
'94 baby /In the dark dawn, spreading trembling wings/ Masterlist
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kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away


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âď¸summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.
âď¸pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok
âď¸rating: mature, 18+
âď¸genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut
âď¸warnings: infidelity (itâs complicated, yâall) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes. smut warnings in effect.
âď¸word count: 10.2K
âď¸author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (đ) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.
thank you guys so, so much đ
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Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it
â âWait for Itâ
Hamilton, An American MusicalÂ
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One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.
You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap.Â
âItâs a beautiful day, Your Grace.â
Hyeriâs voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though sheâs standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.
âNot a cloud in the sky,â she persists, gentle. âPerfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?â
There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeriâs prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer youâd given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.
âIâm content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.â
âVery well, Your Grace.â
She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.
Itâs unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a momentâs peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames.Â
But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.
So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet.Â
But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.
Youâve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days youâve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand.Â
Twice youâve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as youâd taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.
âThe hunting party leaves in three days' time,â Hyeri says. âThereâs been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. Theyâre taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.â
You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.
âThere will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you â â she pauses to choose her words carefully. â â Well, I assume that youâll want to see the King off.â
You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, youâd be content to never see him again. But youâll not tell Hyeri that. Not when sheâs made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day youâll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the Kingâs side.
So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.
Hyeri clears her throat. âYour Grace, I only want whatâs best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I donât want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if youâre not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why youâve not been seen in days.â
âHas he asked for me?â
Hyeri blinks. âThe King?â
âYes, Hyeri,â you say slowly. âThe King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?â
The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, âNo, Your Grace. He hasnât.â
âThen I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.â
You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flowerâs pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence.Â
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âItâs cold out there today,â Hyeri says. âBut if you bundle up tight, itâs quite pleasant in the sunshine.â
âThank you, Hyeri,â you reply evenly. âIâll keep that in mind.â
Itâs a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers sheâs afraid to leave you alone.
You ignore it.
Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries â fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flowerâs edges.
âYour needlework is much improved, Your Grace,â Hyeri notes. âYouâll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.â
You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. Sheâs right, youâll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on.Â
âPerhaps when youâre done, youâll consider mending this for me,â Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. âMy eyesight is not what it used to be. Iâm terrified of ruining the old manâs beautiful design.â
You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.
âA footman found it in the woods last night,â Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. âBy the stables.â
You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.
Youâd lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. Youâd been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but youâd been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that youâd hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. Youâd had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.
And youâd earned it, hadnât you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. Youâd let every one of your baser emotions take control. Youâd risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husbandâs closest confidantes. Like a fool.Â
When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, heâd done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances.Â
Heâd finished you.Â
âYour Grace?â Hyeriâs curiosity is evident. âAre you alright?â
Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little youâve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that youâve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white.Â
âYour Grace?â
You donât answer until youâre sure that you wonât retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.
âPlease do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.â
Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you donât dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwaâs colors have gone blurry again and youâre forced to back the needle out and start over.
Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters.Â
Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what itâs had to endure.Â
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The first snow of the season arrives early.
You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.
In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts.Â
âIâll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.â
âYour Grace?â Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. âYouâll see the king off, then?â
âIâll need the matching cape too,â you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. âIf the conditions are as awful as they look.â
âYes of course,â Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.
âIâll not ask you why youâve changed your mind, Your Grace,â she says softly. âBut Iâm so glad for it. Itâs important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.âÂ
You donât feel lovely. In fact, you donât feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why youâve changed your mind, sheâd not be satisfied with your answer. Youâve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that youâll somehow have to fix. Youâve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.
You rise from your seat and Hyeriâs hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.
âTell me when itâs time,â you say quietly.
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You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.
Theyâre all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesnât help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard youâre grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.
You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out â not when sheâs already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you donât think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know youâll find written all over her face.Â
So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. Itâs not just that he stands a head taller than most. Itâs in his stature, in his stance â in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as heâs speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.
Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.
âYour Grace,â he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. âI wasnât sure youâd come down to say goodbye.â
âAnd yet I have,â you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. âSo I do very much hope that you are pleased.â
âI am pleased.â
The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side.Â
âWell. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,â you say. âAs well as a safe return.â
The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the Kingâs expression expectant as though heâs waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words youâve already offered him will do. Theyâre as empty as the vows youâd exchanged little more than a year ago.
âWe ought to head out, Your Grace. Weâre losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.â
The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way.Â
âYouâre right.â The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. âHave the stablehands check over the horses one more time.â
You wonât look at him. You canât look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.
âYour Grace.âÂ
The low timbre of Lord Jungâs greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, âMy Lord.â
What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea youâve managed to stave off for days returns at once.Â
You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they â along with his countenance â have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.
âIs something wrong?â
âNo, no. Not at all,â you insist, contriving a weak laugh. âIâm not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. Iâll need to go back inside to get warm.â
The Kingâs brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek.Â
âHyeri assures me youâll be well taken care of in my absence.â
You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.
âThank you, Your Grace. Be well.â
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Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well.Â
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Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire.Â
As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth.Â
Sheâs yet to realize that youâve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.
She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.
âHyeri?â
The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her. She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. âYour Grace,â she says, voice huskier than usual, âI hadnât realized you were awake.â
âItâs alright,â you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeriâs chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone whoâs been caught doing something they shouldnât have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth.Â
Is she trembling?
âYou ought to eat something,â she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. âYou slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if youâd gone much longer, but thankfully I didnât have to. So come,â she beckons, âEat something. It will do you some good.â
Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. Itâs been in upheaval for days now, and as such itâs been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.
âA long, hot bath will do you some good, too,â Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. âIâll have the maids bring up the water after youâve had a chance to eat.â
Youâve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before thereâs an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for.Â
You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeriâs book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.
âCome now, Your Grace,â Hyeri says, at last. âIâm ready for you.âÂ
She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tubâs steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.
âI used rose oil tonight,â Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. âI thought you could do with a bit of pampering.âÂ
The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles.Â
âI remember the very first moment I saw you,â Hyeri muses softly. âIâd been so impressed by your poise.â Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. âYou were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.â
Were you? Youâre not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. Youâd been so idealistic â so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that youâd enjoy once youâd ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.
âI know that so much of this has not been easy for you,â Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. âI know that there have been days when youâve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.â
It does mean something. It means that your motherâs great work is finally complete. Sheâd spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic youâve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.
âAnyhow, when youâve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,â Hyeri says thoughtfully. âSame as what youâre going through right now, Your Grace. It wonât be forever.â
Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the Kingâs heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything youâve felt in days. And itâs anger.Â
âHyeri, stop,â you order tersely. âNo more.â
Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever sheâd meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadnât meant to be ugly to Hyeri.Â
But then youâve done many things of late that you hadnât meant to.
âIâm sorry,â you murmur.
âItâs alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.â Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. âIâll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.â
Youâve been unfair to her, havenât you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. Sheâs served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears youâd seen her hold back while sheâd been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that youâve neglected to see hers?Â
The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.
âForgive me, Your Grace,â she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. âThe time got away from me. You must be freezing.â
âOnly a little,â you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours.Â
âIs something wrong, Hyeri?â
âNo, no. Not at all,â she answers quickly, âJust a bit tired.â Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her.Â
âWhat were you reading tonight?â
Hyeriâs mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.
âI saw you sitting by the fire,â you admit. âYou were reading something that looked to upset you.â
âAnd here I thought you were sleeping,â Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks.Â
âIt didnât upset me,â she explains. âNot in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.â She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. âIt was a letter from my Sanghun, back when heâd been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasnât always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.â
Itâs not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman.Â
âWhat made you choose Sanghun?â you ask.
âI donât know that I had a choice in the matter at all,â she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. âThe moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.â Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. âThe other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.â
âYou must miss him,â you say gently.
âEvery day,â Hyeri admits. âTen years heâs been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what itâs like to be young and so in love that youâll not see rhyme or reason. But ââ she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. âNever mind that. Come sit.â
Itâs unclear which of you sheâs sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, youâre struck by how shortsighted youâve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.
Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.
âIâm sorry, Hyeri,â you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. âIâm sorry that I havenât thought to ask you about Sanghun. I havenât been myself and Iâve just â â
Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. âYou have nothing to be sorry for,â she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. âNor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.â
Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently â hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you canât put into words.
âNow put all of that behind you,â she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. âAnd come sit with me for a while.â
Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.
When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch â rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face.Â
And in the next, it has a name.
âH-Hyeri?â you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesnât answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. âHyeri?â
You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesnât speak, doesnât move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes â those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable â smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.
âHyeri!â you call out to her again, desperate â reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.
But sheâs not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. Sheâs arranged this, hasnât she?Â
âW-What is this?â The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.
âSomeone speak!â you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice.Â
Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. âI believe the two of you â â she pauses, swallowing hard. âWell, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.â
Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear?Â
âNo,â you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. âIâm afraid youâre mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.â
âYes, you do.â The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. âAnd we will.â
âNo,â you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. âNo. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with â â
You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.
âI was called back to the castle,â Lord Jung explains evenly. âA palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hourâs ride away at the time.â Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.
âBut there was no issue at the stables,â you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. âWas there, Hyeri?â Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes.Â
âNo, Your Grace,â she confesses weakly, âThere was not.â
Oh, but your head is truly spinning now â each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about whatâs transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things youâve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.
âYou can leave us now, Hyeri,â Lord Jung says. âThank you.â Â
Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that youâve witnessed tonight, you do.
âVery well, My Lord,â she says quietly. âRest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.â
And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.
âď¸âď¸âď¸âď¸
Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.
With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.
But the situation is far weightier than that.Â
Youâve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. Youâd been weak to his attention and charms. Youâd allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that youâd thrown caution to the wind â and acted with abandon, not restraint â heâd mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound thatâs just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it.Â
Youâll not allow him to devastate you again.Â
âGo on then,â you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. âYouâve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume youâll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.â
âI know what Iâm risking,â he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. âI know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.â
âWhy have you come to me at all?â you demand. âYou made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?â You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. âYou should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.â
Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.
âYou have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,â he acknowledges. âAnd if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.â
âEverything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.â
He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful â and most terrible man youâve ever known.
âThe King said he would give her up,â he says woodenly, staring into the flames. âWhen your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.â
Every muscle in your body pulls tight.
âI knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his fatherâs wishes and Iâve never known him to be a duplicitous man. Iâve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that heâd been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I â â he stops and shakes his head at the memory. â â I wasnât thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.â
The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way theyâd both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark.Â
The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike.Â
âI was so damned angry,â he whispers, more to himself than to you. âNever once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment â I donât know. I donât know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.â
He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.
âAnd do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldnât stay away. That heâd tried to do the honorable thing but he couldnât stay away.â
âWhy are you telling me this?â The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. âIf you mean to cause me pain, itâs too late. Iâve known about the Kingâs lover since the early days of this marriage, and Iâve accepted it. Just as Iâve accepted that Iâll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.â
Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. Thereâs a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.
âIâm telling you this because I need you to understand,â he says. âI want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.â
âI â I donât understand,â you say weakly.
âI have no right â â his voice breaks, thick with emotion, â-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.â He drags a hand down his face, distraught. âNot when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.â
You stop breathing entirely.
âSo no,â he continues, voice graveled. âI cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. Iâve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. Iâve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. Iâve been a liar since the moment I met you.â
You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jungâs confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel.Â
âYou deserved to know the truth,â he says quietly. âIf from no one else, than from me.âÂ
There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.
âMy Lord, I â â
âDonât call me that,â he pleads. âPlease. Not now. Not when Iâve come to you like this.â
âVery well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, Iâd asked you to â â you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. âWhatâs changed? Why are you telling me this now?â
âI have tried to leave you alone.â His voice is ragged now, anguished. âI thought if I could just put some distance between us â if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later â that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I canât.â Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.
âI cannot war with myself any longer,â he says hoarsely. âI cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.â
Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.
âSo if youâre asking me why now?â he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. âItâs because I couldnât stay away.â
He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. Itâs more intimate than anything youâve ever experienced with the King.Â
âDo you still want me to kiss you?â he murmurs.Â
âNo,â you breathe. âI want so much more than that.â
He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.
But suddenly you are apprehensive. Youâve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And youâre not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.
âThereâs something you should know, Hoseok,â you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. âItâs just that â well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.â
Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear itâs for you.
âThat is through no fault of your own,â he says darkly. âAnd if heâs been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.â He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, âYour pleasure will be mine and mine alone.â
âď¸âď¸âď¸âď¸
Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire.Â
You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once heâs satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.
Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed.Â
When heâs finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.
âTonight is about you, pretty bird,â he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. âSo I want you to tell me everything you want.â
âI want to see you.â The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. âAll of you.â
Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. Youâve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.
âCan I touch you?âÂ
âPlease,â he groans.
And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.
âI donât â Iâm sorry,â you say quickly. âDid I hurt you?
âNo, no. You didnât hurt me,â he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. âIâm just sensitive there, is all.â
âWill you show me, then?â you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. âShow me how to touch you.â
âOf course.â
He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.
âItâs easier like this,â he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. Youâre fascinated by it all â by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.
He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power heâs given you â taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.
âThat feels so good, pretty bird,â he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. âJust right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.âÂ
The wetness youâd felt between your thighs when heâd kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.
âI think thatâs enough for now,â he says, breathless. âIâll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.â
You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until itâs standing at attention. You sigh.
âCan I take this off?â he whispers, pulling at the nightgown.Â
You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what youâd assumed he preferred. That is, until youâd caught him in bed with his lover.Â
âLook at me,â Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. âIâll not ask you to do anything youâre uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didnât want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.â
You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But thatâs what you want, isnât it? What youâve longed for all this time. And thatâs what heâs promised you, isnât it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone.Â
You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When youâve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.
âYou have nothing to hide,â he rasps. âYouâre beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird â you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.â
Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.
âYou canât imagine how many nights Iâve dreamed of you like this,â he says, gently laying you back on the bed. âYou canât imagine how many nights Iâve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.â
Oh, but you can imagine, canât you? The few times youâd dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mindâs eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him.Â
Hoseokâs mouth leaves yours and when it finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.
âDo you like that?â he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. âYour body is so responsive,â he murmurs. âSo damned responsive.â
There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then â
You freeze.
âI want to kiss you here,â Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. âI promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?â
He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.
âIs it â is it proper?â you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. âI donât know that Iâve ever thought to consider the ⌠propriety of such an act,â he says slowly. âBut I know that youâll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you donât enjoy it, Iâll stop.â
In the seconds that follow, you think about the way heâd let you take him in hand. How heâd showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful youâd felt when heâd been shuddering under your touch. Heâd trusted you, hadnât he? Just as you now must trust him.
âAlright,â you whisper, nodding your assent. âI trust you.â
He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.
âRelax for me,â he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. âClose your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.â
And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance.Â
And at once, you see stars.
âH-Hoseok!â you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.
But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.
And then he slides one long finger into you.
You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. Youâd thought youâd known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps youâd be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this.Â
And then you can feel it â the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place youâve never been able to reach. And itâs so close, so so close â the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that youâve felt for so long. Itâs within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.
And then it stops.
He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. âHoseok, no,â you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. âPlease,â you beg weakly, âplease.â
But heâs at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. âCome now, pretty bird,â he soothes, âI didnât bring you this high just to let you fall.â
He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. âGo on then,â he whispers. âFly.â
He brings every sensation heâd wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that youâd not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.
And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.
âI couldnât risk you waking the entire castle,â he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. âForgive me.â
âThereâs nothing to forgive,â you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. âQuite the opposite, in fact. Iâve never â never experienced anything like that.â
âThatâs mine,â he murmurs, going up on one elbow. âJust as I told you it would be.â
Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.
âI want to feel you inside me,â you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. âPlease.â
Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesnât enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.
âAre you certain,â he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. âI need to hear you say it.â
You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. âTake me, Hoseok,â you whisper. âNow.â
And in one sure stroke, heâs buried to the hilt inside you.Â
Bodies sealed, fates sealed.
The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though youâve been breached before, itâs never felt like this. Youâre still sensitive from the pleasure heâd given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation.Â
You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.
Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesnât scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then youâre flying again â flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.
But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before heâs on his knees before you.
Youâve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.
Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until heâs on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin, watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.
âď¸âď¸âď¸âď¸
Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury.Â
âWhat happens now, Hoseok?â
You ask the question after heâs made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. âI donât know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.â
You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.
âYou told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?â
âI did,â Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. âIf itâs within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.â
âThank you,â you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. âThank you.â
âď¸âď¸âď¸âď¸
You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.
You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It wonât be long before youâre sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.
Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.âOh, hush you,â she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. âI wasnât that loud.â
But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration.Â
âThatâs a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,â she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. âThough at the rate youâre going, Iâll never get to hold him, will I? Youâve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. Youâre going to make that boy rotten.â
You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your sonâs crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought youâd never know.Â
âď¸âď¸âď¸âď¸

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask đ

when you get tired from this world come and fall in my arms




vcam ep.127 (4/?)






Imagine coming home to this



#me



AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
No one can write like this girl!!!!
As a Hongjoong bias my genuine reaction was something like this...

Indulgence - Yandere!Fallen Angel!Hongjoong

Yandere AU & Fallen Angel AU - First Person POV
Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue
Pairing:Â Hongjoong X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader
Words: 2,038
Warnings:Â Religious themes and imagery, the typical angel/demon bs, heavy sexual themes: masturbation, voyerism. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.
A/n: Ngl, this was way darker in my head lmaooo. Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~
The Twelfth of The Feral Drabbles
Really? Broad daylight? You certainly are a wild one, arenât you? Maybe thatâs why I love you so much.
You know, it hasnât been easy since the fall, but you have truly made the pain I first experienced worthwhile. Iâll even let you in on a little secretâŚ
I fell because of you.
You: youâre captivating, did you know that? Iâm not easily impressed, but thereâs just something about you that drew me in from the very first moment I laid my eyes upon you. One of His creations that puts even the most beautiful of us to shame. You should be protected, and kept away from those unworthy to gaze upon you.
After all, Iâve always been taught: nothing less for the best!
I will keep you safe. I will worship you like you clearly deserve. You need me, just as I need you. After all, I no longer have to worry about those stupid morals or duties down here. Only you.
From my experience, humans tend to⌠indulge in their more primal desires at night, but you? Anyone could look into your room right now and see what it is that youâre doing. Really, youâre lucky Iâm here to make sure that that doesnât happen. No one else can see the way your hands trace over such delicate curves. No one else deserves to watch as your chest stutters with every hitch in your breath.
I only wish it were me in that room making you breathless instead.
One of the various reasons I fell, My Beloved, was due to my desire for you. You make it increasingly hard to control myself around you, not that Iâve ever seemed to have any sense of control around you to begin with. Iâve long since ached to feel your touch on me, to know what those hands feel like tugging on my hair, cupping my face so tenderly, and maybe even squeezing my assâŚ
Well, you get the point.
I want you, and I will do everything in my power - or rather, with the power that still remains inside of me - to make you mine.
Iâve truly never given much thought to indulgences before- no, wait, thatâs a lie. I promised myself I would stop lying to you. You deserve my truth, and only my truth. Youâre the only one that does. Everyone else can go visit Uncle Luci downstairs for all I care. You are the only one who matters to me now.
Anyways, I digress⌠Indulgence. What a strange word. To even so much as imply that basic wants and necessities are something to indulge in is completely abhorrent. Every personâs needs - angels, demons, humans - are different, and to act like an indulgence for one is completely natural for another defeats the purpose.
My brothers down below revel in the more sinister indulgences, while those stupid, âholier-than-thouâ chickens I once belonged to would shun them, even though the majority of us would do the same damn things. Isnât it interesting, Beloved, that one is revered while the other is feared? What makes demons worse than angels for doing the same, horrific things?
Ah, but enough about my family trauma⌠Let me now focus on you.
Oh, I suppose in my tangent, I zoned out for a little there. Youâve certainly been busy in that time, not that Iâm complaining.Â
No. Never. I could never fault you for anything.
Unless you tried to run from me. Or you decided to fall in love with another. Or you wanted to leave me.
Okay, so just donât do anything bad, and weâll live- what do you humans like to call it again? Oh, âHappily Ever After.â
Really, Iâm just lucky that you decided to move out to the countryside. You donât have many neighbours, but really, Beloved, you never know what kind of monsters can be lurking in the shadows. Fear not, for I am here to watch over you. Always.
And gaze upon you, I doâŚÂ
Such beautyâŚ
Such marvellous wonderâŚ
Look at how those beautiful thighs part, practically begging for me to be between them right this very moment. Look at the way your legs tremble, and youâve still yet to touch that gorgeous cunt of yours.
Itâs a shame really. I should be the one giving you such sweet release. You shouldnât have to do this on your own.
No! Donât cover your mouth with your hand! Let me hear you!
Oh my⌠That was close⌠I almost smashed my hand through your window, Beloved. Do you see what you do to me? I told you I can hardly control myself around you, but you canât blame me. You just have such a strong affect on meâŚ
Such a perfect scene spread out before me, and you want to taint it by muffling your sounds? What am I supposed to do with myself if I canât hear what you sound like whimpering and whining for me? How is that fair?
I want to know everything about you. I want to consume you in the best of ways, just as you have enraptured me with your very soul. Let it shine beside my own, a brilliant white to contrast my now scorched wings. Wings that now brand me as a Fallen with their blackened feathers.
Black feathers are meant to be a sign of shame amongst my kind, but all I can feel is pride. You have given me hope for a new life, and I would fall all over again if it meant spending even one second with you.
I love you, My Beloved, and nothing will ever change that.
So, please, wonât you open up to me?
Yes⌠Thatâs it, Beautiful, just like that. Cup those gorgeous breasts for me. Imagine that those are my hands holding you so. Feel my fingers pinching your nipples, my tongue flicking against your skin.
How I long for the day where I can finally touch you. I want to be able to bring you to new heights, and show you pleasures that youâve never even dreamed about. You should be taken care of with the utmost attention, and I promise you that that is what Iâll do. Iâll take my time worshipping every dip, every curve of that wondrous body of yours. Iâll make you sigh my name like a prayer, nothing but the most intricate of praises delegated unto you from my lips.
Fuck- spread those legs for me. Let me see all of you in your glory. Let me discover my own personal heaven on earth in you.
My Beloved⌠is this all for me? Is the way your essence drips out of you because you long for this, too? It must be. Thereâs no other that could make you this wet, no other that could have you trembling just from the mere thought of them and what they could do to you.
Iâm glad to know Iâm not the only one able to affect the other like thisâŚ
Oh, Beloved, you really are putting on a show just for me! Itâs like you can read my mind!
Perhaps⌠No. I shouldnât be so bold.
Then again, after everything thatâs happened, why shouldnât I be? I have long since submitted to the fact that I am yours, and you are mine. Thereâs no doubt about it, not when I feel this strongly for you.
I must get closer, this glass separating me from you is burdensome. I need to see you, unobstructed. I need to be able to hear your every sound, unfiltered.
I suppose I should be grateful for my wings now, the black blends right in to the shadows my brothers downstairs revel above all else. Iâll admit, Iâm not quite used to hiding in corners. We angels typical love standing out, but for now, Iâll lie in wait. Itâs much better for the both of us this way. Besides, you wouldnât be able to see me even if you tried.
Oh, Beloved, look at you⌠How the mere sight of you, hand teasing at that gorgeous pussy, nearly brings me to my knees. The way your lips are parted as little breaths escape you while your eyes flutter shut and your nose scrunches is the most captivating sight I have ever had the pleasure to behold.
My only wish is that you could see the effect you have on me. Like you, my whole body is heating. My hands tremble, and my legs shake. Hell, even my wings cannot help but flutter in anticipation as I sneak my own hand down the front of my body. Iâll allow myself the pleasure of touching myself in time with you. Iâve only ever dreamed about it a countless amount of times before, anyways.
Dearly Beloved, wonât you give in to yourself? Give in to any and every desire youâre currently thinking about.
Touch yourself for meâŚ
Thatâs it, Beloved, let me hear the wet drag of your fingers through that dripping cunt. I want to drown in your pleasure with you, donât hold back.
Now I see why you covered your hand with your mouthâŚ
It truly is hard to keep quiet when thereâs such a temptation spread out before oneself. You are the greatest temptation I have ever known, and if I didnât stifle my moan just now, you would have know that someone else is in the room with you. Well, we canât have that, now, can we? Youâd get scared and stop what youâre doing, and I wouldnât be able to comfort you when you needed me most.
Fuck- there is no sound more holy than the breathless way you whine from such a simple touch.
Does that feel good, My Beloved? Are your fingers enough, circling over that delicate little clit of yours? Wouldnât you rather feel mine? What about my tongue? Youâd let me have a taste of that intoxicating nectar that flows from your pretty cunt, right? Youâd let me get lost in you for however long Iâd like? Iâll always give you everything you could ever want, My Beloved. My fingers, my tongue, my cock. Everything.
All that I am, is yours, Beloved. I hope when the time comes, you can say the same for me.
Oh, Beloved⌠do you know how fucking sexy you are when you moan like that? Do you know how it makes my heart stutter to hear you get lost to your own pleasure; how my cock aches for you? You must, otherwise you wouldnât be tempting me like this.
Iâm honestly embarrassed by how close I am already. Iâll have to work on that if we are to make love all night long when the time comes. And it will. I will make damn sure of it.
For now, why donât you come for me? Rub that little clit, and come for me. Donât hold back now, I want to see you. In all of your raw glory.
Yes, yes, yes, thatâs it! Donât stop now, Beloved. Let me hear you scream for me!
Fuck- I can practically taste you on my tongue already⌠look at that gorgeous pussy, just fucking fluttering in bliss.Â
So beautiful, and all mine.
Wait a second⌠I taste⌠blood.
Oh, I suppose I bit into my hand to keep myself quiet while I came with you. No worries, Iâll heal in the blink of an eye. Getting to see you come apart like that for me, though⌠priceless.
I wish I could stay, but I think one of my wings knocked into one of your picture frames on the wall, and I think you heard it despite the blissful haze that still clouds your mind. The last thing I want is to get caught like this. Itâs not proper of me.
Really, what would you think?
I hope you didnât catch that soft giggle of mine as I left your room, My Beloved, and I certainly hope you donât discover any of my feathers I may or may not have left behind for you. If thatâs that case, and you finally learn of my existence, my devotion to you⌠well, whatever on earth would I do?
Shout-out to fan-fiction writers who donât or canât write the 50k fan-fictions, because of a lack of focus or motivation, or mental illness.
Shout-out to fan-fiction writers who donât or canât write smut, but are still lumped into a group that is almost expected to write smut.Â
Shout-out to fan-fiction writers who canât update chapters frequently for maybe a multitude of reasons, and get messages daily from people asking for âtheirâ new chapter.Â
Shout-out to fan-fiction writers who arenât big name fans and hardly get ten kudos or one comment on their fan-fictions.Â
Shout-out to fan-fiction writers who stay up all night editing and rewriting and donât get much attention on their work no matter how much they feel like they promote their writing.
Shout-out to fan-fiction writers who donât write a lot and are constantly asked to write more but canât for whatever valid reason they have.Â
Shout-out to fan-fiction writers who have the courage to post their writing online and only have it publicly made fun of for grammar or poor characterization.Â
Shout-out to fan-fiction writers for writing their fan-fiction, posting it online, and continuing to do it no matter how much or little attention they get, and constantly improving as a writer with every upload.
You all rock.



Joonâs letter from 2021, 2022 and 2023




Q - Roar (230304)

SHE DID IT AGAIN đ đ
If you like mythology, yandere themes and Lee Know, FEAST ON THIS!!!!!!
Victory - Yandere!Demigod!Minho

Yandere AU & Demigod AU - First Person POV
Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue
Pairing:Â Minho X Implied Chubby!Reader
Words: 1,848
Warnings:Â Implied murder, nudity, and dirty thoughts. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.
A/n: So, he's supposed to be the son of Nike, the Greek Goddess of victory in this. I really like how this one turned out, ngl, it's just the right amount of unhinged and feral in my mind, so I hope you'll agree! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~
The Sixth of The Feral Drabbles
Last night still feels so surreal, like a dream come true.
Of all the trophies I have won, of all the hardships and trials I have been put up against, none are as valuable as you. Yet, you are not another conquest. You are my forever.
The euphoric taste of victory has never been sweeter, and I will revel in it for as long as I possibly can. As long as it wasnât all a dream, and that when I open my eyes, you are still sleeping soundly beside me in all of your naked glory.
Thank the Gods, it was real. It was all real.
There you lay, as still as the moon in the night sky.
So peaceful.Â
So beautiful.Â
And all mine.
Iâll admit, getting this far has been no easy feat. Tartarus below, getting you to even look in my direction had been a challenge. A challenge that I had been more than willing to win.
For me, there is no one else. Only you.Â
All the others that demand my attention are so superficial, only seeing what they want to see. They only desire the Goddessâ son for what he can offer them, never for who I really am. They want the victories associated with my name. They want the fame and fortune I have worked so hard to gather.Â
But not you. No, never you.
Long have you ignored me. Long have you expressed your desire, or rather, lack there of, of what I can offer you. You never cared about titles. You never cared about trophies, fame, fortune, or any of that shit. Who I am, or rather, who my mother is never caught your attention. In fact, you couldnât have cared less about me before.
I wonât lie to you. It annoyed me.
It- it- hurtâŚ
Sure, everyone who usually demands my attention is superficial and annoying. Yet, I cannot help but live for their praise. Attention is still attention, according to my mother, so Iâve always thrived in it. I always love it.
Maybe thatâs what drew me to you in the first place: the fact that you seemingly didnât care.
Why didnât you? Hadnât you heard of me? The famed Nikeâs son who singlehandedly defeated the hydra beast when he was only seventeen? How about the countless olympic victories Iâve garnered through the years, numerous statues being erected in honour of my strength and valued deeds? Surely you had heard my name before, even if just a whisper on the wind.
Well, you had, but you didnât care. You didnât care that I was born of the Gods. You didnât care that I have valour or strength.Â
You donât even care about how attractive I am. Though, thanks to last night, I know now that you find me to be the most handsome of all.
Definitely doesnât stroke my ego, or anythingâŚ
I can still remember how shy you became once you admitted to it. Honestly, I donât think Iâve experienced something more euphoric in my entire life, or cuter for that matter. Knowing I have this effect on you is unlike any other, and I never want it to stop, and if I have my way, it never will.
We will be together for all eternity. Iâll make sure of it.
Anyways, I digress⌠finally, for the first time, I had found someone who wanted to get to know me for me, and not my conquests. All of my attempts to impress you through my grandiose accomplishments meant nothing. Itâs the little things that truly mattered to you, like me helping that baker the one day when he broke his arm, or protecting that little girl from straying into one of the hidden labyrinth entrances. That is what seemed to make you notice me.
Iâll admit, for a time, I purposely did any and every little thing to make you look my way. It was worth it in the end, obviously. Otherwise, you wouldnât be laying here with me in my bed after the night we had.
Oh, what a night it was! Even now, I cannot help the way my eyes flutter at the memories that consume my mind. You are so sweet, My Love, that I desperately long for another taste. For now, Iâll leave you to sleep. After all, youâll need your rest if we are to continue on today just as we did last night.
I wonât lie to you, My Love, getting to love you, to cherish you and please you, is the greatest honour that anyone, living or dead, could ever bestow upon me. There is no higher pleasure I have ever felt in my entire life than the feeling of being locked between your legs. Your skin is softer than any finery the Gods could ever craft. Your voice is the sweetest song composed of melodies meant only for me. Not even Aphrodite herself could compete with your beauty, nor Thanatos tear you away from me in death. I would crawl through the River Styx and rain my terror upon Hades were he to even attempt to keep your departed soul away from me.
Nothing could keep me away from you. I love you.
I never thought I was capable of love, other than the desperate acceptance I sought through my many victories. I wanted to be loved, not be in love.
You changed that. You changed me.
Now, there is not a single thing that I donât love about you. There is nothing I would change. From the way you smile at me, only for me, to the way you sigh my name so sweetly. To the way you comb your fingers through my hair after a long day, to the way you hug me so tightly when youâre seeking warmth. Your laugh, which is the most melodic symphony I have had the pleasure of hearing, other than your moans, of course. Your eyes, your nose, your bodyâŚI love it all.
I canât fight it any longer, My Love, I need to hold you in my arms once more.
There. Thatâs better.
Just the way your body moulds against mine is perfect. We were made for each other, wouldnât you agree? Besides, no one else can have you. No mere mortal could ever please you in the same ways I have. Not anymore.
You are mine, and I am yours.
My lips will forever burn searing kisses along your skin, singing your praise as long as I still draw breath. I will spend all of eternity composing poems of my deepest love for you, and you alone. Only you shall have the honour of hearing what your name sounds like falling from my lips, for only you are worthy.Â
Worthy of my love.Â
Worthy of my affection.Â
More than all of that, worthy of me.
My hands shall grace no otherâs skin, lest it is in defence of your honour. Then, I will never be afraid to reign my terror over them. My strength is unmatched, and I donât know if youâve noticed, My Love, but when I set my sights on something, I do not stop until I have achieved my deepest desires.
My deepest desiresâŚ
You know, I never thought anyone would be able to understand me the way you do. How you can make me fall apart so easily - from just a single glance - escapes me. I have never experienced a love like this, and I hope to every God on Olympus that you havenât, either.
I want to drown you in my love until all that you know, all that you can speak of, is me. I will surround you in me until you no longer can tell where you end and I begin. We are meant to be one, in this life, and the next, and all of the rest after that. Iâll make sure of it.
You are my greatest victory, and I will make sure to be your only prize.Â
Let the others say what they want, they donât matter. Theyâre just jealous, anyways. However, if I hear even one of them so much as speak one negative or malicious word against you⌠I will not hesitate to rip their tongue from their mouth and feed it to the minotaur. Maybe Iâll just gift you their heart on a golden platter instead. Offer it in placement of my own. Mine only beats for you, anyways.
Do you feel it? Itâs thundering right now. Iâm surprised the intensity doesnât wake you from your slumber. Not even my wandering hands seem to affect you at all right now.
Thatâs okay, I was pretty intense last night.
You canât blame me, My Love. I finally had the honour of making love to the woman who owns my very soul.
I can still feel the way my fingertips sunk into your flesh, grabbing onto anything and everything I could reach, just as they do right now. Of course, Iâm much gentler for the moment than I was last night. I couldnât help it, I just had to pull you as close as possible to me. I wanted to feel every inch of your body pressed against my own. Iâve been longing for your touch for too long.
Youâre additive, did you know that? There is no finer wine, no sweeter ambrosia than the nectar that flows from between those luscious thighs of yours. Seriously, My Love, I could get drunk on you, and I wish you had let me last night. My tongue longs to be back between your legs, lapping up every last drop that flows from that precious cunt of yours. I need my lips on you, bringing you to ecstasy again, and again, and again.
Pull my hair. Scratch my back. Moan my name. Scream your love for me, and say youâre mine.
Do it all over again until you are satisfied, because I fear I will never be able to get enough of you. I will claim you over, and over, and over again until I am satisfied, and Darling, when it comes to you, Iâm insatiable.
Donât think I havenât notice how you keen into my touch when my arms are around you, pulling your body flush against mine. Donât think I do not remember the way you begged for more as my cock buried itself in your tight little cunt. And donât you think for one second I will ever forget the way I made you scream my name as you came for me.
I did that to you. I will continue doing that to you. Forevermore.
I will only ever be satisfied knowing that I have pleased My Goddess to the fullest extent. You will only know joy, you will only know happiness and love when youâre with me. My pleasure is your pleasure, and I hope that you can say the same for me.Â
For if notâŚ
WellâŚ
Letâs just say you donât want this to be the start of another competition.Â
After all, I always win.