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jeonginsleftcheek · 10 months ago

Text

Work of art

pairing: sub!hyunjin x dom!afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.3k

warnings: masturbation, foot job, degradation, body hair(does that need a warning), spanking, butt play, sex toys, hyunjin is called 'slut', ruined orgasm, pegging, restraints, hair pulling, overstimulation, cock milking, slapping, dom/sub dynamics, reader is called 'boss', light bdsm, praise(lmk if i missed something)

a/n: i need subby hyunjin like i need air to breathe, no joke! plus he said he hates shaving so i had to incorporate that fact into my fic🫣

~check out my: Masterlist

The first time Hwang Hyunjin walked into your studio with his hair tousled, sunglasses almost falling off of his nose, a coffee cup in his hand and a walk full of sass and confidence, you knew he was different.

In your line of work, you've met many different models, your specialty being erotic photography, you've captured many beautiful people of all shapes and sizes but no one was as captivating to you as Hyunjin was.

He was full of sex appeal, even when he was dressed, something about him excited you so much that you wished you could cross that line between work and pleasure and indulge in your fantasy of absolutely ruining the man smiling cheekily at you.

It wouldn't be the first time you crossed that line with your models, it's hard to stay desensitized while capturing the naked vunerability of someone. It's exhilirating to command a person's movement, have them in all kind of positions, especially if you're attracted to them.

You appreciated the beauty of a human body, any human body for that matter, you loved encapsulating all the little details in your work. Freckles, grey hairs, spots, knuckles, tummy folds, stretch marks, body hair... You found beauty in everyone. And sometimes you just wanted to give special appreciation to those bodies and those people.

Today is already the third time Hyunjin came to your studio, and even though you've already seen every part of him, you are always in awe of how beautiful he is, like he was carved out by the hands of a god.

"Hi, boss."- he smirks, jokingly calling you silly nicknames is always fun to him.

"Oh, hey there."- you whip around to look at him, and he looks effortlessly handsome, like he got up and put on the first things he found though you know he actually made an effort with his outfit.

You can see the details, the rings adorning his long fingers, the necklace framing his neck and the black cashmere shirt, two of the buttons undone revealing his prominent collarbone. The shirt is slightly crooked, sliding off of his left shoulder, revealing his smooth skin.

He takes you in too, your hair in a half updo held by an oriental looking hair pin, the black eyeliner on your eyes, making them look even sharper, and your black top, loose around your frame, your perky nipples on display since you hate wearing bras, your pants also flowy and your feet bare.

You hate being restricted while you work so you always dress as loose and casual as you can, unkowingly turning Hyunjin on as he takes mental notes and pictures of you.

"Brought you coffee too."- he says as he comes closer, and your nose is filled with his intoxicating scent mixed with the comforting smell of coffee, making you dizzy.

"Thanks, Jinnie."- you take the cup from him, your fingers grazing against each other's, sending a wave of electricity through your body.

"Why don't you go get comfortable while I prepare my camera?"- you say after you take a sip of coffee.

"No foreplay? No how are you, how's your week been?"- he jokes around, placing his stuff on the side and you look at him, your eyes narrowed and a smirk on your lips.

"We're gonna be here for hours, there's time to talk. Besides, you've done this before, you don't need foreplay."- you chuckle as he takes his shoes off.

"Maybe I like foreplay with you."- oh you know he's a flirt, he does it every time he comes here, taunting you and testing your patience.

If only he knew that he was playing with fire.

"Hm, maybe I won't give it to you for that exact reason."- you smirk and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you.

"Wow, you're mean."- he chuckles.

"Oh, you have no idea, pretty boy."- you say and the nickname goes straight to his dick. He got called a pretty boy many times by many different people, in more lewd situations than this one but hearing you call him that in your sultry voice thrilled him like nothing else.

"Where do you want me?"- he asks, dressed only in his shirt and his boxers, his long legs looking delicious.

"On the bed. We're doing a bed shoot today."

"Straight to it. I like that, boss."- he smirks and climbs onto the bed as you chuckle, adjusting some settings on your camera.

"Alright, let's warm up. Just do what naturally comes to you first."- you say, bringing your camera up.

And Hyunjin is a natural, he flirts with the camera easily. As soon as it's on him, the look in his eyes changes and it makes your core throb, the way his eyes stare at you hungrily through the lens.

Hyunjin is propped on his elbows and he throws his head back, revealing his long neck. He spreads his legs a little, looking absolutely delectable as he stares up at you.

You take a few photos as he gives you a few different versions of that pose, his hand coming up to undo another button of his shirt.

"Is that The Cure?"- he asks as you hum along to the music playing.

"Yeah."- you nod. "That's the mood for today."- you add and Hyunjin chuckles.

"Are you depressed or deeply in love?"- he jokes as you come closer to him and take a few close-ups.

"Neither of those. Not that it's any of your business, Hwang."- you smirk, and he cringes.

"Ew, don't call me by my last name."- he recoils as he changes positions, kneeling on the bed and sitting on his feet.

"What do you want me to call you? Pretty boy?"- you taunt, your hands on his thighs, spreading them apart. Hyunjin visibly gulps, his eyes boring into yours as he looks at you sweetly.

"That's much better."- he says, his breath short as he lets you adjust his hands so that they're in his lap, one wrist over the other, like you were gonna tie him up.

Your hand comes up to touch his chin and you lift his face up, your thumb pressing into his plushy lower lip. His lips part as he looks at you like he's mesmerized.

"Stay like that, pretty boy."- you smirk as you grab a chair and bring it closer to the bed.

You get up on it as Hyunjin looks at you wordlessly, his eyes following your movements.

You reach towards him and slide the shirt off his shoulder before you get into a position so you can snap a few photos looking down at him.

"Looking good?"- Hyunjin asks after a few more positions.

"Need your shirt off."- you say as you look through the photos, your brows furrowed in concentration.

"Your wish is my command, boss."- Hyunjin smirks, slowly unbuttoning the rest of his shirt as you look up from your camera.

The shit eating grin he has on his face as he undoes and slides the shirt off as slowly as he can, lets you know he's teasing you.

You stare intenly at him as he leisurely slides it off, the sleeves pooling around his wrists as he leans on them, his legs still spread, head lolled to the side. You can see the outline of his semi hard cock, and his happy trail disappearing under the top of his boxers. It's nothing new, you've seen him naked and fully hard already, taking pictures of him in the most vunerable state.

"Don't move."- you say and bring your camera up as Hyunjin gives you a sultry look and you snap a few more pictures.

"I want a few shots of your back and shoulders."- you say and Hyunjin nods, a smirk on his lips.

He gets rid of his shirt completely and turns his back to you. Your hand comes up to touch his hair as you play with it, making it look even more tousled than it was before.

You can hear Hyunjin's breath getting caught in his throat whenever your fingertips brush against the back of his neck, goosebumps rising on his skin and you're so close to him, he smells so good and you just want to lean in and leave kisses on his neck.

Your hands slide down his shoulders and arms and he leans into your touch, shivering a little as you run your fingertips on his upper back.

"Keep doing that and I'll lose my concentration very quickly."- Hyunjin whimpers quietly and you laugh at him, squeezing his arm a little.

"You're not that easy, are you?"- you smirk, removing your hands off of him and grabbing your camera.

"You wanna find out?"- he flirts again, looking back at you with a smirk.

"Stop flirting, we're working."- you tease as you get ready to take more pictures.

"Alright, I'm serious now. So serious."- Hyunjin smiles and you chuckle, shaking your head at him before he stills so you can do your job.

After some time, he gets turned towards you again and your eyes fall down between his legs immediately.

Hyunjin smirks as you eye his erection that's bulging and straining in his boxers.

"I didn't shave."- he whispers. "But it's trimmed. Is that okay?"

You look up, your eyes slightly widdened, the thought of his pretty cock framed like that made you so unbearably aroused, your pussy throbbing.

"More than okay, Jinnie."- you say, leaning closer to him without even realizing it, and your knee brushes against his bulge.

"Ah..."- he moans a little, his head falling back, eyelids droopy as he looks at you.

"Sorry, didn't mean to do that."- you swallow.

"I don't mind."- he says quietly, legs spreading more as he moves his hips up, brushing against your knee.

"Hyunjin."- you say in a warning tone but his hands grip at the sheets as he starts slowly rutting against you.

You want to stop him but he looks so freaking hot with his lips parted, knuckles white and pupils blown as he ruts against you like a desperate dog.

"You can't cum Hyunjin, I need more pictures before that."- you warn him, your hands on his hips, pressing down to stop his movement.

"S-sorry. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."- he looks pathetic and embarassed as he tears his eyes away from you.

You chuckle, arousal dripping on your lace panties as you grab your camera.

You stand up on the bed, balancing for a moment before you speak up.

"You look really pretty when you're pathetic like that."- you smirk, snapping a few pictures of his already fucked out face.

"Yeah? You wanna make me more pathetic then?"- he taunts.

"Don't challenge me, pretty boy."- you say.

"Why not?"- he bites on his lip, you can see he's so desperate for you to do anything, touch him in any kind of way and though you always flirted with him, you never went this far before.

Your mind is getting a little cloudy at the sight of Hyunjin under you like that, like he's giving himself to you on a silver platter.

"I don't know if you can handle it."- you whisper.

"I can."- he's sure of himself and you know you're going to have so much fun with him.

You've noticed he always stares at your feet and you smirk, your eyes getting hazy as you find your balance on the bed again and place your foot on his thigh.

Hyunjin jerks under your touch immediately, leaning into you. You slide your foot towards his cock before you press into his erection.

"Ah!"- Hyunjin whimpers, his back arching on the bed as you start slowly moving your foot on his length, his cock twitching every time you touch his head.

"Y/n... fuck."- he whines and you use that moment to take more pictures of him.

His eyes snap open as he looks up at you, his vision blurry from the pleasure you're giving him, your toes circling his head that's leaking pre cum, forming a wet patch on his boxers.

"You really are pathetic, Hyunjin."- you chuckle lowly. "This is what you get off to?"

"Mm, yes, yes!"- he whines, his hips lifting up into your touch as you speed up and press harder into him.

His cock twitches violently against you, and he looks more beautiful than before, his face and neck flushed, his nipples perky, face fucked out and hair messy, his legs spread for you.

You use that moment to take more pictures of him, ones you will keep only in your private collection.

"Say it, pretty boy. Say what you are."- you demand.

"Pathetic! I'm pathetic!"- he whines loudly, face scrunching up in pleasure and you know he's close. His thighs shake and you smirk evilly.

"Yes, you are. A pathetic slut."- you say and he whimpers your name loudly before you remove your foot, leaving him hanging on the edge, ruining his orgasm.

"W-why'd you stop?!"- he gasps, fisting the sheets in frustration. You snap a picture as you laugh.

"I told you not to challenge me. And we're not done with work."- you say, kneeling down between his legs. "I need your cock to be wet and hard for the next pictures."- you caress his thigh and he moans, tears of frustration gathering in his eyes.

"Will you let me cum after that?"- he asks and he looks so fuckable in that moment that you just want to put away your camera and fuck his brains out but somehow you manage to calm down.

"Maybe."- you say and he sighs, wiping at his eyes.

"You really are mean."- he pouts.

"Just take those off and shut up."- you pinch his nipple quickly and he gasps, his eyes widdening and cheeks becoming even more flushed.

He obeys your command and slides his boxers down, throwing them somewhere on the side.

His cock slaps against his stomach, it's painfully hard and throbbing, the tip is red and angry, pre-cum oozing out of it, the vein running over his length is prominent. But what grabs your attention most is the neatly trimmed bush framing his cock so perfectly and you can't help the gush of arousal pooling on your panties.

Hyunjin shrinks a little under your eyes as you keep staring at his cock.

"I-is it okay like that?"- he asks, his voice wavering.

"It's so fucking hot."- you lick your lips.

"Really?"- Hyunjin shivers when you look into his eyes darkly.

"Really."- you whisper, hand reaching towards him. He thinks you'll wrap it around his cock, instead you place it on his navel, fingers gently running down his happy trail to his bush, playing with the hairs and lightly pulling on them. Hyunjin jolts, his cock twitching as electricity runs through his body.

"Oh... oh that feels good."- he whines as you play with his hair.

"Touch yourself for me, will you?"- you say, smirking as you move your hand away again and he whines in frustration again.

"Anything for you."- he says and the look in his eyes confirms his words, he would really do anything for you.

His long thin fingers wrap around his swollen cock as he starts stroking it.

"Slower."- you order and he obeys, hand moving painfully slowly as little moans spill from his lips. His eyes are trained on you as you keep taking pictures of him.

"Spread your legs more. Let me see everything, pretty."- you smirk and Hyunjin spreads his legs, bringing them up as he leans down on his elbow.

"This good?"- he asks, his voice breaking and lower than usually as he struggles not to jerk off faster.

"So good."- you chuckle and keep snapping pictures of him. Hyunjin's going crazy, he wants some kind of release but you have different plans for him.

"Stop now."- you say and he whimpers but moves his hand to the side, gripping at the sheets again as you snap photos of his pretty cock.

"Are those for work or for you?"- he smirks, almost breathless.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"- you smirk back at him and he sits up, his face close to yours.

"I can give you even better pictures for your private collection."- he whispers lowly.

"Oh yeah? What do you get out of it?"- you ask with a smirk.

"You."- he says.

"You want me?"- you chuckle, placing your hand on his chin and holding his face firmly in place.

"I want you so bad."- he whines.

"If you want me, Hyunjin... You're gonna have to be a good boy and take what I give you without complaints."- you warn, your voice sultry and low, your camera forgotten on the side.

"Okay, I can do that. I can be good for you."- he says quickly and you chuckle at his eagerness.

"We'll see about that."- you say and before he can answer you grab him and easily turn him on his stomach as he shrieks and scrambles to grab at the sheets.

Your hand wraps around the back of his neck as you push his face into the bed, your pelvis colliding with his ass. You lean over him, your other hand slowly running down his spine as Hyunjin shivers, his eyes wide and breaths ragged.

"You think you can take me, Jinnie?"- you chuckle lowly, blowing at his ear as your hand comes down to grip his asscheek and he mewls under you, scratching at the bed.

"Y-yes."- he whispers.

"Are you sure? This sweet hole looks so very tight."- your fingertips press into his fluttering entrance, just to tease him a little.

He gasps, leaning into your touch as his eyes roll back.

"I- yes, I can take it! Please!"- he whines desperately, dragging the tip of his cock against the satin sheets.

His eyes close in anticipation but you move away completely, leaving him bare and he hears the clicks of your camera before he can even open his eyes and look at you.

He starts getting up, but you're quick to place your hand on his back and push him down.

"Did I say you could move?"- you snap at him and Hyunjin shivers.

"N-no."- he gulps loudly and you tower over him.

"Then why did you move?"- you ask, pinching his butt and he jolts and whimpers.

"I won't do it again, I swear!"- he cries out as you smack his ass and watch as it jiggles deliciously.

"Good slut."- you smirk and leave him on the bed as you put your camera aside and go to your table. There's a drawer in the table, holding all kinds of fun things and Hyunjin breathes deep as he kneels on all fours.

It wouldn't be the first time he got fucked in the ass but no one was ever this demanding and degrading towards him and he was so excited that he felt like could cum untouched any moment now.

You found a bottle of lube and an unused butt plug, your feet padding on the floor and you get back to Hyunjin as he eagerly awaits for you.

"Eyes up front."- you say as you kneel behind him, placing the stuff on the side. You spread his legs more with yours and he whimpers a little, his hands gripping at the sheets above his head.

You practically drool at the sight of him, face down and ass up, his pretty hole on display just for you, the muscles on his arms flexing as he grips and releases the sheets.

You decide to take your sweet time with him, knowing how hard he is and how close to his release he is, the sadist in you loving the power you have over such a beautiful man.

You run your hands down his back to his dainty waist, grabbing it and caressing his soft skin. Your hands slide down to his ass and the back of his thighs as you explore his body, squeezing, slapping, fondling, worshipping.

Hyunjin keeps shivering and breathing hard as he leans into your hands, hungry for more, like he's never been touched before.

"P-please..."- he begs and you chuckle, spanking him lightly.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, pretty boy."- you click your tongue, grabbing his ass harshly and he moans, fingertips digging into the matress.

"Please, y/n, please touch me!"- he whines.

"You want me to touch you?"- you smack his ass again.

"Ah! Yes, please touch me!"

"Where? Where do you want me to touch you?"- you smirk, your hands massaging his asscheeks, fingertips close to where he needs you the most.

"My- I want your fingers inside me, please!"- he begs and you chuckle.

"Was that so hard to say?"- you tease him.

"N-no, it wasn't."- he stutters as you grab the lube and pour it all over your fingers, warming it up a little, before you place two of them on his fluttering hole.

Hyunjin's thighs shake in anticipation as you press on it and start moving your fingers in a circling motion.

"Ah, mm..."- Hyunjin melts instantly, leaning into your touch. What was it about you that made him surrender so easily?

You keep massaging his hole, circling it slowly as it pulsates and opens up under your touch, and you lean down pressing your lips into his upper back.

"Ahh!"- Hyunjin whimpers, enjoying the attention you're giving him.

His cock hurts so bad by now, he hopes you'll let him cum soon before he loses control and cums untouched.

Your lips keep worshipping his back as you slowly push your finger into him. He tenses for a moment and you bring your other hand up to caress his lower back while you keep pushing into him.

"Y/n"- he whimpers your name as you wiggle your finger inside him.

"So tight. Just for me."- you smirk against his skin, leaving another kiss on his spine.

"Yes, just for you."- he whispers, his breath getting caught in his throat when you start sliding your finger inside him slowly.

"But I think you can take more."- you say, slowly pulling out to add more lube before you push two of your fingers inside him.

"Ah, fuck!"- Hyunjin's body jerks forwards as he whimpers loudly.

"Look at that. Such a slutty hole, taking my fingers so well."- you say, and Hyunjin hears the camera click.

"A-ah w-what-" - he stutters as you push your fingers as deep as you can.

"Private collection."- you chuckle as you curl your fingers and start fucking directly into his prostate, making him moan loudly and claw at the sheets, his cock dragging against the bed and leaking onto it, and he feels like exploding right away.

"Please don't stop, please don't stop, please..."- he keeps repeating, his body shaking as he gasps and moans.

You sneak your hand around him, sliding it against his navel, until your fingertips reach his bush and you start playing with it again, pulling on the hair. Hyunjin falls apart, moaning loudly, not even caring how pathetic he looks and sounds as he pushes his ass back into you and ruts his cock against the bed.

"You wanna cum, slut?"- you ask, running your fingers through his pubic hair and pressing them into his skin as you keep abusing his prostate.

His cock throbs and he can't hold it in anymore, his body shakes violently, sweat sliding down his forehead.

"P-please I wanna cum."- he cries and you laugh, you got him exactly where you want him.

"Pretty boy wants to cum."- you mock him.

"Yes, please y/n! Please!"- he begs again.

"Will you let me do whatever I want with you?"- you smirk as you keep fucking into him fast, your other hand grabbing his balls and massaging them.

"Oh my fu- yes, yes you can do whatever you want with me!"- he whines and you smirk.

"You can cum."- you say and Hyunjin's whole body convulses as he explodes hard onto the bed, spurts of cum keep painting the sheets as he moans your name over and over again.

"Fuck, what a dirty slut you are."- you smack his ass hard as you pull out your fingers.

His hole flutters and he whimpers at the empty feeling.

"A pathetic dirty slut. Aren't you?"- you ask sternly, your hand tangled in his hair as you pull his head back.

"Yes, I'm a pathetic dirty slut!"- he cries.

You snicker, leaning away from him and he looks back at you, his eyes teary, sweat on his forehead.

"Wh-what are you doing?"- he asks, straining his neck and trying to look at your hands.

"See this pretty butt plug? I think it'd look even prettier inside you."- you say. "Don't you agree?"- you ask, teasing his entrance with it.

"Mm, yes. Put it in, boss."- he whines and you chuckle as you push the butt plug inside him slowly, watching his sweet hole swallowing it greedily.

When it's pushed all the way in, you caress his ass as you grab your camera.

"Be sweet and stay like that."- you say and Hyunjin just whimpers, the butt plug designed specifically to stimulate his prostate and his cock is getting hard again, twitching against the bed.

You snap a few pictures before you stand up and grab your shoes.

"Where are you going?"- Hyunjin shivers, still not moving from the position you ordered him to stay in.

"We are going to my house, pretty. Get dressed."- you say and Hyunjin's eyes widden as he scrambles to get up, his legs like jelly from the orgasm before and the toy inside him, stimulating him constantly.

You only ever brought one of your models home before, Nelle, and you had so much fun with her but Hyunjin was something different, he was captivating to you like no one else and a small part of you hoped this wasn't the last time you'd be going home with him.

Hyunjin barely managed to get dressed, having to somehow tuck his semi hard cock back into his boxers, whimpering while doing so and you enjoyed watching him struggle, he looked good enough to eat in that moment.

You practically dragged him to your car after locking up the studio and he sat in the passenger seat with a loud whimper, the butt plug pressing into his prostate harder.

The whole drive to your apartment, Hyunjin was tortured, he tried to get off somehow, gyrating his hips and palming himself but you slapped his thigh every time he did that, warning him to be good.

"Stop that or I won't let you cum all night."- you pinch his plushy thigh and he whimpers.

"S-sorry."- he apologizes, sweat trickling down his forehead as he breathes hard.

He almost fell apart by the time you arrived at your building and you had to help him walk to the entrance.

When you enter your apartment, Hyunjin looks around, trying to take in the modern art that was displayed everywhere in your space, the smell of you mixed with remnants of some kind of spicy scented candle was overflowing his senses and his body was buzzing.

"Want something to drink?"- you tease and he whines.

"Y/n please..."

"Please what? You have to use your words, pretty. Tell me exactly what you want or I won't do anything."- you smirk, pushing him against the wall, your thigh lodged between his legs, your hand holding his face firmly.

His eyes roll back as he whimpers and tries to rut against you.

"You can form a sentence, can't you?"- you say in a mocking tone, your hand sliding down to wrap around his neck.

"Y-yes... I-I want you to fuck me, please."- he whimpers and you laugh, stepping back from him.

"Oh you're gonna have to work hard for that."- you say, grabbing his wrist gently and leading him to your room.

"I'll do anything! I swear!"- he scrambles behind you.

"Strip."- you order as you push him into your room, closing the door with your foot.

Hyunjin obeys quickly, peeling off his clothes and throwing it aside.

"You're making a mess, Hyunjin."- you warn and he gasps, grabbing his clothes from the floor and placing it on the chair next to your table.

"Sorry."- he mutters, his face is flushed as he looks down, avoiding your eyes and awaiting your next order.

"Kneel."- you say and his eyes widden a little before he falls on his knees, hitting your carpet with a muffled thud.

"Hands on your back, head down."- you order and he does everything you say.

You can see his breathing is becoming ragged, his pretty cock twitching and leaking down onto your expensive carpet.

"You're gonna wait like that and I don't want to hear a peep from you, understood?"

"Yes, boss."- Hyunjin whimpers quietly, eyes glued down to his body.

You leave the room and a few moments later, Hyunjin hears the shower running.

He curses under his breath, you're really enjoying torturing him. But, he knows he wouldn't be here if he wasn't enjoying it.

His mind keeps making up scenarios of what you would do to him, he wondered if you're even gonna let him taste you or fuck you.

His cock was getting painfully hard at the image of you riding his face, making him suffocate on your sweet pussy as your plush thighs frame his face perfectly.

He wanted to touch himself so bad but he knew you'd punish him for that, even though he would take your punishments happily, he'd rather you reward him for his good behaviour so he stays still.

You come back some ten minutes later, refreshed and naked, the only thing you have on is a strap on and Hyunjin dares to look up at you, his eyes bulging out of his skull as he whimpers.

"Pretty boy, is this what you want?"- you ask, strolling closer to him.

"Y-yes, please."- he whimpers again.

"Cock slut."- you snicker at him, hand in his hair as you grip him and pull on his head harshly.

"Ah!"- he moans loudly, his fingertips digging into his palms, his thighs and biceps flexing and straining as his hard cock twitches.

"Suck."- you simply order, pressing the tip of your cock on his plump lips. Hyunjin's eyes get hazy instantly as he wraps his pretty cherry lips around your tip.

He looks so sweet as he keeps his eyes on yours, sucking eagerly on the head of the dildo, getting it wet with his spit as it drips down his chin.

"You can take more."- you say lowly, pressing his head towards you and pushing more of it in. He moans around you, swallowing around your cock as his eyes roll back.

You fuck his face slowly and Hyunjin keeps moaning, taking more in, the gagging noises he makes as he chokes on the dildo get you extremely wet and horny.

"You look so pretty with your mouth full of cock. You were made just for this."- you smirk, reaching towards the table you were near to and grabbing your camera that was left there.

Hyunjin whimpers around you, choking on your length again.

"I'm gonna take a few pictures of your pathetic face, slut. Stay just like that."- you say as he swallows as much of the dildo as he can.

Hyunjin tries to breathe through his nose so he doesn't gag while you take pictures and his cock keeps leaking and throbbing painfully, begging for any kind of release.

You put your camera aside and start fucking his face, Hyunjin whines around you, his hands coming up to grip at your thighs so he doesn't fall from the sheer strength you're moving your hips with.

"Why are you touching me?"- you slap his cheek with two of your fingers lightly before you pull out of his mouth.

Hyunjin coughs, eyes fluttering as he grabs at his throat and looks up at you.

"Fuck, I'm sorry!"- he whines and you smirk, circling around him. He tries to turn around but you place your foot on his upper back and force him down into the carpet, his cheek leaned on it and his ass lifted up.

"You wanna be fucked, slut?"- you ask, holding his head down with your foot.

"P-please..."- he whimpers.

"Let me see you fuck yourself with the butt plug. I wanna see how much you want it."- you say with an insidious smile.

Hyunjin's hand is shaky as he reaches behind him and grips the base of the toy. He mewls as he starts moving it in and out of his hole slowly.

"Do you even want it? Try harder."- you press your foot between his shoulder blades, holding him down as his eyes wander and look at you.

He whines and starts fucking himself faster, his free hand gripping at the carpet as he tries his best.

"Faster, slut!"- you lean down and spank him hard making him jolt and whimper loudly.

"F-fuck!"- he swears, moving his arm faster, fucking the butt plug right into his prostate. His eyes are shut tightly, his cock is constantly twitching and he's close to his release.

"Faster!"- you smack him again.

"M-my arm hurts."- he whimpers and you chuckle.

"You're acting like a little princess, Hyunjin. You want me to lay you down and do all the work?"- you ask, moving your foot away and leaning closer to him, your hand covering his and helping him fuck himself.

"N-no! I want what you want!"- he cries.

"No, you don't. You don't get to want anything. I told you not to taunt me, didn't I?"- you smirk, pushing the butt plug deep inside his hole.

"I'm sorry, boss. I'm so sorry!"- tears gather in his eyes and you smirk, slapping his hand away and pulling the butt plug out.

"You're gonna do all the work."- you chuckle lowly, sitting on the bed as Hyunjin kneels and looks at you.

"I am?"- he asks, confused as to what you're asking him to do.

"Yes. What are you waiting for? Come and sit on my dick, slut."- you order and Hyunjin gasps, scrambling to his feet and almost running to you.

You have your camera with you and a bottle of lube which you hand to Hyunjin.

"Make me wet."- you say and he whimpers as he spreads the lube on his hands before he grabs the dildo and starts jerking it off.

His eyes fall to your breasts and he wishes he could suck on your sweet nipples and lay his face on them but at this point, he's sure you wouldn't allow that.

Hyunjin straddles you, hovering over your cock and you watch him with a smirk.

He grabs his asscheeks, spreading them apart and slowly sliding his hole on the wet strap-on.

The tip catches his pulsating hole and he mewls loudly as he slowly brings his hips down on yours, taking the whole thing in one slide, filled up to the hilt.

The way he looks in that moment is worth thousands of pictures and you grab your camera. Hyunjin stays still as you take pictures of him, his hole clenching around you, his cock twitching constantly, the pre-cum dripping down and pooling on your stomach.

"Come on, fuck yourself pretty boy."- you smirk and Hyunjin starts slowly sliding up and down on your cock, his dick jumping up and down with every move he makes, his thighs flexing from all the hard work he's doing.

"S-shit, ahh!"- he moans, beads of sweat already covering his forehead and sliding down the side of his face.

Your eyes roam all over his frame and you can't believe you have a man this beautiful falling apart on top of you.

Your eyes keep falling down to his cute bush, wanting to touch him again and pump his pretty cock, milk him dry until he cries for you to stop.

But you're patient and you let him set the pace for a little while as he gradually keeps speeding up, his hole hungry to be filled.

His eyes are closed and you smirk as you grab his hips and start fucking up into him without warning.

"Ah! Fuck!"- he almost screams, his eyes snapping open and finding yours.

You're fucking up into him fast and hard, using all your strength to abuse his prostate and he keeps moaning loudly, fucking himself on you like a feral animal.

"Look at you, taking my cock so well."- you praise him. "You were made for this."

"Yes, I was made to take your cock!"- Hyunjin moans, his mind completely gone as he chases his high.

"You're not allowed to cum yet."- you say and he whines.

"P-please, please, I need to cum! Please, I wanna cum for you, show you how good you make me feel."- he begs, his eyes glassy, the look in them like a kicked puppy and you adore him so much in that moment.

"Fine, but there will be consequences."- you smirk but Hyunjin just thanks you over and over again as he lets go, his cum shooting out and covering your stomach in it, a few drops reaching your breasts.

Before he can even come down from it, you manage to flip him over with your cock still inside him.

He gasps, grabbing at your sheets as you hover over him, pulling the dildo out of him only to push it back in harshly, bottoming out inside him.

"Fuck!"- he curses, tears and sweat mixing on his face and you grab his sensitive cock and spit on it.

"Y/n..."- he cries as you start jerking his soft cock, moving the dildo slowly inside him.

"It's not y/n to you!"- you warn him with a slap on his cheek and Hyunjin gasps, his cock twitching in your hand from the pain you gave him.

"Boss! I'm sorry!"- he apologizes for the nth time tonight and you push in deeply, placing your hand on his stomach and pressing down.

Hyunjin moans, his legs jerking up and you chuckle.

"See how deep inside you I am? You love being filled up like this cause you're just a little cock slut. My cock slut."- you run your hand down and pull on his little bush.

"I'm your cock slut!"- Hyunjin whines, arching into your touch as you keep stimulating him both on the outside and the inside.

His cock hurts and he thinks he can't take anymore but you know he can. You keep jerking him off, running your fingertip on his slit, your other hand playing with the hair framing his dick, your cock deep inside him, the tip pressing into his sweet spot.

Hyunjin has completely surrendered to you, his head lolling to the side as he lets you torture him.

When he's fully hard again, you slide your cock out of him and he looks up at you, his eyes almost crossed from the pleasure running through his body.

"Get on all fours."- you order and he slowly turns around, his face smushed in your pillow and ass up in the air. You stand up and Hyunjin's eyes follow you as you open up a drawer. His heart beats fast as he wonders what you'll pull out of it this time.

"Close your eyes and put your hands above your head."- he obeys, his forehead pressing into your pillow as he breathes hard.

You place one handcuff on his wrist, putting the chain around the headboard of your bed before you snap the other handcuff closed around his wrist. Hyunjin whimpers, looking up at his restrained hands.

"Spread your legs more."- you say and he does as he's told. He looks down between his legs and sees you grabbing more restraints. His heart skips a beat when you secure the bar between his legs, keeping them spread apart for you.

"Oh god..."- Hyunjin whimpers loudly, trying to close his legs just to test it but he can't.

"This is to make sure you don't try to close your legs on me."- you smirk, your hands roaming on his back, ass and the back of his thighs.

"I would never!"- he says and you chuckle.

"Good boy."- you praise him, hands on his asscheeks as you spread them apart.

You slowly push inside his little hole, stretching him to adjust you again and Hyunjin grips at the handcuffs, moans spilling from his pretty lips as you bottom out.

"Since you wanted to cum so badly earlier, you will cum now. As many times as I want you to."- you snicker and grip his hips, fucking into him harshly.

"A-ah!"- Hyunjin's voice breaks as his eyes widden.

Your hips keep slapping into his as you fuck his ass, his cock brushing against your sheets contantly as he drools on your pillow, little moans and groans spilling out of his lips, making your pussy throb with arousal.

Two orgasms later, Hyunjin is constantly trying to close his legs and move away but you keep pushing him back on your cock, you know he's okay unless he uses his safeword.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you grip it, pulling his head back, your other hand wrapping around him to grab his tortured cock.

"I- I can't..."- he's crying and drooling, his body sweaty and his muscles aching.

"You can give me one more, I know you can."- you coo at him and he whines, he will try for you. "Yours is a greedy little hole."- you smirk.

You fuck into his prostate, jerking him off at the same pace and Hyunjin's whole body shudders violently as he moans so loudly that you know the neighbours can hear him.

"B-boss ahh, it hurts!"- he moans.

"You love that, you little slut. Come on, give me one more!"- you order, smacking his ass hard.

Hyunjin chokes on his spit as he spasms, coming all over your hand and the sheets and you milk him dry as he shakes.

"No more... please no more..."- he cries and you finally release him and slide out of his abused hole.

"Wow."- you grab the camera and snap a few pictures of his ruined body as he shivers.

"P-please, untie me."- he says and your eyes soften as you put the camera on the night stand.

You remove the restraints slowly, removing your strap too before you put your arms around Hyunjin and pull him into your body. Both of you are sweaty and gross and the bed is a mess but neither of you care as you cling onto each other.

"You okay?"- you ask, running your hands through his damp hair.

"Mhm. So good."- he whispers, the side of his face smushed into your breast.

"I'm gonna run us a bath and you wait here, okay?"- you say and Hyunjin looks up at you with a dopey smile.

"You forgot something, boss."- he says.

"What is it?"- you ask and he sits up as best as he can, his face close to yours.

"You never kissed me."- he pouts and you chuckle as he leans in.

"Can I?"- he whispers on your lips.

"I think we're way pass that."- you say and press your lips into his.

The kiss is heated and messy like both of you were thirsty and couldn't get enough of each other, teeth nipping at your lips, your tongues dancing together, spit dribbling down your chins.

"I- I didn't get to make you cum."- he pouts at you sweetly again.

"That is something you need to deserve, darling."

"I will work extra hard for that, I promise."- Hyunjin's hand is on your cheek and your heart stirs awake at his touch.

"I believe you."- you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again.

"By the way, I was gonna ask you something before all this happened."- he says as you get up to prepare the bath.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing tomorrow at 7pm?"- he smirks.

"Depends on what you're offering."- you smirk back.

"I was gonna ask you out on a d-date."- he stutters shyly and you almost melt into a puddle. "There's this gallery I wanted to visit and we could grab some dinner too?"

His eyes are big and pleading as he stares up at you and the small part of you that hoped to take Hyunjin home more than once, grows bigger.

"Alright, it's a date, pretty boy."

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz

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rbfclassy · 11 months ago

Text

GIRLS ON FILM! — CHOSO KAMO

photographer!choso who just graduated university, broke and has no money. He starts applying to any jobs that are hiring, in dire need for money. He hopes to put his photography skills to use as it was something he studied in school. After two weeks of waiting for any places to call him, he gets a gig at a small photography studio in Tokyo. He immediately takes the job, smile on his face as he walks in with his camera in hand. They didn’t even interview or ask to look at his portfolio, they instantly put him on set, directing him around and giving him orders. He thought nothing of it until he saw you walk out onto the set, covered in silk robe, makeup and hair done. You quite literally took his breath away when you undid the robe, letting it fall to the floor, revealing your nude body.

The place that had hired him was nude photography studio. He couldn’t think straight, eyes glued to you as they ordered you how to pose, putting you in lewd positions that only made choso imagine how’d you look with his cock stuffed in you. He blinks his thoughts away, blush spreading across his cheeks as he averts his gaze from you. He raises his camera, angling it just right as he captures you in your most divine. Half lidded eyes staring back at him as your hands cup your tits. He snaps several photos, gulping when you change positions and arch your back, ass high in the hair. He starts to feel hot, his dick straining against his jeans as he struggles to breathe correctly. God, you were beautiful.

The entire photo shoot he never took his eyes off of you, following your figure when you walked off set in your robe. He clenched his jaw, encapsulated by your essence. It almost felt like it was just you and him in the room every time he snapped a photo of you. “You have the photos?” One the of the editors asked, snapping him back to reality.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Choso fumbled with his camera, nearly dropping it as he pulled out the sd card. Just as the editor was about to walk away, Choso asked, “who is that?”

“You mean y/n?” The editor furrowed her brows. “She’s an upcoming model.” They turned back around, walking away with the sd card. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. He looked down at his camera, licking his lips.

Choso went back home that night, his thought plagued with images of you. “Shit,” he groaned, noticing the hard on in his sweats. He palmed his cock, clenching his eyes shut to try and get rid of these disgusting fantasies he had, but it only made him see you again. Bending you over and plowing into you until you cry, or ruining your makeup as he fucks your face, taking a picture of you after for memories. Snapping a photo while you ride his cock, tits bouncing in his face. He wonders how you feel and taste. How could he crave something he’s never had?

Next thing he knows, his fist is pumping his cock, moans falling past his plump limps as his eyes flutter shut. He imagines your wet cunt squeezing around him, milking him for what he’s worth. “Y/n, y/n, y/n,” he babbles, biting down on his bottom lip as he tries to suppress his moans. His breath gets caught his throat as his abs tenses up, feeling how close he was to cumming. “Mmmm, fuck,” he moans. His wrist moves in circular motions, from the base to the tip as he squeezes a little harder. As he pictures his cum filling you up, dripping from your pussy, his entire body quivers as spurts of thick cum shoot from his head, landing on his hand and stomach. “Nnnngh—shit!” He can’t stop moving his hand, tossing his back onto the pillow in pure ecstasy. “Fuck me, baby, please!” Oh how he wishes you could hear how desperate he was for you.

#—☆classyrbf #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #choso kamo x y/n #choso smut drabble #choso smut #choso x reader smut #choso kamo x you #jjk choso #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #choso kamo smut #choso drabbles

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0cta9on · 23 days ago

Text

Breather

Length: 1.4k words

Genre: Smut

Young Posse Yeonjung x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Thank you to @mintwithchoco for beta <3 Enjoy!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

There’s a subtle beauty in the way her chest rises and falls with heavy breath as the rest of her body poses perfectly still like a statue. Clothes damp with sweat, hair disheveled, and yet, she still somehow manages to be the sexiest person you’ve ever seen as she glares at you with those steely, determined eyes from the front of the camera.

“That’s a wrap!” As soon as those words leave your mouth, Yeonjung’s idol facade collapses to the ground, along with the rest of her body.

“Let me do it again,” she huffs, each word struggling against her breath. “I messed up that one part again. I can do it better this time, I—“

“Yeah, no.”

“What?” Her dedication to her craft is commendable, to say the least.

“You’re exhausted, I’m exhausted, it’s 2AM, let me go home please.”

“But—”

“Nope.” You’re already halfway done packing up your camera before she can utter another word. “Amongst the billions of takes you made me record, I’m sure there’s a good one in there.”

Yeonjung crawls to you, barely enough energy to cling onto your pant leg. “Please, just one more!”

“Just look at you!” you point out as you help her to her feet. The clack of her heels echoes throughout the dance studio, a sound that will likely haunt you for the next couple of nights. “You need to go home and shower. You stink.”

She pouts at you, gripping onto your shoulder for balance. “Yah!”

As exhausting as the last five hours have been, you feel lucky every time you get to spend alone time with her. Amongst the hundreds of trainees you’ve seen come and go through the company, you’re certain that her debut is all but guaranteed. Even if she only put in half as much effort as she is now, she would still be the best trainee the company has by far. Yeonjung is perfect—you just wish she would see that too.

“The CEO said he wants to speak with me tomorrow,” she says as she plops onto a bench by one of the walls. The sound of clattering heels is followed by a sigh of relief as she tosses them aside.

“Really? That’s great!” you exclaim.

She shakes her head, a look of worry donning on her. “I don’t know. I have a feeling he might be kicking me out.

“Hey, come on,” you soothe, scooting closer until you can feel the heat emanating from her body. “Look how much effort you put into tonight for a minute long choreo. You really think he’s gonna kick you out after this?”

“I’ve been stressed lately, maybe that’s showing in my performance. My last monthly evaluation was the worst I’ve ever done.”

“You ranked third out of everyone!”

“Yeah, but I—”

“I know, I know.” You pat her back reassuringly. “You usually get first, so you’re upset that your rank dropped and now you’re all worried.”

All Yeonjung can do is pout as you take the words right out of her mouth.

“I’m sure it’s nothing bad, don’t worry about it.” Your hand graces her thigh, tracing patterns on the denim of her tight jeans. She shivers underneath your touch, a knowing grin growing on her lips.

“But I can’t help but worry about it,” she says, her eyes glued to your hand.

“Then let me help you forget about it, hm?” You whisper into her ear before peppering her sensitive neck with kisses. The musk of all her effort wafts into your nostrils, getting you high on her pheromones.

“S-stop…” Her mouth says one thing, but the way her fingers cling desperately to your shoulder and the way her eyes flutter shut in ecstasy convey a completely different message. “You said t-that… I stink…”

“I didn’t say I hated it.”

That’s enough permission for her to straddle your lap, encapsulating you in her scent. “You have some strange fetishes, camera boy,” she chuckles, that silly little nickname rolling off her tongue like it’s something clever.

“It’s not a fetish,” you correct her, brushing a clinging hair off her forehead, nails gently dragging against the perfect skin of her cheek.

“It’s just you.”

It barely registers in your mind, the speed of how quickly her tongue invades your mouth. Yeonjung has always been a sucker for sappy sentimental one-liners and it’s hard not to feel happy when a pretty girl is clawing the jacket off your shoulders like you’re her doll that she can just strip at will. With how much stress she’s under daily, you’re more than content with sitting back and letting her take control.

A pair of T-shirts and a black bra hit the wall behind you, becoming a mere afterthought as Yeonjung pulls your face into her sweaty breasts. You inhale deeply, letting her essence fill your lungs, before dragging your tongue all over her beautiful mounds, recompense for the last couple hours of filming she made you endure.

“Are you sure… you don’t have some kind of sweat fetish?” she asks in between moans. All you can do is chuckle against her skin, too focused on savoring her taste to make a quip. Her fingers comb through your hair, pulling every time you flick at her nipple or squeeze her perfect ass through those tight jeans. You don’t consider yourself to be a masochist, but that split second of fire in your scalp has become a sign that you’re doing something right.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” she breathes. Hours could be spent mapping out her entire body with just your tongue alone, tasting every nook and cranny, noting which spots make her purr, but with the tacit hunger in which she grinds her heat against you, it’s only a matter of time before lust takes over any ounce of self-control.

“I’m good at other things too.” The first thing you utter after a while of concentrated licking has her climbing off of your lap and planting her hands against the wall, begging you to take her pants off and fuck her silly with that look in her eyes alone. You run your hand up the back of her thigh while kissing the soft skin of her back, making sure to worship every inch of her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Yeonjung,” you grunt as you fiddle with the button of her jeans.

She chuckles lightly, pushing her hips into your crotch. “I bet you say that to all the girls you fuck.”

“I do.” You peel her jeans off, the aromatic musk of her sex hitting you like a bullet train. “Because you’re the only girl for me.”

“How sappy, camera boy—MMPH!”

The sweet melody of her moans mixes with the unmistakable slapping of skin against skin. If you weren’t so sure that the entire building is empty at this hour, you would make an effort to be a little quieter, maybe even a little gentler to her, but with the way she’s been teasing you all night by flaunting her perfect ass in those jeans and making you record all those takes, knowing it would rile you up, it’s only fair that you get to have your fun.

Dig your fingers into the curve of her hips, whisper into her ear about how good she feels, fuck her in the way that she deserves. Someone like her only comes around once every billion years, and you’re prepared to show her how special she is night after night after night.

“H-harder, baby,” she coos, scratching her nails against the walls. “I’m so close.”

You feel her tighten around your length, and you do everything you can to send her into sweet bliss—tease her clit, massage her perky breasts, pound into her until your legs start to burn. Nothing else matters at this moment except Yeonjung. Not you, not the CEO, not the other trainees, just her and that incredible body she has. All your hard work pays off as she begins to tremble in delight and her moans are reduced to a mere choke. You capture her in your arms before she falls, letting her rest within the safety of your embrace.

“You…” she begins, panting heavily, “...are way too good to me.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be good to you?”

“I… don’t know.” She reaches up and traces circles on your cheek, leaving a tinge of electricity in its wake. “Maybe because I made you stay here to record a dance video for me.”

“That’s my job.”

“Is this your job too?” She bites her lip knowingly.

You shrug, grinning at her. “It has its perks.”

Even with her hair disheveled and a sheen of sweat covering her skin, she still somehow looks like the sexiest person you’ve ever seen.

#young posse #wi yeonjung #young posse yeonjung #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #young posse x male reader #young posse x male oc #young posse yeonjung x male reader #young posse yeonjung x male oc #smut #yeonjung smut #young posse yeonjung smut

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sunsettsam · 2 months ago

Text

dressing the hero

I 80s! soldierboy x fem! reader

I warnings: none! pure banter, reader is a little apprehensive/shy at first, reader pining for soldier boy, possible friendship? fluff? soldier boy being a bit of a loveable jerk..

I synopsis: you knew the difficulties that came with being in a company like Vought, even more so having a crush on america's favorite hero.

god you had a massive crush on him..

I mean you really were in love with him, the entanglement of it all was so difficult to deal with.

You weren't a hero, no, you didn't have any abilities, and you didn't have a bomb dropped on you or some weird chemicals put into your system as a baby. You were as normal as one could be, working in the costuming department of Vought as a seamstress, you were a part of the team that manufactured the beloved hero's supe suits and event outfits, custom and american made, just how Vought portrayed themselves to be. you were never out in the field, you only ever saw a glimpse of him and shared quiet moments when he would be forced to come into the studio for nicks in his suit needing repair, or his shield needing polishing.

He was Soldier Boy - of course, he held the hearts of millions in the palm of his hand, with that cocky smirk and gorgeous face there's nothing he probably couldn't get away with. you worked in the fashion department why would he ever-

''anyone in here? need one of you fashion nerds to fix my damn suit'' That voice, oh it was him, there's a familiarity within it, you didn't even have to look toward him, knowing it was him just by the tone and gruff exterior. looking up from your sketchbook, your eyes met his, it was only for a moment before you quickly got up, putting your glasses on, assessing the damage on his suit.

''what happened? was this caused by a mission or-'' you couldn't even finish your sentence before he butted in, almost ignoring you

''some stupid slut decided it was a good idea to try on my helmet during a threesome..'' he looks to you, his gaze calculated and cold.

''oh well that's... i can see the scuff marks...'' you looked closer at his helmet, seeing streaks against the fibre, then seeing the faded white marks on his suit.

''yeah take care of that too while you're at it..'' he grumbles, handing you his suit, which is a bit heavy for you, letting out a small ''oof'' at the sheer weight of it, but nonetheless, bringing it to the large table, laying the suit down, smoothing it out.

he lingered for a bit, watching you work, meticulous with your tools, grabbing the material used in his suit, cutting out the spots that were messed up- presumably during the.. threesome.. and replacing it with better fabric, using black string to thread through the hard exterior of the suit, throwing away the scraps.

''so you're the one making all of our suits huh..'' he asks, pulling a cigarette out from his pocket, lighting it, his fingers encapsulated over the wrapped tobacco, tapping the edge of it before bringing it to his mouth, inhaling it, before letting smoke out.

''well its- not just me- its the department as a whole- but- i- did help Mr. Edgar with the design process..'' you hum, a pin in your mouth as you finish threading the new material onto his suit, making sure to knot it tightly, grabbing scissors and cutting the excess.

he nods, compliant - for some reason he doesn't seem as boisterous or brute as he usually is with Payback. ''so what.. you just.. stay here? in this cramped little studio all day?'' he asks, you nod.

''tsk.. that sucks sweetheart..'' he looks to you ''you look like you don't get out much..'' and you laugh at that, you really didn't. I mean sure you went out to dinner by yourself occasionally but- you were so busy with commissions from Vought that you hardly had time to try and go out on a date. you knew of his nature toward women, how even when he was 'apparently' with crimson countess - he still made himself available to other women, winking at them, acting all cocky, like a self-righteous knight from a fairytale.

''i try to go out..'' you reply, putting the tools down, picking up his helmet, looking at the scuffs before grabbing a can of wd40 and putting some on a cloth, gently rubbing it onto the marks.

''really? where? the bookstore?'' he scoffs, a playful smirk on his face.

''yes actually.. its quite fun.. maybe you'd find something you like in there..''

''readings for nerds..'' he rolls his eyes, trying to get a reaction out of you, to which you take offense - to which he grins.

''reading is for- intellectual people...'' you cite, trying to remain calm and not burst at the seams from his comment, throwing the rag away and grabbing some sealant paint, gently brushing it over the now faded scuff marks.

'riiighhht... yeah.. intellectual people..'' he repeats, smirking. ''well then maybe the next time you're at the bookstore.. pick something out for me.''

that's when you perk up, looking at him, adjusting your stylist glasses, your cheeks go just a tad pink and you blink. he- i mean- the soldier boy- wants you to pick out a book for him? out of your own whim?

''nothing boring okay? i fuckin hate long books.. need somethin with action.. maybe a hot lady on the front of the cover..'' he interjects before you can say anything, noticing your flushed cheeks.

''um- yeah- i can... totally pick up a.. book for you..'' you nod almost eagerly as you finish fixing up his helmet, the sealant paint now dry, and he comes forward, tapping the end of the cigarette on the ground, smushing it beneath his boot.

''good..and.. thanks for the fix-up sweetheart..'' he replies, taking his newly fixed suit and helmet from your hands, you feel a small jolt of electricity as your fingers graze his, and for a moment you almost smile cheekily, a warm feeling spreading throughout your chest, your brain going into overdrive. it was just a book.. he only wanted you to pick out a book for him.. but then again.. he wanted you .. to pick out a book for him... that nickname ringing in your ears like churchbells, and as soon as he leaves, you nearly explode. oh god.. you truly were head over heels for him..

authors note: soooo.. after a long while.. im back! i plan on making this a three part series.. so stay tuned lovies!! thank you all for being patient with me, i have so many ideas to put out!! <3

(please do not copy/ post my works on other platforms!! thank you thank you!!)

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emocheol · 1 year ago

Text

seventeens pet name for you

seungcheol

baby

loves to be a caretaker so having you be his baby is natural.

he’s always holding you in his arms, almost like he’s trying to protect you from the world and keep you to himself.

when you’re tired you actually get into baby mode and he loves doting on you, knowing that you won’t fight him on it.

“baby, don’t worry i’ll do that for you”

“baby, come give me a kiss”

“baby, i missed you so much”

“baby, you know i’d do anything for you”

jeonghan

angel

sure, he’s the angel of seventeen but you’re his angel.

always says that you were sent from heaven just for him because of how perfect you are, hence an angel.

when he sees a new picture of you he’ll screenshot it and draw a halo over your head and send it back to you with a text that says ‘your halo is shining so bright, my angel’ (love makes him cheesy)

“angel, let’s stay in bed today”

“angel, can you do my hair?”

“angel, i hope you know im obsessed with you”

“angel, you’re the only one for me”

joshua

love

such a classic and gentle name, just like joshua.

he loves you so much the only word that he can think of when it comes to you is love.

if anyone calls him a simp he will gladly own that title because, duh, you’re his partner! of course he’s gonna simp over you!

will do whatever you want at the drop of a hat. he’ll even suggest cancelling his schedules if you want him to stay home, you decline but quite literally have to push him out the door to leave.

“love, come cuddle with me”

“love, i hate every second that i’m away from you”

“love, let’s get matching outfits”

“my love, you’re so perfect”

jun

sweetheart

actually spent a lot of time contemplating what your pet name should be. he didn’t want to get it wrong!

tested way too many names over multiple weeks, seeing if they rolled off the tongue, but none of them did.

finally lands on sweetheart, when he says it for the first time he knows he’s found the perfect name.

now he barely says your name, saying that sweetheart encapsulates your entire being.

“sweetheart, want me to do the dishes?”

“sweetheart, can you read me a story?”

“sweetheart, do you know how much i love you?”

“sweetheart, you’re my favorite person of all time”

soonyoung

honey

soonyoung thinks you’re sweet like honey, so he just has to call you that!

you have the same nickname for him which results in all your friends pretending to gag when you both start calling each other honey. they say it’s sickening, sickeningly sweet

likes to dote on you, would wait on hand and foot if you told him to.

“honey, do you need anything before i leave?”

“honey, i’m home!” (his favorite phrase)

“honey, let’s go on a date tonight”

“honey, you’re the sweetest person in the world”

wonwoo

babe

has always thought that pet names were cringe but when you started calling him every sweet name under the sun he knew he had to come up with one for you.

landed on the classic ‘babe’, he says it flows well, its natural when he’s talking to you now.

doesn’t want anyone else to hear him call you it, so he usually sticks to saying it at home or whispering it to you.

“babe, stay by my side, i don’t want anything happening to you”

“babe, don’t get up yet it’s too early”

“babe, you wanna see my new game?”

“babe, i adore you”

jihoon

baby

another natural caretaker, loves to be the big strong man in the relationship so naturally you’re his baby.

gets salty when you try to dote on him since he knows he should be doing it to you instead.

landed on it because you were pouting once and he said the resemblance to a baby was uncanny.

“baby, you don’t have to stay at the studio with me”

“baby, get some sleep”

“baby, let’s stay in tonight”

“baby, i know i don’t show it as much as i should, but i’m eternally grateful for you”

minghao

darling

claims that their song ‘darling’ is about you to try and make it special (it was just a coincidence but you’ll take it)

says you’re like a sparkling jewel, so perfect, so enchanting, and so darling

always talks to you in the most endearing tone, he can never be mad at you.

“darling, what do you want to have for dinner?”

“darling, let me take a picture of you”

“darling, don’t forget to call me on your break”

“darling, you’re so precious to me”

mingyu

sweetie

loves to bake you desserts and say something like ‘a sweet for my sweetie’.

thinks you’re so sweet and lovely that sweetie is a given name for you.

food is his love language so he’s always making you meals and sweet desserts.

“sweetie, try this new dish i made”

“sweetie, give me a kiss before you go”

“sweetie, give me a bite of that”

“sweetie, you’re it for me”

seokmin

love/lovie

this man is simply obsessed with, so so utterly in love, hence the name love.

everyone swears they can see hearts in his eyes when he looks at you or talks about you.

couldn’t think of a good name for you so he went to his friends being like ‘i’m so in love with them but i can’t think of a pet name! wait… love!’

“lovie, don’t forget about me :(” (you’re just going to work for the day)

“love, do you want to come to karaoke night?”

“lovie, i’m your favorite guy, right?”

“my love~, i wrote this song for you, wanna hear it?”

seungkwan

boo

yes, his nickname for you is his last name. no, it’s not weird! he’ll call you mrs./mr. boo because he can’t wait until you have his last name.

when some calls for ‘boo’ you both turn around, thinking it was for you. this just makes you both laugh and look at each other like you had a little inside secret that no one else understood.

he’ll always say it with literal hearts in his eyes.

“boo, have a good day at work”

“my boo~, i miss you”

“boo, do you want to go have a spa night?”

“my boo~, i love you to the ends of the earth”

vernon

babe

also thinks pet names are cringe so he settled on the most obvious and classic one.

but then actually he starts to like it (to his horror), and starts to call you it all the time.

only ever calls you babe now, and will be salty if you call him by his first or middle name.

“babe, get ready i’m taking you on a date”

“babe, i got you a present you’re gonna love it”

“babe, we should get a cat to be the ring bearer at our wedding”

“babe, you know i love you, right?”

chan

honey

you originally started calling chan ‘honey’ first.

he always got so giddy whenever you said it that he decided he was gonna start calling you that too, to make you feel as special as he did.

thinks it the most special name in the world and if anyone makes fun of it he’ll go to war over it.

“honey, let me show you the new dance i learned”

“honey, did you get a haircut? you look beautiful as ever”

“honey, let’s stay in bed today”

“honey, you’re my everything”

#seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt imagine #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenario #svt imagines #svt scenario #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #vernon x reader #seungkwan x reader #joshua x reader #wonwoo fluff #mingyu fluff #seventeen

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lovelyhan · 2 years ago

Text

— ode to you ⟢

if there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. he can be crass. he can be secretive. he can be nothing short of vexing. but in the end, he's everything you need him to be.

or: 25 lives in which you find and don't find jeonghan.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 6.9k words

★ TAGS; reincarnation, multiple lives, pining, angst, suggestive scenes but no smut, sooo many tropes

★ WARNINGS; mentions of blackmail, implied murder, implied depression, mentions of puking/vomiting, mentions of car accidents major character death

★ NOTES; i was supposed to work on my collab fics but i feel like i've gotten a little rusty w my prose so i wrote this as a little writing exercise of sorts :D i've written for other fandoms in this format before and i thought it was high time i did the same for seventeen with my ult of all ults <3 i hope you enjoy!

this is inspired by tongari's 25 lives

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti–red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon

★ JEONGHAN TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @bias-recs - @lunaryoongie

01. the very first time i remember you, you are blonde and you don’t love me back.

One strict rule that you make sure to uphold with all of your clients is that business comes first before all else.

You're a well-known freelancer that lands gigs left and right from high-end fashion brands and magazines alike. The only way your career managed to survive in such a cut-throat industry is because of the strict professionalism you never failed to maintain.

That's until you meet Jeonghan for the first time.

Fluffy blonde hair framing his face, curling just along the edges. Slanted eyes that crinkle just a bit whenever he smiles. And a lazy grin that betrays just how nonchalant he is about the entire thing. Like he knows he's gorgeous he is and how everyone else in the vicinity is aware of the fact, too.

You've worked with a handful of people with breathtaking features in in the past, but there doesn't seem to be any word in any language that could encapsulate just how mesmerizing Jeonghan is.

For the first time in your career, you find yourself wanting to reach for the subject being captured by the lens of your camera. Just to make sure he was an actual person and not some doll crafted from fine silk and porcelain. The fact that he's modeling with a bouquet of lush flowers does little to your peace of mind.

But your innate professionalism overrules whatever nonsensical desires your sleep-deprived brain could conjure in that moment.

Once you're satisfied with the material you've come up with, you're quick to dismiss Jeonghan and the rest of the team, and call it a day. You have another shoot to oversee in less than two hours and you'd like to avoid the rush hour traffic if you can.

Yet, despite your urgency, you stop halfway to the door to the studio—casting a sidelong glance at the person who's supposed to be one of your temporary colleagues and none else.

"Jeonghan," you call out, his name tasting bittersweet on your tongue. "It was nice working with you today."

He barely glances up at you from the soft glow of his phone screen, not even a smile spared your way.

"Yeah, sure."

02. the next time, you are brunette, and you do.

Yoon Jeonghan is the biggest menace you've met in your life.

Not only does he keep stealing your parking space in the office basement and plucks off the last brownie in the pantry during break time, but he's after the promotion you've been vying after for months, too.

Needless to say, he's public enemy number one in your eyes, and all your colleagues are well aware of the scorching rivalry you two constantly waged in the workspace.

But on the night before you're set to present the proposal that you swear up and down would make your superiors choose you over that sniveling prick, the Devil himself swoops into your cubicle with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Do you really not see it?"

You frown at him as you shove your laptop into your bag with an air of irritation. "See what? That they're going to select you for the promotion? I don't, actually. That's why I'm—"

The words promptly melt on your tongue when Jeonghan forces a hand on divider separating your space with the others—trapping you with a sleazy look on his face. His dark brown tresses fall across his piercing eyes but you force yourself to hold your ground.

In the midst of it all, a moment's worth of familiarity crosses your mind.

Blonde hair styled to perfection. A bouquet of flowers just as beautiful as the man that models for them.

How long has it been since then?

"Can't you see that I'm only doing all this to get your attention?" he chuckles. "I've always known you're a bit slow on the uptake, but you might need an extra push in the right direction."

You gulp nervously. "W-What's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan shakes his head, amusement dancing across his features in a way that makes you want to smack him, if not for the laws imposed on the land.

"Have dinner with me tonight and I'll withdraw from the competition" he propositions. "How's that sound?"

...Isn't this blackmail? It definitely sounds like blackmail.

But despite knowing that you should just bring your knee up to smash into his family jewels, your face heats up with the implications of his offer instead.

An offer that you begrudgingly accept.

03. after a while i give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything.

"Really?"

Jeonghan grins when he steps into your apartment sporting his newest dye job. You're perfectly aware that idols these days get the most outrageous hair colors, but you didn't think his stylist would be daring enough to pull off long purple hair for Jeonghan just a few months after his group's debut.

Over the years, Jeonghan cycles through a lot more colors than you'd ever thought he'd be willing to try. Blonde, pink, red, brown, silver—all of them, he pulls off with grace.

Even when his idol days are over, he still gets bouts of wanting to march into the nearest salon for another makeover, and you rectify this by just buying the cheapest bleaching kits online despite his whines in protest.

"Our stylist noonas would've been alright with a house call." He pouts just a little as you force him to sit still. "It might come out all patchy."

"Do you have so little faith in your partner's bleaching skills?" you huff, dipping the brush you have in one hand into the bowl of sharp-smelling bleaching mix in the other. "Your stylists noonas charge a fortune, too. We're better off doing it ourselves."

Jeonghan laughs. "You act like we can't afford it."

Turns out, you fucked up the portions of your little bleach concoction and your harmless session resulted into googling first aid for bleaching burns and soaking Jeonghan's scalp with coconut oil for the rest of the day.

"Sorry," you mumble as you help rinse out the oil the next morning. "Do you want to contact your stylist or head to a salon instead?"

Despite your wary disposition, Jeonghan merely breathes out a chuckle, taking your hand in his as he meets your eyes in the bathroom mirror.

There, two rings glimmer in the morning light—the one he shares with his twelve brothers and the one you slid onto his index on the day of your wedding.

"I've been through worse, love. This is nothing," he insists before pressing a soft kiss across your knuckles. "Let's just let my scalp rest for a few days before we dye it, okay?"

You shake your head with a laugh. Really, what are you supposed to do with this man?

"If you insist."

04. because even when you don’t exist, i'm still in love with you.

"You got my name wrong again."

In the middle of packing a takeout bag for the food delivery guy waiting in the corner of the café, you look up to some familiar college kid standing in front of the counter with a furrow on his brow. A regular, maybe.

"Sorry?" you ask, brain a little too frazzled to make sense of what he was trying to say.

Said college kid shows you the underside of his cup—the name Jeonghan scribbled hastily onto the material.

"My name's Jeongin," he sighs. "I've been coming here everyday and I swear, you always get it wrong."

"Well, I'm so sorry, Jeongin, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again," you manage to wrench out before calling out to the delivery guy, saying the order was ready for pick-up.

Funnily enough, you end up living together with Jeongin by some twist of fate. Your shoes are lined up with his outside the apartment, toothbrushes lying in the same cup in the bathroom, and you even steal his hoodies every now and again.

But what you don't tell your boyfriend of five years is how you still dream of the man whose name brought you together in the first place.

A man who you don't get the pleasure to meet in this life, much like a dozen others that came before.

05. i remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together

In the past (though its definition is a little...unique in your case), you were convinced that just because Jeonghan is the sole singularity to which your existence is anchored to, that doesn't necessarily mean you'll get to have him and him alone in each life.

Yet in this one, you're fully convinced that he's the only person who'll ever have your heart.

It's on a cold, winter afternoon when you realize that you're in love with the boy that showed you how to cross the monkey bars in elementary school. The boy who gives you his packed lunch whenever you forget yours at home. The boy who taught you how to pick locks so you could sneak into his father's liquor shop and get drunk behind the counter.

Jeonghan has always been a fascinating person in whatever life you meet him. But now that you've got a taste of what it feels to grow up alongside him—witnessing him transition from a snotty kid to a troublesome adult—you can't picture yourself wanting anyone else.

He's rightfully startled when you confess your feelings merely minutes after having realized them. You've lived through this endless cycle of meeting and parting ways enough times to know that there's no room for uncertainty.

And each time he accepts you with open arms, the relief that washes over you feels like the first time all over again.

06. when i share my secrets and sorrows and hiding places with you.

There are times when you're the one who doesn't remember the lives you've lived in the seemingly endless cycle.

When you meet Jeonghan in this life, it's with shoulders carrying the weight of emotional baggage and dreams that have been crushed right before your eyes. It's an understatement to say that you're inexplicably drawn to him as if he's a beacon in the dark. But even if you're yet to remember, Jeonghan has always been easy to trust. Easy to fall into.

One night is particularly heavier than the rest. Your meds aren't kicking in the way they're supposed to and it's raining much too harshly to pay your comfort person a late night visit.

Yet when you call your boyfriend as you choke on your own tears, he's at your door in half an hour—paper bags full of all your favorite snacks in hand with a smile that feels like a ray of sunlight amidst a raging storm.

But he's quick to drop all of it and pull you into a hug when he sees the mess you are in the living room.

"I'm a bad person," you sob into his chest, clinging to the fabric of his jacket as he placates you in his tender embrace. "I'm s-selfish and always just think about myself. I've done so many terrible things, Hannie... How could you even love someone like me?"

Jeonghan doesn't answer right away. He calms you down for the better part of an hour before rising to get you a glass of water in the kitchen. Your boyfriend watches with quiet attentiveness until the look on your face tells him that you're ready to talk again.

"So what if you're a bad person, love?" he murmurs before planting a kiss on your forehead. "Tell me every terrible thing you did and let me love you anyway."

Despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh. "Which cheesy pocketbook did you pull that one out of?"

"Hey, I drove for thirty minutes in the rain and this is how you thank me?" He huffs before reaching for a bag of chips he haphazardly strewn across the coffee table, tearing it open and offering you a piece. "I read that on Pinterest, by the way."

07. i love how you play along with my bad ideas

In many, many lives, Jeonghan is not yours to love.

And that's okay. There isn't a fine print stating that because you're blessed (cursed?) to meet him in each lifetime, you're meant to be together against all odds.

Fate is fickle like that—so unpredictable that you never really know how to act whenever you do cross paths with Jeonghan eventually.

Still, even if you're not destined to be lovers, you can still love him in other ways.

Like helping him sneak out of his third period lecture so he can come watch local street performers hold a fundraising show in some underground bar. You do all this because he once told you that he wanted to support them in any way he could.

If only Jeonghan could see the grin on his face that gets wider with each dancer that takes the stage, he wouldn't have a hard time wondering why it was so easy to fall in love with him.

"So when's the next time you'll help me sneak out of a lecture?" Jeonghan asks as the two of you head back to campus at a mellow pace even if Jeonghan's next classes starts in ten minutes.

You hum as if genuinely contemplating. "Maybe after you do me a huge favor in return for this one."

Your shoulders bump together as he lets out an easygoing laugh. As the late afternoon sunlight filters through a canopy of trees and onto your best friend's face, you feel a tug at your heartstrings that urges you to pull him in for a kiss.

But you don't.

08. before you grow up and realize that they’re bad ideas.

"Are you sure this is safe?"

Jeonghan's voice sounds considerably spooked when the amusement park staff locks in the over-the-shoulder restraints. The buzz of excitement from other visitors rings in your ears and he seems to be the only person that isn't looking forward to being on a rollercoaster.

"You act like this is the first time you've been on one." You roll your eyes. "Just relax and feel the wind on your face, yeah? If it gets too much just hold my hand or whatever."

You should not have offered in the first place because by the time the you've made two trips around the wildly looped tracks, you're convinced Jeonghan has already cut any and all circulation to your fingers with how tightly he's gripping your hand.

But still...you can't deny that it feels a little nice to be needed by him.

09. (and in our lives together i have many, many bad ideas.)

“Do I know you?”

Jeonghan makes the mistake of blurting out those very strange words when he catches you sitting right next to him at the bar. You startle when he breaks the ice, fully convinced you're the one who had to initiate when you deliberately slid into the stool to his right.

Amused, you study him without much of a real expression before the tension in your posture melts into gentle laughter.

“No,” you say with a tone that suggests you're making fun of him. “But we could get out of here so we can get to know each other better. What’s your name?”

A dozen expressions flit across Jeonghan's face in mere seconds and you would've laughed again if you didn't know the reason behind the perplexity of his reactions.

“It’s Jeonghan. But you can call me…”

Before he can get the rest of the pick-up line out, he promptly throws up all over your outfit.

10. when we meet as adults, you're always much more discerning. I don't blame you.

"Again."

Your sweat beads across your forehead and drips onto the floor as you catch your breath. Palms braced across your knees, you look up to your mentor with a resentful glare.

In this life, Jeonghan—who was considered part of the 'anemic line' in his group eternities ago—is now one of the most well-known choreographers in the industry and would probably put Soonyoung to shame with how much of a perfectionist he is when it comes to your routines.

"Can't I get a five-minute water break?" you plead.

"You can get one when you think you deserve it," he says flatly before crossing his legs. "Do you?"

Much to your chagrin, you're just as much of a perfectionist as he is in this life. You shake your head with a guttural sigh, forcing yourself back into position despite your muscles aching for a break.

You don't miss the way Jeonghan smiles at your display of determination, but you don't let yourself think much of it either.

11. yet, always, you forgive me.

Jeonghan is upset with you.

He has all the right to be, really. You promised that you'll leave enough candy bars from your Trick or Treat haul to last both of you for a week, but you ended up overeating while binging your afternoon cartoons and now there's only one stick of chocolate left in the hollow, pumpkin-shaped bucket.

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "Do you want to go to the candy store to buy some more? I can break my piggy bank if—"

"No, you're saving up for that new game on your Nintendo DS, right?"

The fact that he actually remembers that makes you gape at him. "Um, yeah, but it's no big deal. A candy bar is only worth a few—"

Not giving you any leeway to speak any further, Jeonghan grabs the last candy bar inside the bucket—tearing the packaging open with his teeth before breaking the chocolate in half in the middle. Despite his annoyance, he hands you the other half with a small pout.

"Then just keep saving up so we can play it together," he grumbles and even when he's barely eight years old, it comes so natural for him to show you how much he cares about you.

12. as if you understand what’s going on

"Do you go here often?"

You flash the stranger who's speaking to you a befuddled look—not expecting to hear a line typically used on you in bars at your father's yacht club, of all places. He's wearing tattered jeans and an atrocious pink flannel over an equally tattered shirt. You wonder if he's just going for an odd aesthetic or if he's in dire need of a closet makeover.

"No. I'm just waiting for my father," you tell the man honestly before glancing at the boats docked by the pier. "He bought another yacht that I'm sure he won't even think of after bragging about it to his friends."

The stranger laughs. "I know how you feel. My old man's just as materialistic as yours sounds."

Oh. Maybe he is just going for an odd aesthetic with his fit after all.

"Wouldn't have thought you were a nepo baby, too," you snort before kicking a lone pebble into the water—watching it sink into the depths until it's out of sight. "I thought you were one of the boys that maintain these things while their owners completely forget about them."

"Hmm, I can be anything you want me to be," he chuckles and even if you've only met this guy five minutes ago, something about his laughter sounds so oddly familiar.

"The name's Jeonghan, by the way." The not-so stranger smiles and the feeling that you know him from somewhere intensifies tenfold.

"What's yours?"

13. and you're making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn't exist

You like to think of yourself as an independent person.

You've crossed literal lifetimes in the strangest rendition of immortality that you've never once read in all the books you've deigned to pick up in this never-ending eternity. It's only natural for you to be self-sufficient.

But when it comes to Jeonghan, you always get to refamiliarize yourself with what it feels like to be lonely.

There are things about him that you consider irreplaceable: the curve of his easygoing smile, the warmth of his slender fingers, and the touch you yearn for constantly.

You're perfectly aware that you don't need Jeonghan for all these lives to gain some semblance of meaning. In fact, it's in the lives where you don't meet him that you get to learn a thing or two about yourself.

But when he is there, when he's the reason you get out of bed everyday, you simply think that a second of being with Jeonghan in the flesh is worth more than a lifetime in his absence.

14. and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.

Your phone is pressed into your ear in the middle of the grocery store because your good friend Joshua thought it was the perfect time to rant about his insufferable boss.

Being the lovely person that you are, you let him talk your ear off as you parse through the cabbages on display—wondering which one you should bring home for salad night.

"He's such a fucking prick, you know?" Joshua groans out the same sentence for the third time since you picked up his call. "No wonder his wife is having an affair behind his back. That's karmic retribution if I've seen it.''

"Shua, have you ever considered just resigning instead of making me your therapist?"

"I have, it's just that finding a new job is way more of a hassle than dealing with my asshole boss everyday," he grumbles. "But about the therapist thing—thanks for always listening to me. I know I can be annoying at times but you always put up with it any..."

Joshua's voice fades into the backdrop of your mind when you spot a flash of pink in the corner of your eyes. You instinctively turn your head in the direction of a stranger running towards the exit of the supermarket—wearing an atrocious pink flannel that you would recognize anywhere in any lifetime.

You briefly apologize to Joshua before ending the call, shoving your phone into the pocket of your jeans before leaving your push cart to chase after the figure receding from your line of sight.

You just barely catch him hopping onto a bus when your instincts lead you to further outside. You would have sprinted for a ride, had it not been for the children that obstruct your path with a little game of tag.

By the time you finally shake them off, the bus has already driven past the intersection—snuffing out the candle, leaving you in the dark.

15. i hate those. i prefer the ones in which you kill me.

You've watched a dozen serial killer documentaries in your lifetime—well, lifetimes. They always start the same way: a psychopath with a way with words charming his next unsuspecting victim into their utter demise.

While you absolutely did not know that this life's Jeonghan will turn out to be a crazed lunatic that gets off on seeing another human being's blood on his hands, it doesn't really change the fact that your heart is still tethered to him despite.

He still smiles as sweetly as you can remember as the tip of his knife glides along the column of your throat. His voice is just as comforting in those lives where he'd never forget to kiss you good night right before going to sleep.

"You're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?" Jeonghan murmurs. "But you'd be so much prettier if you just lay still."

The last thing you remember seeing is the angelic look on his face as if he's the one who'll personally escort you to the next life.

You don't particularly mind.

16. but when all's said and done, i'd rather surrender to you in other ways.

It's only amidst the post-orgasmic clarity that you realize how much of a fool you are.

These quick trysts you share with Jeonghan are brief. He invites you over under the guise of something that isn't sex for the sake of propriety, only to pull you into his apartment and kiss you until stars danced behind your eyelids.

He's flicks the cigarette he's having on the ashtray as he complains about a coworker he's been trying to get with for the past month. She likes playing hard-to-get, but I like her so much that I don't really mind? Is that weird? Oh, do you want a smoke, too? Sure, let me light you a quick one in a sec—

You're a fool because you've spent dozens, if not hundreds of lives chasing after him—whether you yourself are aware of it or not.

To Jeonghan, this is a life he probably won't remember in the next. To you, it's another inescapable death sentence.

"Maybe you should drop the nice guy act," you suggest before taking a drag of your own—not caring how the ashes stain Jeonghan's crisp white sheets despite his protests. "Showing your true colors is what got you to land me, you know."

"And we all know how much of a catch you are." He winks before killing his cigarette on the ashtray.

You're about to respond with an eyeroll until he plucks the cancer stick off your hands as well, disposing of it the same way he did with his own. When Jeonghan maneuvers himself on top of you again, you let out a withering sigh.

"Maybe I should just date you instead," he giggles before leaning down to nip at your ear, slender arms coiling around your waist. "What do you think?"

"You already told me before that I wasn't your ideal partner, asshole," you remind him with a huff.

Jeonghan hums, a noncommittal sound that seems like there's something else layered underneath. "But what if I told you that already changed?"

It's enticing—the possibility of getting to have him again when you couldn't really call him yours right now. But you know better than to take things that aren't meant for you.

At least, not in this life.

"Stop saying silly things and just fuck me already," you grumble, already tugging off his boxers. "Then you'll delete my number right after so you can finally get with the woman of your dreams. Got that?"

17. even though each time, i know i'll see you again, i always wonder

You've always looked forward to summer.

No more grueling classes. No more deadlines to catch up on. Summer means you get to go back to your hometown for a few weeks, unwinding in ways that your usual schedules don't quite permit you to.

Summer also means you'll get to visit Jeonghan again.

Your mother already has food and flowers prepared in advance—saying Mrs. Yoon kicked up a huge fuss when she found out you were going back home this weekend. You receive the news with fond laughter, noting how the flowers Jeonghan's mother picked out are reminiscent of the ones he held in the very first life you met him.

"I'm graduating next year," is the first thing you tell Jeonghan when you arrive, popping open two ice cold sodas before settling yourself on the grass in front of him. "Can you believe it? Four years of college, just gone in a flash. If you actually went through with your performing arts scholarship, you'd know how I feel."

"I'm thinking of getting a job here instead of the city. You know, so you won't feel too lonely without me," you chuckle, the moisture of your drink beading across your fingers. "Although, your sister keeps insisting that they give you plenty of company already and that I should chase after my own dreams first. She's starting to sound a lot like you, you know that?"

Jeonghan doesn't respond. Of course he doesn't. But you can almost hear his stilted laughter in the warm breeze anyway.

You place the flowers and the cola in front of his gravestone with a bittersweet pang in your chest. But before the tears can get the chance to escape, you turn on your heel and leave the cemetery altogether.

You didn't always look forward to summer after the accident that took the love of your life away. But knowing that your best friend—your soulmate—would simply be waiting for you in the next life, things became much, much easier.

18. is this the last time?

"Don't go..."

Jeonghan murmurs the words between drunken hiccups as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You chuckle, smoothing your hand across his sweater-clad back as he clings to you like a koala.

"Hannie, what do you mean?" you whisper as you glance at the mess of empty bottles you'll have to clean up from the coffee table once you put your boyfriend to bed. "I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls away from you briefly, puffy eyes glistening with tears as he lets out a shuddering sigh.

"I had a dream that you left me for some guy named...Jeongin, or whatever," he mumbles. "I promise I'll treat you better than anyone else. Just don't...leave me."

In some way, he remembers. Not everything because even you don't completely recall all the lives you've lived. There's too many of them now, most of which are too painful to think about all over again.

But this is the first actual instance where Jeonghan unknowingly hints that his past lives stay with him even beyond death, and it makes you wonder if he'll start to remember the others in time as well.

"I won't, Hannie," you whisper, weaving the words into a promise that you'll be sure to keep in the next life, and the hundreds of lives that will inevitably follow.

"I won't."

19. is that really you?

There are lifetimes where you try, but it just doesn't work out.

Sometimes, fate carves both you and Jeonghan into mismatched pieces of two different puzzles, and he doesn't even try to convince you to stay as you quietly pack away your belongings in dull brown boxes. The tension in your movements tells him that you knows he's watching.

"I'm not getting back together with you, if that's what you're wondering," you rasp. "If you love your job more than me, then I'll be the one to see myself out."

Jeonghan manages a sad smile that you completely miss—having been so caught up with your frustration with him to look. You thought that in each life he ends up becoming a world-famous idol, it meant that he'd also live all of his days with you by his side.

But things aren't always that simple, and Jeonghan merely stands in resignation as you shut the door to both his house and your heart.

20. and what if you're already perfectly happy without me?

When you took up a job as an events coordinator, never in your wildest dreams did you expect to be planning Jeonghan's wedding, of all things.

He doesn't seem to remember you and you don't really fault him for not recognizing someone he's met literal lifetimes ago. Not when he's obviously so enamored with his current fiancé.

"We were interested in the deluxe package on your website," Seungcheol, his intended, breaks the ice after the formal introductions, showing you a screenshot on his phone. "Is this inclusive of a lights and sound system or will we have to outsource those somewhere else?"

You nearly miss what Seungcheol was asking you—too caught up in how beautiful Jeonghan looks today. He's grown out his hair longer than he usually does and it's half pinned behind his head.

When it takes you a while to respond, both his and Seungcheol's gazes flicker with confusion before your heart sinks with how in tune they are with each other.

"Y-Yes, lights and sounds are already included in the package." You compose yourself with a warm smile. "But you might be interested in the royalty package. This would give you access to..."

21. ah, but i don’t blame you.

"Baby, I'm sorry."

Jeonghan looks like a kicked puppy sitting at the side of the hospital bed with how apologetic he is. You want to tell him that it really is no big deal but with the lower half of your body temporarily paralyzed, you can't really say that's the case.

"I shouldn't have insisted that you come to the music show when it was raining," he groans. "It's a miracle you managed to swerve out of the truck's way."

You wonder if he remembers the life where you lost him to an accident not so different from the one you narrowly escaped last night. The absolute fear in his eyes the moment he saw you covered in casts and bandages is reminiscent of the time you received the phone call informing you of your boyfriend's passing.

But you don't make it a habit to ponder too long about lives that have long come to an end. What's important is now, where you're still living and breathing and able to remain by his side.

"It's not your fault, Hannie," you murmur as you reach out to pet his head with some difficulty. "I shouldn't have gone past the speed limit in the first place."

"Well, you wouldn't have to do that if I wasn't being so pushy about you showing up," he sighs in defeat. "Tell you what, I'll pull out of all our comeback schedules until you can walk by yourself again."

You frown at him. "What? No! Your managers are going to kill you."

"They will, but knowing you'll be all alone while you recover will kill me inside too."

Jeonghan isn't usually this cheeky with you, so you keep this memory tucked away in your consciousness for as long as you can. Knowing there's no talking him out of it once he's got his mind set, you shake your head with a defeated sigh.

"You better take care of me like they do in those five star nursing homes then."

22. i’ll never burn as brilliantly as you.

Your favorite lives, you think, are the ones where he lights up the stage and the entire world as an idol.

He's happiest in these kinds of lives. The bond he shares with the rest of his bandmates transcends even the love you've harbored for him through lifetimes, and if there are people you'll gladly surrender Jeonghan to, it's those twelve boys that will always be his brothers no matter what.

"How was that?"

You're in the middle of giving out stage directions for the next round of performers when Jeonghan walks up to you with his signature, lazy smile. He's sweat-stricken with a stutter to each breath he takes, but he makes himself appear just as composed as he wants you to think.

"Breathtaking as always, Jeonghan," you decide to humor him—knowing that the sooner you give him a compliment, the sooner he'll leave you alone. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to—"

"Will you be busy after the show? I wanted to cook dinner for us at home."

A panicked look seizes your face when you gesture for him to keep it down. Your eyes dart around the vicinity—idols and their stylists running around backstage in preparation for the next segment of the show. None of them seemed to have picked up on Jeonghan's little slip of the tongue.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" you whisper sharply over the sound of another fellow stage director paging you in the south entrance. "Anyways, I have to go, Hannie. And please don't go blabbing about our relationship where you shouldn't."

When that idiotically handsome smile doesn't fade from his lips, you know things won't exactly go your way as usual.

23. it's only fair that i should be the one

At some point, you stop counting altogether.

The lives you live with and without Jeonghan blend seamlessly into each other the longer the cycle repeats itself. It doesn't hurt as much when you don't find him, but your heart still gushes with relief when you do.

And yet there are instances where you try to spit in the face of fate itself. Instances where you decide that you don't want to be chained to Jeonghan anymore. That the lives you live belong to you and that you won't let some otherworldly force dictate the course of it any longer.

One day in the summer, in some petty attempt to cheat your way out of fate, you decide to date your next door neighbor.

Sujin has the same eyes as Jeonghan—it’s something you can’t really look past. Maybe that’s what makes it so easy for her to wear down your defenses without breaking a sweat.

But the moment the thought crosses your mind, you wipe out every similarity until you can’t see them anymore. They almost look the same apart from gender, but Sujin is so different from Jeonghan, that for a while, you forget about the burden you've been carrying all this time.

One day in the fall, Sujin talks about meeting her brother for dinner, and you don't really ponder about it—agreeing without a hitch.

But that’s only the first of your many mistakes because the man who walks into the restaurant is Jeonghan. Sujin’s brother, the person who’s kissing your girlfriend on the cheek, is Jeonghan.

“Did you know that Sujin never shut up about you when you brought her the housewarming gift?” Jeonghan snorts before ordering a glass of wine. “Hmm, you look kind of familiar, though… Have we met before?”

“No,” you respond almost instantly.

It doesn’t work. Your master plan of waging war with destiny is rendered utterly useless when Jeonghan bruises his way back into your life. Where Sujin managed to ease herself past the walls you've put up after a few weeks, Jeonghan tears them down in half the time his sister took to pick you apart.

One day in the winter, Sujin breaks up with you, and in spite of the coil of emotions twisting in your chest, you watch her pack her things and move back into the apartment across the hall.

One day in the spring, there’s a knock on your front door that you're in no hurry to answer. You stare at Jeonghan with equal parts irritation and relief when you see him there. His grin reminds you of flowers unfurling as he stares back with a challenge in his eyes.

A challenge you loathe, but one you can never refuse.

24. to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes

“Don’t you ever get tired?”

Your head is resting on Jeonghan's lap when he poses the question, and you think the fact that your eyes are closed is already an answer on its own.

You used to think you were cursed. Maybe you've incurred enough bad karma in your very first life to provide you with a steady stream of misfortune in the next few million lives you're destined to live.

That could be the reason why you have to live all these lives, meet all these people—rinse and repeat. Is this how the gods are punishing you? Is there anyway to atone for sins you can't even remember committing anymore?

Though…when you open your eyes and see Jeonghan staring out into the distance, you have a hard time thinking of him as a punishment.

You sit upright and stretch out your limbs. There’s a kink in the back of your neck that might be resolved by a good night’s sleep, but you offer Jeonghan a hand before you can think about it any more.

“No,” you answer as you twines your fingers together, pulling him back to his feet as he spares you a loving smile.

“Not really.”

25. until i find the one where you'll return to me.

"That bouquet's really pretty."

Jeonghan glances behind him with a confused look—frustration clear on his face from trying to get the new stove he had installed in your kitchen last week to start. When his eyes land on the beautiful spill of flowers bundled up in a vase on the dining table, his features soften with fondness.

"Those are the flowers I had when you met me the first time, right?" he chuckles before taking a seat next to you. "The one where I was a 'prick of a model who wouldn't even bat you an eyelash'?"

Your chest bubbles with laughter at his description. You've grown more and more comfortable with telling Jeonghan about the lives you've shared in eternities that have long unspooled, and just when you feared he'd treat you like someone who escaped an asylum, he instead took all your words to heart.

He doesn't quite remember them all on his own, but when you bring up little pieces from old memories you do manage to dredge up, he's able to complete the pieces of the story to form a coherent picture.

Maybe that's what Jeonghan is to you—someone that isn't exactly necessary to have in your life, but someone who makes it infinitesimally better.

If there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that Jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. He can be crass. He can be secretive. He can be nothing short of vexing.

But he can also be kind, considerate, and present in times when you need him the most.

In the end, he's everything you need him to be.

And you couldn't ask for anything more.

⟢ end notes: me: this is a writing exercise, the word count: pushing 7k :') ok so this wasn't proofread even in the slightest so if you spot any mistakes and errors, no you didn't <3 thank you for joining me in this very self indulgent train of delusion!

#svthub #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenarios #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

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skzdreamer13 · 6 months ago

Text

I Won't Let You Go

Hyunjin Drabble

Hyunjin X Reader

Just had some random thoughts, wrote it down and it became a story.

18+ MDNI!!

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, oral (M receiving), Creampie

Notes: Romantic and Fluffy, aftercare. Kind of long sorry

Word count - almost 1.7k

The glow of the TV illuminates the space around you in the late night hour. The light from the en-suite bathroom gives a dull glow into the bedroom, the water in the sink background ambience to the low volume of the movie you're not paying full attention to.

The faucet squeaks as Hyunjin shuts the water off, finally done with his nightly routine and ready to join you in bed. He shuts the bathroom light off as he walks into the bedroom. His features barely visible with only the dim glow of the TV.

He pulls back the comforter and slips in beside you as you roll onto your side with your back facing him and wiggle a little. A giggle escapes your mouth as he slinks his arm around your waist and pulls your body flush to him. The warmth of his body encapsulates you, his breathing warm on your neck as you lean your body further into his.

“It's good to be home.” He says softly and leaves a gentle whisper of a kiss on the back of your neck settling his body against yours.

He’s been gone for almost two weeks, he's come and gone here and there, mostly to grab some food or sleep. But with tour, he's out practicing all day or away for a show and then back for a few days only before leaving again. And when he is home he’s busy, in the studio dancing or recording or shooting videos and episodes for his fans.

Tour season is rough. But you knew what came with his job, how frequently or infrequently you’d see each other. That didn't make you miss him any less. Still you love his dedication to his fans and how much they mean to him.

But you can't complain as he is going to be home for a whole week before the next time he flies off, and you're looking forward to spending as much time as you reasonably can with him.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You whisper and curl up slightly, letting his warmth embrace you. The bed has been so empty and lonely without him.

“You have me.” He whispers his breath ghosting the back of your neck as you feel it, his cock grows hard against your ass as you press your body to his.

The idea of being close with him is everything to you. You want to feel him flush against your skin, all around you and inside you. The thought causes heat to spread between your thighs.

You grab his hand that has been politely resting on your stomach, and bring it up to cup one of your breasts. A sigh leaves his mouth and you feel his erection grow harder at the initiation on your part.

He palms your breasts under your shirt before he removes himself from you and pulls your pajamas off slowly, letting his fingers graze your skin as he lifts your shirt and pulls down your pants and underwear.

He works slowly, extending the moment, wanting them to last as long as possible. As though he has nowhere better to be than in this bed, between the sheets with you.

He lingers above you as he removes his own clothes. His shirt coming off first and you bring your hands up to grace the strong muscles that he hides, his abdomen flexing under your fingertips.

He smiles down at you, not a cocky smirk but a loving smile, an indication of how much he loves when you admire him.

He moves to pull his pants off and you stop him, your hand coming up to rest on his as you halt his movement.

“Let me.” You bring a hand to his bare chest to gently push him down to lay flat on his back. Your hands come to the waistband of his sleep pants and you pull them down, he lifts his hips up slightly to help you.

His cock, finally released from its confinement, falls free and slaps into his belly. Your mouth waters as you wrap your fingers around the base of him. He can't take his eyes off of you as your tongue juts out and you circle the tip of his cock testing his precum with the motion. A sigh leaves his lips as the contract and you slowly wrap your lips around the head of his cock and push past your lips until your nose is flat against his skin and his tip is hitting the back of your throat.

A groan leaves his plump lips as he brings his hand up to tangle his fingers into your hair as you hollow out your cheeks and glide your mouth up to his tip, swirling your tongue, before sinking back down.

“Holy Fuck-” he whispers as you continue your motions and he cuts himself off with a moan. You watch him through your eyelashes as he loses himself in the feeling of your mouth. His head is thrown back, his other hand is fisted in the sheets, his breathing is ragged as you pick up your pace.

You bring your head up and off him with a small ‘pop’, smirk gracing your lips as you love how easy it is for you to drive him mad.

He comes up onto his elbows and pulls you to him, connecting your lips in a heated, desperate kiss.

His tongue slips past your lips and your tongues taste one another, saliva mixing as he tastes himself on you and it drives him crazy.

He disconnects your lips and lays you down on your back, as you spread your legs for him. He kneels between your legs, one hand on your thigh as you wrap your legs around his waist eager to feel him inside you.

Your eyes never leave each others as he reaches down and lets his fingers slide between your folds. A whiny moan escapes you as he brings his bottom lip between his teeth to gnaw on it as long slender fingers slip past your entrance and push inside your walls.

Your hips jut up as he fingers you slowly, his hands quickly becoming slick with your arousal. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at an excruciatingly slow pace and your walls are instinctively clenching, dying for more.

“More, Hyunjin please.” You whine eyebrows furrowing as you wish for more friction.

Unceremoniously he pulls his fingers out of you and replaces them with his cock slipping past your entrance with ease. The stretch he provides is unexpected but welcome as you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him in deeper until he is seated in you completely.

You both moan out. One of his hands comes up to caress your cheek as he plants a soft, heated kiss on your lips. You relish in how gentle he is with you, kissing him back, feeling the soft plush of his lips on yours, the way his heavy breathing tickles your skin. Then as he breaks your kiss, his forehead pressed against yours, as he pulls his hips back, pulling his length out of you almost the whole way before sliding back between the caress of your warmth.

His movements are slow, dragging out each thrust as your walls suck him in and cover his cock in your slick. Your hands are in his long hair at the base of his neck, his dark brown eyes filled with love as he continues to move in you. The emotions you’re both riding are intense and you know how much he’s missed you, as you’ve missed him. This isn’t Sex for the sake of it, this is love.

He peppers kisses across your cheeks, jaw and neck, soft groans and moans leaving both of your mouths with every movement of his hips.

“I’ve missed you so much. I love you so much.” His voice muffled and husky as he whispers into the skin of your neck as he leaves kisses and nibbles at your skin, the movement of his hips losing their grace. His words make your heart swell and your walls are unintentionally pulsing around his length.

His pace has quickened as he snaps his hips to yours, sounds of skin lightly slapping skin fills the room to join with the background sounds of the TV that is still playing and the heavy breathing you’re both releasing.

With a few more movements he is stilling. Trembling as he holds his weight over you as he fills you with his release, soft moans leaving his lips. Your orgasm finds you as well, as wave after wave of pleasure shudders down your body, through your skin, your walls pulsing as your head digs deep into the pillow under your head. He kisses your collarbones and shoulders as you let the pleasure claim you, enjoying the feel of each wave washing over your skin.

You both lay there, his body draped over you, his cock now soft inside you as his fingers dance up and down the skin of your arms in gentle soothing motions. Both of your breathing have returned to normal as he peels himself from you.

He leaves and comes back with a washcloth, cleaning both of you up. Both of you decide to stay undressed, wanting to be as close to each other as possible, not being able to get enough of one another.

He slides back into bed under the comforter and you lay your head on his chest. The movie that was originally playing has ended and a different one is playing now. He strokes your hair as you nustle in close to him, letting his scent engulf you as your eyes grow heavy.

“I love you so much, You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” you say softly, word slurring slightly with sleep.

“I’m home now.” He says softly as his lips press to the top of your head and your eyes shut and sleep takes you in the arms of the man you love most. It’s been awhile since you’ve fallen asleep this easily.

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the-midnight-blooms · 8 months ago

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FROM THE ARTIST’S STUDIO | cs

pairing: painter!choi san x painter!reader AU: historical au, joseon dynasty word count: 10.5k

masterlist

I reach out to my lover, he’s trapped within a painting. The muse of a Renaissance artist- he’s so divine he may have even started the movement.

Her feet pattered down the cold floorboards, pushing through the salmun doors-the fabric of her purple hanbok bunched up in her palms. The midnight bloomed in the depth of the spring, where the cherry blossom trees roared with the wind. A captivating beam from the candle paved the way to the front doors, her heart lurching in her chest as she felt an enchanted soul beckoning her name; her vessel bowed in his essence as if the rapping of the door knocker was to the beat of her name, echoing every syllable. With her hand outstretched for the doors, she hauled it open finding a man whose eyes were squinting as the the coarse rain battered against his supple skin; his teeth chattering with the cold. With a brown leather bag sloped over the shoulder of his light yellow hanbok; hands gripped steely over the handle of his heavy cases. He was tall, with broad shoulders, she quickly discerned but his face almost seemed obscured by the dark clouds and the night slowly filtering into the star studded sky.

"Please, Miss, I'm here to see Mr Yim. I'm a new apprentice at the local government office." His voice was almost mellowed by the crash of thunder against the sky, which had them both flinching at its mercilessness. A surge of relief rested upon him as a slender arm in purple outstretched towards him; the warmth easing the shattering goosebumps bestowed upon his delicate skin. With a contented sigh, the figure in front raised the candle to his face; the soft glow illuminated his crescent eyes which bored into another's burgeoning with curiosity.

"Your name, Sir?" Her honey like voice, slid into his ears; lashes gently fluttering as he breathed in the sight before him the beaming light from the candle forging a halo around this angel. Her tight jaw and deadpan expression was immediately dissolved between the influx of enigma that flooded into her eyes.

"Choi San." Nodding diligently, she gesticulated for him to follow her to her father's study. The hallways of the Yim estate were particularly large, a few candelabras were perched on top of the drawers plastered across the panelled walls-the smoke infiltrating into the empty space. They graced the floor with minimal sound, as if there were ghosts traipsing the corridors rather than real people.

Stood outside the large door, she dipped her head in politeness as he gently caressed the lumber; soft knocks restituting off the walls. With the candle perched within a hand of his own, yet another door opened; the esteemed artist tumbled through the doorway into another life.

Just over two decades ago, on a winter night, where the trees were bare of crisp leaves and the ground was brazen with purest of snow; a couple sat by the fire in their bedroom: a new-born cherub encapsulated within her mother's arms. Mr Yim, the father of the child, was a member of a group of scholars who advocated the need for the government to foster commerce, industry, and technology. He was a part of one of the four schools of thought in Joseon that shifted from speculative theory to attending to more taxing socio-political issues. Therefore, despite being renown for his hard work, and steadfast nature, he was also known for being quite reserved- to put it nicely. There were no 'good mornings' or 'good afternoons' from Mr Yim. Nor were there dirty looks and unwelcoming mannerisms bestowed upon his acquaintances. He liked to keep to himself, Mrs Yim being the only woman in the world capable of seeing that man smile.

"Would you like to hold her, dear?" His wife called, the gentle babbling of his child sending a jolt of fear rushing through him. Eagerly, he dismissed the opportunity, to which Mrs Yim had sighed staring down at her beautiful daughter. "She is your daughter, too. You're going to have to hold her at one point."

"I'll hold her when she is a little older than what she is now."

"Before you know it, she will become a woman and you will reminisce all the opportunities you had to cuddle her when you could." Truthfully, Mr Yim was afraid of fatherhood; he never really understood the notion of it but if having a child would make his darling, Mrs Yim, happy then Mr Yim would give her all the children in the world. How could he raise a child when he was left to raise himself? What could he even teach except say to his daughter after every stumble, every mistake, every stutter, every cry for help but: 'find your way'?

Thus, his aloof nature extended to his daughter, who having been pinned by her mother's side until her unfortunate death, became wholly estranged from her father. He was no longer her mother's husband, but rather just a kind stranger who fed her, clothed her, kept her under his roof and gave her almost anything she wanted.

Miss Yim was rather bizarre.

Or at least, that's what the townspeople thought through her poignant introvertedness; maintaining scant friendships, rejecting all marriage prospects almost immediately preferring the confines of her large quarters-which in themselves were situated in the segregated division of the family home. Her rooms were not bright, but panelled with a dark wood that foremost created a dull atmosphere, there was minimal light other than what streamed in through the open doors and windows that overlooked the vast lawn. A porch ran around the whole building, where Miss Yim frequented, all year round, as she drew.

Oh! The most compelling thing about Miss Yim was that in contrast to her academic father, she had particularly excelled in the arts, often taking on commissions from local noblemen requesting venerated portraits of their wives. As well as the opportunity to put her skills to practise, she saw it as a way of putting a few extra pennies in her pocket. In alignment with her reserved nature, Miss Yim found that she preferred to draw using defined, darker mediums such as charcoal, ink and graphite pencils. There was something so true about the loneliness that could be felt from the intricate brushstrokes as the ink spilled across the page. As if the figurines were her, simply founded to be a mere prop in a large frame.

Smoothing down the hairs on her head, she snapped away her gaze from the mirror to the window overlooking the side of the garden, the silhouette of the hanok roofs, carving elegantly into the sky. The trees rocked and the grass rippled with the pending ferocity of the wind. Indeed, the storm would not subside within the next few days. The door to her bedroom slid open, the older maid stumbled in settling the tray upon her bench.

"Will I not be eating with my father today?" Ina looked up from where she was kneeled on the floor, settling the bowls onto the bench.

"Mr Yim is currently accompanied with Mr Choi. Your father requested that you eat by yourself for the duration of his stay, you know how it is." Nodding, she took her seat opposite Ina patiently awaiting for the maid to stop assembling her dishes in a neat line in front of her. Whilst women typically dined by themselves, her father had allowed her to eat with him almost daily; except when there were guests. Despite his neglect towards his daughter, he still valued her feminine dignity and did not trust the vulturous eyes of men that rested their predatory gaze upon her.

"Who is this, Mr Choi, and how is it that I wasn't aware of his arrival until he was knocking on our door?" She questioned, Ina's careful gaze flickered to her before staring out into the open space in contemplation.

"A new apprentice. He’s appointed here, on request of his father." Leaning forward, Ina's voice dropped an octave. "Apparently his father says he's been 'engaging in sin' so he's been estranged from his parents until he gets his act together." Raising a questioning brow, she looked down at her bowl.

"Is he a homosexual?" Immediately, she was wacked on the back of her head by the older maid who didn't miss a single second in scolding her. Her hand sped to the back, rubbing the jolt of pain that seared through her, a temporary look of irritation glazed over her eyes.

"You insolent girl! How could you say such thing, you know how disgraced that is!"

"You said ‘engaging in sin'. I can't think of anything more sinful other than fraternising with men or women." Ina's dirty look penetrated through her bones, provoking a sense of humiliation that would rattle through her in the depth of the night. Scowling at her mistress, she rolled her eyes before getting up from the floorboard.

“Hurry up and eat your food. You need to go to Mrs Kang’s today." Following Ina's orders she gulfed down her food, drowning out the maid's muttering about her being crude and dishonourable.

The light chatter from the front room fell deaf at her ears as she sauntered to the entrance, which the two kitchen maids scuttled in through. Bowing at their mistress, they made a fowl attempt at suppressing a fit of giggles as they subtly snuck a glance into the room. Following their gazes, she warily traipsed in, catching her father converse with their new guest.

"Ah, speak of the devil! Mr Choi, this is my daughter." He teared his gaze away from his mentor to draw his eyes across the room and find the infamous Miss Yim perched by the doorway, gripping onto her onto the full skirts of her dark blue hanbok.

It was hard to deny that Mr Choi was amiable. He was tall, well-built with a toned torso that was still perceptible through his uncreased peach coloured hanbok, dimples adorned his perfectly structured cheeks. He nodded with such elegant eagerness, at her father's command harbouring the position of an obedient son, almost leaving her wondering what was so 'sinful' about that man in the first place? What could he have possibly done so wrong that he had practically been disowned by his family?

"Miss Yim, it's nice to formally meet you." She gave him a polite nod, choosing to stay silent than say something and be met with her father's harsh stare.

"Mr Kang told me you've been over at his home, a few times." Her father spoke breaking the awkward meeting. A breath became lodged in her throat as she anticipated some sort of wrath, after all Mr Yim was supposed to be oblivious to her going out and painting other women for a light commission. She didn't exactly know how he would react to that. "He appreciates your help with Mrs Kang's pregnancy." Mrs Kang is pregnant? That would explain the engorging belly, the mood swings and the other number of odd behaviours that she was listing off in the past few weeks she had been challenged with drawing the difficult woman. At times, Miss Yim thought she ought to have more empathy, it wasn't that she lacked it, it was that she tended to not gift her empathetic abilities to the prejudiced. It was women like Ina, and the cooks that worked in the kitchen that deserved her compassion. Women who strived to be breadwinners, even if it was due to poor socio-economic circumstances. Because women like Mrs Kang were hypocrites to be preaching the old values, pre-Confucianism, when they neglected their own sex.

"Yes, she's been enjoying my company. I intend to go again to deliver herbs she’s asked from Ina’s garden.” She recalled glancing down the extensively large page, as Mrs Kang moaned and groaned when the servants were too late to serve her namul and kimchi.

"Red raspberry leaf, dandelions, echinacea." Grimacing, she looked over her sheet to give the woman a look. "You can just get this from the market, why do you need this from Ina's garden?" Mrs Kang simply pouted rubbing her belly. Now that she thought about it, how did it not occur to her that she was pregnant? Perhaps it was because they begged to slim down her figure in the painting.

"Fresh herbs are good for babies." Were the herbs from the market not fresh enough for her? “I need them picked before they’re here.”

"Perhaps I should add lemon balm to burn that fat." A discourse of exasperated gasps rippled over the room, Mrs Kang waddled out of the room wailing for her husband. It was ruthless and unkind, keeping the unsympathetic Miss Yim awake at night before she travelled back to the Kang estate to see a very unhappy couple.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Kang. You’re beautiful just the way you are, even more with the little belly.” The pregnant woman’s tight grip around her neck, as they hugged, almost choked her to death.

Mr Yim's eyes outcasted through the doorway, there was a light patter of rain yet the howl of the wind had subsided significantly. He let out a small hum before returning back to the young pair staring, ardently, back at him.

"I say Mr Choi, should be your chaperone. It's a little unsafe to be going out by yourself." Before she could open her mouth and argue, her father held out a hand to silence her thoughts. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she nodded once more, before dashing from the room to have a flustered Mr Choi following her.

Hitching up her skirts, she trudged through the field, the sun had filtered into the sky radiating its essence onto the young souls as they surpassed the reams of houses. Had it not been for the joyous discord of infantile laughter, it would have been quiet; San mustering the courage to initiate a conversation. He cleared his throat, she merely blinked at his futile attempt at grabbing her attention.

"Miss Yim, you must slow down I can't keep up with your pace." He declared, striding faster towards her, the tall grass brushing against his knees.

"I think you can cope, Sir. Your legs are longer than mine." Walking through the grass wasn't difficult but when her hanbok was floor length, lifting up the heavy fabric proved tiresome and not to mention her shoes were sinking into the muddy fields, squelching miserably under her heavy steps. Eventually, San matched her pace as they made their way up the steps to the Kang estate.

A shrill voice eructed into the airs, the domestic staff worked at a proficient speed as they amended the damages inflicted from the storm. As a group of servants raised the logs from the path, San ran to their aid significantly lightening their work load. His charity had left her silent contemplating her initial thoughts on his persona. There must be something impure under all that. Surely? There had to be some reason why his father practically disowned him.

Kang Yeosang stood by his front doors, watching as his staff worked the lawn and through the large home. He sought the enigmatic painter launch up the steps, with an unreadable look painted on her face.

“Good Morning, Miss Yim.”

“Morning, Yeosang.” She greeted, he laughed a little at her dull tone.

“I take it, there’s nothing particularly good about this morning.” He jeered, she huffed at his characteristically exuberant manner.

“Not when my father’s spy is here to be my chaperone.” She turned around on the steps, the pair looking down at San moving the heavy logs from the path, dirtying his robes at that. “He’s the new apprentice at the local office, Choi San, I think he said his name was.”

"Oh, the country boy." Country boy? "He's from Yangdong, have you not heard? His family is amongst the richest, they're both scholars and farmers, now." Across the country, Joseon farming techniques had taken a turn within the last few decades, especially with the establishment of irrigation and rice transplantation methods- bringing Joseon to a state of flourishment. It was safe to say, which farmer wasn't rich now? The admirable farm boy was pushed away by the servants, making his way up the steps. Leaving him with Yeosang, she made her way in the direction of the couples' shared quarters, Mrs Kang draped over her bed, her wrist dramatically resting on her forehead.

"Hello, Mrs Kang." The woman jolted up from her seat, an obnoxious groan emitted from her as she propped her back up against the wall. "I brought you your herbs."

"Thank you, my love. You left your paints, they're just on my dressing table." The herbs were exchanged from her paints, digging into the pockets of her hanbok. The older woman began to natter, the discordant tonality rattling in her ears. Mrs Kang loved to talk. Even if it was about absolutely nothing, that woman talked for the whole of Joseon.

I'm leaving this place with a headache.

She often wondered how it was that Yeosang put up with his insufferable wife. Was it love, or a promise that he had made to Mrs Kang's parents that he would never leave her? The thought made her sigh in pity- to be permanently bound to someone in matrimony seemed like too much effort at times. Perhaps the effort itself is what subdued her mother to misery, the poor Mrs Yim eagerly handing her soul to the Angel of Death. Or maybe Miss Yim had possessed a stone-cold heart frozen over by the neglect of life's intimate essence; overpowered by a sense of maturity held over by her mother's early death. She took it upon herself to make it clear that by the time she was thirty, if there was no proposal that had come around she was going to wholly abandon the idea of marriage and work herself to death.

"That man is so pretty." She spoke, dreamily, Miss Yim's eyes lazily fled in the direction of Mrs Kang's. Her head poked through the doorway where both Yeosang and San were travelling down, engaging in intelligent discourse. "Not Yeo, the other one." The pregnant woman clarified.

"He's ok, I suppose. Not bewitching enough to tempt me."

"That has to be the biggest lie I have ever heard."

"What is Miss Yim lying about now?" Yeosang provoked as both men entered the room. Both women shared a look before the painter slumped onto the dressing table chair. "I suppose you're awaiting your payment."

"Well, my services aren't free." She declared, pompously. Yeosang rolled his eyes before he moved to the opposite end of the room, San had almost drawn his body out of the bedroom, a little embarrassed as the pregnant Mrs Kang ogled her eyes at him. Stretching her limbs, she got up taking the velvet bag. "Thank you, Mr Kang. I'll visit when the baby arrives."

His perfection had her repleted with such distaste for him. Simply put, Miss Yim hated Choi San because he was loved by all. Her father loved him, Ina adored him, the maids were constantly drooling over him it shot her with a sense of annoyance. He quickly became a household name, spoken of when he was at the office with her father and even when he was at home. Everywhere she went it was just him, him and him. The worst thing was, was that he was even trying to be nice to her prevailing through her grim looks and hard words.

“San this, San that. Honestly, he’s not even as esteemed as everyone claims, Ina. He’s just a man, like every other man. And all men are the same. So what if he's good looking, does that suddenly make him god’s greatest gift?” Burying her face into the pillow, an exasperated huff escaped her lips. Ina fell onto her bed, reaching her arms out to stroke her mistress’ back. With a contented sigh, she felt her eyes drooping a little as the maid's soft caresses were gently lulling her to sleep. Her touch felt like that of her mother's, soothing the aches of her heart whilst simultaneously provoking the nostalgia of a mother's love. To have her mother again, to have that woman encircle her into her arms. Rock her back and forth. She longed for her mother's scent again, often chasing the whiff of her familiar saccharine redolence as one chased butterflies in an open field.

“Yet you think of him often. He occupies your thoughts as much as he occupies ours.”

“Hardly, I-,” She stammered in a desperate attempt to recollect her thoughts into a single ambience. “I envy him. How is that he steps into this home for a second and I see my father smile?” Ina’s face dropped, a breath caught in her throat as her mistress spoke aloud the forbidden words she denied her staff to even breathe. The older maid had been rendered silent for too long, giving Miss Yim all of the answers she needed to press forward with her wistful assumptions.

"Perhaps if you grew to understand him, you would know why your father has inhabited such emotions for him. Think of him like a son-in-law. He will love him but not as much as he loves you." The maid reasoned.

"Then that makes him my husband." She grumbled, pulling the duvet over her shoulders.

"Now is that so bad?” Ina teased, before pulling her weight off the bed. With no strength to argue, her eyes fluttered to a close; her soul being dissolved by the night.

The following morning, it was too cold to be even sitting on her porch and with eyes tired of the same dreary scene, she ventured out of her quarters, delving into parts of the home she had missed. By the kitchens, the late Mrs Yim had reserved herself a small room decorated with the tools of all her hobbies in order to enact time alone for herself, away from motherhood and social responsibility. The room was consistently cleaned but usually left empty having it being full of painful memories of the beloved mistress of the household. For the first time in a long time, Miss Yim had felt the drive to find the room again and read her mother's poetry she had spent hours pouring over in the rooms.

Yet it had been almost shot stone-cold dead when the door opened to find San sat by the window hands raised towards the canvas. The anger within her refused to simmer or boil, it was rather the smooth swaying of the soft waves lapping the crust of sand. Her hands feebly reached for the poetry book on the table.

"I didn't know you were a painter, Mr Choi." She proclaimed, her breath hitched in her throat as her eyes sought the intricate details on the canvas. Her eyes glossed over the colours, the succinct shapes, drawing on the brushstrokes herself with the sharp movements of her eyes. It moved her. When was the last time she had been left this breathless?

"You never asked, Miss Yim." Immediately she felt intimidated by his artwork, her own revered drawings felt meek in comparison to his. A mere apprentice in an important official’s presence. To even be this close to him was considered a blessing. "You can sit next to me. I don't bite." Tentatively, she drew closer seating herself on the floorboards next to him; the brush of their fabrics sending a tidal wave of timidness over her. Where was the bold, steadfast Mrs Yim? Long gone, lost to the large expanse of the sea. Drowning under the ocean of his perfection. She didn't even want call for help, allowing herself to be enveloped by his allure. You draw so beautifully, she wanted to say. It's perfect, like something-someone even.

"You should have been a royal painter." The remark was swallowed into a melancholic void within his heart. Sparing a glance, he dipped the tip of the paintbrush into the crevice of the cerulean blue paint before raising to illustrate the canvas.

"Don't say that to my father." She sought the gloom glossed over his brown eyes. Was he, too, held down by social responsibility and expectations? She didn't think it was possible for a man's dreams to be mauled over by society; for she saw it with her father who had the whole world at his feet-picking dreams as if he was picking daisies from a meadow. Dropping her book onto the floor, she rested her head on her knee, solicitude fulfilled the serene atmosphere. Her eyes fell over the fancy metallic pots situated around the easel, which she knew to be various colours of paint pigments. Resting her head on her knee, she tenderly rocked her body from side to side as she watched his hands elegantly work through the canvases.

"Did you ever consider pottery? That's supposed to be quite popular now." Her question breaking through the quiet airs, the delicacy of her voice startling San. It was devoid of boredom, or disinterest like he had always perceived. No lace of judgement like he was silently praying to be diminished from her soul.

"It'll grow out of popularity soon." He stated, resting the paintbrush down to exercise the tense muscles in his hands. "I heard this was the late Mrs Yim's room, I hope you don't mind me being here." It, too, came as a shock to her when she shook her head-with no care in the world that he had colonised the room that she was once sure was hers.

It was sunny for once, which was odd for this time of year-she thought throwing open the door to the porch finding San surrounded by a large number of logs and an axe.

"What's he doing outside?" She pondered, Ina folding up the washed bedsheets before tucking them away into the drawers.

"They stopped properly chopping up the logs so we can use them for the fire, so Mr Choi offered to help." Wandering out through the doors, a smooth current of air tousled her hair, a book held tightly against her chest.

God, he really was toned. Rolling up the sleeves of his hanbok all the way to his bulging biceps, the maids all stopped in their path to rest their elbows on the low garden wall overseeing the vast expanse of grass. Effortlessly he picked up the axe, raising it over his head to slice down the log of wood. She rolled her eyes at her maids, as they watched him with dreamy faces. They nattered in hushed tones, giggling amongst themselves unbeknownst that their mistress was stood behind them. Leaning down to where they were sat on the garden wall, she poked her head in between the sea of charmed maidens.

“What are we looking at?” They squeaked, jumping up from their seats upon sight of their mistress- flapping their hands as some rushed back into the kitchen and others tended to garden duties. “Well? I would like to know too.”

“You wouldn’t understand Miss Yim.” Yes, yes she was the narcissistic Miss Yim who harboured no feelings for men and couldn’t deduce their charming airs. She was the Miss Yim who rejected countless marriage proposals, not based on looks but merely because she found that no man possessed the kind quality in a man that she was seeking. No patience, no loyalty. They were not even ruled by a sense of ambition. So how could she be hypnotised by the sacred beauty of a man, specifically, Choi San.

“Yes, I don’t understand why you’re not doing the job that we’re paying for you to do. All of you, out of the garden, it’s already been tended to!” She shouted, in an instant all of the maids dispersed back into the home. Huffing, she slumped onto the garden wall, glazing her ink pen over the defined lines on the page. Occasionally, she’d peer her eyes over the pages at San, tending to the curve of his body, and the horrific cinching of his waist. When he looked to his side, she hastily returned back to her sketchbook, feeling a blush decorate her cheeks as his steady gaze burned into her skin.

“Very accurate, Miss Yim.” Jumping up from her seat, she screeched the pot of ink spilling onto his face and neck. Whoops.

“Oh goodness, I am so sorry. Ah.” She let out a pained sound, battling with her internal conflict as she grabbed his hand rushing them into the direction of the porch that led to her quarters. Powerfully, she slid the door open darting inside and towards the washroom. Hauling him down to his knees in front of the washing basin, with a soaked rag in hand, she scraped away the ink splashed across his face. “Take this off.” She ordered, signalling to his hanbok.

“W-what?” He stammered, his face heating red.

“Well you’ve got ink and dirt all over it. I can get a new one for you.”

“I can’t just return back to my quarters and change?”

“Well no because then my father will see you and he’ll know I stole his ink again.” An annoyed huff escaped from his lips as she handed him the rag to clean himself. “Here, I’ll go get you a spare set of clothes.” Jumping up from where she was kneeled, her foot slipped over a puddle of water his arms snapped out towards her waist. Gripping his shoulders for stability, a faint blush trickled over her face, their noses barely an inches distance.

"Be careful." Quickly unravelling her hands from his shoulders, Miss Yim ran out of the room towards his quarters. Slipping past the double doors, she rummaged through the drawers for his clothes-picking up a light green set.

"Mr Choi?" A maid's voice called out from behind the closed door. Discerning their shadow moving closer, she made a beeline through the open doors leading into the garden. Scuttling into her washroom, she practically launched the hanbok at him before hiding in her room.

A breath of relief had finally escaped from her when he left from her room, both of their faces burning red in the midst of this shameful meeting. Yet San seemed persistent to know her, feeling that there was still something beneath the stone-cold façade she had constructed; something emotional and raw that he had felt he had to know. And Miss Yim was too becoming more curious, by the day, as to what Choi San’s secret was and why his father perpetually hated him.

Ina had forced them to go on a walk together, she groaned, silently, as they left the home behind making their way down to the meadow. At first an odd tranquillity permeated the air, eventually she grew tired of the jarring dissonance of absolutely nothing.

“A penny for your thoughts?” She inquired.

“I’ll keep the penny. I almost feel you’d judge me for having thoughts.” San bemused, she rolled her eyes, a faint of a smile on her lips. Just the tiniest, but it was practically gone within the same second.

“I don’t judge you, Mr Choi. I do, however, envy you. You’ve taken the place I wanted in my father’s heart.” She confessed, he looked towards her sympathetically, with knowingness that she was indeed right and the Mr Yim, famous for being just as aloof as his daughter, had somehow softened a little upon his arrival. Perhaps it was a son that he had always wanted, not a daughter but the scholar was reserved; San being too terrified to pry.

“Your place is best occupied elsewhere. Somebody else has it, I’m sure. He keeps it safe with love that is too potent that even dreamers can’t feign.” Of course was reading her mother's poetry, she didn't think many could understand the abstract nature of her words; of course it was him out of all who admired her poetry as it was his own.

"I am not pretty enough for that." Miss Yim argued, looking down at her feet. After all, the marriage proposals were not because of her vague good looks, but mainly because Mr Yim claimed an abundance of wealth.

"I disagree with you on that." Her face heated with his affirmation.

"Well, I am no Jang Ok-Jeong."

"There are many beautiful women in Joseon, not all of them have ever been recorded."

"She caught the eye of the King, a man who has a kingdom at his feet, he is supposed to be too superior to even look at his subjects. And he looks at her? Is that not a beautiful woman?" They were both fuelled by this argument, the debate igniting a set of powerful emotions that roared within them. This, was what they both deeply felt conversations were supposed to be. Potent discourse about society, literature and art. Not idle chatter on the weather, marriage and the social laws that subdued them.

"A man is supposed to be ruled by his head, not emotions. I say if any man bestowed more than a single glance, on a woman, and his breath was taken away, then she is more gorgeous than Venus herself."

"Not that wretched painting. It's so...vulgar." San snickered, squeezing his eyes as he let out a melodious laughter. "It says so much about the male gaze." She spat out as they trudged through the fields back in the direction of her home.

“I wonder if you like any art, at all? Other than your own?” He questioned.

“Owon is good. Apart from the vulgarity of Renaissance paintings-,”

“Which I must say is the majority of the whole movement, pray, continue.” He teased, his pestering smirk seemed to stitch wings on her heart, for it fluttered at his amiability, his devoutness to mankind and all of its endearing qualities and his perseverance. Despite her uncompromising attitudes and distasteful demeanour, he seemed compliant with listening to her, talking to her, truly trying to understand her and not just turning a blind eye. Choi San truly wanted to know her, for her; and not follow some false allegation that she was devoid of a heart or soul. He commended she had both and they were wrought with an existentialist quality that he wanted nothing but to huddle in the corner of a library and read away his life until it dissolved under the cover of her persona.

"What about you?" She questioned, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her own ear. At once, San was drawn into the world of virtuosity describing each of his favourite pieces as if it could be encapsulated into a single globe. The sweet dissonance of his voice lugging her into a dreamscape as they gently glissaded through the empty hallways of the Yim estate. They sought their eyes over the panelled wall, following the intricate lines of carved wood. They could almost be called mad people loose from the dreaded ward. For their eyes did not see the same way a normal persons did. He saw the shimmer in the air, the light poring through the crevices, the faint blemishes on a skin unseen with a naked eye-too vague to be called a taint, a mark, a scar. And she would see what he saw, whether it was not there she could reach to the depths of her sanity and pour out the image before her eyes to satisfy him.

It became a wonder to her how they spent several nights, the light patter of her feet as she rushed to his quarters with fulfilling arguments over art pieces, sharing techniques, rifling through each other's sketchbooks. His style was a stark contrast to her own: luminous watercolours, velvety acrylic paints, oily crayons. His muses were full of life and wonder, the strokes brimming with fruition. It was if a single segment of his painting held more hope than what could exist in her whole being.

There was something about him, too. She could see it now, his compassion, his adoration. As the weeks spun by, she became less repulsed by his sincerity and opened up to it more, almost finding herself craving his attention. His affection was much welcomed; she often wondered what it would be like to be so loved by him.

In her mother's old drawing room, she found him again, his large hands drifting over the pages again. Peering over his shoulder, she softly blew into his ear; the warmth tickling him.

"What are you drawing?" Her eyes scanned over the cartridge sheet, its intimacy striking her. It looked like her. Every sketch line, every shade, every little detail, every little blemish on her face.

"You." He answered, he didn't dare tear his eyes away from her for her hair was falling down her face in perfect waves that lured him into uncharted depths.

"You drew me so pretty."

"I only drew what I saw." Her heart wavered in piety, his devotion provoking an arrangement of madness. He was going to drive her insane and she was content with it.

"I wonder, what was it that you were excommunicated for?" Her silence broke through the passionate airs, culminating the objectivity that fulfilled among them as his sins held heavy on his tongue.

"I am not a scholar, a farmer or a devout son. I am an artist, a man who sees the world despite all of its maliciousness. I see the world so raw, it almost disgusts me but I am not terrified by its honesty. I find it so beautiful, it belongs on a page: drawn." Her body swayed towards him, hypnotised by his delicate words drawn his intoxicating tenacity, filling her with such immitigable rage that within that severe moment all she wanted was him. "I was 'excommunicated' because I am not the man my father wants me to be. I return as soon as I am devoid of all the emotions he renders vile." Tentatively, her fingers curled through his hair his eyes fluttering shut under her gentle touch.

"What about you Miss Yim? Why are you so solitary?" He murmured, their quiet voices serenaded the room.

"I am not solitary by choice. It's been enforced upon me and I know nothing and no one else but myself." Her whispers, though full of hurt and pain, were seldom dulcet. He thrived himself upon her words alone, it was enough to send him into delirium but her whole unmatched beauty with her words? He was sure to be sent to the wretched institute.

With an envelope gripped in her hands, she made her way over to his quarters slipping into the warmth, his smile greeting her as she slumped onto the chair in front of him.

"Mrs Choi? Your mother?" She inquired, handing over the envelope. San snickered at her nosiness, rolling her eyes as he took the sheet from her grasp, ripping open the seal to reel his eyes down the page.

"Actually, it's my wife." He announced, sparing her a single glance as he continued to read the words sprawled across the page. A sharp pang penetrated through the barriers in her heart, she felt her feet slipping under the ground, the walls pulverising as they caved in on her. For some reason, the room felt much more smaller than it was. Her heart was beating faster than any poetic declaration he had bestowed upon her, any time he had made her feel as if she was truly a worthy soul of being loved. Her heart palpitated faster than when he made her feel she would not die from a cataclysmic loneliness.

"I didn't know you were married." She breathed out, gripping the sage green silk in hand; feeling almost disgusted with herself for fixating her whole being on a man who never belonged to her in the beginning.

"We'll be officially married when I return back home." With a teasing smile on his lips, he grabbed a clean sheet from his desk and began elegantly carving the characters onto the page. "I'll be sure to send you an invite, if you'll come?"

“Of course, I’ll come. You know, for the food.” She quipped, his dimpled smile shattering the months of pining she had set for this revered soul. “I’ll take your leave, San.”

She fled from the room her bare feet blessing the sweet earth, the velvety wisps of the wind taunting her as tears welled up in her eyes. With a breath hitched in her throat, she fell onto her bed; bottom lip quivering as pearl tears escaped from her eyes dribbling down her cheeks before splattering onto the bedsheets. Her painful howl terrorised the desolate quarters as she had done on several dispassionate nights, the skies mimicked her torment, the light patter of rain hit against the window as if it understood all her wretched emotions. As if it understood her anger, hatred and hurt. As if it understood how disgusting it felt be left vulnerable by a man who could never be hers.

Was it some false delusion that she had been seduced by? That he, who was carved from a sculpturers most wild emotions, by all of his tenacity and his violent rage that he wished to create a being made of light: could truly be hers? By his yearning and pent up sentiment, by his dying wish that this world was not at peace until some divine figure from a concealed land would touch her world? Her hands shook as she sought to remove the tears streaming endlessly down her face. After all it had now made sense to all of the sympathetic souls that had heard her be plunged through such pain, to read her tale and understand the reason for her aloof nature.

Up the walls went back up. Brick by brick.

Curse you, Choi San, for breaking them down in the first place.

San had not seen Miss Yim for the remainder of the week or the subsequent. Granted, he had been flooded with an overwhelming amount of work but such was to be expected with the incredible staff shortage and Mr Yim’s high expectations. Regardless, he missed the snarky comments and unrelenting stares from across the room. He missed her moodiness, how ever infuriating it was at times; he missed the sense of quietude she presented at his feet and its ability to render his mind numb. Overall, he missed her. Yet, she seemed to be nowhere in sight and in fact missing even under the cover of the night.

“Ina, do you know where I can find Miss Yim?” He questioned, the agony rupturing the sutures of his weak heart apart.

"In her room, Mr Choi. She's, specifically, requested not to see anyone." Oh. His mood deflated after that concession, wracking his mind for all the things he had said in their last engagement; anything potentially hurtful or offensive but he didn’t recall anything particularly endangering. His quest to venture into her quarters, despite her ruthless commands which had the servants petrified over her uncharacteristic (but not abnormal) behaviour, had been cut short by Mr Yim’s desire to keep a tightened hold on the apprentice. He thought about bringing it up as he ate dinner with his mentor.

“How is Miss Yim? I heard she’s isolated herself in her quarters?” He raised, tentatively, as Mr Yim’s eyes scoured down the reports. Her father was a little too quick to dismiss her actions.

“Never mind her, that’s not something new. I was surprised she was even roaming around the house when you arrived…” Mr Yim trailed off as a thought infiltrated his mind, shutting the book close, his furrowed brows silenced the questions in San’s mind.

The moonlight spilt in through the window, the luminous shadows dancing with the light breeze. With dried tear tracks staining her puffy cheeks, she circulated her finger around the cotton sheets pulling up the heavy duvet over her shoulders, a trail of heat comforted her. The door to her room, silently, slid open; oblivious to the soft bustling of footsteps she stretched her limbs sitting up in her bed.

“Miss Yim?” Her head snapped up at the deep voice, its familiarity sending an agonising wave of heartache through her being. There he was, the perpetrator himself, settling in front of her with a teacup in his palms as if nothing had happened in the first place. “Are you ok? I know you don’t like echinacea, so I got you lemon and ginger tea.” Placing the tea cup on her night stand, he rested his palm against her forehead.

“What are you doing here, San?” Huffing, she fisted up the hair in her palms before sticking a dry paint brush through it to create a tight knot.

“You’re burning u- were you crying?” His finger lightly smoothed her damp skin, shaking her head she pushed his hand away from her face. God, she felt awful for his wife who had to endure his infidelity. “What’s wrong, jagiya, speak to me?” Biting down on her lower lip, Miss Yim threw her gaze out of her window, she sought the light shimmering as her vision blurred.

“Just leave, please.” There was no more hostility left in her tone, a coarse throat lacerated with the phlegm that built up from endless nights of sobbing herself to sleep. Tiredness gnawed at her, she just wanted to dissolve back into the covers. Pleading, begging she’d do whatever she could to force him to leave because if he didn’t then she would tear down the path to the Angel of Death and beg him to take her dwindling heart. On her knees she would go, for the mere sight of her lover crumbled the steadfast walls she had tried so hard to rebuild.

“Are you upset because I’m going home next week? If that’s the case-,”

“San, are you dense?” She interrupted. He was subjugated to silence, a look of hurt flashing over his face. “Leave means leave.” Adjusting her body so she could slide under the covers, she stridently hauled the fabric over her head, gripping her lips tight shut, so no more pitiful sobs escaped her and she was no more a servant to his cruel love.

The Yim estate was left with a melancholic air as the venerated bachelor made his preparations to leave the home. The maids were forlorn as they’d no longer have the privilege of seeing his striking face to bless their monotone days. Miss Yim had finally mustered the courage to take a stroll through the garden, avoiding San's quarters at that. Lingering by the flowers, she wrapped her arms around herself to manifest a sense of warmth that failed to prevail with the awful weather. She didn't notice her lover tear down the garden to her, his heart leaping within his own chest.

"Miss Yim?" Her body whipped around upon his words, her hands balled up into fists the anger displaced by fear. "Do you know how painful it has been for me to go days without seeing you? I am leaving for Yangdong, today, and god knows if I didn't even so much as see your face I would have gone feral."

"I- why?" She stuttered, at a desperate attempt to collect together her words and form a sentence. How and when did he culminate such passionate feelings for her?

"Why? Isn't it obvious? I am in love with you." He declared, she shook her head, profusely, at him.

"How can you say that?" Her voice raised an octave, parrying against the harsh winds that blew at them.

“If being in love with you is a deadly sin, then I am the greatest sinner there is. I will walk up to the gates of hell and open them myself. Hand over my arms and ask them to bound me to its greatest depths.” His chest heaved up and down, tears brimming at the front of her eyes. “I cannot live without you. I would not even do so much as breathe unless you asked me to. If you asked me to stop breathing, I would!”

“You’re a married man, San. Do you know how god awful that sounds?”

“I’m barely married but engaged. When I go back home, I will once again beg to not be wed off to her. I don’t love her, how can my father expect me to marry her? How can you expect me to marry her?”

“I don’t think you understand, San. I can’t love you.” His arms outstretched for her waist, hauling her towards him, the rain beating down on them both. With the gentle flick of his finger, her head tipped up to peer into his eyes.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me, or even feel as much as a small emotion for me. One word from you, would silence me forever.” She bit furiously down on her lip as his vehement fixation tore through the borders of her soul. When did she fall so vulnerable in his conquest for her being?

“I don’t love you the same way you love me. I am incapable of doing so.” His own brown eyes fulfilled with hot tears, pouring soundlessly down his cheeks. Her heart wavered with misery as he ripped away his grip, stumbling backwards upon her untruth.

“I understand. Thank you, Miss Yim. For the first time in my life, someone saw me for who I really am and not who I am meant to be.” Once again, the thunder cracked against the sky as San turned his back on her striding back into the home. The maids ran out to shut the doors, summoning their mistress back in but she sunk to the floor erupting into a fit of sobs; a wave of shock rattling through them. Her heart burned with such pain, even as Ina cooed lifting her up from the floor to guide her back into the home. Melting into the older woman's arms, her ears drowned out the distant sound of her lover ambling far, far away from her to a land in which even its notion would never grace the depths of her mind.

Her father's office was warm, but not the comforting kind as the biting airs of Joseon persisted. It was more suffocating as they sat across from each other in his office, discussing the state of her future now that he had managed to complete some of burdening tasks at work. He had several proposals lined in front of her, some prospects from his workplace, some from Mr Kang and even Ina had managed to find one or two seemingly agreeable men within their social class. A sigh fulfilled her, it would be a lie to say that she didn't look for the smallest hint of San within them all.

"I'm sorry Father, I don't like any of these men." He closed his eyes in indignation, rubbing his face before collecting the sheets from in front of her and throwing them into the fire. The embers cackled in a slow, seething ferocity as he leaned back in his chair.

"I honestly don't know what to do with you anymore. You won't marry, you won't leave your quarters. You've stopped helping around the house. All you want to do is sit in your room all day and stare into space." He scolded, she shook her head before raising from her seat. "You are becoming a burden to me."

"Well if I am such a burden to you, then just get rid of me." She taunted. An animosity truanted through him at her discourtesy.

“What do you think I have been trying to do since your mother left us? It should have not been your mother that had died! It should have been you! I would trade my soul to have your mother in place of you.” He blurted, before quickly slapping the palm of his hand to his mouth, cursing him for the spoiled words that left it.

“I would trade my soul too, to have my mother where you stand. You are a poor excuse of a man and to call you my father is an insult to me.” She hissed through gritted teeth, the shock reverberating at Mr Yim’s core; the severity of her words pulsating through his blood.

“You shouldn’t have been a father if all I was going to be to you was a pretty doll in a picture. The truth was she didn’t die because she was ill, it was the heartbreak of carrying a whole marriage on her back. It was the fact that you didn’t care about her wants, but your own.”

"You are in no position to say that to me. I loved your mother like it was breathing, I loved her as if she was the greatest blessing, as if God had granted me mercy for all the times I had done him wrong." His chest suspired, brittle hands shaking as a heavy tension remained suspended in the air between them; Ina loitering outside afraid to walk into the war zone.

"But you didn't love me! It was my mother who loved me, and I wasn't allowed to have her! I wasn't my mother's daughter, or my father's. I was a daughter of a servant with my name merely attached to you." At the end of the day, she was the figure in those paintings. Trapped within a frame, four equidistant lines on a piece of cartridge paper, bound by brushstrokes, sketch lines, constricted and held down by the artist. Subservient and stuck to a position in which she could not move.

Mr Yim deserved the brutal honesty of those words, no matter how harsh it was, and with a pounding headache, she ran out of his office ignoring her father’s calls for her to return to his side. This was it, there was nothing and no one by her side now and she was now the destitute figure that she had feared she would become.

“What’s wrong my dear? What’s hurt you so much?” Ina’s soft voice dilapidated at her mistress’ gloom, one she had seen prolong within her late madam too. Squeezing her eyes shut, she summoned the courage to spill her heart to her maid. She told her of how much she adored him, how deeply she wanted him and the ways in which he had made her fall in love with him. And how he had hurt her too.

“So call me heartless and apathetic all you want but I couldn’t take another woman’s man from her.”

“My love.” Ina’s weak fingers travelled through her hair. “You are far from heartless and apathetic. A man who you love is your whole life, you gave your life away to another woman.” She looked over to Ina, falling into her motherly embrace, breathing in her scent. There it was. The same scent that her mother had, the scent she was dreaming to come back to her in the midst of the night, and her a fool to dismiss that it was in front of her the whole time.

“What should I do now?” Her weak inquiry, breaking her heart, sinking deeper into the void than she already was.

“Go back to him and tell him you love him. He is a gentleman who accepts despondency like a soldier. So you, his general, must go back and tell him to return home to you.”

“Ina-,”

“Do not deny yourself of what you deserve. Your mother did, I won’t see you walk the same path.”

“I will let time run its cycle. Time will tell if he is meant to be mine.” She declared, to which the maid rested her palm on her cheek.

Mrs Kang’s baby boy, Kang Minho, was indeed a beauty. His bedazzling little eyes stared up at her in wonder, babbling as she lightly drew the tip of her finger over his chubby cheeks. It was astonishing for Mrs Kang to see that it was merely a little baby that would eruct a smile out of the secluded Miss Yim. It had been about four months since San had left the estate, and a while it took for her to leave the confines of her quarters. Once again, she took requests after requests painting and painting until her hands became stiff and sore. And so even more marriage prospects came, and her eyes lingered slightly over a potential husband. Both Ina and her father were pleased when she stayed a little longer at the doorway of their home talking to one of the young apprentice’s at the office. He was tall, handsome and kind; perhaps it was flickers of San she saw within him that had her thinking that spending the rest of her life with this man: wouldn’t be particularly gruesome. Regardless, she made no firm decision but still, for her father this was significant progress.

“He likes you.” Mrs Kang chimed, grinning down at her baby. She hummed carefully, softly tickling his smooth cheeks.

“Maybe I like him too.” Her gaze lightly flickered to the elated mother. “Where is Yeosang? I didn’t see him on my way in?”

“Oh he’s in his office with San.” Her head snapped up from the baby at the sound of his name. Goodness, how long had it been since she had heard that single syllable name, forever it seemed it would merely reverberate inside her head. “Did you not know he was in town? He came to see Minho.” Shaking her head, she got up from the bed consoling herself.

“I- I think I’ll leave now. I’ll come visit another time.” She announced, before awkwardly patting Mrs Kang’s head; a poor endeavour at affection but for Mrs Kang this affection was whole-heartedly appreciated. Her footsteps sped down the hallways, she came to an abrupt halt at the exist of the Kang estate.

There he was, stood there with Yeosang conversing if they were age-old best friends her heart palpitated with anxiety, knowing that she’d have to walk past him again. The sight of him almost triggered her, she gripped onto her deep purple skirts, his own yellow hanbok beaming like the sun.

“Miss Yim! I didn’t know you had arrived, leaving so soon?” Mr Kang chirped from the door. She shook at her head at him.

“I’ve been here for over an hour and a half. I’ll visit another time, especially since Minho is the only tolerable person in this household.”

“Just say you love him.” A grumble erupted from her lips, she rolled her eyes- with a delicate playfulness- before squeezing past the pair of men. A pounding of footsteps travelled after her as she trudged back through the fields in the direction of her home.

“Miss Yim, allow me to accompany you.” San professed, breathlessly. With a diligent nod, she transgressed forwards ignoring his burning gaze into her skin. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine. What about you?” He responded he was great all the same, reporting that the weather in Yangdong was a little warmer than in her hometown.

“When is your wedding date? I’m still awaiting on an invite.” It was a joke, nonetheless, but one that didn't hesitate to puncture holes in her heart.

“We broke off the engagement, it was mutual really. She was in love with someone else.” With a breath lodged in her throat, her stare tore away from the fields piercing straight into his eyes. It was then she had realised how burdened he truly was. Where was the San that always smiled and joked, and was so full of love it seemed inhumane to have so much of it? They didn't need to say anything to each other in that moment, they stopped walking subsided to a silent, paralysed position. "I think I'll just take your leave." His voice quivered, sending a jolt of agony through her.

Hadn't she made him suffer enough? After all he was the same man who loved her as if she was the vessel that kept the blood running through his veins, his heart beating and his feet walking.

Go back to him and tell him you love him.

Tell him to return back home to you.

His body almost disappeared behind the vast expanse of buildings, when she raced down the fields, as fast as her legs could carry her, ignoring the vicious ache gnawing at her muscles and the agitated pounding of her heart against her chest. Tearing down the path towards him, in the chance that if she didn't run any faster she was going to lose her lover to the wind.

"San!" Her shout echoed in the breeze, but reached to his ears anyway, a tug at the weak strings that had barely held down his soul. He turned, so desperate that she would come to him like she had done in the dead of the night. Feeling his lover crawl into his arms, pledging that she would never leave from his side.

"Miss Yim, what's wrong?"

“I lied to you, when I said I didn’t love you. I really, really do, I almost feel disgusted by it. I never thought, that someone as ruthless and as cold as me would be privileged enough to fall in love but when you entered my life I felt like my mother.” She sucked in a deep breath, her lover making gentle steps toward her as the wind whipped their hair. “I felt like her when she said: ‘If he was the muse in a painting, to be an object, a fleck of paint, or even dust on it would be my greatest honour.’” Warm tears forged in his eyes, biting down his bottom lip to prevent them from escaping. She wanted to outstretch her arms towards him but it was too soon.

“So, Choi San, it’s an honour to be loved by you. I came back, because I had to tell you that. I hurt you so much. I was scared that being vulnerable to love would only hurt me but the only person who gave me such torment was myself.” Her confession disturbed her, yet it was the unspoken truth that only he was entitled to. A tense silence suffused the air as she pended his response, but all he could do was try to convince himself that it was not a dream and she really had said all of the words he had spent countless nights praying that she would declare.

“I love you, Miss Yim. I loved you yesterday, I love you today and I will love you for eternity. There is simply nothing that one can do to tear my heart away from yours, not even you.”

"Do you mean that?" It was a stupid question, but she could not help the words be spilled from her mouth. He nodded violently.

"I do. With my whole entity." Choking back on her sobs, her arms reached out for him throwing them around his neck. Nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck, her grip tightened as he ensnared his hands around her waist; breathing in her scent as if it was oxygen. "Come home with me my dear, come home and be mine."

•••

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

'Yim' meaning light

A/N: the long awaited painter!san fic (with a twist 😏) that i've been waiting too long to put out. I hope you liked this one. :))

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tags: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

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vilhelios · 10 months ago

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-; SWEET MUSIC PLAYING IN THE DARK.

your poor, overworked, singer-songwriter boyfriend has not been having a good time with comeback season. thankfully, he has you, his muse, to kickstart his creative processes—sadly, that means he's going to write yet another love song about you in his group's newest album.

CW: k-pop idol/group au! fluff, fluff and more fluff! mentions of xavier, zayne, sylus, and caleb ; not beta read, small text, all lowercase letters.

“and this—” a kiss to the jaw. “—is part of—” another kiss, a shiver jolting down your spine at the feel of his lips against your pulse point. “—your creative process?”

it’s almost embarrassing how small your voice is now, loud in the silence of rafayel’s little studio. your hands clench and unclench around rafayel’s white shirt as he peppers kisses up and down your neck, not a single sliver of your exposed skin remaining unkissed. (after all, he’d say, he must drown in every part of you.)

“hey, every artist needs their muse.” rafayel shrugs, his hands at your waist grabbing at the warm flesh there, a teasing yet grounding touch. “i just need to be appreciating said muse to get the lyrics flowing in my head.”

before you can say much else, he nuzzles his face against the crook of your neck, and he practically melts into you as he breathes in your comforting, familiar scent. like fresh laundry, citrus, honey; he recognises it as the new perfume he bought for you just a few months ago (oh, god bless royalties and good album sales… he gets to spoil his little darling). a happy little sigh leaves him as he nuzzles against you again, shifting to let your bodies melt together in a happy little pile on his office chair—you’re just what he needs after a stressful day of brainstorming new lyrics and melodies with zayne and sylus, banging his head against the wall designing concept art for the new album’s cover, and being dragged around the dance studio (half-dead and limbless) by caleb and xavier.

“yeah, i know…” you sigh, and move your hands upward, fingers curling in his soft purple hair. luckily enough, he hasn’t had to dye his hair yet, what with linkon’s netizens finding his hair to be a particularly lovable part of his charm. (they’d be right; also up there are his big, beautiful eyes, and his impressive vocal range.) there’s a beat of silence, and then you speak up again, pressing a kiss to his hair just as he presses one in kind to your throat; “are the lyrics popping up in your head…?”

“hmm.” rafayel hums, almost like he’s thinking about it. “no.” he says, simple as that, and chuckles when you groan in exasperation. “all the ones i can think of wouldn’t fit the theme. and sy would actually kill me for making us sing another ballad that was clearly inspired by you.”

(they’ve released two albums and five eps, rounding up to about 50 songs in their discography… a good chunk of the love songs rafayel got his hands on in the production process felt like individual love letters written and sung just for you. It’s starting to reach a point where some of the smarter hunters—as their fandom is called—have deduced that at least one of the boys is in a relationship.)

“really?” you raise an eyebrow at him, hand moving to pinch his cheek, “well… if it’s anything like your usual songs about me… I can agree that it doesn’t match the theme.” you pull back a little—which elicits a whine from rafayel—to look at his current getup, which he’d been too lazy to change out of after the photobook photoshoot: a crisp white shirt, black pants, and leather chest harnesses. his hands, idly rubbing up and down your sides, were adorned in black leather gloves. all in all, an attractive outfit that’s trying to encapsulate a “bad boy”, mafia vibe. “i'll have to side with sy on this one.”

“even mafiosos can sing about how they’d love their darling in every universe, y’know.” rafayel hums, leaning back to rest his head properly on the chair, eyes trained on your face. his hands continue their idle smoothing down your sides, touch gentle and warm through the layers of fabric separating your skin. those beautiful indigo-pink eyes hold that heartbreaking softness in them, and it makes you want to gently run your thumbs under the dark circles under his eyes. (you never noticed, not until caleb pointed it out, but he only ever looks at you this way.)

rafayel’s next words are soft, without the characteristic teasing and filled with something akin to reverence: “what’s the harm in another song?” he whispers, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek, "it’s just another universe to profess my love to you in, my darling muse.”

a/n: ... i saw rafayel in a harness, blacked out, and thirty minutes later this was ready on my word document. uhm. so those cards huh... (i have. enough pulls to secure you. but please come home early rafayel). reupload bc I FORGOT HOW TO TUMBLR??? and forgot tags 😭

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace fluff #rafayel x reader #rafayel headcanons #rafayel fluff #qi yu x reader #qi yu headcanons

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dessarchive · 1 month ago

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FAME DR ALBUM BLACKOUT

Jo Cameron’s sixth album, Blackout, will be released in 2032. The genres range from dance-pop, electropop, techno, hyperpop, and club-pop. Jo wrote the songs with her best friends Archer Sinclair, Reverie Voss, Lyevia Kisoni-Lima, Ariana Greenblatt, Mckenna Grace, and Devena Allen from late 2028 to early 2030.

Jo described the process of this album as fun, sparkly, filled with laughter, and many, many retakes. Jo recalled how she and her friends would go out to night clubs or have girls nights and would get an idea for a song. “Going to the club can go one of two ways, having the best time of your life or crying in the back of a uber going back home. I wanted to encapsulate this in the album but I also wanted to embellish on our experiences. This was understood in the studio with the girls so if they had a crazy idea I was up for it. I really wanted this album to sound messy like a dark night club with glitter on the floor and fixing your makeup in the bathroom while the bass of the music vibrates the floor.”

Jo’s image for the album came through very clear and fans took it upon themselves to trend looks, makeup, accessories, and even movies they thought fit the albums aesthetic. Since the release of the album it has been associated with glitter, mini dresses, martinis, city lights, vodka soda, hoop earrings, low rise jeans, dark eye makeup, heels, sparkly nails, gold and silver jewelry, expensive perfume, leopard print, red lipstick, and flashing lights.

When asked about the studio sessions with her friends Jo stated, “It was such an amazing experience with all of them. I’ve never felt so close to them and we had the best time creating this album. Sometimes we would go out clubbing together then go back to the studio or have parties at the studios trying to recreate the feel of the club with the sounds and lyrics. During the process of the album I really envisioned a night of going to the club. Getting ready at home and pre-gaming, arriving at the club, getting drinks, sweating on the dance floor, feeling hot with my friends, dancing with my husband, being tipsy and laughing while fixing our makeup and hair in the bathroom, the ride home, and ending the night with my husband. I really enjoyed making the album because it was so different from my previous releases. My first two albums were created with just me and my producers which was an amazing experience and my last two albums I started to let my friends into the writing process but I still wasn’t fully comfortable. This album really got me out of my shell and allowed others that inspire me into my work. Listening to their lyrics and their perspective on something like this made me really happy. Not only were we feeling ourselves on the dance floor and in the studio, we were having deep conversations about the media’s perception of us, over-thinking, re-thinking past decisions and relationships, and being ourselves and I wouldn’t want that with anyone else.”

ORIGINAL TRACKLIST | 30 SONGS | 1H 36M

1. Gimme More [ Britney Spears ]

2. Sports Car [ Tate Mcrae ]

3. Von Dutch (feat. Addison Rae) [ Charli xcx ]

4. Blow [ Kesha ]

5. Turn Ya Head [ Heidi Montag ]

6. Applause [ Lady Gaga ]

7. 808 [ Chase Icon ]

8. Like I Do [ Tate Mcrae ]

9. If U Seek Amy [ Britney Spears ]

10. We R Who We R [ Kesha ]

11. Claws [ Charli xcx ]

12. 365 (feat. Reverie Voss) [ Charli xcx ]

13. You Can’t Come To My Party [ Chase Icon ]

14. Blah Blah Blah (feat. 3OH!3) [ Kesha ]

15. MACHINE GIRL [ ADÉLA ]

16. When I Grow Up [ The Pussycat Dolls ]

17. Who Owns My Heart [ Miley Cyrus ]

18. S&M [ Rihanna ]

19. Anthems [ Charli xcx ]

20. Get Back [ Britney Spears ]

21. B2B (feat. Tinashe) [ Charli xcx ]

22. Your Love Is My Drug [ Kesha ]

23. Girl, So Confusing (feat. ????) [ Charli xcx ]

24. ExtraL (feat. Doechii) [ JENNIE ]

25. Sympathy Is A Knife (feat. Mckenna) [ Charli xcx ]

26. Freakshow [ Britney Spears ]

27. Skin [ Rihanna ]

28. Freak The Freak Out [ Victoria Justice ]

29. Take It Off [ Kesha ]

30. Guess (feat. Archer Sinclair) [ Charli xcx ]

DELUXE TRACKLIST | 15 MORE SONGS | 2H 29M

31. Break The Ice [ Britney Spears ]

32. Perfect Lover [ Britney Spears ]

33. Phonography [ Britney Spears ]

34. I Know Love (feat. Tom Welling) [ Tate Mcrae ]

35. Buttons [ The Pussycat Dolls ]

36. Circus [ Britney Spears ]

37. Mannequin [ Britney Spears ]

38. D&G [ Claudia Valentina ]

39. E.T. [ Katy Perry ]

40. Breathe On Me [ Britney Spears ]

41. Outrageous [ Britney Spears ]

42. I Might Say Something Stupid [ Charli xcx ]

43. Spring Breakers (feat. Kesha) [ Charli xcx ]

44. Radar [ Britney Spears ]

45. Heaven On Earth [ Britney Spears ]

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driedposies · 26 days ago

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"My little Nepenthe," {CHAPTER SEVEN: Have You No Idea That You're In Deep?}

Chapter summary: With the Summer Solstice on the horizon, you're made to confront more than your worries about this coup. Instead of running away from what you are now, you begin to accept the things you once feared—including the bond that's made a home in your soul.

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual content (18+ only!), violence, bodily injury, torture, character death.

Chapter lyric: "Do I Wanna Know" by Arctic Monkeys (Hozier ver.)

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: I'm back :) life has been a little hectic these past few weeks, but I should be getting back into the swing of things.

Life continued to slip through your fingers like water. Except where anxiety and fear lingered in the small nooks of your mind, they slowly ebbed away into something warm and disarming. There was a prize within your heart that was slowly being revealed—you no longer felt so utterly alone.

You weren’t the only one susceptible to this change, it seemed. Eris smiled a little more and a little longer when he thought no one was paying attention. He began to crack open, baring a soft underbelly like a fox returning to his safe glen.

Eris was… funny. Charming, with the occasional dreadful joke. He made you laugh despite his wicked undertones, enough to turn your cheeks red and forget all propriety and genteel lessons.

You both continued your charade, yet without acknowledgment, you no longer felt like you were acting a part. And, perhaps selfishly, you imagined a world where Eris felt the same.

It didn’t help your persuasive heart at the note left for you to find after an afternoon promenade.

‘I have bartered the silence of your ladies' maids and the guards stationed this evening. I’ll have the pixies send you a dress fashioned for Summer.’

Your ladies’ maids are giggling amongst themselves, whispering and fawning as if they’re worried another was to overhear a scandalous secret. They were in their own right to do so—what you were doing was scandalous. Enough to jeopardise the sanctity of this courting farce.

What would Beron do if he learned Eris took you beyond the Autumn borders without permission? It likely wouldn’t be as terrible as if your brother-in-law found out.

Treasonous. And something deep in your soul licked at the word; delighted in it. For a moment, you imagined yourself blending into something so similar to Eris. You no longer had the urge to reject the thoughts as they came.

You were now picturing Summer Court.

Feyre had once, very briefly, when she had a sudden idea to tour you through her art studio, told you all the beautiful tales she had collected like seashells over Prythian. A summertime paradise cradled by the sea, its capital rising like a jewel from the heart of a crescent-shaped bay, crowned by a palace perched on a mountain island. Always warm, always carrying a salted breeze. It made you think of Father.

The dress your ladies’ maids chose was a remarkable encapsulation of summer. It was reminiscent of a sunset over the ocean—shades of lilac, turquoise, and gold that seemed to shift with every movement. The fabric was chosen for the expected heat, all chiffon and organza, with small mother of pearl fragments embroidered around the bust.

Your hair was left loose for the first time since arriving in Autumn. It was beautiful—you felt beautiful.

As your ladies tussled your strands of hair into a gold and pearl comb, swooping the pieces from your face—because of the sea winds, Flora muttered—you feel the air shift. You turned as the space beside your vanity folded into itself, and out appeared Eris like smoke, already grinning wickedly.

“Is knocking now beneath you, Eris?” You drawl, shifting to watch him through the full-length mirror at Fauna’s scolding, at your moving.

The Autumn Prince glides behind you, meeting your eyes. You take the short pause to rake your gaze down, and then back up. Eris's summer attire was a striking contrast to his usual umber, orange, and black attire. He matched your palate, wrapped in a loose turquoise silk poet blouse, left entirely unbuttoned and tucked into cream trousers. His hair, however, caught your eye—left unbound and uncombed, lax copper spirals curling around his neck and framing his brow. Eris looked all the more like his mother.

“To successfully sneak away, you must not risk being caught. That includes not loitering in a doorway, waiting for you to finish powdering your nose,” Eris retorts, looming over your shoulder, playful condescension heavy in his tone.

Your ladies’ maids float away, letting out pleased hums at their work.

“You know what to do, ladies,” Eris states, tilting his head towards the pixies and then the door.

The three pixies bow their heads in understanding, before flickering out of the chambers, likely to begin spreading excuses and tales about your whereabouts—or lack thereof.

Eris reaches around you to pick up your right hand, holding it out in front of you. Looking downwards, your heart almost stutters, embarrassingly disarmed by his hand gently cupping yours.

“I believe celebrations are in order,” Eris comments, grinning, and you’re looking back up to find his eyes still on you through the mirror’s reflection. He runs a thumb over the healed skin across your knuckles.

Your lips form a tight line. “I’ve yet to be able to even call upon my powers,” you mutter, your breath stuttering when Eris pinches your pinky finger.

“Baby steps, dearest,” Eris reminds, sliding to stand beside you, tucking your arm into his. “You are no longer rejecting your gifts; in turn, they are no longer rejecting you,” he drawls, giving you a small squeeze of affirmation. “And that is a great achievement. So, let us get a move on before we miss the doors.”

A smile blooms like ivy across your lips as the world around you folds. There was nothing, and then you were miles away from Autumn.

Eris was already holding you steady as you found your feet again.

The air shimmered with a sudden, electric charge as the Summer Court’s boundary blurred and dissolved like heat rising from sunbaked stones. A faint scent of jasmine and sun-warmed earth filled the space, mingling with the sharp tang of sea salt from the distant ocean. The world seemed to hold its breath in that suspended moment as you took everything in.

You were standing at the imposing entrance of the theatre, carved from marble and stone. Stood between a vibrant energy of life, laughter and conversation singing in passing as all sorts of fae and creature waded inside the theatre like a stream following a current. Dark skin and scales and webbed ligaments, all clothed similarly to you. Eris’s head of flaming hair stood out, yet no one paid much mind except for the few curious glances.

Eris was guiding you in, leaving you to gawp at the new world around you, passing secret grins your way. “I took the liberty of keeping our reservations a private affair,” Eris murmurs into the shell of your pointed ear. “I suppose it pays to be friends with a High Lord who cares for intercourt relegations.”

Your eyes flicker onto Eris. “You have friends?” You jibe, grin only widening when Eris’s eyes roll.

Pausing outside the ticket box, you peer through the stained glass to the small fae perched on a tall wooden stool, her translucent butterfly wings closely tucked into her back.

“Ticket name,” the faerie’s charming, yet wholly bored voice called out, attention focused on the paper list in front of her.

“Vanserra,” Eris states, the name alone enough to startle the faerie to look up. “Should be under the Autumn Box reservation.”

The fae’s lips part for a moment before she looks down at her sheet, and then back up again. “Enjoy the performance, Lord, Lady,” she quickly says, gesturing towards the grand staircase behind the ticket desk.

Continue into the foyer, you’re almost startled by the size and ornate build of the Summer theatre. Water fountains and sculpted basins shaped like blooming lotuses and mythical creatures were scattered across the large hall, mist slowly rising softly from the water’s impact. Marble was cut into sea motifs across the walls and supporting beams, continuing up the staircase and handrails.

Above, a circular vaulted ceiling was painted and decorated to represent creatures from the deep ocean, all chaotic yet cohesive. On closer inspection, there was an evident story being told. Romance, tragedy, comedy, betrayal.

“Nesta will be so jealous,” you whisper under your breath, and Eris responds with a chuckle.

As you make it up the staircase and the crowds of summer fae thin out, you turn back to Eris. “The Autumn Court has its own box here?” You ask, attention momentarily deviating as a wait staff appears to guide you into your private box. You’re left with two glasses of wine and a fresh fruit platter.

The theatre’s house was just as beautiful as the rest of the building—evidently, no expense was considered when this place was created.

“Every court has its own box in this theatre,” Eris explains, picking up his glass and lightly tapping it against yours when you lift your own. You take a small sip with him. “Summer likes to celebrate their Solstices with music and performance. On its eve, you’ll find most High Lords in attendance.”

You let out a considering hum before reaching for a sliced strawberry, sliding it between your lips. Smiling at the sweet berry, you pick up a second to offer Eris. He looks momentarily unsettled, raising a hand.

“More for me, then,” you sigh, slipping the strawberry into your mouth.

Leaning over the balustrade, you watch as fae filter into the theatre’s house to find their seats. All different groups and walks of life in one place to see whatever Eris siphoned you to—couples on dates, friends passing around a bottle they’d snuck in, families settling children into their seats. Turning to the stage, you notice its setup; makeshift staircases leading up to a balcony taken over by ivy and honeysuckle.

“What's the performance about?” You ask as you shift back to Eris, finding his eyes already watching you.

“And let me spoil the story?” Eris replies, grinning into the lip of his wine glass. “You’re going to just have to watch and find out, dearest.”

An indignant huff leaves you. “Not even a little hint? Now, how will I know if you’ve just dragged me to something that’ll bore me stiff?” You retort, evidently much to Eris’s amusement.

“No one would be in attendance if the story were boring,” Eris points out, gesturing with his glass to the full house. “Anyhow, I’m sure you’ll be more than satisfied with my choice,” he continues with his much-familiar arrogance. “It’s a romance.”

You make a confused expression, before it settles into disbelief. “Did you go through my books?” You accuse, trying to recall a moment when Eris had the opportunity to scan through your stack of books on your nightstand.

“It’s not like they were hidden,” Eris half-defends, hardly perturbed. “It merely caught my eye how many you’d commandeered.”

You could only roll your eyes, resting your elbow on the armrest to press your palm over your mouth, hiding your girlish embarrassment. It was then that you realised that Eris would only know of your book preferences by recognising their covers alone, bringing that knowing smile back across your lips. “Are you a secret romantic, Eris?” You tease, leaning towards him, a growing habit you’ve yet to name. “You ought to tell me your thoughts on Basile’s Sun, Moon and Talia.”

It was Eris’s turn to make a sour expression, choosing silence rather than trying to deny it.

The patrons soon settle into their seats, quietening as the faelights dim, leaving the stage illuminated. A warm hand takes yours, and your eyes try to find Eris through the dark, faint shadows outlining his strong jaw and tussled hair. Fingers squeeze yours, and you’re reminded that people could be watching, talking about the Autumn heir taking his potential bride on a date to the theatre.

But who could see their hands interwined in the dark?

When you were still human, before your Mother was taken by illness and your Father lost your family’s fortune, you’d been to the theatre twice. Both experiences were a blur of watercolour and forgotten melodies. But what you did remember was the thrill of watching music and performance come together, heart leaping into your throat at the main theme and overwhelming crescendos, the collective crowd's enthrallment and cheering at the end of the final act.

You wish you could recount the operetta with great detail, but all you could think of was Eris. His hand in yours, squeezing at every beautifully constructed line and bel canto. You’d laugh and turn to see if Eris found the comedic relief just as amusing, always finding him chuckling with you.

“I can see why it was so popular,” you’d comment after exiting the grand theatre, deciding to take a small detour down to one of Summer’s many beaches, not yet wishing to return to the reality Autumn held.

You and Eris discarded your shoes in favour of wandering the shoreline, skipping away from the wet sand when white wash drew too close. The sun was starting to sink below the horizon, casting a warm, fiery glow across the sky and sea. A gentle breeze carries the salty tang of the ocean air, mingled with the faint scent of seaweed. It was enchanting as it was calming, and you could not remember a time you’ve felt so at peace.

“So, you admit my judgment remains sound?” Eris baits, his smirk ever-present since leaving the theatre. He walks close beside you, brushing your arm so often when a wave rolls near.

A smile peeks at the corners of your lips. “I can admit you’ve got a fine taste for romance operettas,” you reply, much to Eris’s continued exasperation.

“You are one of the most disagreeable females I have ever met,” Eris sighs aloud, though it hardly sounds like a genuine complaint.

You respond with a loud laugh, and you catch Eris grinning at you through the corner of his softening gaze. “For living as long as you have, I’ll take it as an achievement,” you playfully retort, nudging his side with your elbow.

Eris purses his lips in mock consideration. "I wouldn’t call it a great one,” he mutters, returning your favour with an eblow of his own.

Continuing down a beach, you scare off a flock of seagulls into flight, watching as they rise high over the water, purposefully keeping a distance from awaiting water wraiths. At the end of the long stretch of sand was a collection of fallen rocks created by a slow erosion of the tall cliffside, left to create rock pools homing oyster clusters and pea crabs.

Eris helps you onto a dry rock before settling beside you, following your gaze towards the sea sitting before the setting sun.

“If it weren't for all the sand, and I an Autumn Prince, I don’t think I’d mind Summer for a home.”

You twist like a sunflower at Eris’s voice. His eyes were still cast across the horizon, the sun’s glow haloing his hair into molten amber, and suddenly it felt like your heart was seizing again. That unfathomable heat that eclipsed your ribs and bled into your chest, sparking golden.

You don’t know why, but you think of Elain, picturing her in the kitchen on a sunny morning, cookie dough and flour sticking to her fingers. She was telling you something—a dream of hers. You were with your fox again, Elain was murmuring, eyes looking elsewhere. Somewhere where the sun is bright and the sea clear.

You’re suddenly aware of how your heart picks up pace, and Eris is now looking at you, a confused concern pooling in his eyes. You’re falling into yourself until you reach inward, finding a thread you didn’t comprehend through fear, resentment, rejection. You tug, and you shatter with realisation.

Eris goes wholly rigid, face melting into something close to panic. You’d seen the expression once before, the very first time you met on that balcony, right after you struck him.

Elain once explained what it felt like to be tethered to Lucien—the mate bond. A link of constant reminder, to be aware of the other without being in the same room, to always be feeling the other.

Fragmented puzzle pieces began to fall into place. Elain’s dreams disguised as visions. Lucien’s meddling. I owed him a favour. And despite him, I shared in his current situation, he’d told you.

Why Eris looked to you when constructing this scheme.

“Eris,” you call for him, voice no louder than a whisper—a plea for answers, or perhaps dreaded confirmation.

“Don’t,” Eris utters, an attempt to mask his paranoia and fear. Then, he’s pulling away and standing from the rock, taking a step back. “I can’t—We can’t,” he starts, wiping a hand down his face.

“You knew.” You don’t mean for the words to come out accusatory, so full of betrayal. What happened to trust? They seemed to say.

Eris’s expression contorts and falls, and you’re imagining how long he’s known, and how long he’s been bottling this truth. You’re now thinking of Beron and Eris’s vicious brothers—what they could do if they found out. What the Inner Circle would do if they discovered such a piece of leverage.

“You, don’t,” you suddenly continue, pushing off the rock, not allowing Eris to fall away. “You didn’t tell me. You let me in the dark. Left me in the dark about something I deserved to know about.”

Eris lets out a scoff, throwing his hands up. “Oh, because you would’ve reacted brilliantly. As well as how your sister reacted finding out her bond with Lucien,” he spits back, restoring to his mask of cruelty in defence of his heart.

Unfortunately, Eris no longer fooled you. “I’m not Elain. Nor Nesta, or Feyre,” you counter, emotions bubbling into the back of your throat. You couldn’t name what you were feeling; distinguish what was your’s from Eris’s.

“You were already drowning,” Eris mutters, defeat swallowing him whole. “For Mother’s sake—you were hardly accepting yourself. I wasn’t about to include a mate bond into a life you didn’t ask for,” he admits, his sombre tone enough to disarm any lingering anger in you. “I—I couldn’t do that to you,” a pause, and he’s looking away again. “I couldn’t do it to myself—the inevitable rejection. You resented me enough. And what can I say? I’m a selfish bastard,” he adds with a dry laugh.

You couldn’t respond because Eris wasn’t wrong in his assumptions—your only knowledge of bonds initially was the preconceived notion of ownership. Your mortality was already taken from you, changed into something you were taught to despise—you wouldn’t have given up the right to choose your life partner either.

Your thoughts continue to race; things that once seemed confusing are finally strung together with sense, until everything was leading back to the coup that brought you here.

“You’re going to use the bond against your Father,” you murmur. Eris’s expression fills you with vindication. “You said you were going to goad Beron into threatening my life,” you continue, almost choking on the words, “so you could invoke a Blood Duel.”

Eris’s shoulders slackened, yet for some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to hate him. Not in the way you would’ve done months ago. “I read it in one of those books you gave me,” you add softly.

Eris rakes a hand through his hair again, his stubborn curls only returning to his brow. “I’m a fool,” he sighs, all the more dishevelled. “To assume I could do all this,” Eris gestures around him, at you. He releases another dry, self-deprecating laugh. “To feed into the fantasy that this was anything but a secret insurgency, without you figuring it out.”

“I would’ve found out eventually, especially if you’re to invoke a Blood Duel,” you say, taking another cautious step towards him. “The implications are enough to figure it out.” You’re thinking of the Inner Circle again. “Everyone would find out. You… you would leave yourself, me, to whatever fallout would come from it?”

You could already imagine what would happen in the reality if Eris won the Duel against his Father. You’d be taken back to the Night Court, made into a battering tool against the Autumn Court. Forever trapped in a nightmare of your creation.

“You’d be safe,” Eris replies, warm amber eyes taken with dejected resolution. “You’d be home with your family, within one of the safest cities in Prythian. Away from Autumn politics; away from what would entail in remaining with me.”

You’re shaking your head, words pouring out without second thought. “And what would entail staying with you, pray tell?” You retort, almost slighted at Eris’s assumptions about what you want. “You’ve already presumed what I want,” you snap, jabbing a finger into his chest. Eris flinches at the contact. “What if what I want is to stay? That I don’t want to return to the Night Court because I’ve found happiness in Autumn?” You couldn’t help the tears that blurred your vision, saliva thickening your tongue to your mouth, distorting your voice. “That I’ve found it with you?”

Oh, Gods.

You were in love with Eris.

You knew that much was true. Love was the swelling, hopeful feeling in your chest every time you saw him. Love was the way you could forget about the world when you were with him. Love was the catch in your breath at the simplest of touches. Love was the way you could be yourself around him, in all of your softness and viciousness, and know that you didn’t need to be perfect or worry about what he’ll think, because he never shied away from your rotten edges. And all of that?

You were suddenly terrified. Screwing your mouth shut, you don’t allow yourself to say much more. You were sure Eris knew by your galloping heart; the emotions he surely felt flowing through you and into him.

Eris closes the final step of distance between you, taking a gentle hold of your chin, tipping your head back to meet his gaze. He swipes a thumb at the corner of your left eye, stopping a tear from falling.

“I suppose we’re both fools,” Eris murmurs, breathing in deeply before exhaling. “Do you know what you’re committing to? What you could potentially be losing?”

You couldn’t be insulted by Eris’s questioning, because nothing could be more heartbreaking than finding regret where love should lie. “I’m well aware,” you affirm, tone softened. Your hand finds Eris’s, holding it to your cheek. “I couldn’t stand it, in the Night Court. My life felt aimless. And the thought of going back… I don’t know what I’d do,” you explain, swallowing thickly. “For all of the atrocious parts of Autumn, I’ve found so much beauty. And… and this coup, getting rid of Beron, it’s all in the name of making Autumn better, isn’t it?”

Eris’s eyes drop from yours, knowing he doesn’t need to confirm your presupposition. “I believe it honourable, making it your life work,” you furthered, reaching out with your free hand to brush his cheek, finding his vulnerable gaze once again. “I must confess I have a few ideas of my own.”

That roguish smirk slowly returns to Eris’s lips. “Do you, now?” He asks, hand slipping from your cheek and into the unbound hair at your neck.

“I think Women’s Law needs a large revision,” you state, a smile of your own blooming.

“I suppose I’ll have to add it to my growing list of changes,” Eris declares, thumbing the skin behind your ear.

A pleasant silence befalls you, the waves crashing and seagulls trilling filling the world around you. There was still so much left unsaid and undecided, but for now, you were going to soak in the last few moments of this slice of peace on a beach far from your troubled reality.

“We should return,” Eris mutters, breaking the stillness. “Before someone questions why we are late for dinner.”

You nod in agreement, peeling away from Eris to take his elbow and slide your sandals back on, preparing for the winnow back into Autumn.

At dinner, no one questions when Eris drags his chair from his end of the dining table to yours, grumbling a “that’s better” under his breath upon sitting on your right. When you don’t add enough food to your plate, Eris takes the liberty to pile more on. Karl, however, raises a brow when Eris dismisses him early, citing that you’ll be protected enough if he were to escort you back to your chambers.

“You’re not going to act as my lady's maid either, Eris?” You ask, teasing as you reach the closed doors of your chambers. “Help draw my bath and change me into my night gown?”

A wicked grin pulls across Eris’s expression, purposefully raking his gaze down your body. “If you so wish,” he drawls, looming over you.

Your breath catches in your throat, cheeks warming bright red, not used to such direct impropriety. You should’ve known better. Blowing a stray lock of hair from your face, you slide your arm out of Eris’s, taking a gentle hold of his hand. You didn’t want this night to end, and by the way Eris was still lingering, it seemed as though your sentiments were shared.

“Goodnight, Eris,” you whisper, and Eris nods in acknowledgment, opening the chamber door for you.

A hand catches yours before you could slip away, and Eris pulls you from the doorway and back into his embrace. He's threading his fingers into your hair, cradling your head. Your eyelids flutter, tongue dampening your parted lips, expectation filling your system.

Eris was close, warm breath dancing over your mouth, until he was not. He was pulling away again, body stiff with tension. “Sweet dreams, dearest,” he murmurs, striding away like smoke on the wind.

You were left with nothing but a bitter pang of disappointment.

Closing the chamber doors behind you, you move for your vanity. Your ladies’ maids were already dismissed for the evening, having done more than enough for you in one day alone. Pulling pins from your hair and the flats from your feet, you use the mirror to untie the laces at your back.

You hardly make it to the ribbons of your corset before a heavy knock rattles your door. You didn’t need to open the door to know who was standing behind it—you could recognise him by sense alone, by scent, you would know by the constant pull within the cavity that held your soul.

Eris doesn’t give you a moment to greet him, hands already finding your cheeks, hair, neck, before pulling you in. Your mouths opened into each other, the weight of his hot tongue pouring against yours. You could not think, could not do anything but welcome him in, each gasp that came, the heat of his lips. The bond beneath your chest swelled.

You were trembling, and Eris soothed a palm down the length of your spine. You didn’t know what to do, what he’d like. Eris doesn’t let you fall into flight, takes your hands and directs them above the hem of his shift. You grip the incline of his waist, raking your nails up the expanse of his muscled back, drawing a breathless moan. Eris’s mouth leaves yours, finding your neck, the span of your collar, tasting the salt on your skin.

You don’t make it to the bed—Eris was sinking to his knees on the fur by the fireplace, pulling you down with him. Your lips find home again, knees bracketing his hips.

Eris’s hands drag up your thighs, bunching your skirts into white-knuckled fists, fingers tracing the bind of your corset. “Allow me?” He breathes, close to a plea.

“Yes,” you sigh, hot with desire, all good reason lost to a need that’ll only be satiated by the male beneath you.

Eris’s mouth finds your throat again as his fingers search for the ribbons at your back, fumbling and tugging with little success. He lets out an aggravated growl, heat licking up your back as Eris’s flames eat away the silk, ripping the rest away to be burned and forgotten.

You pull your hands from Eris, taking his shift with you, revealing bare flesh to your hungry eyes. Lean muscle, freckles and scars smattered across his chest and shoulders, glowing in the tempered fireplace's light. Eris was returning the favour, undoing the lace holding your chemise together, uncovering your breasts.

Eris doesn’t allow you to ponder the vulnerabilities in your nakedness, cupping his palms over your chest, outlining the span of your sternum with his tongue. Suddenly, he was flipping you onto your back, laying you gently upon the soft animal hide.

Looming over you, Eris bowed his head like a priest at his altar, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your right breast, giving a gentle suckle to the nipple. Your hand finds his hair as your head tilts back, a ragged sigh leaving you hollow.

Eris continues down, tracing patterns across your belly until he finds the hair at the apex of your thighs. With benign reverence, he lifts your legs by the inside of your knees, resting them against his shoulders. “You tell me if you wish to stop,” Eris’s voice cuts through your panting, a firm demand.

You nod your head in understanding, looking down at him. “Okay,” you say, hurried, not blessed with the virtue of patience.

Eris doesn’t break away from your gaze as he presses a kiss to the inside of your thighs, laving his tongue downwards with an intentional slowness, grinning wide when you pull on his hair.

You sink back into the fur as Eris finds your core.

And—oh, Gods. That’s what it’s supposed to feel like.

Eris runs his tongue up the length of you, stopping at your clit to press and suck. You feel like you’ve gone into freefall, arching towards the sky, towards the man between your legs, eating for his life. The fire in the hearth, the hanging candles above, crackle and fulminate, responding to your every moan and shudder—Eris’s magic responding to you.

Eris’s forearms bulge with exertion and he’s pushing forwards, fingers gripping into your thigh and a tuft of fur beside your hip. Your grip leaves his hair in favour of his hand, locking your knuckles together.

Something in your abdomen begins to bloom, a beat of blood in tandem with Eris’s mouth. His face was already pressed close against you, but you wrapped your legs around his head to clutch him closer. Don’t stop, you imagine yourself saying.

He did not stop. The feeling gathered and gathered until a hoarse cry leaves your throat, and the flames crescendoed. Eris remained, licking and kissing, until you found your breath again.

Eris returned over you, tongue lapping up what remained smeared across his lips, grinning, looking all like the fox he is. He’s leaning down to capture your mouth with his, a softer enfold.

You want to give what he gave you, your hand roaming down his side in search of his pleasure. Before you could make it further than the bone in his hip, his hand was clasping yours, holding it above your head.

“No, my dearest,” Eris breathed into your throat. “Remember. Section 12, Part Three. ‘M not risking your freedoms if one were to catch my scent on you.”

A breathless laugh escapes you. “Now that’s a law we must change first,” you say, full of mirth.

Eris chuckles, resting his forehead against yours, close to collapsing his weight into you. Your eyes meet, and you’re suddenly struck with worry. “Will you stay?” You ask, wholly exposed.

“For as long as I’m able,” Eris promises, tucking you close.

There was silence then, and I did not care for what others would think when they eventually discovered this love of yours. Eris’s eyes were unwavering, holding you without hesitation. Certainty rose within you.

You won’t be leaving him. It will be like this, always, for as long as you live.

Taglist:

@rcarbo1 @kk191327 @huffleruffplant @seassttar @butterfly101sworld @elisabethch82 @imma-too-many-fandoms @lreadsstuff @mrsmrx @1455fun @tenshis-cake

#acotar #eris acotar #eris vanserra #a court of thorns and roses #eris x reader #eris x you #slow burn #autumn court #fake dating #archeron sisters

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