Can't Even Put Into Words How Absolutely Desperate I Am To Start Reading Thiss

can't even put into words how absolutely desperate I am to start reading thiss

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [teaser 2]

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.

FIC WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping. this series is very dark, if you're uncomfortable with the subjects listed do not read. warnings will change but be listed in each chapter. there is no tag list for this series.

“I would follow you everywhere; until your steps become my own, until your breaths mingle with mine. There is no where you will go that will be where I am not. It is all but that simple.” He cradles your face in his hands, thumbs rubbing against the skin. “That is all I need, and it is all you’ve wanted. We will no longer be separated; you won’t be left alone.”

The more he trails on, the more fear begins to circulate your veins. He does not seem to notice it, so he continues. “Soobin is no longer an issue since he’s gone. You’re free to desire whomever you want without him holding you back.”

“He was my boyfriend, Joong,” your brows furrow. “He’s the reason I’m even in this town in the first place. Why would he be holding me back? I love him.”

You don’t see the way his mouth twitches at the word love. What you do see, though, is the way his eyes narrow. “He’s gone.”

“Love doesn’t just disappear when I no longer see him.”

“Then how will it? Must he come to you and say he hates you? Will he have to attempt to hurt you for it to go away? Why do humans continue to love someone who’s left them? Why can’t you let him go?”

What else does he have to do? Should he have manipulated the human’s mind before he killed him? Made him break your heart?

You stare at Hongjoong as he loses himself in his thoughts. You’ve believed in inherent goodness, but there’s always been this underlying fear of them, just for the nature of them being Unseelies alone. Knowing that despite all of what they say, it’s something they can’t change. It’s something you’ve settled with. But hearing his words, the way his eyes shake as he looks at you – something tells you that he’s off. That despite their comfort and sympathy, they know what happened to Soobin.

An even smaller part of you believes that they’ve done something to him.

“It’s hard to,” you explain, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve known him since we were children, and even if I didn’t love him in the romantic sense, I do love him as a friend. It hurts to just lose a friendship like that.”

"If I killed him, would you forget him?"

You still. His touch is ever so delicate as he waits for your response. Eyes warm, blinking slowly. It's as if he didn't just say he'd do something so heinous, so unthinkable.

A weak "What?" Is all you can respond with.

He leans closer to you, barely a breath away from your lips. His eyes flick over your face before landing back on your eyes. "If I killed your weak, miserable, incompetent, lackluster ex-partner, will you forget him then? Will you mourn his loss, then come into my arms? Will you love me as you love him?"

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[5] game of thrones-inspired au + prince hongjoong + "we both know you have gone far beyond that point."

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

a/n: 6/6 - 15k, i added another part because i cannot stand how much i need to scroll on this to edit so i've split it up accordingly - i know i'm sooo sorry for the delay. this fic WILL be done by the end of this year. setting-typical violence/executions, abusive dynamics, power dynamics, cheating, implied victim blaming (from y/n :/), this part is very word/dialogue-heavy rather than action-oriented but y/n is a rookie player in the games unfortunately.

-

you wake to an empty bed. you should not have expected anything more, yet your heart stilled in your chest as your fingers brushed through the empty space.

you'd done it to keep hongjoong from straying too far. that was what you told yourself as you lied spread on the too-big bed, gaze fixed on the ceiling tiles. that's what you told yourself to calm the tightness in your chest, and the soreness of your limbs, and the racing thoughts. that was what -

"you are awake."

you'd startled at hongjoong's voice. it was rough around the edges from sleep. you sat up, eyes fixed on hongjoong. he leaned against the door to the washroom, dressed in his robes for the day.

you drew the sheets closer, and you said, "you are still here."

a furrow formed between hongjoong's brows. he said, "i am called to court, but i did not think you would appreciate waking to an empty bed."

"no, i suppose i would not have." you could not fathom that hongjoong was capable of...thoughtfulness. yeosang had said as much, but who were you to believe him.

hongjoong laughed, and the sound burrowed right in your chest. you needed a bath.

"i drew you a bath," hongjoong said, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to the bed as he gestured to the bathing chambers. "i dismissed the servants, so as not to wake you, but i wanted to see you off before my appointments. i hope..."

you watched him falter over his words. hongjoong has never faltered. seeing him this way, somehow it was more intimate than the night before. somehow, his softness clawed at your chest. he was capable of it, you now knew, but you wondered, briefly, if it would be conditional. you knew you would always be cursed to wonder such a thing.

hongjoong cleared his throat, "i hope you will join me for lunch?"

you should have said no, but you'd long abandoned the should-haves.

you said, "i will."

hongjoong's smile was a sweet thing as he nodded in sheer satisfaction.

he left, and you slipped from the bed and into the empty bathing chambers. steam billowed from the bathtub, but you saw clearly that hongjoong had hung your robes - kim black and red - in plain view. it had been many moons since you wore your house's red and orange, yet the sight of kim red and black felt...final.

you sunk into the searing bathwater, sighing at the relief to your aching muscles, and you sunk until you could barely breathe with the steam and oils wafting around you. you tucked your knees close, and the heat reminded you of summer days in sunspear. of your brothers and your home and dorne red and orange. of the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the merchants shouting on every corner, and the giggles as you and wooyoung would weave through the crowds while yunho followed quickly behind - never so reckless, so undignified, as the two of you even when he was young. the reminders, however, were as hazy as the steam around you. and when you opened your eyes, the black and red robes were clear as day.

you could not find it in you to despise the colors as you once would have.

you told yourself you laid with hongjoong so he would not stray, but your heart was the one straying. your memories were the ones turning hazy and distant. cold even, you could dare say. in the haze of memories and steam, alone in a too-big room, you could admit that you might like hongjoong. more than you should have.

the thought made your eyes water. hongjoong gave you a crumb of decency and the touch you've craved since you stepped foot off your father's boat, and now you were fond of him? were you truly so easily pliable? were you truly so lonely? would you abandon your dornish roots so easily? your resolve?

you sighed as you sunk further into the lukewarm bath, eyes fixed on the red and black robes, and you resolved that even if you were any of those things, hongjoong would never know it.

you ignored the small voice in your head that whispered that he already did know.

~.~.~.~.~

should have, should have, should have.

you entered the dining hall with your stomach in knots, nerves settling there you had never felt before. you chalked it up to hunger.

hongjoong sat at the head of the table, his white-blond hair gathered into a messy bun, his robes loosened, his sleeves rolled up, his elbow propped up against the table as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand. he was enraptured in the person next to him.

park seonghwa.

you should have known.

should have, should have, should have.

park seonghwa sat to his left, and choi jongho to his right. san sat next to jongho, yeosang across from him. mingi sat rigid next to san. the only spot left was next to yeosang, across from mingi, and in full view of hongjoong at the head of the table as he leaned close to hear seonghwa speak.

your heart clenched, in worry and spite and the slightest hint of anger, towards who you were unsure. but you decided right then you were in fact only hungry. the knots were born of hunger. not nerves, never nerves, and certainly not for a kim. never for hongjoong, no no no -

hongjoong raised his eyes as the servants announced your presence. jongho and san, yeosang and mingi, park seonghwa, they all stood as you made your way to the empty seat. it was a show respect you were still not quite used to. hongjoong, however, remained seated, his head tilted to the side like a cat as he watched you take a seat. a sly grin tugged at the corner of his lips, his fingertips thrumming on the arm of his chair.

the small gesture left a burning ache in the pit of your stomach.

you should not have expected anything more.

should have, should not have, should have, should not have.

park seonghwa was seated to hongjoong's left, and as soon as the conversation returned, hongjoong's attention seemed to return to the pretty man next to him. park seonghwa in his dark cloak, and his dark hair, and a coldness about him that reminded you of everything you were not.

you should not have paid him mind.

yet, here you were.

jongho spoke of his uneventful visit, collecting taxes on behalf of hongjoong and the crown. he mentioned that he'd spent most of his time in king's landing recovering from his long journey. you'd frowned, glancing sideways at san. san met your gaze - a surprise since he did not do so often - and his brows were furrowed, his eyes almost...pitiful.

it sparked something inside you. you did not wish to be pitied. no, no, no.

your eyes flickered to hongjoong. his grin was a wide thing, his head too close to park seonghwa's. hongjoong's chin rested on his ring-adorned fingers, and his smirk lifted at whatever seonghwa murmured his way. seonghwa's dark eyes glittered like still water under moonlight, and that spark only grew.

your gaze flit between his friends. from jongho speaking to mingi and san. to yeosang inserting commentary here and there. every now and then someone would laugh. park seonghwa would snicker. jongho would shove at mingi's shoulder, his armor clattering, frowning ever-so-often in seonghwa and hongjoong's direction. yeosang would make a pointed remark, and san would raise a brow in utter amusement. hongjoong would watch them whenever his attention was pulled away from park seonghwa, and the adoration in his eyes - you'd never seen that before. not even the night before, when he'd cupped your face in his palms.

there was a fire in the pit of your stomach that had been lit many many many moons ago. a monster that lived there that you coaxed all those sleepless nights and restless mornings. it reared its head, roared something wicked, and the heaviness in your heart only grew tenfold. here you sat, adorned in red and black, knowing you'd given hongjoong what he wanted, perhaps in desperation or perhaps for other reasons, and you'd allowed yourself to become something you never wanted to be, only to sit at the head of the table as an outsider still. always made to remain a stranger peering on.

~.~.~.~.~

in the courtyard, you found park seonghwa.

you knew you'd find him there, as he had told hongjoong as much, whispered it sweetly, his eyes glittering, and waved everyone off before striding out the dining hall. when hongjoong dismissed everyone else, you'd merely bowed at hongjoong. he smiled at you, and the smile was a soft thing, kind almost, as he touched your arm.

"i shall see you for supper."

it felt more like a demand than anything.

but he left before you could respond, a flourish of robes and blond hair, beckoning for jongho and san to join his side, yeosang and mingi in tow as they reassumed their positions as kingsguard. you were left alone once more, watching them go.

you meant to return to your chambers, or go to the library.

instead, you'd headed to the courtyard.

park seonghwa sat on the very same bench you and san had your last tearful moments, and the memory only fed the growing beast that lived within you.

even under the sweltering sun of king's landing, seonghwa remained unwavering, cold. pretty. you understood then, why hongjoong wanted such a creature. you always knew he had an affinity for the unattainable. you'd feared for seonghwa, when you first caught hongjoong's distraction. you still feared for him. despite everything. you feared for what hongjoong meant to do with someone who looked so delicate, but, you feared what would become of you more.

that fear, you knew, would make you wicked, and to think after all these years, you'd fell to that fear at long last.

you did not fear the gods, or death, or the prince of the seven kingdoms. you feared what was to become of you. you feared that you would be damned to the same fate as the mad king's queen. you feared you liked someone who cared for another, and you would be punished for it. you feared you would become worse than you already were.

you feared the power park seonghwa could one day hold over your head, like a guillotine.

"surely my liege would like to take a seat?" seonghwa voice was soft, gentle almost, but his dark eyes flit to you, unyielding unlike his demeanor.

the beast at the pit of your stomach thrashed.

you stepped away from the shadows of the flower bushes, but you did not take a seat. you merely stood an arm's length from the bench, your gaze set upon seonghwa. he tilted his head up to peer at you, pieces of his dark hair obscured his sparkling eyes. he looked at you with a curiosity you could only compare to that of a toddler catching sight of the mundane parts of the world for the first time. pretty eyes that could capture anyone.

you were not jealous, but you were the future sovereign of the seven kingdoms. you would be delegated to nothing else, and you would be damned if you allowed park seonghwa to be the one to yield any power over you. if anyone were to condemn you to your death, it would be prince hongjoong or yourself. not this pretty, naive, foolish northerner.

"'liege'?" you frowned, repeating your old title. "surely you have not forgotten your place here, lord seonghwa?"

seonghwa's brows raised. you held his gaze. where you expected amusement, as you would have received in return from the likes of hongjoong or yeosang, you received a small nod as seonghwa rose to his feet, rounding the bench.

you held your gaze, feet planted, watched as he stood in front of you.

seonghwa bowed, and it was no half-bow made to mock you, no. it was full and respectful and honorable. you'd heard of the northern honor, even back in sunspear, but to face it in such circumstances? it boiled your blood in ways you could not articulate.

you watched as seonghwa straightened, holding your gaze all the while, and said, tone steady, respectful, "forgive me, your grace."

"have you?" you said, ignoring his apology, dropping all pretext. perhaps, you meant to intimidate the man, but you could tell he would not allow it. that fed the ugly beast inside you more than you'd cared to admit.

lord seonghwa's brows furrowed, "i do not understand, your grace?"

"have you forgotten your place?"

seonghwa's frown deepened, "i have no place here."

were you someone else, or truly a product of king's landing, you may have continued in this riddled conversation. but you could not.

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "do not insult me." you said, "i am not a fool, and i should hope that neither are you. we both know why i am here, so let's push pleasantries and riddles aside."

seonghwa stared at you, an intense look that seemed to bore straight through you.

"and here i believed you did not care much for him," seonghwa's voice was musical, despite his words.

"i don't care for anyone," you said through clenched teeth, "but my place is at hongjoong's side. you must be out of your mind if you ever believed i would not care about that."

"and i said i have no place here," seonghwa said, "winterfell is my home."

"yet you are here," you stepped towards him, lowering your voice, "you let him into your bed."

"do you think i could have denied him?" seonghwa's words were quick. he gritted his teeth, "that i could ever deny a prince?"

that brought you pause.

seonghwa's eyes held something there, something you'd seen in your own reflection after you'd met with the king that first night. something you'd seen in your own reflection in steaming bathwater just this morning. it was a look that curled under your skin, that would not leave you. it would live with you, you knew, if you did not acknowledge it, understand it.

your heart ached for him, the way it had when you'd seen hongjoong first lay eyes on seonghwa. the way it had when hongjoong told you of the first time he used his dragon's fire on a little girl who had suffered at the hands of his father.

but you played the game for too long in this godsforsakened city to let yourself falter, despite the tightness in your chest, despite every bit of your conscience clawing at you to withdraw, to hold space for empathy. you bit out, "yes, you could have. he only beds willing participants, does he not?"

you would never forget his face then as he nodded at your question.

lord seonghwa's dark eyes flashed under the midday sun. cold steel against starless night sky. "i often wondered what you were like. hongjoong spoke of you sometimes...afterwards. your fury and your beauty. your sharp tongue." he said, "he spoke highly of you."

"you don't think i deserve it?" you asked, with another roll of your eyes.

"no, i do. i think you deserve him," seonghwa spoke each syllable with the precision of a blade against flesh. "you were made for each other."

the beast inside you roared. whether it was in glee or anger you had no clue.

you crossed your arms over your chest and said, "forget your place again, and i shall have you thrown in the dragon's pit. then, " you stepped closer, until you were mere inches from seonghwa's face, "i will have your ravaged body hung from the walls of king's landing for all to see. do you understand?"

"of course," seonghwa bowed his head, though his dark eyes remained narrowed. his pause was too long, your title venomous, "your grace."

you spun on your heels, marching away.

mingi stood at the entrance to the garden, straightening when he met your gaze. his eyes softened. he looked as at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you did was tear it down. all you did was allow seonghwa to haunt you, despite everything. your heart slammed against your ribs.

seonghwa was right, and that was the worst part. you were made for each other, you and hongjoong, and you did not know if you'd be able to reconcile with the fact no matter how long you lived.

~.~.~.~.~

father is ill. wooyoung believes it to be poison. y/n, i think this it. i don't think he'll recover from this.

you watched the letter crumble and curl into itself in the fire, your heart in your throat.

mingi cleared his throat.

you turned, and he fiddled with his fingers for a moment, before he stepped closer. his armor clinked lightly in the quiet library.

"is it bad news?" his deep voice was quiet. too kind for what you've been doing to him.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, merely nodding. mingi reached then, and you could catch every moment of hesitation in his movements. every emotion that fought for a place in his expression. he reached out and he placed a hand on your cheek. you froze.

not out of want or fear, but because it was clear as day from the way his gaze remained so soft, and his touch softer, from the grim set of his lips, that mingi did not just have a small liking for you. he adored you. and he was willing to touch you, despite your standing, despite his friendship with hongjoong, and you'd encouraged it for your own gain, and it has accumulated into this moment, and you should have stopped him in his tracks.

but yunho's jagged writing remained etched at the forefront of your thoughts. your father was dying, yunho would no doubt take his place, the change of hand would mean instability, and you did not know how the mad king would respond. you needed this still. you needed mingi's loyalty still, despite the means. you needed mingi to remain useful to you.

you closed your eyes when he fully pressed his warm, calloused palm to your cheek, allowing yourself to melt into his touch long enough to hear his breath stutter.

mingi said, face flushed, "i am sorry, y/n."

before you could respond, someone cleared their throat.

you both jumped apart.

maester haechan stood at the foot of the first row of bookshelves, fingers clutched around his maester chains, his eyes wide. the shock quickly morphed into a mischievous glint.

"your grace," he said, voice low and steady, mocking. even his bow held a mocking flourish. maester haechan smiled wide, "i apologize for the interruption. i will return later."

mingi blinked. your heart raced.

~.~.~.~.~

"oh sweet thing," yeosang met your gaze with a cat-like curiosity. "you are quite the mess."

you'd glared at him. his eyes flit to your hands, likely to the skin around your nails you'd picked at. you dropped them to your sides, covering them with your robes.

you were sat in the practice yard, wooden sword in your lap. you had come here to clear your mind with mindless sword swinging and fresh air, but this was king's landing. fresh air never existed, and you were terrible at the sword. you ended up pacing the training grounds before your feet had grown weary and you sat with your back against the brick wall at the far side of the grounds. when hidden from the courtyard doors and windows like this, you felt less confined by the red keep. you could also hide from your septa as she had made it quite clear to you that you were not meant to practice the sword any longer, as the spouse to the heir, and you did not care to hear her nag you on top of everything else.

yeosang was your designated kingsguard today, and you were grateful, despite the way yeosang's gaze bore into you, that yeosang before you meant you would not have to see mingi. yeosang remained quiet as you smacked at the training post with uncoordinated blows before you began pacing. you'd expected a sly comment, but he only stood guard and left you in silence, though his eyes remained fixed on your every movement.

it was infinitely better than having to face mingi. you hadn't seen mingi since the incident in the library. hongjoong had spent the night elsewhere, and you'd buried away the jealous monster inside you for the night. it was subdued anyway, worried more for what maester haechan would say, and, more importantly, to whom. worried hongjoong stayed away because he knew. your mind wandered too often to the essence of nightshade you still carried. it remained in the deepest crevices of your chambers, where you knew hongjoong, the servants, no one really, would bother to look. you'd considered inviting maester haechan for a civil discussion and pouring the essence into his wine. you'd dreamt of what it would look like. maester haechan's choked sounds. his lifeless eyes. the way you'd call for the royal doctors, bewildered. you'd imagined it all, and had not slept that night because of it.

besides, maester haechan was no fool. he'd made sure to stay out of your sight ever since, busying himself in mundane tasks far from your chambers.

yeosang stood beside where you sat, leaning heavily against the brick wall you were pressed against. you glanced up at him, and he met your gaze, peering down at you over his nose, and you felt as if he could read every thought running through your head. he opened his mouth.

"shut up," you mumbled, cutting him off.

yeosang laughed, the sound a musical thing.

you scowled up at him, and you said, "do you enjoy watching me suffer, ser yeosang?"

"very much so, your grace," yeosang said.

you frowned. "why do you hate me so?"

"hate is a strong word," yeosang grinned, but it was not amused. his eyes no longer held his usual twinkle of mischief. his smile was a sharp thing, a weapon in and of itself, that left your stomach turning. "as a matter of fact, a more apt description for my opinion of you would be something just a step below hatred."

you'd blinked up at him, craning your neck, head resting on the brick wall. yeosang was framed by the cloudy skies of king's landing, an apt backdrop for such a frightfully stoic sight. the hairs at the back of your neck stood at end in the silence. the atmosphere had taken a turn for something more serious. something almost sinister. frankly, you were taken aback by his honesty.

"i warned you, did i not?" yeosang spoke suddenly, and despite his quiet musical voice, and the casual stance he took, leaned heavily against the brick wall, his words draped over your shoulders like the fur cloaks from the north, heavy. the weight of the world. "to tie up your loose ends?"

you dragged a hand over your face. "i do not wish to hear you speak in pretty riddles any longer, kang. if you have something to say, then speak your mind. i am tired of your questions."

yeosang knelt then, the sudden movement making his armor clink and clang all around you. he squatted before you, his eyes level with yours, his elbows resting on his spread knees. yeosang's expression was cold and hard. his eyes grew dark. he looked...furious. you could not pinpoint why he would be. you were fascinated by the fury though - you'd never expected kang yeosang to show you such an emotion. he'd only come close once before, when you'd mentioned his mother on your name day long, long ago. his fury was genuine. alive. it was searing summer heat, and the burn of the sun against your scalp, your skin, and it was fascinating to face such a thing once more, after so long without it. especially from the likes of kang yeosang.

his musical voice remained low, pretty still, a juxtaposition to the way he set his unwavering fury upon you.

he spoke each word with a precision only a kang was capable of, "i know what you've done to mingi."

you'd blinked at him, breaking away from his heavy gaze. you started, "i do not -"

"look at me."

you'd whipped your head to the side, stomach curling at his commanding tone, bewildered by his audacity. anger sprung to the forefront of your mind, "excuse me?"

yeosang leaned close, and his gaze flit down your face for a moment, lingering here and there, on your eyes, nose, lips, before he met your gaze once more with a more controlled fury. you hoped, for his sake, it was because he realized his mistake.

he said, "song mingi does not deserve to be used as pawn. this is something we've all agreed upon. me, hongjoong, san, even jongho. he is not a part of this, because he is kind, and he is better than the rest of us. i should have accounted for the fact that you'd spent the better part of your time bewitching mingi and playing him as you saw fit."

"i have done no such thing."

"oh," yeosang's breathy laugh was a warm whisper against your cheek, "you are a terrible liar."

the world stilled. he looked at you as if he was waiting for a denial, waiting for you to dig your grave deeper. confirm a thought that lingered in his expression, one you could not decipher. however, you knew it would not work. you knew as well as he did what you had done, and you knew you could not fool kang yeosang. you did not wish to, at the moment, for some reason.

"you said the same of me once." you whispered, "that you'd all agreed i was too sweet to be a player in your games."

before your wedding, yeosang had escorted you back to your chambers after meeting with the queen and said those exact words to you with a sly grin on his face. they held counsel and decided the fates of the wards of the red keep as they saw fit, it seemed, and the thought made your fingers curl into fists at your side.

you asked, "what changed?"

yeosang shrugged, his voice soft as velvet, yet sharp as a sword, "perhaps everyone realized they were wrong about you. you're not sweet. not with the way you've wrapped mingi around your pretty fingers."

you'd flushed at yeosang's pointed drawl. you did not deny it this time either. you said, "and you all haven't done the same?"

yeosang's eyes darkened, "we are not using him."

you held his gaze, but something inside you trembled as you said, "will you tell him, then?"

your voice sounded small, even to your own years, and you despised yourself for it. you wanted to remain nonchalant.

"mingi? or do you mean..." yeosang's eyes narrowed, "hongjoong?"

two people now, two possible culprits, possessed valuable information over your head. two people could speak to hongjoong. would he believe a lowly maester of a small library? perhaps not. but yeosang? kang yeosang? hongjoong would believe yeosang, and it was a terror-filled thought. you dread mingi knowing what you were doing to him, but somehow hongjoong discovering your plans was...worse.

yeosang let out a breathy laugh once more as he said, "i do not hate you that much, y/n."

you are reminded, once more, of how aware hongjoong's closest circle was of his temperament. yet they did nothing. they would always do nothing. they were the same as him, then, were they not?

yeosang sat fully on the ground then, no longer hovering over you, but your heart still slammed against your ribs as if he remained a looming presence. yeosang's armor clinked and scratched against the brick wall, and the sound echoed between you both.

"do you think he will...?" you trailed off, frowning. you did not know what hongjoong would do, frankly. he'd spoken so carefully to you, and held you as if you were the most delicate thing to ever grace this world, and he drew baths for you, and sometimes he pressed a hand to your elbow or your back when nerves crept up your spine at dinners with his father, sometimes he thread his fingers through yours in public appearances. sometimes, he drew baths for you before he left for his schedules. yet he still disappeared some evenings. he still ignored you at dinners. you still did not know how he would react.

you still did not know prince hongjoong.

"i am not sure," yeosang shook his head. "prince hongjoong cares deeply for mingi."

he cared deeply for everyone but you, it seemed. you pressed your palms to your eyes then, dragging your hair out of your face. you breathed, "i care for mingi too."

"oh, do you?" the sarcasm in his voice was rough.

"i never wanted to -" you met his gaze, truly meaning every word, "i don't want to hurt him."

yeosang's dark eyes flickered over your face, before he nodded to himself and stood, brushing the dirt from his pants and his armor. he sighed, "i think we both know you have gone far beyond that point, sweet thing."

~.~.~.~.~

you were shocked to see hongjoong sat on your bed, his shirt unbuttoned, and his neck craned, as he leaned back on his hands and stared up at the ceiling, his legs spread. his chest rose and fell at a slow rhythm. you could not help but watch, frozen at the entryway, as he rolled his head to the side and met your gaze, his blonde hair falling from his bun and into his eyes. his throat bobbed as his gaze fell upon you, his expression unreadable.

this was, you realized, the first time you'd both been alone with each other since that night. yes, he called his servants to draw baths for you and only left when you woke to tell you of the fact. yes, he pressed gentle touches to your back, your arm, throughout the day during royal engagements, but neither of you had truly spoken to each other.

he'd either spend the night elsewhere, or he'd enter your chambers late at night smelling of alcohol and incense and someone else as he used to, and you'd both pretend to sleep so as not to speak to the other.

"what are you doing?" you spoke, stepping fully into your chambers. your voice rang too loud between you both.

hongjoong's eyes followed you, dark and heavy and watchful, his open posture remaining a calm juxtaposition to his expression. still, you noticed his fingers clench around the sheets - your sheets.

he drawled, "relax, my love."

you flinched at the term of endearment.

hongjoong laughed, a breathy thing, as he threw his head back.

you advanced on him then, though you were unsure why. perhaps it was the circumstances - yeosang's words and knowing maester haechan could open his mouth and yunho's words lingering over your head, everything a makeshift guillotine that could come down at any moment. your footsteps bounced off the walls as you stomped towards him.

he merely craned his neck as you came closer, eyes fixed on you, relaxed facade still so, so present.

"do not," you stopped in front of his spread legs, frowning down at him, "do not tell me what to do."

he tilted his head, amusement dripping from his lopsided smile, blonde hair a soft gold in the dim candlelight. he said, "you're quite wound up, my love. i am merely wondering why."

"stop calling me that." you gritted your teeth, "and get off my bed."

hongjoong's chuckle was low. he looked up at you through fallen strands of blonde hair, "make me. my. love."

your heart pounded against your ribs, but the dread at the pit of your stomach was worse. the anger, the fact that he hadn't spoken to you candidly since that night, the way things were tumbling all around you and you had no control anymore of anything - it made throw your hands in the air. you wanted so badly to make him shut up, to wrap your fingers around his throat. maybe kill him?

the thought was blasphemous, and when you met hongjoong's gaze, you felt as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. your breath grew tight, heavy, in your chest. it was guilt and want and anger and jealousy. there was always jealousy. you could admit that here, to yourself, in the comforts of your chambers.

you dragged your hands through your hair, and under hongjoong's scrutinizing gaze you felt exposed. vulnerable.

you hated it.

warm, calloused fingers wrapped around your wrist. you realized you were shaking. hongjoong pulled you down. it was a light tug, and you could have counteracted it, but you allowed it. you allowed it.

you hated that too.

you landed on the mattress and immediately shoved him away. he let you.

you hated that the most.

you said, "why are you here? why are you - why won't you - why did you -"

why are you here? why won't you leave me alone? why did you touch me? why did i develop feelings for you? why did he return to seonghwa's bed? you could not allow yourself to say any of those words aloud because they held too much truth, too much power.

you were breathing heavily, each intake of breath a stabbing wound, and you pressed your palm to your mouth so as to muffle the sound.

he reached out once more. you smacked his hand away. your voice was a rough whisper, the words difficult to expel, as you repeated, "why are you here?"

"i was worried," he spoke softly, and his gaze held a softness in them that you do not see often.

you did not hate it as much as you should have.

"i am not yours to visit as you please when you grow bored," you said, "now leave me be."

he reached for you once more, and you scooted away from his touch.

hongjoong said, "i thought you were not afraid of me."

"i am not," you said.

you were. you were afraid that everything was crashing down around you, and hongjoong would know it soon. you were terrified of what he would do to you. or worse, if he didn't do a thing and let you live with it.

and, of course, he knew you were lying. his eyes grew so gentle then, you wondered briefly if you were asleep, dreaming this hongjoong up from the deepest recesses of your mind.

"i want to believe you so badly, y/n," he said.

"why are you here?" you repeated. you meant it in many, many ways. why did he return to your chambers? why did he look at you as if he cared for you? why was he here, in your thoughts, in your heart? how did he get there? you grit your teeth, and said, with as much venom as you could, "why are you here when you won't stay?"

it was the closest to the truth you could allow yourself to get with hongjoong. it was all you could allow yourself, without feeling absolutely powerless in his presence.

he reached out.

this time you let him.

he pressed his thumb to your cheekbone, dragging it across your thumb. it was a featherlight touch. "i am not meant to stay anywhere for too long," he said quietly, "but know that you are mine, and i am yours. do not doubt that, y/n."

"i do not want to be yours."

"but you want me to be yours?"

you didn't answer. you pressed your knees closer.

hongjoong laughed as he cupped your cheek, the rings on his fingers cold ice against your skin, "you want me to stay?"

you looked away.

his fingers remained your skin, your hair, along your jaw. his thumb brushed over your lips. he said, "you want me to hold you?"

his cold ring pressed roughly into the skin under your jaw, "you want me to kiss you and tell you i love you?"

he twirled a strand of hair around his fingers, before he tugged at it. your eyes flit to his, and hongjoong kept his dark gaze fixed on you. "you want me to make you feel safe?"

your heart slammed against your chest, the sharp painful breaths returning. hongjoong's other hand sat on your arm, his thumb brushing the burn scar there. it felt like a trap, like hongjoong was one condescending question away from telling you he knew of everything you had done, and he would make you pay for it.

you said, "i want you to be genuine with me."

"my love," hongjoong laughed, and he leaned so close you could count his eyelashes. his blonde hair tickled your cheek as he reached up and cradled your face in his hands. his eyes held a shine to them, manic in its amusement, "i have been nothing but genuine with you. i always have been."

the thought was harrowing. it broke something in you.

tears sprung to your eyes then, and you hated yourself for it. you hated it when hongjoong cooed and pulled you closer, pressing your face to the crook of his neck. you struggled against his grip for a moment, until he murmured, "i've got you, darling."

you hated that you wrapped your arms around him and let him hold you. that you clung to him, and you were reminded of how you could count on one hand how often you were held this way since you came to the red keep.

you hated that you allowed yourself to relax as he stroked your back. his touch dragged down your spine, and he held you as if you were a fragile as the flowers in the courtyards, as if you were not harboring a monster inside of you. his fingers gathered in your hair, and his rings were cold against your skin, but when you looked up at him, he smiled down at you, his expression a harmonious mixture of soft and sweet and dark. a chill ran down your spine, even as your heart skipped. hongjoong whispered, "come here."

he held his arms out as he scooted back to the head of the bed, your fingers entangled in his. you listened.

you wiped at your eyes with the heels of your hands, and he merely hummed don't as he pulled you towards him, as you fell back into his chest.

~.~.~.~.~

"i drew you a bath," hongjoong murmured.

you wanted to say more to him. you wanted him to know that your moment of vulnerability did not stem from him. it was not for him. it would not happen again.

you wanted to say more.

but you merely rolled out of bed, leaving him still sprawled in your sheets, and you entered the bathroom.

kim black and red draped over the hook as you entered. the bath steam made the room a blur. you slipped off your clothes, and entered the bath. all you could see was kim black and red, and this distinct feeling that you'd failed. you'd done something. everything was crumbling.

a light knock had you jolt in the tub. you looked over, sinking into the bathwater when you saw hongjoong leaning against the entryway to the bath, his blond hair pulled pack into a tight bun.

he said, "the king has called for a feast. he seems in a good mood."

that explained the kim robes.

the sound of the dripping faucet, and the heat of the steam, filled the silence. you settled lower into the water, until heat engulfed you up to your neck. hongjoong merely watched you through the steam. your stomach flipped at the feeling of his eyes on you.

finally, he said, "i will stay."

you wanted to say, no you will not.

instead, you said, "okay."

~.~.~.~.~

yeosang's brows were furrowed when you stepped into the hall. mingi stood by his side, his mouth pressed into a frown. it seemed as if they've stopped speaking as soon as you arrived. the beat of silence was broken when hongjoong pushed himself from his position leaning against the wall, extending a ring-adorned hand to you. his black and red robes were quite extravagant, his blonde hair pulled into a neat bun. he looked the opposite of how he did the night before. it reminded you of how undignified you had been.

you took his hand.

the walk to the feasting hall was quiet, your footsteps echoing in the empty halls. the king often called upon the red keep to attend extravagant feasts whenever he was in a good mood. often those good moods were followed by jousting tourneys or a public execution by dragonfire in the courtyard. it often depended on the king's mad whims.

the king rose when you were both announced, raising his wine glass. his nails were claw-like, the queen was nowhere in sight, and the nobles lining the tables looked wary.

"alas, my beloved son is here with his lovely spouse. come, come, take a seat. today is a day of celebration!"

he raised his wine to the nobles of the red keep. the king's counsel - lord kang, lord choi, and lord song - stood to the king's right side as hongjoong took a stand at the king's left and you next to hongjoong.

the king pat hongjoong's back as he called, "here is a toast to new and better beginnings for not only the kingdom of dorne, but to the seven kingdoms."

you'd blinked at that, surprised. you felt hongjoong's fingers tighten around yours. you looked to him, and his eyes seemed stern, careful. he shook his head slightly.

"come now, raise your glasses!" the king turned his wine glass to lord kang, and they clinked glasses, drinking together. lord kang smiled brightly. it reminded you of yeosang's smiles.

"hongjoong, my son!"

hongjoong raised his glass.

the king turned to you. your heart dropped at the way his eyes fixed upon you. he said, "come now, my child. a toast to your father is in order."

your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, yunho's words of poison and sickness jumping to the forefront of your mind. no, you thought.

no, no, no -

"let us toast to our dear lord jeong. at long last, he's had the forethought to die." the king called to the crowd, "in his sleep, they say. a rather pathetic death, if i may so myself, but it seems with the dornish lord now at rest, we may move forward in negotiating peace with the new young lord jeong."

you could feel the eyes on you, gauging your reaction, and all you could manage to do was stand there and watch as the red keep toasted, as they celebrated the death of your father. you thought of yunho and wooyoung and your mother, and how you should have been there mourning with them. yet here you were, celebrating his death instead. you did not belong to dorne, not any longer, not like this.

"did you know?"

you looked at hongjoong long and hard, as you both sat at the head table, watching everyone eat and drink.

hongjoong still held your hand as he said, "i found out this morning."

you let him hold your hand still. you were terrified that if he let go, you'd drift away and you would not be able to return.

~.~.~.~.~

a tourney. the king decided to hold a celebratory tourney that afternoon. the chois offered to host, of course.

you needed to meet yeonjun, see if your brothers had sent you any letters. you needed to expel the heavy weight on your chest. you needed to get away.

yet, here you were, attending a tourney, watching as hongjoong defeated opponent, as his father hooted and cheered, and the people seemed to enjoy that their king was in good spirits for once.

your father is dead.

hongjoong knocked a man from his horse so hard, the man's helmet flew across the field. the kingsguard lined the back of the king's stands - he barely made public appearances anymore so it was quite apt that he'd have so many kingsguard around him - and mingi looked at you with worry in his eyes that you could not stand.

your father is dead.

the mountain stood next to mingi, a beast of man that brought fear down your spine. his stringy hair peaked through his helmet. you could swear he met your gaze then. you looked away quickly.

your father is dead, your father is dead, your father is dead.

hongjoong waved his jousting sword in victory, his final opponent slumped over in the corner. dead, you knew.

hongjoong galloped back and forth through the tourney field, taking in the cheers. he stopped, then, not in front of you, but in front of park seonghwa.

the crowd grew hushed as hongjoong laid a crown of winter roses, blue with frost, on seonghwa's lap. it slid from his jousting sword onto seonghwa's lap with a soft rustle that was heard throughout the silent tourney field. your septa had spoken of a tradition in tourneys, one that holds that the victor in a tournament may select anyone present and name them the regent of love and beauty, crowning them with a wreath of flowers and dedicating the their victory to them. never once had hongjoong done such a thing before. until now. until today. until the king called for a tournament to celebrate your father's death.

you sat frozen, even as the king cackled and hooted. even as your gaze flickered to familiar faces. a flicker of fury curled over jongho's face, and you knew then that this was not just a slight to you. hongjoong's actions would hold consequences, and you would suffer for it. it was clear from the way hongjoong grinned, the way he walked so easily, that he did not care what his actions entailed for you. he did not care. your father was dead, and he did not care, and you were not of king's landing, of westeros, either. you belonged nowhere, with no one.

choi san met your gaze, over the crowd, and his smile was a sad, careful thing. it was the first time he'd truly acknowledged you in a long, long time. it was a smile that reminded you of chaste kisses in a hidden courtyard, and hope, and then hope lost.

your father was dead, and you worried that soon you would be too.

~.~.~.~.~

you shoved hongjoong as soon as the door to your chambers clambered shut behind you both.

hongjoong grabbed your wrists - his grip was not tight or painful, but it was firm. a reminder of who you were and who he was to you.

"you're a fool," you bit out. you shook his hands off your wrists and gestured beyond him, to the red keep. "why did you do it?"

hongjoong stepped closer to you, but you stood your ground, eyes locked upon his.

he matched your tone, his eyes dark, his jaw tight, and he said, "mingi, y/n? of all the people at the red keep, you chose mingi?"

you froze then, in horror and guilt, and it felt as though the beast in your stomach was clawing its way to your heart, out your chest, and you let out a staggered breath as you searched his gaze. you wondered how much he knew. you wondered what he would do to you. you would have your answer.

you tried to push him away then, but he crowded your space, until your back hit a wall, your breath leaving you.

"mingi is my brother. he is...he is kind, y/n," hongjoong's eyes held a dark fury he never directed towards you. he clasped his fingers around your jaw, forcing you to look at him. his grip was not painful yet, but it was angry. "you could have ruined him."

"so you care about him?" you scowled, "you come pleading the case for a man who is not even your brother by blood, but what of me? you have made vows to me before the gods? what becomes of me? what of my ruination?"

your voice was shrill as you raised your voice, your shout echoing all around you. hongjoong's grip under your jaw tightened, his rings digging into your skin. it pinched at your skin. this time it hurt.

"i do not care what you do behind closed doors, as i've told you time and time again, but the tourney? park seonghwa?" you spat his name. his fingers squeezed tighter, and your breath caught in your throat, fear and something else, something akin to grief, curling under your skin. "you've condemned me in front of everyone, hongjoong. and even before all this you knew. you knew my father was dead, but you let me face that news on my own."

"i do not owe you anything. not my love nor my sympathies," hongjoong leaned so close, you could feel his breath against your cheek, his dark eyes blown out in madness, in anger, and in the very same guilt you'd seen in him that night. he said, "i am a kim. i owe you nothing."

"kims are not gods," you spat. "without your dragons, you are just like the rest of us. you will bleed red like the rest of us."

he yanked you closer by his grip on your jaw.

"is that a threat?"

"will you kill me if i say yes?"

his gaze flicked over your expression, your defiance, your anger, your fear, and his brows furrowed. he shoved you up against the wall. for a moment, you thought he'd kill you then and there. then he released you, retreating back. you blinked after him.

"leave mingi alone." his voice was controlled and quiet, his simmering anger barely detectable if you hadn't known what to listen for. "remove him from your schemes immediately. i know you have him do your bidding, y/n."

you remained with your back to the wall, your fingers curling around your jaw. you wondered, briefly, if he had left bruises. the thought that hongjoong was so close to knowing of yeonjun and your letters to your brother - it made your heart race harder.

"and if i do not?" you asked, teeth clenched. your other hand brushed over the old burn scar on your arm, squeezing it to find some semblance of control in this situation. hongjoong's eyes tracked the movement, his jaw tightening at your words.

hongjoong's eyes darkened when he met your gaze once more, "then i will do it for you, y/n. you will not like my methods. believe me."

you grit your teeth, but before you could answer, hongjoong turned away with a flurry of royal red and black robes and blond hair.

he left, slamming the door behind him. you slid down the wall holding you up, fingers curling around your jaw.

"fuck," you breathed.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

~.~.~.~.~

you were no stranger to grief. it was an old friend, really, but this time it crept up on you like a predator crept upon prey.

the mad king's trials had become weekly affairs, despite his occasional refusal to appear in public himself. that morning was cold and dreary, and the king sent a messenger in his place.

you sat beside hongjoong in the courtyard, front and center, in place of the king and queen. the whispers prior to the tourney had been quiet ever since hongjoong burned lord lim on your behalf, but it seemed the whispers had returned tenfold since the tourney. you did not expect any less. you doubted hongjoong would burn another important noble alive to preserve your honor when his attention was elsewhere anyway, and you figured everyone else at court believed the same. san, choi jongho, and park seonghwa had left for their homes at daybreak, and you had not heard from irene's little birds as to why they'd all left so quickly. the nobles whispered of your inability to keep the prince happy, of the slight against you at the tourney. they whispered aloud of what would happen next - an affair and your uselessness.

you sat beside hongjoong, ignoring the whispers, watching as guards dragged in a struggling figure. the king's messenger unfurled his scroll, rising to his feet.

the guards tied the struggling figure to the scorched execution post. the messenger called out his crimes, decreed by the king - a traitor to the crown and to westeros - and then the guard pulled the sack from the person's head.

your heart fell, then, to the pit of your stomach at the familiar face.

yeonjun.

it was yeonjun.

in that moment, you heard nothing, your ears ringing as yeonjun's twisted, defiant expression filled your vision. one of the executioners took the stand, green fire jars in his hand, and you could not close your eyes.

yeonjun's defiant eyes, usually so playful and amused, met yours through the crowd. he smiled.

fingers slipped through yours. your ears still rang, and the cheering of the crowd sounded far away as green fire filled your blurred vision.

you pulled away from the scene before you long enough to recognize that hongjoong was holding your hand. he did not look at you, his eyes fixed on the execution, green flames illuminating his dark features.

yeonjun was dead. your sole method of communication with your brothers was dead.

your father was dead.

what would become of you now?

~.~.~.~.~

you gnawed at your bottom lip as you both approached your chambers. the courtyard and yeonjun's burnt flesh was long behind you, but you could not shake it from your head. you knew it was your fault.

it had to be.

all of this - somehow it felt as if you were failing, as if you'd lost the high you were on earlier and everything was crashing around you and you were to blame for it all.

you were no stranger to grief, but as you and hongjoong walked through the empty halls in silence, the smell of burnt flesh still lingering on in your nose, on your clothes, your hair, yeosang leading the way, and mingi walking behind you - hongjoong only allowed mingi to guard you if he was with you, and you hadn't had a moment alone with him since the night maester haechan had walked in on you both - a wave of nausea and dread washed over you.

"he was only a barkeep," your voice was quiet, even to your own ears.

hongjoong glanced briefly in your direction. he said, "a barkeep who committed treason."

he kept walking as you came to a halt.

"a dornish barkeep," your voice bounced off the walls. hongjoong spun to face you, his black robes fluttering around him like tendrils of smoke. yeosang met your gaze over hongjoong's shoulder and shook his head at you. you ignored him. "my father is dead, and now you people are persecuting a dornish barkeep? do you think i am an idiot, hongjoong? when will i end up on that post?"

hongjoong glowered, "was he your lover?"

you blinked, "is that all that matters to you?"

"i know you've gone to visit him and his bar, y/n," hongjoong snapped, his fists clenched at his sides. "i knew for a while, but i thought perhaps your reasons were innocent. then i learned what you've been doing with mingi, and i thought it was mingi. it's hard for me to be angry with mingi. you must have known that though. but then. then i learned you'd started going to that bar alone."

you'd frozen at the mention of mingi, hyperaware that he stood behind you. mingi did not deserve this, you knew. however, the implications in hongjoong's voice, the fact that he could ever dare voice such a thing to you, let alone in front of yeosang and mingi - it fueled the fire that always burned in your chest.

"not too long ago, you burned a lord alive for saying the exact thing you are implicating me of right now, hongjoong."

"because i knew it was not true then. now i am not so sure."

the fire burned at your insides. you wished to scream at him, to tear the look from his face, and douse that in green fire the same way he had allowed his father to murder yeonjun.

"what of your lovers?" you shouted, your voice dragging through the silence. you hadn't raised your voice in so long, your voice grew gravely, harsh, at the volume. your skin crawled as you advanced on him, "what of all the people you've slept with after you swore yourself to me? shall we burn them alive as well, your grace?"

"y/n, lower your voice." hongjoong's voice was so much quieter than yours, but you did not care. the fire had burst from your stomach, and you no longer wished to quiet yourself. you no longer cared.

"fuck you," you spat. "you are a hypocrite, and you cannot stand to see me happy. that is the truth, hongjoong. my father is dead, by your father's hand for all i know, and the very next day you not only humiliated me in front of the the red keep, but you took away the only protection i have had the misfortune to have in this gods-damned place. your kim protection that you forced upon me when you married me. and now - and now you dare accuse me of adultery when you come to our chambers smelling of another more often than not? you were right, hongjoong. you are not like your father. you are much, much worse."

your chest rose and fell, your breathing unsteady. the silence that followed your shouts felt like a heavy fur blanket, warm and suffocating.

you broke the silence first as you said, "you made me believe i could trust you. perhaps i am a fool for ever thinking such a thing, or for willingly letting you into my bed. but now," you gestured around you, your voice barely louder than a whisper, "but now a war is looming, and you do not fucking care what that means for anyone else, do you?"

hongjoong was a collector of sorts, who liked to have the moon and sun and stars, but he did not think of anything beyond that. that was how gods were, were they not? watching from above, collecting, but never quite caring. they only lived to be worshipped. they believed they could not be touched. the kims were closer to gods than they were to men. you were a fool for ever believing his touches and his drawn baths and his late night talks meant anything. his sweet nothings were just that: nothing.

"the war will not touch you," hongjoong said.

he did not deny that it was looming, he did not address anything else you had said. you wondered briefly what your brothers have decided since your father passed. you felt, once more, in the dark.

"is that all you have to say?" you grit out instead.

"you are mine, y/n, and war will never touch what is mine," hongjoong said, his voice quiet, softer than you expected. as he meant to be comforting. a part of you did feel comforted, while a larger part of you felt everything but. "i understand your treasonous words are born of grief. it's made you unreasonable, and i will let that slide tonight."

frustration clawed at your insides. you said, "i hate you."

"i know," hongjoong's eyes flickered away from your face for a moment as he waved his hand. "yeosang, take y/n to my chambers. they need rest. guard the door. mingi, come with me."

hongjoong stepped around you, and you turned to watch him go. mingi met your eyes with something of an apology in his eyes, brows furrowed in worry, shoulders hunched. hongjoong walked on ahead of him, robes trailing behind him.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. you jumped.

"sorry," yeosang apologized withdrawing his touch. you shook your head. your frustration had clawed its way out of you in the form of tears, and you brushed them away angrily.

"do you still believe he is not a bad person?" your voice shook too much. you despised it.

yeosang did not answer, looking away as if to preserve your dignity. for once, you were grateful for it.

after a beat, you composed yourself enough to straighten yourself out, and you asked, "will he hurt mingi?"

"no," yeosang's response was instantaneous.

you nodded, an inkling of relief settling over you at that reassurance. you knew, deep down, he would not, but you could never be too sure with what you knew of hongjoong. you would not live with yourself if mingi ended up on a post because of you. yeosang trailed along beside you as you both headed to your chambers in silence.

your fingers stilled against the door when yeosang said your name. not your grace. not sweet thing. simply, "y/n."

"yes?"

he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. yeosang's brows furrowed with his internal struggle. you watched for only a moment, but after another moment of silence, you merely pushed your door open and shut it in his face.

~.~.~.~.~

shortly after yeonjun's execution, lord kang resigned as hand of the king.

before drawing your morning bath, you overheard the maids whispering that the mad king had laughed himself into a coughing fit when lord kang had announced his resignation in the throne room early that morning. by some miracle, the mad king had not decided the resignation was call for another execution.

hongjoong had not returned after he asked yeosang to escort you back to your chambers. you hadn't slept until early morning anyway, only to awake to the sound of the maids entering your chambers. your servants hadn't drawn a bath for you in a while, you realized then, as you listened to their hushed whispers. hongjoong was always the one to do it, no matter how late he returned. the thought made you want to crawl out of your skin in both anger and a residual type of grief that grew the more you thought of hongjoong or your father or your brothers or your mother or yeonjun or mingi.

in fact, the maids had left mid-morning, and you'd opened your door to find yeosang still standing guard outside of your room.

you'd blinked at yeosang in confusion.

yeosang blinked back at you, expression unreadable.

"you stayed?"

"i am simply following orders, your grace," his voice curled around your title with a hint of amusement you hadn't heard in quite a while. the familiarity was comforting.

you nodded, rolling your eyes at his tone. you meant to shut the door on him then, but the maid's whispers made you pause, turning to yeosang once more, "i heard lord kang resigned?"

"yes, this morning," yeosang said with a nod, his armor clinking loudly.

"why?"

"there are many reasons he is upset," yeosang shrugged, "one of which being that i am no longer eligible to take his place as lord of casterly rock as i have sworn myself to the kingsguard. he is without an heir now."

"but you'd joined the kingsguard a long while back. why bring the matter up now?"

"it seems my father's sights have changed."

"huh," you laughed at his nonchalance, "would you care to share those new sights with me?"

"lord kang is leaving for casterly rock in the evening." a small smile stretched across his pretty features, genuine in a way you have never seen. "that is all i know, your grace."

you doubted that was all he knew, but you'd nodded anyway. yeosang bowed his head, and you shut the door.

~.~.~.~.~

you are confined to your chambers. hongjoong does not say it aloud, even on the nights he returned to your chambers to clamber into his side of the bed, but you were no longer invited to the throne room or to meals with hongjoong. the servants brought you your meals. the kingsguard assigned to your room would block your way out when you tried to go for a walk or to the library, and they'd say, the prince said you must rest. none of them seemed all too apologetic. you would not recognize them most of the time. whenever you'd see the mountain standing guard, looming and heavily-built, terrifying in his presence, you'd merely shut the door without speaking to him. no one truly scared you at the red keep, but the mountain? he brought chills down your spine. why he had not gone with lord kang was beyond you, but perhaps the king did not mind such a terror in his kingsguard.

sometimes your keeper was yeosang, and on those days you'd open your chamber doors and have a short conversation with him.

oftentimes, it was merely you asking what was going on.

yeosang would shrug in response, or give you a cheeky smile and say, the usual without elaboration.

the days were slow and dull, and you spent more time than not leaning against the barred windows and watching the tiny specks of people go about their day, the bustling of king's landing trickling up to your barred window or sprawled on your bed staring at the high ceilings.

you started counting the days. you hadn't counted much in a while - you used to count your name days, but that was a thing of the past.

~.~.~.~.~

"do you plan to keep me here forever?"

you sat in the middle of your bed, watching as hongjoong stepped into the chambers. the mountain was guarding the door today, his large form darkening the doorway, so you'd spent your day ignoring the goosebumps trickling up your spine whenever you looked towards your chamber doors.

hongjoong kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his robes before he turned to you.

he said, "if that is what you need, then yes."

"what does that mean?"

"it does not concern you."

you scowled, "hongjoong."

hongjoong turned then, to really look at you, and there was a softness there in his expression you did not expect as his eyes flickered over your expression. he always did revel in your anger.

"my father has gone past madness, and your presence will only drive him further into the darkness," hongjoong said, finally. "i am keeping you safe."

you had not known this, and the information made your stomach churn. in your chambers, you did not even have access to irene and her little birds, though you did not wish to alert that network to any watching eyes anyway.

you asked, "by locking me away in your chambers?"

"yes."

he responded so quickly. he was so full of righteousness. you buried the urge to grow angrier. instead, you spoke into the quiet silence, trying for softness.

"you could just send me away, you know," you said, "instead of locking me away like this."

hongjoong stiffened, his fingers curling around the back of his chair.

slowly, you pushed yourself from your bed and stepped closer to him, until you were an arms-length from him. you knew he would not agree, yet somehow you felt you could convince him, somehow. or at least ensure that you would not remain imprisoned here, delegated to the same fate as his mother, to yet another cage. you wished he would set you free, for once.

you pressed your hand to the one he had clenched around the back of his chair, his rings cold against your palms. he did not flinch away, and hope flickered in your heart. for a moment, he leaned into your touch, his gaze settling over your eyes, your nose, your lips.

"send me to -" you swallowed, suddenly nervous, "send me away from king's landing. to sunspear, even?"

hongjoong pressed his other hand over your fingers, wrapping his hands around yours. his eyes remained fixed on your interlocked hands.

you spoke hurriedly, your voice quiet so as not to disturb the tension between you both, "it's safe there. my brothers won't hurt me. you can trust them."

hongjoong let go of your hand then, turning to fully face you. his fingers fell entirely from your grasp. the hope you felt was long gone, kindling for the fire in your heart.

he reached up and pressed his fingertips to your cheeks, a gentle, feather-like touch. he brushes his thumb along your jaw as his eyes flickered between yours once more. eyes, nose, lips, dark eyes like scorched earth.

he said, "how do i know that?"

"hongjoong-"

hongjoong cut your off with a shake of his head, "you are not dornish, y/n. not anymore. you are a kim. you are safest here. with me and my dragons."

he left then, shutting the bath door behind him.

~.~.~.~.~

a fortnight passed when you opened the door to check who was your keeper today. the sun had set and your dinner was already delivered by the servants. they'd entered your chambers while you'd been pacing, and you knew they'd whisper you'd gone mad when they left.

yeosang stood at attention by your door.

you asked, "will you be here tomorrow?"

yeosang usually would not answer your bolder questions, but tonight he seemed to take pity on you. an infuriating thought, really, but you'd gone too long alone to care much that people only ever interacted with you due to pity these days. the furrow between yeosang's brows, you've noticed, had become a permanent fixture on his expression. it did not quite suit him. you missed the mischief in his eyes from your younger days.

"not tomorrow." yeosang said, "but the day after."

"i'd love some ale," you said, with a grin you hoped was enticing.

he frowned at you. you dropped your smile.

you said, matching his frown "it's dreadfully boring in here, ser yeosang. i would not ask you otherwise"

"i'm sure it is, sweet thing," yeosang eyed your chambers , his expression growing apprehensive. "fine, i'll bring some."

"really?"

"you are much too excited for something as simple as ale, your grace."

you'd rolled your eyes in response, shutting the door behind in his face.

~.~.~.~.~

you were never meant for passivity. even when you'd first stepped onto the shores of king's landing, you'd been quite proactive in your distaste of westerosi traditions, of hongjoong's comments, of yeosang's prodding, of your septa's nagging.

to think that you were now relegated to such a passive lifestyle, escorted to the godswoods by your septa and your kingsguard keeper once a day just to leave the confines of your chambers, your meals brought to you by the servants, left to rot in your too-big bed, in your too-big chambers, while the madness churned throughout the seven kingdoms - it had you standing at the barred windows wondering if you could pry open the bars and toss yourself to your death just to have something to do. sometimes, you saw wisps of greenfire from the courtyards, and you were glad at least the mad king maintained a routine throughout all this. even when the essence of nightshade hidden in the deepest folds of your drawers called to you, you remained passive. too cowardly to die, and too cowardly to want to live, merely withering under the same fate you were so adamantly trying to escape.

hongjoong was kind to you sometimes - he brought you books from the library some nights, or he drew you your baths - but he was the reason for this. he knew it, and you knew it, and he knew you knew it.

you hadn't seen or heard from mingi. you did not ask hongjoong or yeosang about him.

so when you opened your door one night, and yeosang stood at attention, you let the fire in your stomach, in your veins, in your heart, burn so bright, so hot, it felt the way dragonfire had on your skin that night so long ago.

yeosang pulled out two metal flasks from his pack.

you peered at the large containers, grimacing at the strong acidic smell as you opened one of the flasks. the smell burned your nostrils and still had it at arms-length. "that's not ale."

"it's stronger," he said, with a shrug. "i thought you'd need it."

you grinned as you took a swig of the flask. the alcohol burned as you swallowed and you grimaced at the taste. you had not had liquor in a long time, not since you'd left your chambers and joined yeosang, mingi, and hongjoong in post-tourney festivities. that had been so, so long ago. yeosang chuckled at your grimace, before he gestured to your chambers.

"glad you like it," yeosang said, "now leave me to my duties."

you frowned, "it is bad manners to let someone drink alone, you know."

yeosang's brows furrowed in confusion, "i'd have thought i would be your last choice for a drinking partner."

"fortunately for you, your company is better than no company."

"ouch, your grace," yeosang pressed a hand to his heart, his eyes twinkling as it used to. "your tongue has gotten sharper."

"you could tell hongjoong to let me free. i find without practice, my social skills have become quite unsightly."

yeosang snorted before he shook his head. you took another swig of the flask, your throat burning as you swallowed, your cheeks warming already, and yeosang's eyes followed the movement, his brows furrowing once more. he said, "i was told to stand guard here. not drink."

you frowned at him, "fine, then i'll join you."

yeosang shook his head, "you are to remain in your chambers."

"i thought orders were merely suggestions to you."

yeosang rolled his eyes, "sometimes. but not these."

"fine," you dragged one of the stools in the sitting room of your chambers to the door, propping the heavy wooden door open. then you took a seat at the threshold, the doorway dividing the two of you. you looked up at yeosang, "i can drink like this, and you can have some if you'd like. i'll remain in my chambers, and you at the door."

yeosang peered down at you for a long, long moment. it was reminiscent of the time you both discussed what you had done to mingi. however, this time, he was not as furious. his eyes twinkled in amusement, but there was something else there - something you saw often in hongjoong's eyes these days, in the eyes of your septa as well when she'd take you to the godswood to 'pray as a proper king's spouse should'. you thought it melancholic.

after a moment, he bent to take a seat beside the door, facing the hall, his back pressed to the door hinge. the metal of his armor clinked loudly against the stone floors. it reminded you of mingi.

yeosang was not quite facing you, and it was strange to find it fitting of him, as if you knew him in some way. you did, did you not? you knew him as long as you knew hongjoong and mingi. very soon, you would know him, and hongjoong, and mingi, the red keep and king's landing, longer than you have known your brothers and parents and dorne. soon you would no longer be dornish, as hongjoong had said.

you took a bigger swig from the flask at that thought, wrinkling your nose at the taste.

"was this difficult to get?" you asked.

"no."

"what is the red keep like these days?"

"the same as it always is."

"you're quite entertaining, ser yeosang." you drawled, injecting all the sarcasm you could into your tone.

yeosang gave you a sidelong glance, "you talk too much, your grace."

so you asked more questions, and yeosang provided more vague answers.

whenever he was stationed outside your door, he brought you ale, liquor, or even sweets from the kitchen. you propped open your chambers doors. you asked questions. yeosang barely answered.

it became the highlight of your long, drawn out days.

~.~.~.~.~

hongjoong entered your chambers, servants scurrying all about in his wake. they were packing.

you frowned, "what is going on?"

"i am going north," he said, distractedly, "to winterfell."

you blinked, once, twice, three times. you whispered, "just you?"

and you did not mean for that curl of anguish at the pit of your stomach to drip into your voice. you did not mean to live in limbo for so long, only to feel as if you've been doused in ice water. hongjoong hadn't touched you, hadn't truly spoken to you, for a long, long, long time.

yet, this time your heart stilled.

hongjoong looked up at you, his fingers wrapped in his warmest cloak, black and red spilling from his fingers like blood and dragonscales.

your chest felt constricted as you stared down at him. you said, "you're leaving me here?"

"i am keeping you safe," hongjoong said, voice low. the servants continued to dash throughout the chambers, their footsteps echoing all around you, ringing in your ears, "the rebellion draws closer to king's landing by each day and i must head north to secure allies."

the rebellion. the rebellion, the rebellion, the rebellion, the rebellion. those words rang loud as the bells of a bell tower. there was a war, and no one told you. you were in danger, and no one told you. hongjoong told you nothing. no one told you, and you were going to remain here. like a bird in a gilded cage, you would remain in an empty castle while hongjoong secured his other possessions.

"the rebellion?" your voice cracked. you felt horror and relief and anger and terror and so many other emotions. hongjoong's gaze softened when he looked at you, strangely enough. he stood, pushing his blond hair from his eyes as he waved his hands.

"jongho's rebellion," hongjoong said, with a questioning frown. "you did not know?"

something flipped in you then, something that always flipped when you were in the presence of hongjoong's nonchalance. you seethed, "how would i know? how would i know when you've locked me away all this time?!"

your exclamation echoed off the walls. the movement in the room stilled. hongjoong waved his hands and the servants scurried from the room.

your chambers were too quiet.

jongho's rebellion rang in your ears. suddenly, the brothel visits made sense. why, you did not know, as they were brothers by all but blood, the chois and hongjoong, yet here you stood seething as hongjoong closed his eyes and pushed his hair from his eyes. "the details do not matter. jongho and san are traitors who must be dealt with, and this decision will keep you safe. i am keeping you safe. you are a target, y/n."

"then take me with you."

"no."

"why? because of seonghwa?"

"you are safest in the red keep."

"you told me i am safest with you."

"y/n, you are staying here."

you knew then, that there was no changing his mind. so you stepped closer, your anger turning to a sort of desperation you never meant to show kim hongjoong. you said, "then let me go return to yunho. to sunspear."

"so dorne can join the jongho's rebellion? so you can join san?" hongjoong snapped, venom lacing his tone, the same kind of venom the mad king held when he spoke of dorne. his eyes darkened, "absolutely not."

"fine!" you grit your teeth, "do the kims not have their own stronghold? from the old days? what of dragonstone? let me go there, at the very least."

you'd seen it on maps and read of it in an old, tattered book in the library. dragonstone was a castle situated on an island of the same name, and it was the stronghold for house kim before house targaryen moved to the red keep. the castle was used on occasion, and last you heard the queen was sent there by the mad king. the mad king remained at king's landing. the rebellion was headed this way.

"you will stay here, y/n," hongjoong reached out and cupped your cheek, his dark eyes flickering between yours. he spoke with a finality that made you want to scream.

desperation clawed under your skin, up your throat, lived inside you. you knew he would keep you in this gilded cage next to his father, open to danger from every which way, and you were reacting as a caged animal would. he did not care, you realized, as he watched you struggle with picking your next words. he did not care. he did not think.

you bit out, "with your mad father?"

hongjoong shook his head, brushing his thumb along your hairline, "he will not hurt you. i will keep a guard posted."

hongjoong was fleeing. the realization sent a chill down your spine. hongjoong was fleeing without you.

you'd never, not once, begged him of anything, even when he touched you. but as you stood there, desperation clawing at your skin. this decision would damn you to a terrible fate, and the way hongjoong looked at you, as if he did not understand the desperation clawing its way through you, made you want to shake him by the shoulders. jongho was rebelling, lord kang left king's landing, the queen was sent to dragonstone, and hongjoong was fleeing north. only the mad king remained. there was no hope left here.

you were being left for dead. or worse.

"hongjoong, please help me," you pleaded, fingers curling around the sleeve of his black and red robes. "just this once. please let me go anywhere but here."

you could have sworn that hongjoong’s eyes lit up, even as he stroked your cheek to comfort you. your grip on his sleeve tightened in hope. maybe he would listen?

his eyes fell to your fist, and he reached with his other hand to curl it around your wrist. his thumb grazed along your burn scar, and he observed it for a long moment before he returned his gaze to you.

your heart sank to the pit of your stomach when he murmured, "i’ve helped you time and time again already, y/n. this time you will stay and that is final."

you clutched at his sleeve once more. he peered down at your tight grip.

"then stay by my side," you forced restraint, if only to maintain some sort of dignity. you leaned close, blinking away the sting of tears, and said as softly as you could, "i want you to stay with me."

hongjoong smiled. he shook your hand from his sleeve. he circled both hands around your wrist, his thumb pressing into the burn scar there. there was a twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes, but there was no regret. he said, "i will return to you soon, my love. believe me."

you had no other choice, you both knew.

and so, you stayed.

~.~.~.~.~

my wife (ao3) is dying of tuberculosis (down again) and she grows more faint each day (keeps going down almost every fucking day)

All It Takes | Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist.

Summary: After months of quietly pinning after Jung Hoseok, your friends decide to give you a little push. Sometimes a New Years Eve party and a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven is all it takes.

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x f!reader 

Genre: Fluff, angst, sexual content, minors keep out! 

Warnings: Non idol au; tattooed!hobi, tattoo artist hobi;  Dom!Hobi. Lots of smut.

One.

Two. 

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty - Finale.

💟 

Holy CRAP

So Unlike You (Yunho x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x fem!reader/ Side pairing: OT8 x fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut sprinkled with fluffiness/ AU: sugar baby, idolverse

Summary: After hearing about you and Wooyoung, your sweet puppy makes a very surprising request, and you're eager to oblige him.

Warnings: cnc, consensual non consensual, rape play, edging, bondage, light bondage, spanking, pussy slapping, rough oral sex, oral sex, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it, but it's also discussed beforehand that they don't use one), pet names, mean names, roleplay, ripping clothes off, groping, polyamorous relationship, established relationship, poly!ateez, poly!reader, sugar baby au, idolverse au, dirty talk, super dirty, like damn. Sex toys, nipple play, nipple clamps

MINORS DNI!

Previously on Idol Companion

*****

Yunho was the sweetest, most gentle man you know. This was saying something considering your other boyfriends were equally sweet. He never hesitated to help or comfort you. You remembered him waiting on you hand and foot when you’d gotten sick. He’d driven you and Mihee to her ex-boyfriends’ house in case they showed up. Yunho never showed you anything other than respect, kindness and compassion. Yunho was your mood maker, your gentle giant, the other half of your “Twin Towers”. He rarely showed his “bad” side in front of you; you almost denied he even had one since he rarely rose to anger.  

So, his request certainly caught you off guard. 

You’d both come back home from a simple date night of arcade games, pizza, and a stroll down by the river. Yunho’s calming, laid back energy always felt refreshing after particularly rough days. You spent an afternoon wrangling toddlers, talking to parents, helping your friend Mihee settle into her dorm, and talking to your mom about your cousin's birthday party. Ending your day with your sweetest boyfriend relieved you of all the stress on your shoulders. Walking into the apartment together, you remained as quiet as possible to not disturb a sleeping Yeosang, so you both drank a glass of wine in the kitchen. 

“You know that I love you, right?” Yunho asked nervously, sitting across from you at the island counter. 

This phrase became popular amongst your boyfriends, since they typically followed it up with something suspicious. Still, how bad could it possibly be? It was Yunho.

“I’m aware,” you gave a sweet smile, “But you can always remind me, if you want.”

He gave a nervous laugh, running his fingertip around the rim of the wine glass. You could see him thinking it over in his mind, turning it around and around for the right words. Several scenarios crossed your mind as you watched him think. He’s ill. He’s in debt. His family is in trouble and he needs your help. There are so few things that could be wrong, but you hoped it wasn’t so bad. 

“Yuyu-ah,” you reached out for him, concerned now, “What’s the matter? You can tell me. Are you sick? Is your family okay? You don’t need to hesitate with me, you know that.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he shook his head, taking your hand gently. “Really,” he insisted, “It’s…Wooyoung told me you and him tried something new in bed a while back and…”

A relieved smile came across your face, “And you wanted to try that too? Yunho, you don’t have to be scared to approach me about trying new things. I trust you with my body every time, don’t I? I didn’t think you’d like free use play, but if you’re curious about it, we can give it a go.”

“That sounds nice, but that’s not what I wanted to ask you about.”

“Then what?”

“I wanted to see if you…if you…”

“If I…?” 

“If you’d ever like to try consensual non-consensual play with me.” He blurted out the words before drowning them back with wine. 

The request stunned you a moment. You sunk deep into your thoughts to try comprehending the suggestion. Not that you’re against rape play. You’ve heard of other people doing it, and you’d done it once with another client in a safe, trusting environment. But, you expected such suggestions from that person, not from Yunho. You pictured Yunho, taller and bigger and stronger, pinning you to his bed and harshly pounding into you while you whined and pleaded with him to stop. He’d have no trouble overpowering you if you truly fought back. Unlike other clients before him, you knew Yunho would only do it if you gave a firm, certain ‘yes’ and after a long discussion over ground rules and safety colors/words. Seeing his large hands, you remembered each time they went around your throat or sharply slapped your ass. Yunho could be rough and dominant if he truly wanted. 

“You want to do that?” you asked, dumbfounded still. 

“Um, well…” he smoothed a hand through his black hair, scratching the back of his head, “I’ve always wanted to try it with someone, but I never dated anyone long enough to feel comfortable asking. Since we’ve done kinky things together, I thought, maybe if you wanted to and felt certain, we could try that?” His puppy eyes met yours, and you melted. “I swear I won’t be upset if you say ‘no’. Please, don’t feel you have to agree with it because you’re my Companion or anything. We definitely do not have to do it, if you’re uncomfortable with that. I only thought I’d ask. It’s okay. It’s totally okay if you don’t want to do it.”

“Yunho,” you ran your thumb the back of his hand comfortingly, “If there’s anyone I’d feel comfortable doing that with, it’s you.”

A light pink brightened his cheeks, and he giggled, “Really?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “I’ll admit I’m surprised it’s you who asked me. I expected Hongjoong or Jongho to ask, if any of you ever did.” 

“I know,” he blushed, “But I thought you might say ‘no’ because it’s not something we’d normally do in bed. It’d be different from the usual dominant stuff we do, and a bit rougher.”

“You want to wreck me, Yuyu?” you teased, laughing softly when he turned away again. “I don’t mind. I trust you to take care of me, and I think it's a new thing for us to explore.” 

“Really? It's honestly okay if you don't want to,” he repeated. 

“Yunho, yes,” you assured him, walking around the counter and into his arms. “I'd like to try it too. You want to do that now or another time?”

“No, not now,” he shook his head, “When Yeosang goes to see his parents. That way he doesn't over hear it and think that I'm actually hurting you. Besides,” he pulled you closer and smirked, “That way you can be as loud as you like.”

A laugh was muffled by his kiss. After getting his confirmation, you and Yunho discussed exactly what he wanted to do. He asked if you both could do “the entire act” which included you refusing sex and him not taking a “no” scenario. Nothing too elaborate, yet enough to set a dynamic and tone. You both decided on a color system, and your usual safe word “Buttercup”. Being a toy user, you told him you didn't mind the toys or if he decided to restrain you somehow, which led to a discussion about ropes or handcuffs that you left up to him. You agreed to a day and time that would be best for both of you, then went to bed together. 

****

“Bye, Yeosangie!” 

You kissed Yeosang for the hundredth time that morning, trying to capture as much of it as you could. He'd be gone for three days to see his parents, so you cashed in as many kisses as possible. Yunho’s request did excite you, so perhaps you appeared a bit eager to get him out the door at the same time. 

“I'm going to miss you,” you pouted in his arms. 

“I'll only be gone three days, babe,” he laughed, hugging you tightly still. “You have seven other boyfriends to keep you company until I come back.”

“But none of them will watch reality shows with me,” you said, toying with the strings of his hoodie. “Who's going to talk shit about bitchy housewives with me?”

You recently managed to get a VPN to watch reality tv shows from other countries. Yeosang quickly became your reality junk buddy after a Real Housewives episode.

“We can stream them online, and watch them together that way,” he replied. “We do live in the age of technology after all.”

“It's not the same,” you whined, hugging him. 

“YN, he's not going off to war,” said Yunho from behind you. “He's coming back.”

“What if a war happens and he has to go before then?” You joked, mocking a sad tone and burying your face in Yeosang's neck. “I'll never see him again.”

The three of you laughed before Yeosang gave you one more kiss, then released you. You'd offered to drive him to the station, but he insisted that you stay home. A part of you wondered if Yunho hinted at the afternoon plans. The both of you let him leave, waving goodbye until he closed the door behind him. You tiptoed to kiss Yunho’s cheek, then went to clean up the breakfast dishes. 

Your eyes paid attention to the time while you washed dishes. Yunho said he'd like to do it around noon, since that gave you both plenty of time before, during and after, so you suspected he was preparing his room right now. The anticipation left you thinking of all the possible things Yunho could do to you. You never experienced a mean Yunho before, but the members said it can be scary. You told him he didn't have to hold back with you; it's his fantasy and you'd be fine with whatever he decided. Since it's his first time doing this, he said he'd be gentle but once that arousal boils up, that might disappear. Finishing up the counter space, you looked at the clock to see it was half past noon. You worried Yunho might have been too nervous and backed out. Even though it was his idea, you told him if he ever changed his mind you wouldn't be upset and he said vice versa for you. You’d moved to wait in the living room when he appeared in the kitchen doorway. 

“Hey you.”

Yunho stood there in a long black shirt and shorts. His face bare and hair free of product, Yunho stripped down to his real self. You often said how you preferred them without all the makeup and hairspray. The stylists always made their skin a lighter shade, and they covered up Yeosang's pretty red wine birthmark. Seeing Yunho as himself, wearing simple clothes, flustered you more than his stage outfits. He leaned against the counter, eyes already peeling off your clothes. Heat rose up from under your shirt at the sight. It reminded you of the villains in dramas, who ooze sex appeal and wickedness at the same time. The kind that are hard to root against because they're so damn good looking.

“Hey,” you kept your tone light and casual, “I just finished cleaning up. I was going to watch this new movie I found, if you want to join me.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, eyes focused on your chest, “I have something else I want to do instead.”

“Game?” You suggested innocently. 

“No,” he drawled, shaking his head. He walked around the counter towards you, eyes glinting with lust. His hands rested on your waist, while he leaned into you, “I'd like to do you.”

“Yunho,” you sighed, sliding from his warm embrace, “Not now. I'm tired, and not really in the mood.”

“But…” Yunho scoffed incredulously, “That's your job though.”

You hesitated. You never thought such words would come out of his mouth. “Yunho…”

“You're a Companion,” he continued, “Fucking me is your whole job. Sure, okay, we go on dates and all that, but at the end of the day if I want some ass, you're supposed to give it to me.”

His words. The irritated look in his eyes. Intimidating and standing taller, you couldn't help being flustered by the change in him. He should do more acting. 

“I don't have to if I don't want to,” you argued back, yanking your wrist from him. 

“Yes, you do,” he roughly grabbed it back, “It's not like you don't like it. You give it up to Hongjoong all the time. You let us gangbang you in front of cameras, and at home. I'm not going to ask you to do anything you haven't done a hundred times before.”

You made an attempt to escape his grasp, but he really did hold onto you. Quickly, he pulled you to him as you struggled and planted a hard kiss on your lips. He told you he wanted you to truly fight him back; he assured you he wouldn't hurt you too badly. You lightly slapped his shoulders, wriggling in his hold as the kiss deepened and he forced his tongue into your mouth. A soft groan escaped him as he trapped you between himself and the counter. You swatted at him, trying to scoot free as he kissed and nibbled down your neck. The bulge grazed against you kindled a fire inside you, but you forced it back down. 

“Yunho-ah, stop it,” you scoffed, pushing him away briefly. When you slapped him lightly, he glared. It aroused you further. 

“No,” he grunted, hands wrapping around you once more. You squeaked at the hands squeezing your ass, feeling it through the thin shorts you wore. “I'm horny, and your job is to fix that. Let me see these.”

“No!”

You tried blocking his hands from sliding under your top to lift your shirt, but it didn't work. He lifted the tight top above your breasts, which he immediately kneaded in his hands. Yunho’s jaw dropped at the sight of them in his palms, your nipples hardening against his palms. You’d opted out of a bra today, and you’re glad you did. The sudden intrusion made you gasp. Using one leg to spread yours, Yunho groaned as he cupped both breasts. 

“Stop,” you said, trying to cover them from view but purposefully failing. “I'm going to call Hongjoong,” you threatened. 

“For? For him to come watch?” He smirked, flicking at one of your nipples. “He loves watching, and I normally don't mind, but I want to keep it just you and me today.” You grabbed his wrists when he moved down to your shorts, shaking your head and breathing heavily. “Let me see you,” he ordered, “It's mine, after all. I pay for it.”

“I don't want to,” you shot back, though you did not appear as confident as you sounded. “Leave me alone.”

“No.” 

You gasped when his hand grabbed your sex. Long fingers sliding fully over your shorts, he massaged it in circles that had you frozen in place. 

“Gosh, it's so warm,” he moaned, his other hand going back to fondling your breast. “And it gets wet so easily. I only have to rub it a few times and it's soaked. We really hit gold when we got you.” 

“Let go,” you demanded, but didn't move. 

Yunho then turned you around, pressing you into the counter once more, and continued feeling you up. His hardon brushing your ass now, he let out a low moan when you instinctively pushed back. Soft panting filled your ear as he lightly touched you. You pushed against his hands, trying to tear yourself from him, but he kept a firm grip on you. 

“Yunho, I mean it. Let me go.”

“Ugh, shut up already. It's not like I haven't done this before.”

“I will tell management. I'm not kidding.”

He yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him over your shoulder, and scowled. “Go ahead. I'll tell them you asked for it and they'll believe me. Nobody believes sluts like you,” he grabbed your chest again and pinched your nipples, “I’ll even tell them you didn’t wear a bra. ‘Well, hyungmin, YN wasn’t wearing a bra, and I was only giving her what she wanted’,” he said in a mocking tone, his voice tickling your nerves, “‘Noonanim, YN wanted it a little rough’. Honestly, YN, who do you think they’ll listen to?” 

This empty threat made you hold back a giggle. You never expected him to be so in character. 

“Buttercup,” you snorted, unable to hold it in.

“What's wrong?” His concern dropped once he heard you giggling. “What? Is it too cheesy?”

“No, it's you being so in character.”

“I did work on a drama once. I guess you can say I'm an actor,” he kissed beneath your ear, “Do you want me to dial back the realness?”

“A bit.” 

“Alright. Time in?”

“Time in.”

Returning to his character, Yunho took your arm and started dragging you to his room. Your heart started racing, a breath catching in your throat at the sudden roughness in him. He brought you into his room, slamming the door behind him and threw you onto his bed. 

“Yunho!” You exclaimed before he forced himself on top of you. “Yunho, stop it!”

“No,” he grunted, taking hold of both your wrists. “You're my girlfriend. You're supposed to fuck me whenever I want, and right now, I want it.” 

“Yunho, please!” You added a whimper at the end as you let him take your wrists. 

He grabbed a belt from beside you and wrapped it around your wrists. You still wriggled beneath him as if trying to escape, but you made no real escape attempt. The adrenaline sent blood rushing to your core. Every single nerve in your body tingled each time his body brushed against yours. Holding down your arms, Yunho kissed you deeply again and grinded into you. His hardon pressed lightly against your thigh each time, and he followed it with a soft groan. You let out more whining, even turning your head before he grabbed your chin to roughly kiss you. One hand putting your hands onto a hook on the headboard, the other slid up your body to your breast for a soft squeeze. Unable to free your arms, you could do nothing but move around as Yunho kissed and caressed your body. Large, warm hands slid up to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them through your shirt. 

“Give me clothes you don't care about. I want to rip them off you.”

You'd left an old tank top, shorts, and underwear in his bedroom last night. When you got them this morning, you saw he'd made small slits in each piece to rip them easier. He'd cut into the tank top by the neckline, which he took a hold of now. He stayed on top of you, grabbing your tits while he continued grinding into you. You never realized how much stronger Yunho is compared to the other members. Mingi, Jongho, San and Yeosang worked out often, so you expected it, but Yunho had size on his side. He kept you firmly pinned even with the belt and hook aiding him, and he made sure your hips did not move too much. 

“I don't know why you bother with clothes,” he grumbled, “Whores don't need clothes.”

You yelped when the sound of ripping fabric followed, exposing your bare chest to him. Hungrily, Yunho took one nipple in his mouth to suck while his other hand pinched the opposite side. He continued grinding into you, groaning softly. You loved how you could feel his dick through his pants, hard and pulsing in his boxers and into your center. 

“Yunho, please stop,” you cried, giving a sniff. “Please, don't do this.”

“Shut up,” he growled, kissing further down your body. 

“Please-”

“-I said ‘shut up’, slut,” he repeated firmly, slapping your cheek lightly. “You don't speak again unless I speak to you first, got it?”

“Yes,” you sniffled, pouting and giving him doe eyes. 

“Sit up.”

He helped you into a sitting position where your mouth came to level with his crotch. With a swift tug of his waistband, his semi-hardon stood inches from your face. Yunho removed his shirt, and you took in his lean form. Not as defined as the others, you still wanted to kiss and feel every inch of him. Yet, despite your clit pulsing from the sight, you pretended to push back and away from him. Shaking your head, you purse your lips as Yunho brought your head back into position. When you didn’t immediately open your mouth, Yunho pinched your nose and slapped his tip against your lips. The light tapping combined with the instinct to breathe caused you to gasp. A gasp that Yunho instantly snuffed out with his dick. Grasping your hair, he kept you in place while he smoothly went in and out of your mouth. You continued whimpering and trying to get away, but not too hard. Yunho’s pulsating cock slid over your tongue, and tempted you into touching yourself. You heard his haggard breathing getting heavier, moans starting to escape him as he stared down at you. Soon, Yunho was thrusting himself into your throat. Your humming vibrated around his tip, and he chuckled. 

“That’s right,” he said through gritted teeth, “Hum around my cock. Go ahead. I know how much you like it.”

You gave a fake sob as he started gagging you. Each deep thrust ended with you gulping and gasping when he pulled off you. Thin streams connected your lips to his tip, and Yunho used this connection to smear himself on your chin and cheeks. Both hands on your head, Yunho forced you to the hilt and stayed there at least a few seconds at a time. 

“Yunho, stop,” you coughed, “It…It hurts.”

“It doesn’t seem to hurt when Seonghwa does it,” he grunted, “So take it.” 

You hadn’t said ‘buttercup’ again, so Yunho did not stop. Purposefully, you didn’t hollow in your cheeks to suck him. When he saw you simply keeping your mouth open he scoffed. 

“No, no, no, suck it,” he ordered, pushing himself into your throat. When you didn’t suck, he poked his tip to your cheek and slapped it. “Suck it right, slut,” he slapped you again, the sting mixing with the ache in your throat. “Don’t act like you’ve never sucked dick before. Hollow out those cheeks and-Fuck, yes, like that.”

Whimpering, you started sucking him properly. This made him give your throat a break and focus on rubbing himself on your tongue and lips. You wriggled around on the bed as your own arousal started throbbing between your thighs. A bundle of his sheets against your sex tempted you into grinding against his mattress, eager for a form of relief. Yet, you knew you’re meant to not want this, so you kept yourself firmly planted on the bed. Yunho chuckled through a groan. 

“Look at you,” he mocked, smacking your cheek again as he pushed against your inner cheek. “Filthy, dumb slut getting turned on by me using her mouth.” When you let out a muffled wail, he plunged deep into your throat again, “Don’t act like you don’t like it. It’s what you’re paid to do. I’m only taking what I pay good money for.” 

He kept you planted there as he started fucking your mouth roughly. A slight pain burned in your throat after a while, making your eyes swim with tears that came down your cheeks. The cheap mascara and eyeliner you’d applied colored the tears with black, a look Yunho asked for specifically. Your clit throbbed while your walls clenched for something to grab onto; your nipples tingled and hardened from imaging his mouth and hands on them. Yunho, seeing your nipples erect, reached down for one as he continued abusing your mouth. Index and thumb fingers rolled it in between them, the twinge of pain adding to the burning pleasure. Sharp slaps to them every so often made you whine around the cock ravaging your mouth. 

Without a word, he pulled you off him and pushed you back onto the pillows. “I know exactly what to do with these,” he huffed, reaching into a box beside the bed. 

You laid there, coughing and clearing your aching throat, as he shifted through a selection of toys, unable to keep yourself from wriggling around underneath him. When he withdrew a chain of nipple clamps, you widened your eyes and shook your head. While the sight of them usually excited you, you pretended to fear it as you struggled to get away from Yunho. This only made him hook your bound wrists back to his headboard. Straddling your thighs, Yunho bent down and greedily sucked one of your nipples. He cupped and squeezed while teasing the sensitive peaks with his tongue. 

“Yunho-ah,” you cried, sniffling and shaking your head, “Please, stop it.”

“Shut up,” he snapped, spanking one of your tits for emphasis. 

“Yunho, please don’t put those. They hurt a lot-”

“Do I look like someone who gives a fuck? Shut. Up. And. Take. It.”

His meanness only turned you on more. You watched him prepare you for the clamps and purposefully moved around to make your breasts jiggle. Yunho looked over at you for a moment. You saw him admiring your hands tied to the headboard, seeing the drool and tears left on your face. You pouted, giving him a pleading look that made his jaw drop. He wanted you to be pathetically helpless against his big, strong body. He wanted you pleading for mercy and saying ‘no’ until the very end. He bent down over you again, pecking your lips softly and nuzzling your nose gently. Neither of you said anything, but you still sniffled and whimpered as he went back to sucking and biting your nipples. You often tried keeping whichever breast he chose from his mouth before he grabbed them harshly and kept you in place. The clamps brought a never ending wave of pleasure that you forced yourself to restrain.

“Just as pretty as I thought,” he gave a self-satisfied smile as the chain pulled your nipples. He slapped the sides to see them bounce against his hands, “They’re prettier covered in loads of cum.”

“Yunho-”

He roughly grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks to keep you quiet, “You just don’t know how to shut up, do you? How many times do I have to say it?”

“Yunho,” you sobbed.

“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” he scoffed. Going back to the box, he took out a dildo-gag. Only a few inches, it wouldn’t go to your throat but it’d certainly keep you quiet. “Open up.”

You shook your head, rolling your lips closed.

“I said ‘open up’, slut.”

He pinched your nose again, and you tried holding your breath as long as possible until you gave in. The second your mouth opened, the gag went inside. He strapped it securely behind your head, enough to keep it from coming loose but not so tight it truly hurt you.

“There,” he said, “Maybe now you’ll finally shut up. You’re prettier when you’re not talking.”

The toy in your mouth caused saliva to build up around it, which you tried swallowing down to keep it from coming out. That didn’t prepare you for what he did next: Yunho went further down your body to your shorts. He roughly and hurriedly tugged them off you, and groaned at the sight of your wet panties. Your pussy ached when he heatedly tore them enough to reveal your sex and ass, the cheap fabric hanging by the elastic bands. When you tried closing your legs, he forced them back apart and sat between your thighs to keep you spread out. Your heart started racing in anticipation, sensing his hard cock close to your dripping sex, and expected him to go inside right away. But no. Yunho planned to drag this out. 

Lifting your legs up by the ankles, he pressed your knees to your chest and swatted your bare pussy. The stinging pain added to the clamps on your nipples, and you thought you might cum if he continued spanking you. Yunho’s quick, hard slaps teased your exposed clit, the brief touch sliding across your pussy each time his hand came down. Seeing you trembling on the bed, Yunho stopped spanking and rubbed your sore lips gently. 

“I know you’re not about to cum,” he said, a threat in his voice. “I know you’re not about to cum before me. I didn’t say anything about you getting to cum first.” He spit right on it, swirling it around slowly, “No, no, no. We’ve told you before that a proper slut would let us cum first. This is for my pleasure, not yours,” he slapped your pussy particularly hard to which you gave a muffled cry, “I don’t pay you to have orgasms. I pay you to give me orgasms.”

You attempted to plead, but your gag kept you quiet.

“What’s that?” he cocked his head to hear you, “You’re going to be a good toy and let me fuck you however I like? Hm, that’s good to know.” He laughed when you reverently shook your head, “Oh, you know you love it. Your pussy certainly loves it.”

He grabbed his dick and started tapping it against your pussy. The teasing motion stirred the pot boiling inside you. You could feel your orgasm slowly rolling to the front, about to explode right onto his wet tip until he’d stop. When you’d calm down, he’d go right back to teasing his length against your pussy. It became absolute torture. If you ever stopped being wet enough, he’d spit right where you both met to keep you slick enough for him. You took the moment to watch his body tense up at the flickers of pleasure grinding into you gave him. One hand gripping your thigh, the other made sure his dick moved exactly how he knew it’d weaken you. You saw the veins in his hands from the pressure, and wanted them inside you. You wanted them knuckle-deep, pushing in and out and wiggling deep within. His fingers always looked better around your throat or stuffed in your holes. But, he didn’t use his fingers. Not once. 

When he finally did enter you, he gasped in surprise. “Oh no,” he said, smoothly gliding in and out of you, “Looks like I forgot a condom.”

Another thing you’d both discussed and cleared on before starting.

“No, don’t do that,” you tried saying through the gag. “Don’t cum in me.”

“Huh? What?” he cupped his ear, starting to rub your clit with his thumb so you mewled loudly. “You want me to cum in you?”

“No! Don't!”

“I bet you do,” he started pumping in and out of you faster, “I bet you love when Hongjoong fills you with cum every night. I’m surprised you’re not pregnant already with all the times he’s creamed your little pie.” He took hold of your thighs and kept them spread further apart. “But, don’t worry. I’ll cum in you,” he sneered, “Maybe I’ll leave you here and call the other members so they can fill up your pussy too. You’ll be so full of it, we’d have to take you to the clinic the next day,” he laughed.

The idea of him taking his own fantasy a step further had your thighs quaking in his grasp. Yunho kept the same steady pace throughout, only stopping when he sensed your orgasm drawing near again. A cocktail of pain and pleasure once again filled your insides, and you realized how much you enjoyed it. You liked mean Yunho. He exhibited a sadistic desire to bring you close to an orgasm, only to deny it to you at the last second. Your disappointed and frustrated whimpers delighted him, usually resulting in him taunting you as he pounded his hips into yours a few times. He meant it when he said he’d be merciless. He proved it when he flipped you onto your front, lifted your head up by your hair, and started pounding your pussy relentlessly. Any plea or cry you gave went unheard underneath the sounds of his skin slapping yours. When the bed banged against the wall, you thought that usual shyness might come out, but it only encouraged him further. 

“Please, please, please,” you cried through your gag, tears watering your eyes again. “Please stop. It hurts so much.”

“Shut up,” he growled, tugging your hair and thrusting faster. “Shut up and take my cock.”

“Yunho-”

“I said ‘shut up’, bitch.” He pushed your face into the pillow, the dildo going further into your mouth and silencing you right away. “Fuck toys don’t talk.”

You sobbed into the pillow, your nose poking out enough for you to breathe. Your eyes rolled back right as his tip started pushing your g-spot. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge once more. You thought you’d go insane from the feeling alone. You felt nothing but the desperation growing inside you. The need to meet his hips with yours, the need to be clenching and squeezing him through an orgasm became far too deep. You lost all sense. The only thing you focused on was pretending to squirm out of Yunho’s strong grip. 

What pushed you the closest was when Yunho’s moans became breathy and erratic. By his tightened grasp, his feverish thrusts and incoherent streams of curses, you knew he’d finish soon. You clenched him tightly, which made him quicken his pace. Soon, a distinct hot sensation spilled inside you and you almost came with him. Yunho continued going until he pumped every last drop inside you. Quivering, your body tensed up in effort to stay on the edge. 

“Tak-Take it,” he groaned, huffing as he squeezed out a few more drops, “It’s the least you can do after…after rejecting me…”

The second he withdrew from you, you weakly scrambled away from him.

“And where do you think you’re going, huh?” 

He roughly pulled you back into his grasp. Restricting your arms with one of his, he parted your legs with his knee and started rubbing your sex again. The tips of his fingers rapidly gliding over your clit had you trembling and clutching Yunho’s arms. Your body caved into itself, a burning tightness building the longer he kept you in his grasp. You tried closing your thighs together and moving from his hand, but he only forced them further apart and went faster.

“That’s it,” he said in your ear, still toying with your clit despite the sensitivity settling in, “Cum all over yourself like the pathetic slut you are. Go ahead. Do it.” 

You shook your head as if keeping yourself from giving into his demands. 

“You know you want to,” he said, stopping to bring your knee further up and then continuing, “You wanted to a little bit ago. Am I not good enough for you to cum for? Huh?” 

You put your hands on his wrist, trying to move his hand away but not doing a good job of it. This time, he didn’t do anything else. He only rubbed; his fingers caused his warm cum to mix with your juices, getting the mess everywhere, but you didn’t care. You came in seconds. The blinding climax made every muscle in your body seize up, and you screamed around the dildo in your mouth. You could do nothing but lay there as Yunho teased an orgasm out of you. Being completely at his mercy, tied up and clamped, you laid there and came hard until the very end. 

When you finally finished, you desperately chased whatever bit of air you could get through your nose. It wasn’t until Yunho undid the gag that you sucked in more air. Keeping you in his arms, Yunho carefully unbuckled his belt from your wrists and tenderly rubbed them for you. He peppered the side of your face with soft, brief kisses as he gingerly removed the clamps to rub your sore nipples. The two of you laid there in the afterglow of this new experience, content to listen to each other’s breathing gradually steady over time. You stayed still when he started wiping the mess from you with a wet cloth, drying it for you right after. A shower or bath would be for later. Neither of you felt up to it at the moment. 

“Did you like it?” he asked in the silence, not having moved an inch away from you. “Was I too rough? Not rough enough? I didn’t want to overdo it with you.”

You shook your head, “I really liked it, actually.” 

“You liked it, huh?” he teased, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Even when I hit you?”

“Yes,” your cheeks grew warm from the confession. “I’ve never seen you that way before.” You turned over to face him, remaining in his arms still, “It really turned me on.” Talking made you realize your throat did itch slightly. You’d need some tea to soothe it at least. 

“Oh?” he lifted your leg to his waist and put his arm around you, “Maybe I should be mean in bed more often.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” You then asked, “Was I…I don’t know how to say it…Fighting back enough? I didn’t want to make you think I really wasn’t into it, but I know you wanted me to kind of fight back.”

“You were perfect, babe. It was exactly like I imagined,” he insisted, kissing you softly. “Thank you,” he said, moving hair from your face, “For doing this with me. I thought it might scare you or you would see me differently when I asked you.”

“Never,” you assured him, clearing your throat. “I’ll admit I was surprised by it at first, but it was something new for us to explore.” You chuckled again, which bothered your throat, “But I did think you getting so into it was funny at first.”

“I wanted to do it right,” he laughed. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You wouldn’t have,” you coughed. “You wouldn’t have disappointed me. We would’ve just had normal sex or no sex or whatever we both felt like doing.” 

“Oh, baby,” Yunho immediately perked up, “Your throat. It must hurt. Is it really bad? I shouldn’t have done it so much.” 

“It itches a bit.” 

“I’ll make you some tea then,” he peeled himself away from you and sat up. Ruffling his hair, he reached for his boxers on the floor and said, “And an ice pack too?” 

“Yes, please.” 

You knew once you really started moving around, you’d know which parts of your body will need to be iced. Yunho gently pecked your lips, then left the bedroom. Sinking further into his bed, you felt yourself drifting to sleep. The events you replayed in your head gave you chills. Nobody looking at Yunho would think he enjoyed such a taboo act; though, you’re not bothered by it at all. A part of you wondered if he'd do it again, since Yeosang won’t be home any time soon. 

You’d definitely have no objections. 

****

A/N: hey hey friends! Sorry this one took so long. Like with all my current wips, I've been having trouble sticking to one and finishing it. I hope this one makes up for it though! I have a Seonghwa one coming up soon too! always like and reblog, it keeps us going <3

Im reading this at 2 am and STRUGGLING to not squeal out loud

The ‘mum’ friend | Masterlist

Synopsis: Jin’s a little tired of being the ‘mum’ friend. Friends-to-lovers!drabble series. Jin x reader

Parts:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9