bed. Then she heard it again, “Psst.” This time louder, as she drew nearer her eyes focused on the pattern of the dark brick wall. It was perfectly layered and symmetrical, likely thousands of years old, as the stone had long faded yet somehow kept its state. One last time the “psst” rang out and YN finally noticed that one of the bricks was slightly more pushed in than the others. It was something only noticeable since she was barely a breath away from the wall. Hesitantly, YN reached out and pressed at a large section of the wall sliding back by a few feet. Then she walked forward into the corridors making sure to close it behind, her unaware of the viper observing.

“I was afraid you might not join me.” Kim Namjoon was not dressed in his usual attire of extravagant clothes. In fact, the old wash of his bottoms and creases on his shirt made it seem like another person when YN had first laid eyes on him, after discovering him deep in the corridors. “I have walked long and have yet to see any Ivies growing. Your clue wasn’t easy to decipher. Had I misinterpreted it, I would have headed to the gardens.” YN answered, there was something off about the lord today but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He seemed desperate to YN. “Ah, but we are at the gardens.” Namjoon replied, finger taping the wall to his left. The passageway they found themselves did in fact run alongside the palace gardens. To his left grew lilies, once planted by the great Kim when the palace was first constructed. To his right, inside the castle, ivies: tall, wild, and lethal. All planted by Jeon the I without intent.

“What is it you want my lord?” Though YN normally enjoyed conversing with Namjoon, something inside her stomach warned her that being hidden away with him would have consequences.

“Have you read the book, my lady?”

“Ah,” YN didn’t exactly know how to break it to him without possibly upsetting him. “I seem to have misplaced it.”

“Someone took it you mean.”

“Why would someone steal a book?” It was a genuine question, as Namjoon had come to that conclusion far too quickly.

“Why would someone steal you?”

So that is what he was trying to get at. YN had long grown tired of having to explain her situation and felt a bit disappointed that Namjoon would even ask. He seemed different. She should have known better. “That is the question I’ve been asking myself since I arrived.” Her tone was apathetic, as she glanced around trying to figure out how to end the conversation.

“Surely you are not that oblivious my lady. You hold value - a true value that is rare to come by these days.”

Now she was confused, “You make no sense.”

Namjoon stepped closer. Even though it was just two steps, YN felt he was trying to bridge the space between them. Either to get her attention or establish dominance, she wasn’t too sure. YN held her ground. “I’m afraid I never do.” Namjoon caresses her cheek, leaning in to whisper. “You smell divine, like flowers...a Sharon rose, perhaps?” YN eyes widened. Her mind traveled to Soojin’s confrontation. “It is simply a name my lord.” Namjoon chuckled, “Yes, I suppose so. That is why there are only two true Kim’s in court.” He turned sharply on his feet and walked away, but not before spinning back just as quickly. “The help is sorted into two fields - Seo’s and Jeon’s - Sana is a Jeon, not by name but it is where her alliances lie - besides the crown.”

The phone rang inside Min Yoongi’s study and he ignored it. Fully aware of who it was and the consequences it may bring, but the Duke couldn’t bring himself to care. Jimin was in a good mood today, splendid even, and Yoongi didn’t want to do anything that would risk that. So the phone rang for hours upon hours, jiggling harshly upon his desk much to his annoyance. He had instructed the staff to ignore it - let the man think he was out of town. Though it was a dangerous game, now far from the castle Min Yoongi found the courage he so often lacked. He was prepared to play the long game and ignore the brat, demonstrating that Yoongi was not a puppet or a butler he could have at his beck and call. When the phone finally stopped, Yoongi assumed he had won. Until the phone started ringing elsewhere: the master bedroom - Jimin’s room. Yoongi bolted out the door leaving his chair turned over and a few papers scattered. The duke ran through the hallway and burst past the doors just as Jimin put the phone to his ear. Yoongi ripped it out of his hand as gently as he could, not missing the questioning gaze of his beloved. “Hello,” his gruff voice sounding slightly out of breath from the run.

“Hello Yoongi, I’ve been trying to reach you but it seems you’ve been too busy to pick up the phone. So I figured I would ask your darling for a favor, it’s been so long since I’ve heard from him.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened and his hands balled into a fist. “There’s been some problems with the phone lines lately, it looks like there’s a storm coming.”

“Oh a storm is coming all right, but that is not why I contacted you Yoongi. I’m sure you’ve received the invitation by now.” He meant the wedding invitation. Yoongi had in fact received the invitation earlier that morning, to say he was surprised when he saw ‘Jeon Jungkook and Seo Soojin’ on the piece of paper would be an understatement. What of the girl? “You see there is the matter of my bachelor party.” Oh no. “While my soon to be wife is busy readying herself, I see no point in not enjoying my last night of an unwed life. So my beloved and I are headed towards your estate as we speak. I hope it isn’t too late for a party.”

Jungkook had yet to tell her where they were headed, but he seemed in a pleasant mood something which caused YN quite a lot of concern. She was aware that the wedding was tomorrow and hadn’t found it to be a good sign that the groom was effectively leaving a day before. Though Jungkook had sworn he would marry Soojin, there had to be something else at play. A hidden pawn or move that he hadn’t yet exposed - it wouldn’t be out of character for him to somehow weasel his way out of a promise. Then again… The King was involved in this affair and Jungkook had yet to disobey his father. At least in front of her.

“What has you so entertained?” Jungkook reached over and delicately massaged the frown between her brows. His other hand entwined in hers, fingers gently tracing over her knuckles. “Penny for your thoughts.”

YN forced a polite smile on her face, “Simply wondering where we are going.” There was nothing to gain from speaking the truth. If her time in the castle had taught her anything it was that.

“Hm,” the prince nodded, clearly not entirely believing her but choosing not to press the matter. “We are headed to an old friend’s place. Duke Min has agreed to host us for the evening as a farewell gift to my bachelor status.”

The name rang a bell and the longer she dwelled on it, the clearer the person he was speaking about became. “Duke Min? As in Lady Eun’s lover?” As in the man she had begged to spare her brother’s life? To be fair, all the charges against her brother had been dropped. It wasn't the Duke’s fault that Jungkook had manipulated everything to kill her brother regardless. You killed his lover.

Sensing the clear discomfort in her tone, Jungkook smiled. “Don’t worry my love.” He leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning her ear. “Yoongi engages in various liaisons, but only one truly holds his heart. He and I are a lot alike in that sense.”

The Min estate was a sight to behold, though it did not compare to the grandiose nature of the palace, YN found herself enjoying it more. It was brighter, a light sky color that matched the lush greenery that surrounded it. It was much smaller than a duke’s home should be, but that was to be expected of a secondary residence - even if it was where Min mainly stayed. In front stood Min Yoongi, as well as multiple staff, all different levels of anxiousness. Most thoughts revolved around the prince and what a pleasure it would be to serve his royal highness when they were so used to serving the duke and his lover. All of Yoongi’s thoughts, though, were on the girl. He longed to see her, only if to ease his curiosity. It had been so long since they had last met and Yoongi wanted to know if she had changed, what she had become. if she remained the same desperate child begging to be saved - or had transformed herself into a vicious snake.

As the carrier arrived, the driver quickly exited to open the door. Jungkook exited first with a sly smile on his face that caused most of the staff to swoon, and right behind him, wearing a simple satin high collared blue dress with a grey coat, exited YN. Her eyes cast around before they immediately dropped down. It wasn’t until Jungkook took her hand in his that she looked up, sending a blank look to the prince - which upon further inspection by the duke was filled with a mixture of contempt yet reluctance. Jungkook whispered something to her that caused her eyes to widen and she quickly looked up at Yoongi with fear in her eyes. The look mirroring one Jimin had given him the first time they had met.

It was gone rather quickly, replaced with a gentle smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Yoongi wondered if that sort of training had been cemented by Jungkook or if much like his songbird YN had learned that adapting meant surviving.

After a brief tour of the home, the three of them had lunch though YN did not miss the fourth table set that went unused, much to the Duke’s apartments annoyance, the three then spoke in the patio for hours about politics, music, art, philosophy. Though it was more like YN was an observer than an active participant, Jungkook seemed fine about her lack of enthusiasm so long as she was draped on his lap or holding his hand. It was like she was a prize to be admired, but not engaged with. Any time she did wish to join the conversation, she would look up and meet Min Yoongi’s dark feline eyes and immediately sink back into silence. There was something about the duke that holy unnerved her, he seemed fine enough at first glance but the prince’s words kept bouncing around her head. Dinner then came and went, followed by drinks and finally it was time to retire.

“We have prepared two rooms like you asked.” Yoongi states, after waving away an approaching maid. “We hope they are to your enjoyment.” YN can’t help but feel a sense of relief at not having to share a room with Jungkook. They both excuse themselves and are guided up the stairs. Once the maid leaves, YN goes to enter the room but a hold on her wrist stops her. She turns back to look at Jungkook quizzically.

“Oh come on now darling, the rooms are for show.” He says amused. “It’s best not to cause an uproar the night before the wedding.” Jungkook doesn’t even give her time to respond, before he pulls her into his room and shuts the door. It is when he goes in for the kiss that YN rushes out a question that has been plaguing her all day. “Are you actually going to marry Soojin?” Jungkook stops, tilting his head to the side as if thinking over what she says. “Why? Are you jealous?” His tone is teasing, as he goes in for another kiss only to be stopped by YN once more. “You promised her you would. Promised me as well. Do you intend to keep it?”

Jungkook sighed, walking towards the bed and stripping off his clothes layer by layer. “Soojin has been my fiancé since we were children. I was always meant to wed her.” This causes YN’s chest to swell with excitement, only for it to be shattered seconds afterwards. “Still it is you who will be my queen. You did promise to wed me too recall? In exchange for protection from any more assassination attempts. Everyone always knows that first marriages are for gains and the second is for love.” He beckoned her closer, for some reason YN obeyed. Standing nearly nude in the moonlight YN once again was blinded by his beauty. He looked so much like an angel, but she knew devils could shapeshift to enticing forms.

Once again she wondered if things had been different would Jungkook have wooed her too. In another life, would she have come to love him? Would he even be interested in her? No use in thinking of what ifs. Nothing would change who Jungkook was now, just like it appeared nothing would save YN. Not as long as the prince was alive.

When YN awoke the next morning the prince was gone, the spot beside her in bed now cold. Though she couldn’t be certain it had ever been warm. She dressed and headed down stairs, surprised to find barely any staff and the duke gone as well. It’s a royal wedding of course they would all be gone. YN eyed the door and approached it, seeking an opportunity for escape. The place couldn’t possibly be as heavily guarded as the castle. YN hadn’t seen any guards or anything of the sort the day before. Just as her hand was about to grip the handle, a butler appeared startling her.

“Pardon the interruption my lady, but breakfast has been served outside in the garden.” YN smiles politely nodding before heading out towards the gardens. The gardens aren’t likely to be guarded. She could always escape into the forestry surrounding the house. As she exited the house, she caught sight of a man sitting at the table where breakfast was served. He was stunning, that was the first thing she noticed. With soft yet angled features, large lips, and delicate eyes. She must’ve been staring a long time because the man finally turned to look at her and in his eyes, YN could see a deep melancholy not dissimilar to her own.

“So you’re the prince’s whore?”

YN was taken aback by his bluntness, but squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She wouldn’t be disrespected by someone who seemed to be in the same boat as her. So that’s what Jungkook meant. “Are you the Duke’s?”

He smiled, she could tell it wasn’t fake as humor filled his eyes. Only to quickly be replaced with sadness yet again. “I am his lover, his songbird, his whore.” The man looked forward towards the violets, “It all depends on his mood.” Then filled with mirth, “It all depends on the sex.” It was once he turned back towards her, his smile a mix of innocence and seduction that he finally stated his name. “You can call me Jimin though.” YN couldn’t help the slight smile that spread across her face, for even though she did not know what Jimin had gone through he was still surviving and that inspired her a bit.

The two of them ate in silence and merely observed the garden, breathing in the fresh air and taking in nature. YN thought this might be the first time she has ever been at peace after meeting Jungkook. It isn’t until the sun is higher in the sky, past midday or a bit before, that Jimin speaks again.

“They’re both gone. Off to the wedding it seems.” He says it with such resentment, YN can’t help but wonder if it's because he isn’t with them or Jimin dislikes weddings in general. When YN questions him, he chuckles. “No, I’m not mad. A whore isn’t welcome in a church after all.” The sly wink he sends her lets her know that she too is included in the joke. Even then, she wonders if Jimin even gets to leave at all. Suddenly Jungkook’s words when they were approaching the house pop into her head, “The Duke is fond of keeping treasures too so be sure not to catch his attention.”

“Perhaps we should have our own fun.” She says suddenly, little thought given to the consequences said action may hold for both of them.

Jimin turns to YN, eyes widened before his lips pucker into a pout. “I’m not allowed to leave and no one can go against the Duke’s wishes.”

“I outrank the Duke.” A bit of silence followed before the two of them broke out into wicked grins.

YN had never really been in the city, the area she used to reside in where the slums were, and even then she went out so little that her memories of it were vague. Jimin seemed to have a better idea of where they were going, dragging her from fashion boutique to cafes to bars and anywhere else he could think of. He seemed so jovial as if he were a bird able to fly after so long, when he looked it at YN it was with a mixture of glee and gratitude. Even if she didn’t enjoy all the attention garnered every time Jimin pulled out Yoongi’s money, she didn’t want to break what little happiness had returned to Jimin. Especially when he had seemed so starved of it.

“Here this is for you. If you’re forced and resigned to being the prince’s whore might as well dress the part.” Jimin often called her that instead of her name, but given the lack of malice in his voice whenever he did YN couldn’t bring herself to care. He handed her a velvet box, which upon opening it possessed a silver necklace with a black gemstone and matching ring. “Jimin I can’t take this.” It was certainly expensive judging by the look of it and she felt this was his way of saying thanks. “I appreciate it but -”

Jimin rolled his eyes and took the ring out of the box and forced it onto her finger. “Don’t make this a big deal. If you look like a victim people will treat you like one, but if you look like a queen...well no one goes against a queen.” He had maneuvered his way around her and placed the necklace on her neck tying it delicately on the back. “There now you look like a queen.” His fingers brushed comfortingly on the side of her neck. YN smiled and thanked him silently. They were towards the back of a store, it was a smaller boutique, likely only being able to contain no more than twenty people inside yet it was relatively empty. The stylist had stepped into the back after offering them beverages and hadn’t returned since.

As the two new friends continued their conversation, a car pulled up to the front of the store. It was a large suburban with thick windows that were blacked out. Since Jimin had his back to the front it was YN who first noticed it, finding it peculiar. It wasn’t until the car doors opened and she saw the sigil on the driver’s side that she recognized who it belonged to. Resistance. It didn’t take her too long to grasp at why they were there. Rather quickly she gripped Jimin’s arms, “Go to the back of the store and don’t come back out until it's safe.” Rather forcefully she shoved him towards the back and Jimin spared her a glance before running to the back of the store.

Please please please. YN didn’t know exactly what she was asking for, but it was the only thing that occurred to her. Five burly men entered the store all setting their sights on her immediately. “Hello, Kim YN. Our leader would like to speak with you.”

“I’m Kim Seokjin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The words couldn’t be any more of a farce, but Seokjin was nothing if not civil and polite. The smile forced onto his face was entirely charismatic and swayed anyone that looked it at. While being a good leader was important, good looks also aided Seokjin in staking his claim on the throne. Though people swore loyalty to the Kim’s and claimed to despise the Jeon’s, no one would rally behind an ugly person not when their prince looked like a fallen angel. “I’ve been told quite a lot about you. I am sorry that we have had to meet under these circumstances, but it isn’t very often the prince lets his most prized possession out of his sights.”

Truth was he could have waited, but Seokjin wanted to see her. Wanted to know what had captured not just the prince’s attention, but Namjoon’s as well. Now that YN was in front of him he saw nothing that could explain it. She’s rather plain looking. Not only that but she sat perfectly straight in her chair refusing to engage in any conversation at all. Her lips were pursed, face stoic, and eyes observed everything at a clinical distance. She acts like a Jeon that’s for sure. Well if she wasn’t going to reply might as well continue, “I am sure you have first hand experience of how cruel the Jeon’s can be. They are cold, cunning, and utilize dark arts to keep their power. They took what was once a great country, with wealth and happiness to go around and have hogged it all to the point were most of the population lives in extreme hunger and despair.”

“Have you ever gone hungry?” YN’s soft voice spoke out, barely above a whisper yet it captured all of Seokjin’s attention. “It seems strange to me to hear about hunger and despair from a man who has never experienced it in his life.”

Seokjin was taken aback, but kept his calm. “I have faced much despair in my life, but it would take too long to go into detail about it. Plus I am not fond of comparing traumas.”

“What dark arts do you speak of? I’ve never heard of the Jeon’s performing dark arts.” That was a lie, but YN was baiting him. Plus if Seokjin had useful information that could help her escape Jungkook then she was willing to do anything.

Seokjin smiled, “A group of less than a hundred men stormed a castle full of guards, nobility, and the royal family and within an hour had slaughtered them all and taken control. Of course, it was magic.”

So he knows nothing. YN remained quiet, she observed Kim Seokjin the way one might a potential threat. Even if he had yet to attack or make his intentions clear, the only person YN had met that hadn’t attempted to coerce her or hurt her had been Jimin. The odds weren’t in her favor. Even Namjoon whom she had thought of as a friend had acted strange the last time they met. “Unless there is something you know. Which may help us restore the imbalance of power and return things back to their harmonious state.”

It was clear neither were buying what the other was selling and it was only a matter of time before that truth became obvious to the two of them.

“What I am trying to get at my lady is, it would not only benefit the kingdom but you as well if you -” Before Seokjin could finish his pitch, the doors of his office slammed open and in strolled Kim Namjoon decked in a royal blue blazer with matching top and cream pants, he looked like a leader and with the way he regarded Seokjin it was clear which one of them truly called the shots. “I learned you kidnapped Lady Kim when I specifically asked you not to. Now we have both an angry prince and Duke on our hands.”

“The prince is getting married, he is far too concerned with his future bride to care where his mistress is.”

“Ah, well since you clearly know Jeon Jungkook so well explain to me then why fourteen of our allies had their families raided and imprisoned not ten minutes after you took her.”

Both Seokjin and YN froze in shock, unable to believe what they had just heard. Ten minutes? It took ten minutes for Jungkook to find out she was missing and exact his revenge when he was more than a hundred miles away. “Don’t play with me Namjoon.” Seokjin’s voice had lost all its charm and was not monotone, “This isn’t funny.” Namjoon scoffed, “They’re awaiting their sentencing and everyone knows it's the gallows for traitors.” An image of her brother’s dead body flashed before YN and she struggled to not heave. “Now go fix it.” Namjoon demanded, pointing his finger out the door. Seokjin marched out not sparing YN a look, but she could tell by the look on his face he would surely blame her for this. It’s always my fault.

YN sat stunned in silence as Namjoon ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends with frustration. She glanced towards her lap trying not to make eye contact, her hands were shaking and YN gripped her skirt in order to steady them. “I can talk him out of it.” YN wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Namjoon or herself. “He wouldn’t -”

“Yes, he would YN. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re dead already.” He muttered, before sighing and gazing at her sympathetically. “Don’t blame yourself my lady. This isn’t your fault.”

YN chuckled humorlessly, “All of this is my fault. Every death that has occurred since the prince and I crossed paths has been my fault.” Or by my hand. Lady Eun and Vito flashed before her eyes.

“Well then I shall have to start referring to you as Lady Death or Lady D for short.”

YN smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood, “Very funny my lord.” The two stared into each other's eyes for a while before YN finally broke the calm silence that had settled between them. “Is Kim Seokjin an ivy or a lily?” The smile on the lord’s face melts away before he quickly replaces it with one that doesn’t reach his eyes. There is a mask on his face that YN has only seen him wear around others before and she smurmises what it must mean - Namjoon finally sees her as a threat.

“He is a Kim with a stake to the throne, one of the last remaining ones.” He walks towards a leather seat right across from where she is. Namjoon sits the way a gentleman would, reclining yet keeping his back straight and shoulders square. Head held high as his height caused him to look down at her ever so slightly. YN found herself imagining what he would look like with a crown on his head. “So what is your plan? To use Seokjin and let him die in his quest for the throne?” Her eyebrow raises as she questions whether Namjoon would be as cruel to use someone for their own personal gains, then again that seems to be the norm among the nobility.

“Seokjin won’t die.” Namjoon spoke as if this were a fact and not an optimistic delusion.

“Please don’t be foolish, my lord. The Jeons and Seo’s will wipe out any possible threat that exists to them.” YN had experienced it first hand.

“The Seo’s believe where all lunatics clinging to the past and the Jeons would never attack without solid reasoning.”

YN laughed, “The prince just executed four families without solid reasoning.”

“No,” Namjoon shook his head as disappointed she didn’t understand. “The prince executed conspirators that may have played a role in the kidnapping of a court lady and his lover.”

YN fixed him with a pointed stare, “You know the truth.”

Namjoon leans forward in his seat, “The truth doesn’t matter, tell a lie enough times it becomes the truth. People don’t want to believe the reality, they want to hear what is most convenient to them.”

“What is this truth that you are trying to tell? That Seokjin is the true heir when the Kim line has been so mixed that’s nearly impossible. Or is that little speech all you have?” YN was frustrated. Tired of being treated like a pawn in a larger game of thrones. “You seem to be under the illusion that I am completely unaware of what having a Kim king was like. I don’t like the Jeons nor the Kims, both patriarchy’s have set about ruining the kingdom each in their own way.”

“Good thing we aren’t going to have a patriarch on the throne.” He smirked.

YN’s words died on her tongue as the statement caused her to pause. It unsettled, then it all began to click. Jungkook’s intense desire to make her queen, Soojin questioning her family name, Namjoon’s insistence, even her brother’s untimely death. At that moment YN longed to be anywhere else but there to be far away: back in the store with her brother, back in their childhood home with her parents, even locked back inside the palace bedrooms. At least there she knew what to expect, what future awaited her. There her status as a sister, daughter, prisoner were clear. Inside the rebel grounds they were not, she was about as certain of her fate as she had been that night in the dungeon. “What do you mean?” The look Namjoon gave her spoke for itself. You know what he means, don’t deny it any longer. “YN,” he rose from his chair cautiously, his eyes hesitant as if unsure how she would react. For a split second, YN could see what looked like trepidation in his eyes but what would the great Lord Kim have to be afraid of? “You were never merely a pawn and it was never nearly a name.”

Soojin sat restlessly on the marriage bed, waiting for Jungkook to arrive. She was certain there were ears glued to the chamber doors and could feel eyes on her figure, yet she couldn’t tell where they came from. The wedding had been a spectacle if a little small, but she supposed it would help cement her image as a humble princess. It wasn’t a good look to waste millions on a wedding when the country’s poor were starving. Her knees were tucked into her chamise as the cold air in the room nipped at her skin, the lit fire was too far away to offer anything besides light. Though she longed to go near it, she had been told it was bad luck for the bride to step foot off the bed before the marriage had been consummated. Even if it already had been days before.

She isn’t exactly sure how long passes, but knows that it must have been a while since the cold nipping at her had long seeped into her bones and was now causing her to shiver. The silk bedding offered little protection. More time passed and Soojin found herself dozing off, the new moon high in the sky before she was awoken by the ringing of a bell. It announced that someone wished to enter the room and Soojin gave her permission. A young maid entered, hair tucked tightly into a bun as she bowed deeply. She looked familiar to the princess and she racked her brain trying to find her name before finally recalling, Ah yes, Sana. The whore’s maid. Soojin didn’t think much of it, since YN was no longer in the castle and posed no threat to her. She regarded the maid civilly.

“What is it?”

“I apologize, your highness, the prince has left the castle for the city and it seems he will not be returning before tomorrow.”

Soojin laughed, to her it must have been a joke. Surely Jungkook would not leave on their wedding night to be with his mistress when his wife was right there. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth and realized she was not only laughing, but crying as well. Finally Sana looked up at her, eyes filled with pity and any sadness in Soojin turned to rage. I see. YN had sent her maid to taunt her, to show that even though Soojin was queen Jungkook still belonged to her. Soojin raised her hand to strike the maid, when a sudden sharp pain from her abdomen caused her to fall over.

“Princess?!” Sana rushed to her help, only to be pushed away by Soojin. “Leave! Lock the doors! I don’t want anyone to see me!” She roared like a lioness and Sana backed away, bowed in submission. It was once she heard the small ‘click’ of the locked door that Soojin allowed the sobs to wreck through her body as the pain in her stomach worsened. What is happening to me? She raises her hand and sees small drops of water that have stuck. Soojin could not remember the last time she had cried. Perhaps it had been her sixth birthday when her father had died or perhaps it had been when her mother scolded her for crying after his death.

Nonetheless she did not have time to dwell on it for the pain she felt forced her up and had her heaving. She could feel something crawling up her throat and she tried desperately not to choke on it. I won’t give up this fight. Not after everything I’ve sacrificed. The pain was harsher than ever and it burned so much that Soojin swore it would tear itself from the inside out. She had no choice but to open her mouth and let it out. Soojin expected a lot of things to exit her: bile, the wedding cake, even flowers if she were to be honest. What she did not expect was the small baby snake in the pool of blood; which upon closer inspection by the princess was dead.

When YN arrived at the Min house it looked deserted as if not a soul resided in it, but she knew Jungkook was waiting inside. Even far away, YN could sense the danger radiating from inside - Jungkook was sure to be infuriated and she hoped it wasn’t too late to talk him down from his anger before more innocent people lost their lives. She pushed through the front doors, not surprised to find them open, and saw Jungkook waiting for her sat upon the stairs. What did come as a shock to her was that he was still wearing his wedding clothes. Did he really come straight after? His long hair is styled back to show off his undercut, the tight fit of his suit - a grey and white jacket with matching pants and the Jeon symbol embroidered on the left breast - show off his figure nicely. When the prince catches her staring he smirks, but it does little to subdue the fire present in his eyes.

“Oh and did the rebellion help you find your way back darling? How nice of them. Not to worry, I’ve already sent them my thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from every word, but it stoked YN’s own fury how casually he spoke about killing people. How little he cared.

“Haven’t you killed enough?! Those poor people have nothing to do with it and you know it. Stop murdering people as a show of power.” She was seething, not being able to bear the guilt of anymore blood on her hands.

“A display of power?” Jungkook raised his eyebrow, “If I wanted to display my power, I would have murdered every single person in that little so called rebellion. No what I did was a display of my love for you.” Even through his insanity, she could see he was being honest and that terrified her even more.

“How do you think it looks to your people that on your wedding day, you’re more concerned with your mistress's disappearance than your own wife?” Though Jungkook didn’t care about appearances, the crown still had an image to uphold.

Jungkook opened his mouth, letting it form a small ‘o.’ “I see you’ve been under the impression this whole time that the public knows who you are.” He smiled at her confused expression, “You see while the public is aware that I have taken a mistress, all they know is that she is a lady of the court. But the murders that occurred tonight were due to the aiding of a wanted criminal.”

“A what?” It was not the first time that day that YN had found herself as the centerpiece in a chessboard. Except that while she had just been told she was the strongest piece - this conversation would serve as a reminder of who truly controlled the game. “Your brother was an enemy of the state, one that conspired to overthrow the throne. While normally I allow Kim Seokjin to play diliances since everyone is aware his claim is less than weak, him reaching out to you demonstrates that he is a far more threatening player than I had originally anticipated.” He shrugs, “If you ever do manage to escape you will be persecuted for your crimes against the crown.” He would throw me in a cell and let me rot to prove a point. No, it’s more than that. Jungkook is not only cornering her, but the Kims in general. A criminal can’t be a ruler.

YN walks toward Jungkook, her stride strong and determined as she crossed the space between them to come kneel in front of him. Once they were at eye level, she tenderly cupped his cheek. Whispering softly, “Are you afraid he sought me out to get to you? Is that what this is?” Jungkook leans into her embrace, trying to steal a kiss. YN avoids him by instead brushing her lips over the shell of his ear, “After everything you have done to me I do not need outside forces to compel me to hate you.” When she pulled back, she saw something unexpected. There were tears in Jungkook’s eyes, not dissimilar to the ones that had been there when she had told him of his father’s plan. For a split second, YN found herself wondering once again what might have happened if the two of them had met in a different time. If Jungkook were not the cruel prince that he is and had not hurt her, could she love him? Or were they doomed to repeat the same brutal love story for all of eternity.

Jungkook’s hand snapped up to grab a hold of YN’s neck and he flipped them around, caging her between the marble stairs and his own body. “It is not his interest in me or my crown that fills me with bloodlust, but rather his interest in you.” The prince’s grip was so tight, she could feel the indents of his fingers being left behind.

Perhaps she should have waited for a better time. Perhaps YN should not have taken the bait so clearly laid out by the prince, but it had been a long day and the only person who could truly give her answers stood right in front of her. “How long?” She questions in a broken whisper. “When did you know?” Had he known this whole time and that’s why he had been stringing her along? People in the kingdom longed to go back to a time before the Jeons, but their hatred did not extend towards the prince. In their eyes he was nothing like his cruel bloodline. Jungkook drew her closer, his lips trailing up her nose bridge until he planted a kiss on her forehead. “If you're afraid my interest in you is solely due to your bloodline, don’t be afraid. Something as measly as a name wouldn’t sway my affection.” He lowered his head, to make sure they were at eye level, “besides you’ll be a Jeon soon. Whether or not you are of royal bloodline will not matter once you are queen. If anything it will legitimize your place beside me.” The smile he gave her was saccharine, full of nothing but love and adoration. As if his words were meant to comfort her, when they were only a display of how carefully he had orchestrated everything.

“When?” YN repeated, glaring at him with so much fury Jungkook swore he should be beneath the ground.

“After our conversation in your cell. I had Yoongi and Jimin find information about you and deliver it to me.” He drew away, leaving space between them in case his words evoked a physical reaction. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t being fooled. Then I read about your parents, what a strange accident that seemed to be.” His finger tapped his chin mockingly. “Especially so soon after your adoption had been finalized. Then I traced your lineage only to find it didn’t exist. Since my grandfather took the throne every single person born with the surname Kim has been documented, yet you don’t exist.” His pitch raised, dramatizing his words. “Seems like someone went a long way to make a little girl from nowhere completely disappear.” The prince shrugged, as if his words had not completely shattered everything YN once knew to be true.

“That is how I knew.”

YN lunged at him, she didn’t exactly know what had compelled her to, but she did. The strength behind said attack seemed to surprise even Jungkook. Still he looked entirely serene when she straddled and wrapped her hands around his throat, deciding to repay him for what he had done seconds before. YN squeezed with all her might. Instead of being afraid Jungkook began to laugh, maniacally so, “Honestly darling, first stabbing and now choking. What’s next, are you going to try to poison me?”

“Morte isn’t here.” YN spat out, “There’s nothing to ensure you survive.” The prince was beginning to turn red, face swelling at the constriction of air flow, yet he kept laughing. She had begun to understand the type of power Jungkook wielded, if Morte was his lifeline like Vito was hers. Then not having the snake around made him vulnerable.

“I don’t need a snake to keep me alive because you won’t kill me.”

“Who says I won’t?!”

By now hints of purple had started to seep through, he was gasping for air. “B-because i-if you d-do I’ll k-kill i-it. I’ll k-kill s-Soojin’s unborn child.”

YN stilled, but did not relinquish her grip. “You’ll be dead. You won’t be able to hurt anyone.”

“I’m the only thing keeping her alive,” he smiled sadistically. “The second I die, Seokjin will take power and he won’t hesitate to slaughter. Or maybe it’ll be your precious Namjoon. Perhaps even Sana, she’ll be so filled with envy and rage that I didn’t impregnate her that she will poison Soojin.” He leaned forward, licking his lips. “Then it will not only be my blood on your hands, but that of an innocent child.” As his words set in, YN’s fingers slacked and Jungkook took advantage, wrapping his arms around her torso. YN stared up at him, “How could you be so cruel?” It wasn’t until she tasted the salt on her lips that she even realized she was crying.

“I will do anything to keep us together. Whether alive or dead, you cannot escape me.”

_6 Months Later_

“Princess, are you ready? The prince and King are waiting for you.”

Soojin sighed, standing up from the chair she had decided to rest on and allowed the maid to guide her towards the front of the palace. There was to be a tour today, charity work where the royal family went out and pretended to care about their people. The last tour, before Soojin had known about her pregnancy had been a success, even if it had been cut short by the King’s health suddenly declining once more. Still today’s trip towards the city’s slums was sure to not be too troublesome. Just smile and nod. Her hand brushed tenderly over her large bump, it was quite big for the stage she was at and had been the cause of much speculation and rumors. Still Jungkook played the role of doting husband and soon-to-be father so well, no one would ever suspect Soojin had only seen him a handful of times since the wedding. Even less since the engagements.

Whom Soojin had not seen at all was YN. Though it caused her nothing but glee to think the wedding and pregnancy had hurt her in some way. The princess also knew that enemies should be kept closest of all, even more than her own son. “Did YN receive my gift?” She whispered lowly, so as not to be heard. The maid nodded, “Yes, princess. It was delivered at dawn by a neutral party.” Good, then she’ll be out of our hands soon. If YN was smart she would take the chance offered by Soojin, even if it was a trap that was sure to leave her permanently out of the picture. When she arrived at the main entrance, she noted all the guards and nobility lined up to bid them farewell yet - “My son will not be joining us. He has received word of the rebellion planning an attack and I have ordered him to stay.” King Jeon barely spared her a glance before adjusting his crown and entering the car.

Soojin grimaced, but put on a smile when entering. It’ll be fine. Just smile, nod, and make them love their future queen. The King’s days were numbered, anyone could see, that is why the rebellion was getting bolder. Staging public protests, spreading propaganda, and small planned attacks. They were building to something. Rumor had it they had infiltrated the castle and though Kim Seokjin had always been the face, Soojin had heard through the grapevine someone else truly pulled the strings. It's ridiculous. Just a little boy playing dress up. So the princess pushed it from her mind, cradling her stomach as the car drove away into the road to embark on the journey, unaware it would be the one that would lead her straight to death.

YN didn’t know exactly how long she had been walking, but considering the sun had just risen when she had sneaked out of the castle and was now about to set she must’ve walked a significant distance. She hadn’t brought much with her, wanting to leave before Sana brought her breakfast or Jungkook stopped by. Only a jacket, a change of shoes, some money, a map, and Jimin’s gift tucked away in case the worst happened. The blisters on her feet were surely bleeding by now, but stopping to rest was a risk YN wasn’t willing to take. Cliche as it might be, YN heard the snapping of a branch before she realized she had company. “Lady YN.” When she turned around she was greeted with Park Jinyoung and Lee Baekhyung. “The King has requested you return to the palace as soon as possible.” The guard’s faces were as stoic as YN remembered considering she had not seen them in a long time.

He sent his lap dogs after me...wait, the king? “I believe you’re mistaken, surely the King has greater concerns than me.”

Baekhyung smiled, “Nonsense, nothing is more important to the King than you right now. And we’ve been sent to escort you back.”

“Or retrieve you by force if necessary.” Jinyoung added.

YN didn’t need to look to know she was surrounded by guards, still the trip had not been useless. She had gotten what she was after and the men were none the wiser.

“The vehicle transporting the King and princess was attacked by the rebellion. Not all made it out alive.”

YN gasped, No. That can’t be. Before YN could dwell on it any longer, the guards grabbed her and dragged her to the car. She didn’t put up a fight, too many thoughts running through her head, but one stood out above all. Soojin can’t be dead.

“Get it out of me!” Soojin screamed, pain wrecking her body as she contorted every which way. Several maids held her down as they tried to save her son. “Get him out of me! He’s dying! He’s killing me!” Truth is with every contraction felt, Soojin found herself becoming weaker. Her muscles ached yet felt tender, bones brittle as if made of stone, every time she breathed it felt like she was inhaling smoke. What is this?! What is going on?! “Please princess. Just push. Breathe and push.” Soojin tried to do what she said, but instead of easing the pain it only made it worse. The knife had long been discarded and the maids were now attempting to help take the baby out, but it didn’t explain the pain. “Stop it hurts! It hurts!” She cried out, feeling like she was being torn from the inside out.

The second she realized that, Soojin swore she felt claws trace the lining of her stomach from the inside. “Get that fucking thing out of me!” He isn’t human. It isn’t human. She had long been warned of the dangers of a Jeon pregnancy, but Soojin hadn’t listened. She never listened and it would finally cause her death. I should have killed it. By now the blood spilled all over the sheets, floors, and clothes was turning a dark red. I should have killed the girl before he met her. Soojin felt her heart begin to beat slower. I should have killed the witch. Her senses weakening as spots filled her vision. I should have killed him when I had the chance. A flash of memory came to mind: the night she had told Jungkook of her pregnancy, how delighted he seemed to have been, yet when he spoke of ‘we’ she had somehow known it wasn’t about her. He knew, he knew all this time...and all to be with her.

“Just one final push princess and that’s it.” Soojin's smile was filled with melancholy as she gave one final push, bringing the new prince into this earth. When the child took his first breath, she took her last.

YN stood in front of the giant throne room, she hadn’t bothered changing knowing the King would look at her with disgust no matter what she wore. Tentatively she knocked, before the doors were slammed open and YN entered her eyes to the ground displaying submission. “You requested me, your highness.” Instead of a response, she heard a babble. When her eyes snapped up YN saw what to others might be the stuff of dreams, but to her, it was her worst nightmare come true. Jungkook sat upon the throne, a heavily jeweled crown resting on his head - the Kings crown. His entire focus was on the newborn in his arm. He gazed lovingly at the small boy and even cooed at it. Jungkook was so entranced a goofy grin adorned his face as he coddled his son.

Eventually the prince King did look up and what you saw in his eyes was an amalgamation of pure love, obsession, and insanity. “Look Mommy’s here.”

#yandere bts #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #prince jeon jungkook #royalty au #yandere au #yandere bangtan #yandere jungkook #yandere jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere kpop #prince of nothing #prince of nothing iv #pon #pon iv #girlmeetsliv3

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ppersonna · 4 years

Text

repentance - knj | m

now, let's imprint my name on that trophy and come back home - come back home, BTS

↳ summary- your boyfriend, Kim Namjoon, doesn’t like it when you flirt with other guys

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6k

↳ pairing- namjoon x reader

↳ genre- smut, this is all smut, there is nothing but smut here, there is no god in this chili’s tonight. this actively takes us further from the light.

↳ warnings- very hard BDSM, name calling, degradation, humiliation, spitting, caning/spanking, collaring, bondage, squirting, overstimulation, impreg kink lmfao, face fucking, Namjoon is a v sadistic dom but he is still sane, after care is important,

↳ a/n- well folks. here it is. The fic that pushed me past my comfort zone lmfafskadf. i am 100% grateful to @sombreboy for assisting me with this and being silly as fuck in the google doc. i could not have done it without his guidance lmfaooo. this was requested by anon and i hope i did it justice and i rly appreciate getting sent things that make me write things i normally wouldn’t! thank you for believing in me lmfao. pls feel free to interact with me however u want bc i love you all. Thanks for reading! namjoon if ur reading this pls forgive me

“I hope you had your fun, doll,“ Namjoon whispers harshly in your ear as you walk with him away from the dance studio. You’re covered in sweat, hot, and still you’re shaking like a leaf at the tone of your boyfriend’s voice.

So maybe you broke the rules. Maybe you danced with Jimin at practice a little too intensely, a little too provocatively. Maybe you grinded up against the blonde harder than you should, making the dancer sport a tent in his pants.

And maybe you did it in front of your boyfriend, that man who loved and dominated you.

Is it too late to say oops?

Namjoon is silent on the drive home. His face is expressionless, but his eyes give it away. He looks a touch angry, a touch excited, but he mostly radiates possession. If there’s something that Namjoon hates, it’s sharing you.

Your playful flirting with Jimin had been just that—playful. Jimin was your dance partner going on 10 years now, ranging from ballroom to jazz and tap, to contemporary and international. Jimin was always your go-to guy, best friend, and occasional fuck buddy. Namjoon knew this, knew the history between you two, but still allowed you your freedom in dancing and competing with the blonde. Sometimes it was just so easy to fall back on old habits, when you’d grind on Jimin so hard that he’d rip your shorts down and take you against the hardwood floor of the studio.

Even though you were quite happy in your relationship with Namjoon, it was hard to re-route the synapses that led elsewhere when you were dancing.

But you loved Namjoon, and you had for a long time. It was something you were working on, the flirting and the carelessness. Namjoon was supportive, loving, and a natural caretaker.

He was also a sadistic Dominant.

Where Namjoon was sensitive, sweet, communicative and giving in the streets, he was disgusting and filthy and downright heinous in the sheets.

And you loved every single aspect of it. There was nothing that thrilled you more than the control he wielded on you, the power in his gaze and in his hand, and the possession he took of you.

It was the reason none of your relationships worked out before him. Sure, there had been pleasant guys and excellent fucks like Jimin. But Namjoon was the entire package, plus some. You trusted him with your entire life, your whole being. He grew up alongside you, and you knew the man would rather injure himself than ever cause you harm.

It’s what made the punishments, the pain, even more delicious. He took you to your breaking point, sometimes even further, because he knew you could take it. And you trusted, loved and adored him for it.

But that didn’t mean it was easy.

No, while the punishments and pain were fun in the long run, they still sent a thrill of fear down your spine.

It’s been awhile since you got your boyfriend this worked up. Things had been pretty smooth sailing for the last few months. Sure, he was still a maniac in bed, but it was the scripted and practiced scenes you both knew by heart. Schoolgirl, nurse, secretary.

But this was real. Tangibly real. You could feel the tension rolling off his toned body, the heat of it ensnaring you, tying you up tight.

You want to apologize, open your mouth and begin the litany of sorry’s and I didn’t mean to’s, but your throat felt dry. You knew it was useless to try now, and the act might make him more upset.

The punishment he would inflict upon you would absolve you, baptize you of your sins. He’d sacrifice your flesh to be remade.

The car pulls into the garage of your shared home. Namjoon parks, closes the heavy door behind the car, then sits in the car staring straight ahead.

He’s silent for a moment. It puts your nerves on edge and he knows this, knows you hate the silence more than anything else.

“You are going to get naked. Right now.” He orders, still not facing you. He focuses his eyes on the wall of your garage. “You will leave your dirty clothes outside where they belong. And you will crawl from the car into the house.”

You nibble at your lip, waiting for more instructions. He turns and levels a look at you, and your body lights with fire.

“I want you to retrieve your collar and the handcuffs and bring them to me in the bedroom. You will get in position for me.”

He looks at you once more, seeking your eyes for any sign of fear, anything to tell him he’s going too far.

While your heart races, you nod and swallow tightly. You’re scared but not enough to stop him. You have a safe word for a reason but you haven’t needed to use it yet and you trust Namjoon more than you trust yourself.

He takes stock of your agreement and exits the car, leaving you alone as he trudged up the stairs leading to the house.

It takes one shuddering breath before you step out of the car, peel your sweaty workout clothes off, and slide down to your knees. There're cameras in the garage for security, and you know he’s watching them to ensure you’re listening to his orders.

The floor of the garage is dirty. You take one movement forward and look at your hands to find they’re already covered in black soot from the dirt and oils of the car tires driving in and out. You make a face but quickly pull out of it. This is your punishment.

You crawl up the steps and gingerly open the door, then make your way to your linen closet where your collar and handcuff remain when you’re not at home.

Namjoon gifted you with a home collar and a public collar. The public collar is a beautiful diamond circle pendant that hits right at the hollow of your throat.

The home collar, however, is made out of a study leather material, embedded with gorgeous diamonds. It’s heavy against your throat when you wear it. It’s a constant reminder of your subservient relationship to your Dom, your boyfriend.

The handcuffs hang from their specified hook. Black leather with chains connecting the cuffs. They’re strong, incredibly so, and the thought of being locked up makes your core tighten in excitement and fear.

With the items secure in your grasp, you return to your kneeling position and continue crawling towards the bedroom where your boyfriend awaits. Something inside you bubbles fiercely—what does he have planned for you? It’s been awhile since you’ve been quite literally at his mercy.

Namjoon is standing in front of the bed, arms crossed over his chest as you enter the room. You keep your eyes down, not making contact until he instructs for you to do so. You can feel the power and heat oozing off him, surrounding him like a cloud of authority. You approach and sit in front of him, knees spread wide and sat back on your heels. Your hands offer up the collar and the cuffs, palms up, as you avert his gaze.

“Look at you,” he tuts. “Filthy...” He removes the collar and cuffs off your hands and gazes at the black soot remaining from the dirty garage floor,

“But it suits you perfectly, doesn’t it?”, his voice was almost mocking you, ‘’A dirty slut.’’

Quite literally.

Namjoon sets aside your collar on the edge of the bed before crouching in front of you, a lopsided grin curling on his lips as he grabs your wrists as to inspect them,

‘’Even your pretty little hands are soiled, angel.’’ he tsked in disapproval, the mere sound of it making you feel smaller, eyes still fixed on the floor. After all, he hadn’t told you to look at him as of yet.

You don’t know why you thought he would ask you to wash your hands, but you quickly threw aside your anticipations as it catches you off guard with what he does next.

‘’Palms up, angel. Show me your hands.’’

A confused second passed, but you obliged nonetheless, raising both of your hands, palms up to him as if you were begging for something.

The mere sight was absolutely gorgeous to Namjoon.

Without a word, Namjoon collects enough saliva in his mouth, grabbing your wrists to pull your hands closer, letting his spit drip from his tongue down to pool in your hands. Your eyes widen as they stare at the floor, arms twitching instinctively at the foreign sensation.

His grasp around your wrists tightens, ‘’Stay still… Be a good girl, yeah?’’

You nod, relaxing your arms. However the muscles in them feel tired from holding them out for him like this. He knows, he can tell, but says nothing about it. He loves to watch you struggle, adamant to please him.

Besides, you deserve it, don’t you?

Once more, Namjoon spits in your hands. This time, it has a degrading intention; a harsh spitting sound as it lands in your hand. He stands up again, the angle even more delicious from above as he watches you obediently hold his pooled saliva like it was the most precious gift from him.

‘’Go on... Clean up.’’

You bite your lip as the slick saliva spreads in your hands. Your body thrums with humiliation and desire, mixing to make your legs quiver where they kneel before him. You clasp your hands together and rub your boyfriends spit in your hands, attempting to remove as much of the dirt as possible with what he’s given you. It’s messy—the spit is black from the soot. His eyes take you in, the image of you cleansing yourself with him, accepting his spit like the dirty whore you are, that he loves. It makes his cock throb in his jeans. Nothing gets him off quicker than putting you in your place, seeing you accept his degradation with pink cheeks and frightened eyes.

He pulls his shirt off his body and throws it to you carelessly.

“Use it to dry your hands,” he orders.

You comply, wiping the last off you with his shirt.

“Let me see.” You hold your hands up for him to inspect and he smirks, ‘’Good little slut.’’

His hands open the collar wide and you jerk slightly as you feel the pressure of it on your neck. Namjoon pulls it tight around you for a moment, cutting off your air supply, before he releases and secures the collar to sit high on your throat. The ‘O’ ring sits at the center proudly, a place he often uses to leash and drag you around like his pretty, perfect pet.

He moves away from you and towards the armoire at the side of your bedroom. Your heart gallops wildly. The armoire is full of his toys, punishment and reward alike. The unknowing of what he’s getting out to use on you has your cunt dripping with desire and fright.

There’s silence as he gathers his tools, then returns and places them on the nightstand.

“Look at me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

You let your eyes flick up to his and your breath catches. He looks incredible. Shirtless, tight pants straining with the bulge of his cock, power exuding from his very pores. Your eyes dance on his chest for just a moment, soaking in the refined lines, then settle at his eyes. They’re darkened with lust, with intention. He looks at you like you are his next, and final, meal.

“I want you to bend over the bed. You will spread your legs and push out your pretty little ass. I’m going to cane you for what you’ve done today.”

Your eyes widen, and he relishes in the fright lingering. He hasn’t used the cane on you in a long time. It’s the most intense tools of impact you own—the one you’re most frightened of.

“You know your safe word, don’t you?” He asks.

You nod.

He tsks. “I asked you a question. Don’t make me open up that mouth for you. You won’t like what I’ll do.”

A shiver runs through you as you weakly open your mouth. “Yes, sir. My safe word is orange.”

He nods. “Good girl. Let’s hope we won’t need it and you’ll take what you are given, hm?” Another nod from you. “Now, do as you’re told.”

You hop up quickly, knees painfully red and sore now, and move towards the bed. You arch down, sticking your ass out towards your boyfriend and spreading your legs shoulder-length apart. He can see all of you, slick folds weeping with desire and anticipation, legs shaking in fear and arousal.

It’s intoxicating to Namjoon, the way you behave and listen. He loves the fright inside you, the way it soaks your cunt for him. He knows the cane is on the verge of being too much, he knows you’ll be weeping both from eyes and pussy at the end of it.

The wood is heavy in his hands. The cane is only a bit longer than a paddle, but it packs an even more intense blow.

“Tell me what you did today. Why do you deserve my cane?” He asks, allowing the cane to tap at your cheeks lightly. It makes you jerk and clutch at the blankets below you.

“I—I was dancing with Jimin, sir,” you murmur, voice tight with anxiety.

“Ah ah, you weren’t just dancing,” he corrects. “Don’t pretend to be innocent. You know what you did.”

As you open your mouth to speak, he brings the cane down at the tops of your thighs. It cracks heavily on the skin and makes your knees give out. The sting is like white, hot fire on your thighs. It burns, and makes your cunt clench around nothing. Tears spring at your eyes as you try to answer him.

“I was grinding on him!” you cry as your legs return to standing to accept the next blow.

“You were being a little. fucking. slut.” he intones, then punctuates his words with another whip of the cane—right at the center of your ass. The sound of it hitting your flesh echoes in the bedroom you share, and it makes you cry out in pain. Your knuckles were white from the grasp of the blankets—tears flooding you and spilling onto the duvet. “Say it!” He orders.

You whimper through your words. “I was being a slut, sir!”

‘’That’s right, you were being a filthy, horny cockslut.’’ He snarls, another whip echoing in the room as it falls harshly on your skin, ‘’Horny for Jimin’s cock with the way you were grinding on him, by the looks of it, isn’t that right?’’

He laughs mockingly, landing another whip on the same spot he previously caned, it would definitely bruise. But you didn’t care. And neither did he, he fucking loves your cries.

‘’Tell me, who’s cock are you really a whore for?!’’

He holds the cane high, anticipating your answer.

‘’Y-yours, daddy-- p-please!’’ You cry out, clawing at the sheets, legs quivering.

‘’That’s right, but apparently, you didn’t remember that today, angel.’’ He says with an awfully calm voice, cane still held high.

He ends his caning with one final blow, and it makes your vision black out with the intensity. You’re sobbing now, weeping into the blankets as your legs shake.

It’s the most intense pain you’ve ever felt, ever been dealt from your loving boyfriend. It forces you to understand just how upset you made him, just how angry watching you attempt to seduce another man makes him.

“You’re my little cumslut, you hear that? Mine!”

His hands smooth over your reddened ass, harsh burgundy lines marking where he punished you thoroughly. It makes you whimper through your cries, his warm hands simultaneously soothing and agitating the marks.

He only remains for a moment, ensuring the flare of pain is soothed. As sadistic as he is, he remains sane enough to ensure your safety. Your whimpers have slowed slightly, and he takes it as his opportunity to move on.

He reaches for the handcuffs and takes advantage of your prone position, bent over the bed. He works them around your wrists, tightening them just enough to leave you helpless. He pulls you up and presses his back against you, face at your ear.

“You took your first punishment well,” he encourages as he licks a stripe on your throat, right above the collar that symbolizes you as his. “But I’m not finished with you,” he sighs. “Little cock whores like you are never satisfied with just one little punishment, aren’t you?”

You sniffle and nod. “No sir, I n-need more.”

He chuckles—it’s dark and ominous.

“Dirty fucking slut.”

He turns you to face him and he kisses you roughly, no sign of the sweet and sensitive boyfriend. It’s the Jekyll to his Hyde; the sadistic Dom now kissing you cares only of getting off and making you take it.

His mouth is fiery—teeth biting at your lips and growling when he slips his tongue in your mouth.

“Gonna make you remember who the fuck you belong to, baby girl,” he warns as he pulls away. He urges you down to your knees and you’re easily complying.

His hands are at his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping and making your mouth salivate in anticipation.

He steps out of his jeans, and you’re rewarded with his thick cock springing free from the confines of his jeans. You should have expected your boyfriend to go without boxers, but it’s a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

“Look at you,” he notes. “So desperate for my cock.” He grips it and teases it in front of you. You want to lean forward, capture it in your lips but you refrain and wait for the order.

“You think you deserve this? You think I should let you suck my dick after that little show you put on today?” He gives his length a stroke and it makes you nearly whine with need. “Little fucking bitch wants any cock she can get, why should I let you have mine?”

Your eyes shine with tears, still lingering from your caning and refreshing now with wet, hot desire for him.

“Beg.” He orders, holding his dick in front of your face tauntingly.

“P-please, daddy. Let me suck your cock,” you blubber. “Let me show you that you’re the only cock I need.”

He hums and strokes himself. Watching you nearly weep with want and beg to suck him off has his head reeling. The power rushes through his veins like a drug.

“I think you can do better than that,” he sighs. “Why shouldn’t I just jerk myself off and cum on that pretty face of yours?”

Tears freely spill down your face now. “I want you to use me, I want to let you fuck my throat raw, please, sir!” You sound completely gone and Namjoon feels his impossibly hard cock flex at your needy tone. “Please fuck my throat like the cock whore I am!”

“That’s fucking right,” he grunts. “Open that fucking mouth for me.” Your mouth opens and he’s leaning down to spit harshly at your waiting tongue. It makes you jerk, but you reserve yourself and accept it. “Filthy little bitch.”

He moves forward and sets his cock on your tongue and almost groans at the feel of your hot mouth, swirling with his spit now.

“Make me cum with your mouth, you don’t get to use those hands today.”

He wastes no time on shoving his length into you and down your throat. He gives a few precursory thrusts and sighs as he feels your throat gagging around him and hears your desperate, wet sounds. Tears flow freely—your mascara is smearing down your face as you look up at him, mouth stuffed full. It’s the prettiest sight he thinks he’s ever seen. You’re desperate, absolutely fucked out for him. Saliva dribbles down your mouth and he fucking loves it when you become a mess on his cock.

“Pathetic.’’ He murmurs. But truly, he thinks it was beautiful—the way you desperately take his cock down your throat, the needy look in your teary eyes and the muffled whines vibrating in your throat at his fake disapproval. It makes you work harder, eager to make him feel good.

You bob your head, keeping your eyes locked on Namjoon—he loves it when you’re giving him your undivided attention. It’s sloppy, and you’re loud. Namjoon fucking lives for when all your inhibitions are gone and you’re wanton and horny like a porn star desperate for work.

“Fuck, such a good throat,” he drags a finger up it as he forces his cock to the back of your mouth. He can feel the ridge of his cock through your neck and he nearly cums from that alone. “Taking it so fucking good.” He grips your head and desperately fucks into your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut and will your gag reflex away, let him use you as he sees fit. You egg him in with licks of your tongue as he thrusts in and out, and by the filthy noises you make with each press.

Saliva is dropping out of your lips, and his it covers his cock. Namjoon feels his balls tighten impossibly and knows he’s close.

“Does my cockslut want daddy’s cum? You want me to coat that little throat with it?” He keeps his pace and you nod through your tears. He grunts his approval and picks up the pace, only to explode through his orgasm soon after. His cock pulses as he emptied himself into your mouth and throat, and you suck harder as if thirsty for it.

He pulls it out a moment later with a sated sigh. “My little cum dump,” he smirks as he runs a finger over your lips. “Swallow it all.” You nod and visibly swallow his load, then hold your tongue out to prove it.

“Shit—so good. You’re such a whore you could drink my cum all day, couldn’t you?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper. Your throat is rough and sore from his thrusts but you can’t find it in you to care, not even a little bit.

You remain on your knees and he puts a finger under your chin and lifts it higher. “Doing so good, angel. Making me proud.”

It makes your heart nearly implode. Namjoon is sadistic and thrills in your anguish, but loves you all the same. He knows you’re not just able to take it, but you’re desperate to take it. You trust him to never hurt you in a way you couldn’t handle.

“Still have more for you, little one. I don’t think you quite understand who this body belongs to.”

Your eyes shine with excitement and Namjoon can’t help but to smile at it. He uncuffs you and you look perplexed. He never lets you out early.

“Up on the bed, on your back,” he states as he ignores your questioning look. You know better than to deny his order, so you rub at your wrists as you move towards the bed. Your knees are still throbbing from the pressure and you heave a pleased sigh as you melt into the mattress.

“I wouldn’t feel too comfortable,” he chuckles. “It won’t last long.”

In Namjoon’s hands is red shibari rope. It makes your stomach flip. It’s been so long since he’s trussed you up and it thrills you to see the familiar smooth bindings.

“Thighs to your chest,” he orders. “Spread them wide, show me this needy little cunt.”

You do as he says, pulling your thighs up to meet your chest and spreading them open. He stares at your core, it’s dripping now. It drips down you and stains the comforter. Namjoon tuts. If you’re this wet already, he knows he will need to change the sheets after he’s done with you.

“Look at you,” he intones. “A dumb little slut, open and ready for any cock she can get.” He drags a finger up and down your thigh.

Namjoon gets to work. He loves the way he loses himself in the art of tying you up. He loves watching your chest rise and fall and the little squeaks that come out of your mouth as he knots you up. He loops the rope around the left thigh, then draws in your left calf to tie it in. You’ll be spread open, unable to stretch your legs out until he gives you permission.

He glances up at you every so often as he continues, checking to make sure he’s not cutting off any vital circulation. As cruel as he is, he doesn’t intend to actually maim you. You never show a sign of pain, just the glazed look you hold as your body gives in to your subservient intuition. It makes Joon smile and his heart clench in his chest. He really fucking loves you.

You’re soon tied up completely from the waist down, both legs tied together and spread open with pussy on display. Your hands are free and just as you’re about to relish in it, Namjoon is looping more rope to tie each wrist to a bedpost. He grins as you gasp. You’re completely tied up and at his will, and you’re embarrassed at how open you are in front of him, how dripping wet you get from being tied up and useless.

Namjoon is moving around and you suddenly hear a vibration and it gets closer as he approaches you.

“Gonna make you cum for me, babygirl... Gonna play with you until you fucking squirt everywhere.”

Your legs clench together as you notice he is holding a Hitachi wand in his hand. You know the power it wields. It brings you to your finish nearly instantaneously. Which means Namjoon has decided your next punishment will be denying you any orgasm and continually bringing you to the edge… or making you cum so much your cunt hurts. You don’t know which is worse.

He notices the look on your face and grins. “Yeah, you know what this is, don’t you?”

Namjoon places the bulbous head of the wand on your cunt and you cry out instantly. He drags it up and down your drenched slit and you’re already feeling so close to the edge.

“You better fucking scream, don’t hold back,” he orders. “Remind this whole fucking neighborhood who gets you off. Make sure Park fucking Jimin hears it.”

He stops rubbing it up and down and lets it sit right on your clit and watches your face contort as your tied legs struggle against the wrappings. It’s too much, it feels like you’ve been lit up. Namjoon gloats in your struggle. He sees your cunt dripping with increasing fervor, can tell you’re squeezing those walls around nothing. He can’t wait to bury himself inside you once and for all and coat your walls with his cum.

“You know you better fucking ask permission to cum,” he reminds you. “You better not cum unless I tell you.”

Your tear-streaked face is twisted in pleasure, in pain. You feel yourself unwinding, increasing towards your finish like a bullet.

“D-Daddy! Please! I need to cum! Please!” You’re begging harder than you’ve begged in your life, you’re certain. It feels like the string inside you will snap any second now and you’re holding off the orgasm as hard as you can. Without the use of your legs, you find yourself unable to slow the inevitable.

“No,” he states firmly. “Fucking take it. You can keep going.” He growls his words and watches as your cunt is helpless. “Little whores like you can fucking take it.”

It’s useless, you’re falling apart at the seams. You’re pleading with him to let you cum, legs now completely convulsing in their restraints. It snaps, the coil inside bursts and you’re careening towards the end. You whine and cry helplessly as your pussy pulsates around nothing and oozes out your arousal. Your face burns in shame as you come down-—you know exactly what you’ve done wrong.

“S-sorry! I’m so sorry, Daddy!” Tears fall harder and you’re gasping for his forgiveness, for his mercy. “I’m so sorry!”

‘‘Tsk, tsk.’’ Namjoon tuts. “My little slut couldn’t even follow her one and only instruction.’’ He removes the wand for just a moment. “You better fucking listen this time.”

Your body feels overstimulated. The pleasure is bordering on painful and you yelp as Namjoon places it back on your overworked clit.

“You can make up for it if you squirt for me,” he grits. “Maybe I’ll stick my fingers in this tight cunt. Always so desperate for Daddy’s help, aren’t you?”

You whine at the thought of him filling you, but it’s overtaken by the feeling of the wand back on you. It’s painful, but it feels so good. Your body is held back by one single tripwire, ready to snap at any moment. Namjoon knew that restraining your arms and legs left you completely helpless to slow your own orgasms. He wanted you to fail, wanted to punish you for cumming when he knew damn well you wouldn’t last a fucking second under the wand’s vibrations.

“P--please!” your whines are breathy. You feel as if you’ve just run a marathon and you’re desperate for air. Your entire body is singing with rapture, with pain. You feel a deep desperation to feel him inside you. “I need you! Need your fingers!”

Namjoon groans at the sound of your whines. It’s his favorite, when you’ve finally snapped past a breaking point and he pushes you beyond. The way you’re desperate, begging and crying for him is pathetic. He fucking loves it.

“Fuck, listen to yourself,” he comments. His cock is raging again, hard and ready to bury itself inside you. But he waits. He’s nothing but patient for you. “You sound like a little fucking whore. Are you Jimin’s whore?”

You blubber a cry and shake your head, feeling the oncoming orgasm approaching again. It feels even more intense.

“No! I’m yours! O-only yours, Daddy!” The simple crying is turning into sobs and you both can tell you’re nearly on the edge.

“That’s fucking right,” he snarls. “This pussy belongs to me. Not fucking Jimin. Not even you. I own you.” His words run cold through your body, it feels as if your veins have iced over. You’re absolutely under his spell and control, and you’ve never loved anyone more.

“Cum for me, filthy slut. Let me see you get Daddy nice and messy.” He shoves two fingers inside you, and curls them to reach the spot that has you reeling. He knows he’s made it when you’re arching on the bed and screaming through your sobs.

“G-gonna cum, oh god--” you’re gasping for air, greedy for it. “There, f-fuck!”

The orgasm that hits you is stronger than any before. It feels like your cunt turns into a vice and you’re squeezing around his fingers so hard it makes Namjoon hiss. Your body spasmed and trembled as you came, and finally Namjoon is rewarded when your cunt gushes all over his fingers, dripping down his hand.

“Holy shit,” he gapes as you finally return to earth from your skyhigh completion. “Dirty fucking slut. You did so good.”

Namjoon’s cock is pulsating. He’s sure if he doesn’t get inside you, now, he’ll shatter.

“Nasty whore is going to get one more. You’re gonna cum on Daddy’s cock, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding weakly. You’re far gone, mind so dizzyingly high and body exhausted. “P-please, need you.”

He takes no care to line himself up or take time. He’s pressing against your hole in one moment and is buried to the hilt the next. You’re so wet it feels like he’s drowning and he throws his head back in bliss. Even after two explosive orgasms you’re tight around him, molding around each ridge of his cock.

“Oh, god--” he groans. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever been in.” The praise doesn’t last long, so you soak it in while it lasts, ‘’Gonna pump you full of my cum, angel-- f-fuck..’’ You’re crying and whining as he pumps into you. It feels so good.

‘’Gonna have you nice and swollen with my child, so everybody knows just who the fuck this little whore belongs to.’’ His thrusts are so powerful that it’s almost as if he’s trying to fuse with you, he’s no longer holding back any reservations. His hips bump against you as he stuffs you full, chasing his end. He drops a hand to your clit, knowing it’s battered from the wand but can’t find it in him to care anyway. He wants you to orgasm again, and he’s going to get it. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be so plump and pregnant that everyone will know what a depraved, little bitch in heat you are for me.”

Impossibly, you feel your belly tighten and tug and you’re edging closer and closer to yet another orgasm that Namjoon will wrench out of you. You’re crying out, only able to whine and sob his name. He’s fucked the ability to talk right out of you, and you can only think about Namjoon and his fat cock drilling into you and filling you up as if his life depended on it.

Namjoon loves it when you’re fucked out completely. He can tell he’s close, and nearing closer as he watches your sobbing face, smeared with mascara, cry and gasp for his cum. He could cum from watching you beg alone, and now as he pounds into your juicy cunt he’s surrounded in pleasure.

“I’m going to cum--fuck. Gonna fucking fill you,” he hisses as he thrusts so hard it’s nearly bruising. His grip on your hips tighten, blunt nails digging into your skin as he lets out a loud and guttural moan as his cock desperately throbs inside of you. He keeps his power, but the pace dies down with each thrust. He fucks his cum deep inside you, and rubs at your clit punishingly. His warm seed jammed inside you snaps everything and you’re crying pathetically as you reach your high, walls contracting and milking him. Your vision is black and you only hear the rush of your blood in your ears.

It takes a few stuttering breaths to finally come to, and your vision returns to normal. Namjoon remains buried inside you and he’s panting just as hard as you. You’re both dripping in sweat and covered in your combined juices. He cups a hand on the side of your face and smiles at you as you both attempt to return to normal.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” He asks with a chuckle. He slowly pulls out of you and you’re wincing at the loss. You’re sure you won’t be able to walk, let alone even stand.

You nod gingerly. “Really fucking good.” you whisper. Everything is sore, and it’s a feeling you can’t compare to anything. It’s a burning ache that reminds you of Namjoon, of your love, of the trust you willingly hand over to him and the bliss he gives in return.

“Let’s run a bath,” he states as he leans down to kiss you, pressing his lips on yours in a sweet kiss. The Namjoon you love is back, the sweet and compassionate lover who cares about every single aspect of you.

“I would love that,” you sigh. “But, could we maybe untie my legs before I lose any more circulation?”

The both of you erupt into laughter as his hands work over the intricate knots. He winks.

“Needy little whore.”

#bts fic #bts smut #bts imagine #bts namjoon #hyungsmutsociety #ksmutclub #bts rm #namjoon smut

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