#i came up w an entire au for this and tabled it as i am known to do .... i rly like to think abt it tho | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlymingyus · 10 months

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Bound to You (fall-ing for you collab)

pairing; yoon jeonghan x f!reader

genre; smut (minors dni), angst, supernatural au, soulmate au

warnings; warlock!jeonghan, wonwoo side character/family member, mentions of magic, curses, death/murder, auras, soulmates, death of parents, complicated family dynamics, borrowed story point from Goblin, protected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), cum eating, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, very light bondage in the form of binding hands/tying to the bed, marking/biting, pet names, aftercare

w/c; 12.9k and some change

svthub fall-ing for you collab masterlist

a/n; thank you to @wonwussy and @wooahaeproductions for beta/proofreading -- if you have been following me for a while you might notice this fic is in the same universe as Lavender Tea and Honey. I hope you enjoy this.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

Jeonghan’s slender fingers run over the pages of the book in front of him as he lifts the cup to his lips. The warm vanilla latte runs down the back of his throat before he settles the cup onto the table, getting lost in his own world once again.

Two weeks and three days—that was how long Jeonghan had been in this new town. He didn’t hate it but it was different than where he had lived before. He didn’t mind being around his extended family. He was enjoying the benefits of their cafe and the quiet ambiance that came along with the little corner he had stuck himself into but there were reasons he had ended up here.

Say one thing wrong when you are what Jeonghan and his family are and know the wrong people, you might end up cursed or dead. It wasn’t entirely Jeonghan’s fault that he had the attitude or the mouth that he had. No, those were passed down to him by his parents as parting gifts.

Maybe this would be better in the long run… Jeonghan thought to himself as he traced a small doodle he had scribbled in the margins of his book a few years ago. A fresh start never hurts anyone. A little peace and quiet never hurts anyone.

“Hi Wonwoo. Can I get —”

“A chai tea latte?”

Your laugh is soft and like bells, drawing Jeonghan’s attention up towards the counter. He hadn’t paid much attention to his cousin's work or anyone else ordering but for some reason now he couldn’t look away. Jeonghan watched as you tilted your head at the tall, dark headed barista. It wasn’t like you were flirting with the man; instead, it was clear you were friends.

“Yeah, please. Am I that predictable?”

Wonwoo grins, turning from you to start making your order. His hands are precise with years of training and muscle memory. You came in almost every day and almost every day you got the same drink. So yeah, you were predictable.

“You want the truth or do you want me to just make your latte?”

Jeonghan watches, not realizing a smile had caused his lips to lift at either side. You were effortlessly beautiful. The type of beautiful that someone doesn’t even realize how beautiful they are until someone explains it to them.

“Mm, my latte. If I want the truth, I’ll visit my family.”

Sliding the exact change across the wooden counter, you smile at Wonwoo once more before turning to lean against it. The barista laughs as the sound of milk steaming causes you to feel warm from your head to your toes. You loved this cafe. Not just for the drinks but for every part of it—the employees, the other patrons, the sounds, the smells, and the familiarity.

Hearing Wonwoo’s gentle, deep sigh, you turn back towards him, taking the cup from his hands. With a soft thank you, you turn towards your usual table to find the usual familiarity of your favorite cafe is broken. A man with dark hair and eyes watches you from your usual corner, a slight smile on his lips that makes the pit of your stomach feel deeper.

The feeling is a confusing one. It wasn’t a feeling of dread. Not even a feeling of fear. Instead, this was a feeling somewhere between anxiety and desire. Smiling back at him, you quickly lower your gaze, deciding to pick a table close to where you usually sit out of the desire to be close to your favorite spot and this unfamiliar man.

When you smile at him Jeonghan feels his breath get caught in his throat. He was no stranger to women. He knew he was attractive and charming so the fact that you caused such a reaction from him with just a simple smile and your mere existence was baffling. Taking in a deep breath, Jeonghan watches you walk closer towards a table next to him to take a seat. The calming scent of your chai tea latte wafting to his nose causes him to let out a soft sigh as he lowers his eyes to his table in an attempt to not make you feel uncomfortable.

The overwhelming desire to look up at you, watch you, or perhaps speak to you was causing Jeonghan’s stomach to twist into a knot. Licking his lips, Jeonghan closed his eyes, his fingers shakily spreading across the wooden table in front of him as he tried to bite back on his whims when your voice shocked him out of his trace.

“Your latte smells delicious. I’m always so tempted to try something new, especially something vanilla, but I’m a creature of habit, I suppose.”

Smiling into an amused scoff, Jeonghan is ready to answer you before he meets your eyes but that is when any intelligent thought he once had fades into nothingness. He hadn’t noticed it before. Perhaps you were too far away? Perhaps it had been because you hadn’t spoken to him yet but a ribbon like maroon aura was spirling around your left arm and hand.

“I–what?”

Furrowing your brows, you wonder if you had read the room entirely wrong when the man speaks to you. He had seemed so confident not a moment before and now he seemed awkward and confused. Swallowing hard, your eyes downward at your own cup, you run your left index finger around the rim of the cup, not having the courage to look back over at him just yet.

“Just…was talking about your drink. Making conversation. I’m sorry if you wanted to just be alone. You were looking at me; I thought it would be okay to talk to you.”

Jeonghan shook his head at your words. He didn’t want you to be sorry. The knot in his stomach was so tight, he felt like he could fold in half if he didn’t figure this out. He had seen auras before but they were rare.

Usually, if witches or warlocks were going to do something unthinkable, they would give off an aura of danger to those who could see them. Humans could give off auras if they were considering ending their lives or if they were bringing new life into the world. Jeonghan had only seen a handful of auras in witches, warlocks, or humans in his entire life, and they had never been focused around someone’s hand like yours was.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave me alone. You just–-it’s really impossible to explain. You were talking about my drink. I get the same one every time too. I’m so used to the taste; it's familiar. What is your name?”

Smiling a bit to yourself as the man rambles, you take a sip of your drink, letting out a pleased sound to the taste before licking your lips of the sweet foam. You're startled by how handsome the man truly is when you finally lift your head to see his eyes.

“I’m–my name?” You had one—a name. At least you had one up until the moment before you looked up into the man’s eyes. Now you weren’t sure if you remembered how to breathe, much less speak or think straight.

Jeonghan smiles, feeling himself becoming more enamored with you as you look confused and as scattered as he had felt just a moment ago. Did you feel it too? The sudden, odd connection? Biting at his bottom lip, Jeonghan slides his chair closer to your table, turning it towards you as his fingers delicately trail along the handle of his cup.

Your eyes are drawn to his fingers; your pretty eyes are almost entranced by the movement as you take a steady breath, seeming to come back to reality. “Y/N. I’m Y/N.”

You hadn’t asked for his name but Jeonghan didn’t mind. You were looking at him like he was the first and last thing you wanted to see on any given day and he knew the feeling. Taking his own deep breath, Jeonghan glances back down at your fingers and the maroon ribbon of magic swirling around them.

“I’m Jeonghan. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Your name on Jeonghan’s lips was better than any music you had heard in a long time. It was reverberating in your ears, causing goosebumps to erupt along your skin. He was so handsome that you were having a hard time keeping your thoughts organized. Everything seemed jumbled, speeding towards him, and at the same time, everything was in slow motion around you.

“I–” You laugh softly, shyly looking down, before you force yourself to look back at Jeonghan once again and into his pretty dark eyes. “It’s nice to meet you too. I come here all the time, and I feel like I would have seen you here before. Are you new to town?”

Meeting your eyes, Jeonghan can’t help the way his smile exposes his enthusiasm. He wanted to play it cool and be some attractive man you had met in the coffee shop that you would pine after for weeks. Instead, he couldn’t help feeling like some schoolboy with a crush as his stomach tightened when you smiled back at him.

Leaning his arm on the table, Jeonghan bites at his bottom lip, drawing your attention towards it briefly before he laughs almost as if he’s trying to consider his next words carefully. His eyes move past you towards the counter where Wonwoo was talking to a customer before he furrows his brows and shakes his head.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve visited before. Many times, actually. My family…extended family owns this shop. Wonwoo is my cousin; it seems like you know him pretty well. I just recently moved here, though. I’ve been spending a little more time here in the shop, at least for the past week or so.”

That made more sense to you as you nodded along, staying quiet. Your eyes move to Wonwoo, who seems to notice, giving you a friendly smile, only to glance towards Jeonghan with a curious look in his eye. There was a bit of caution laced in his gaze but he didn’t seem to linger, instead going back to his tasks.

“I see, I was out of town a couple days. I normally come in almost every day to get my drink so I probably would have seen you sooner.”

You smile again, making Jeonghan swallow hard. There was no way that if you had stepped into this cafe before today, he would have missed you. There could be 100 people surrounding him now and he would find you again.

Looking down at his own drink, Jeonghan lets out a soft, breathy laugh as you seem to study him, waiting for what he will say next with baited breath. You had never cared that much about anything anyone would say. It wasn’t like you needed a partner. It wasn’t like you came to this cafe or any cafe for that matter, looking for someone to be with. Especially not someone that you needed to speak to you so that you could breathe, but that is how it felt after just fifteen minutes of sitting at a table near Jeonghan.

“I wish you could have come in sooner... Fuck, I can’t explain what I’m about to say. I–I swear, I’m not a creep.”

Almost afraid to meet your eyes, Jeonghan laughs, only to fall silent when you shake your head, letting out your own soft laugh.

“For some reason, and I really can’t explain why I’m even saying this but I think no matter what you are about to tell me...I think I’ll understand. I sound like a crazy person.”

Jeonghan shakes his head this time, lifting his eyes to yours to meet them with a persistent look, trying to shake away that feeling from you. You weren’t crazy. He knew crazy; he had met crazy, and that wasn’t you. Crazy couldn’t hide from him.

"No, you don’t. Not to me. I was going to say I’d like to get to know you better. Could I get your number? I’d like to take you out.”

Normally, you could hide your enthusiasm about situations. In this sort of situation, your friends would tell you to play it cool and play hard to get. Yet here you were smiling at this handsome man you had just met, like he had asked you to marry him when all he had asked for was your number and the chance to see you again.

Jeonghan watches you rub your lips together, your pretty smile only dimming slightly with effort before you nod. His eyes follow your hands, the maroon ribbon swirling like water around your fingers as you slide your phone from your purse and look at him expectantly.

“Only if I can have yours too.”

With numbers exchanged, conversation came easy until drinks were finished and your cheeks hurt from smiling. You had learned more about Jeonghan, yet you still knew nothing. He was still just as much a mystery as he had been when you spotted him at your table but the spiral of nerves and fluttering of butterflies in your stomach begged you for more.

Keeping his eyes on you as if you were vanishing into thin air, Jeonghan couldn’t help the way his brows knitted together as he watched you return your cup to the counter. His chest felt tight and heavy listening to your voice as you said your goodbyes to Wonwoo, promising to be back tomorrow. Even though Jeonghan knew he had a way to contact you and the promise of plans with you, it was hard to bear the idea of the meeting ending already.

Turning back to the tables, you stop when you find Jeonghan standing, a similar tightness in your chest, realizing what was happening. Smiling in an attempt to shake off the feeling, you sigh when he moves to meet you halfway, mimicking your sigh.

“Thank you for letting me sit in your spot, Y/N.”

Jeonghan smiles as you laugh, walking towards the door beside him. His hand reaching it first so he can push it open for you, the chilly fall air hitting both of you, causing you to shiver and wrap your sweater around yourself a bit tighter.

“Mm, you’re welcome. You can join me anytime you’d like. The company wasn’t half bad.”

Biting at your lip, you wrinkle your nose at your attempt at flirting. Your eyes fixed on the sidewalk, as neither of you can bear to make the first move to part from one another just yet. Jeonghan just laughs into a small sigh watching you, his eyes moving over your beautiful face even as you look down from him. He wanted so badly to reach out to tilt your chin up to him so you’d look at him but he finds himself tightening his fist instead to push away the instinct.

“No? I hope I can keep being “not half bad company” then. Uh, how ‘bout tomorrow? Do you have any plans? Or is that too soon?”

Finally lifting your head, you smile at Jeonghan like you had before and he feels his heart ache. If he didn’t know any better, he’d call the feeling love.

“Yeah? I mean, no. I–let me try this again. I would love to see you tomorrow. I do not have any plans, so I would love to spend time with you.”

Heat creeps along your cheeks as you stumble through your words, Jeonghan’s lips pulling up into a smirk and then a full smile. Stepping closer, he laughs and shakes his head, keeping his eyes on yours. In his mind, you were impossibly perfect. Every stumble of your words was you stumbling right into his life and he was ready to catch you.

“Then it’s a date. Do you want to meet here tomorrow afternoon? Around 4?”

Nodding, you take in a breath, finding your knees feel weak with Jeonghan so close to you, even though you are grateful he is blocking the wind. You were happy not to feel as much of the cold air on your face but the overwhelming scent of vanilla was clouding your thoughts and making your mouth water.

“Mmhm, I’ll be here. I can’t wait.”

Taking in his own deep breath, Jeonghan nods along with you, Chai invading his senses and making his head swim with desire for you. How hadn’t he noticed before that you even smelled like chai tea? It was delicious and almost overwhelming.

“I–me either. I should…get going. It’s getting cold. You are going to get too cold standing out here because of me. I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.”

Swallowing hard Jeonghan speaks before he thinks, his lips and brain not seemingly connected as the scent of you clouds his judgment. Taking a step back, Jeonghan takes in a breath of fresh, crisp air before smiling at you and lowering his head as you watch him bewildered as he walks away, leaving you with your thoughts and how he had called you beautiful.

Out of nerves, you had gotten to the cafe early. It was even colder so despite wanting to wait for Jeonghan outside, you had to give up on that idea and wait inside, where Wonwoo had quickly put a togo cup in your hands to warm them up.

“Oh…I–thanks, Wonwoo. I didn’t even tell you I wasn’t staying today.”

Shaking his head, the barista pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he moved around the counter with a damp cloth in his hand. You smiled at him, watching him clean off a table as you listened to him talk, your eyes moving to the door every time the bell would ring.

“You are meeting my cousin. He’s pretty prompt, so you have a few minutes. Hang out and get warm before you leave again. I was kinda hoping to talk to you before you met him again.”

Your smile faded slightly with Wonwoo’s wording, causing you to clear your throat before you brought your drink to your lips and took a sip. Was this one of those be careful and don’t hurt my family kind of talks? You weren’t sure why this was making you so nervous. You liked Wonwoo and he had never made you uncomfortable before, but now you were afraid to disappoint him.

“Mm, okay? Am I in trouble?”

Wonwoo’s laugh sends a wave of relief over you but it’s brief and fleeting as he sighs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Course not. It’s nothing like that. It’s just... You’re my friend and I just wanted to... Damn, no matter how I say this, it sounds bad so I’ll just say it.” Nodding mostly to himself and gaining the courage to keep speaking, Wonwoo gestures with his cloth before continuing. “Jeonghan is a great guy. He’s my family and I love him but he’s had a rough past. He’s had a hard life at times and I just want you to remember that going into whatever this is you two are doing.”

Watching from outside through the window, Jeonghan rubs his fingers together inside the pocket of his jacket as you talk to Wonwoo. The conversation seemed casual enough but something Wonwoo said caused your brows to furrow in a way that made Jeonghan’s stomach tighten.

Wonwoo rubs his lips together, looks over your face and sees how your brows are knitting together as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle right in front of you. He wasn’t trying to scare you away from Jeonghan. He didn’t want his cousin to not find someone to be with; he just wanted you both to be careful and he could see something was moving quickly between the two of you that neither of you understood.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, if I upset you. That is not my intention. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, and I’m certainly not saying not to see Jeonghan…”

“I’d hope you wouldn’t be saying that, Wonwoo.”

Jeonghan’s voice seems to break through the tension, pulling you away from Wonwoo, who sighs at meeting his cousin’s gaze. You had almost expected him to be angry at Wonwoo but instead you find him smiling as if it were expected and part of a joke. Wonwoo shakes his head, glancing down at the table in front of him and picking up a tea cup, then turning back towards both of you.

“I’m not. I’m just talking to my friend. You want a drink to go?”

Not waiting for his answer, Wonwoo walks behind the counter, leaving you with Jeonghan, who laughs under his breath, rolling his eyes out of slight annoyance.

“Yeah, please.”

The sounds of Wonwoo working on Jeonghan’s drink become background music as you swallow hard, finally looking up at your date to find him watching you curiously. His dark eyes move over your face almost as if he were checking you for sighs of pain or injury, though there was clearly no need before he finally smiles, causing you to do the same.

“Hey, I feel like I’m late.”

Laughing, you feel warmth rush over your cheeks at Jeonghan’s words. You start to explain yourself when Wonwoo says his name and Jeonghan sighs out "just a second,” leaving you to watch him move to the counter. His hushed voice and Wonwoo’s are enough to tell you that you should mind your own business but you find yourself trying to turn your ear in to hear them better, only being able to catch a word here and there.

“Just–she’s not like you. She’s not like us. Be careful with her.”

“I’m not an idiot. Thank you for your concern.”

When Jeonghan turns back towards you, you put your drink to your lips in an attempt to look as if you hadn’t been trying to eavesdrop on his and Wonwoo’s conversation. Your eyes move from his face to Wonwoo at the counter as the barista shakes his head, muttering something to himself and Jeonghan finally makes his way to you with a long sigh.

“Ready to go? It’s pretty cold, and the wind is making it even colder. Here…”

Nodding, you start to speak when Jeonghan offers you his drink, making you tilt your head like a confused puppy. It’s only when you take it that you realize why he offered it to you to hold. His hands move to the jacket zipper, pulling it upwards before he fiddles with your scarf, making sure it is against your neck, keeping you warm and protected against the cold air.

“Oh…I–thanks.”

Jeonghan smiles at your softly spoken words, his fingers slipping over yours briefly to take his drink back. Your eyes follow him to the door, where he holds it open for you, gesturing his head towards it and taking in a deep breath of the crisp, fall air.

“No problem, can’t have my date catching a cold. Wonwoo might kill me.”

You can tell it’s a joke while also taking a stab at his conversation with Wonwoo but even as you move out onto the sidewalk with Jeonghan, you can’t help but feel bad about the conversation you had shared with his cousin. Chewing on your cheek, you walk beside him for a moment before finally letting out a breath and a whined sound as you speak.

“I’m sorry… You know if that was my fault? I don’t want you to fight with your family because of me. I know I’m friends with Wonwoo so if that’s too weird and it means you can’t see me or something, I totally get it.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widen slightly at the whine in your voice, his lips pulling up in a smile as you start to ramble out your apology as well as his “out”. Shaking his head, the man laughs, glancing over at you and lifting his brow curiously.

“If you think I’m going to let Jeon Wonwoo get in the way of something or someone I want...Y/N, you need to get to know me. Yeah, he’s family, but that’s it. I value family, sure, but blood is just blood. It doesn’t mean everything.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as Jeonghan watches you, his eyes falling to your lips before they move back to your eyes. He laughs again into another sigh as the two of you turn towards the entrance of the park. Soon, it is just the soft sounds of traffic, quiet, distant conversations, and the crunching of leaves that fill your ears as you walk.

“Was that too much? The family thing?”

Shaking your head at Jeonghan’s question, you lift your head to look at him, finding his brows softened. You hadn’t realized the two of you had been walking in silence for a few moments; you had just been lost in thought.

“No, not at all. Family is complicated. People are complicated. If we weren't, we’d be made of plastic or something.”

Jeonghan can’t help but scoff in disbelief at how easily you seem to understand him. Nodding, he furrows his brows before leaning his head back towards the sky as he walks beside you. The sky was gray, but the maple trees in the park looked like they were on fire, all red, yellow, and orange. With each new burst of cold wind, more leaves shook loose from their branches, making their way to the earth, reminding Jeonghan of how easy it was to fall.

You watched Jeonghan for a moment before looking up at the sky yourself. The trees made you smile as the leaves drifted to the ground around you and the man beside you. It was beautiful because, where he saw falling, you saw possibility.

“The leaves are so pretty, don’t you think? You know, I was told once that maple leaves are special.”

His eyes falling back to you, Jeonghan stops walking with you. He watches you standing with your eyes towards the sky, your hand out in front of you, a smile on your face as the chilly air brushes by you both.

“Yeah? Whys that?

Your smile seems to get bigger at his question and Jeonghan feels that feeling of his heart aching—that sensation of falling in love. You laugh, and your words are spoken with that same laughter, as if you are trying to believe them as much as you are trying to get him to believe them.

“I was told if you catch a falling maple leaf, you will fall in love with the person you are walking with.”

Jeonghan smiles at your words, his eyes moving to the falling maple leaves as he reaches out to catch one.

“Yeah? What if you have already fallen in love with someone and you catch a maple leaf?”

You shake your head. Another laugh is on your lips when you look at Jeonghan as he catches a maple leaf walking towards you. Falling silent, you press your lips together, feeling your cheeks heat up even as the cold air nips at them like kisses.

“Well? Do you know the answer to that one?”

Watching your lips pull up into a smile, Jeonghan offers you the maple leaf as he leans down to brush his lips against yours like a question. Even with his face so close to yours, he meets your eyes as your fingers brush against his, taking the leaf from his fingers before you answer his question by pressing your lips to his.

The kiss is warm and safe. Nothing feels rushed and yet you feel like if you don’t keep kissing him, you might cry. Jeonghan smiles against your lips when you whine softly, feeling him pull away from you. His thumb rubbing the back of your hand as he leans back to look at you and your wide eyes.

“I–don’t know the answer to your question.”

Jeonghan laughs, his hand dropping from yours to lift to your face when you notice something that startles you. Your shocked gasp as you lean back from Jeonghan causes him to look at you, concerned that he has hurt you.

“What’s on your hand?”

Shaking his head, Jeonghan looks around for other people, pleased to see the two of you alone when you take his hand and study it. He watches as you run your finger along his left hand, tracing something he couldn’t see but somehow, because of what he had seen with you and what he knew, he had an idea.

“Tell me what you see, Y/N. I don’t see anything; that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Trust me, okay?”

Your hands were shaking. Jeonghan knew then that Wonwoo was right; you weren’t like them. Not completely anyway. He had wondered if you had a little magic in you, so in a way, they were both right.

“It’s impossible. I’m going crazy. It’s like...gold ribbons? Gold ribbons around your wrist, your hand, and your ring finger? Jeonghan…I swear I don't—I'm not insane.”

Sliding his fingers through yours, Jeonghan shakes his head once more, leading you towards a nearby bench to sit down. Taking the maple leaf from you, he puts it into a small book before putting it back into his pocket and turning to take both of your hands, meeting your eyes.

“I know you aren’t crazy. I’d never call you insane. I don’t like that word. It’s used far too often for people who can do things that others can’t, for people who can see things others can’t.” Sighing into his next words, Jeonghan smiles at you. “I can explain this to you but it would take time. I would need more time than I have in this park and honestly, what you saw... I'm not even sure what it means.”

You knew logically that you should be scared of what he was saying about what you had seen, but then there was something about you that made you know there was nothing to be scared of. There was something inside of you telling you that he was telling you the truth and that you could trust him. Taking his hand back into yours, you watch the gold ribbon shimmer along his skin as Jeonghan watches the maroon ribbons on your left hand.

“I want to understand it.”

Nodding, Jeonghan reaches up with his free hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. His thumb resting on your cheekbone, the man sighs, hoping he isn’t overwhelming you, feeling like he can’t lose you just as much as he doesn’t want to lose you already.

“Then I’ll explain it to you. We have time. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

Jeonghan’s words were comforting, just as comforting as watching the gold ribbon move around his hand. Smiling, you nod, finally looking up from his hand to meet his eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see more leaves fall and you can’t help but think about how they seem to fall slowly at first when they first leave the branch and then all at once the closer they get to the ground. That was how you felt about Jeonghan, even in a short amount of time.

Daylight was shorter so by the time Jeonghan walked you back to your apartment building, it was dark. Your fingers were laced with his, the taste of chai in your mouth, though you were beginning to wonder if it was still lingering from the tea you had had earlier or if it was something else Jeonghan needed to explain to you.

Jeonghan’s eyes moved over the door that seemed to want to take you from him and his fingers tightened to keep you with him for even just a moment longer. He knew it was selfish but he didn’t care anymore. He had already had so much taken from him in his life and now you had been placed in front of him like a gift. Why couldn’t he hold on a little tighter for as long as he could, even if it seemed too quick?

“I’m beginning to think we should have met at the beginning of the day.”

Your pretty laughter makes Jeonghan’s heart beat faster as you let go of his hand in place of wrapping your arms around him as if you had known him for years. Taking in a breath as he leans to rest his face against your hair, Jeonghan closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around you in return, feeling that urge to hold on tighter once again.

“Next time, we will meet at the crack of dawn. I can learn about your entire life.”

Jeonghan smiles against your hair before shaking his head. He would tell you anything, even things he didn’t want to but he wanted to know about you. He wanted to be part of your life and your family. He wanted to keep his family here but now there was you. There were those ribbons.

“Mmm, I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know, Angel.”

You smile, moving to nuzzle your nose against Jeonghan’s neck, when he calls you Angel. You hadn’t expected him to call you something like that. First, it had been beautiful and now, Angel? He really knew how to sweet talk you.

Feeling the warmth of your cheek against your skin, Jeonghan laughs, leaning back to look down at you. His fingers press into your jacket, wishing he could get closer to you, touch your skin, and be skin against your skin.

“What? You like that? Angel?”

Jeonghan watches you nod shyly, causing him to laugh. You were perfect and you were his; at least that was how he felt. At least that was what he wanted. Swallowing hard, Jeonghan couldn’t fight his urge to kiss you again. He had to do it at least once more before he left.

When Jeonghan’s lips meet yours this time, you can’t help the soft moan that slips from between yours. Between how warm the kiss felt and the gentle brush of his tongue against your upper lip, you find your knees going weak, needing his arms to keep you upright.

Furrowing his brow at your reaction, Jeonghan tightens his grip on you, deepening his kiss. He becomes braver, daring to let his tongue explore your mouth. His tongue glides along yours, causing goosebumps to erupt along his skin when the taste of vanilla spreads along his taste buds. You were unlike anyone he had ever been with in his entire life.

It is almost painful when Jeonghan forces himself to kiss you one last time, knowing he's saying goodnight. One last chaste kiss that lingers before he pulls away, watching your smile fade even slightly as he does. Jeonghan smiles still, brushing his nose against yours as you speak softly.

“Would it be weird to tell you that you taste like chai?”

Laughing Jeonghan shakes his head, leaning to rest his forehead against yours as your fingers slide into his jacket to get as close to his skin as possible through the layers of his shirts.

“No, I was going to tell you that you taste like vanilla.” Sighing, Jeonghan then lets out a groan almost in pain when he leans back to stand up straight. “I guess I should say goodnight. Your cheeks and nose are getting really cold standing out here.”

You laugh, furrowing your brows, learning that you taste like vanilla, only to frown when Jeonghan says he should say goodnight. You knew that he was right. You were cold; you were starting to shiver but you wanted to say you didn’t mind. You wanted to say, “Come upstairs?" and so you did.

Jeonghan swallows hard at your request. He knew he should be the gentleman and say no. He should politely decline and come back another day. He shouldn’t go upstairs until the two of you know each other much better than you do now but looking at you now, Jeonghan can only nod.

Two flights of stairs and a few seconds of fumbling with your keys out of nerves later, you stood in your living room with Jeonghan. Jackets and shoes discarded, you watched as he looked around at your life. A smile was on his handsome face as he moved to look at pictures of you with your friends and family. Hushed comments about how beautiful you are and how you looked like you had so much fun and were so loved.

“Yeah…I’m pretty lucky, I guess. I’ve been here my entire life so I’ve always had them. I wanna know about you, though…You said you’d tell me if I asked. You said you could explain this?”

Moving back to Jeonghan, you lift his left hand, showing it to him. Though he couldn’t see the golden ribbons, they still spiraled around his hand, just like the maroon ones moved around yours. Jeonghan’s fingers flex before he sighs, furrowing his brows, leading you towards your couch to sit down.

“Not going to run away from me or kick me out?” Laughing, he watches you shake your head no, a sweet smile on your curious face even though the nerves were eating him from the inside out.

“Uh, ok, well, here goes. I–”

Holding up his finger, Jeonghan leans from you to reach into his jacket, lying on the nearby armchair, to take out the book he had stored your leaf in. You watch as he opens it, offering you the leaf once again before placing the book on his leg.

“If my mother was still alive and she knew I was showing this to someone who wasn’t a witc–well, someone who wasn’t fully… Fuck how do I even say this?”

Turning the leaf in your fingers, you furrow your brows, hearing that Jeonghan’s mother isn’t alive, only for them to deepen when he struggles to find his words. Shaking your head, you lean to put the leaf on the table, moving to slide your legs under you so you can turn towards him, resting your hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating hard and quick in his chest.

“You do it at your pace and truthfully? I swear to you, I’m not going to run away from you or be afraid. Jeonghan, your hand is glowing gold, so if you are about to tell me magic is real, I think you are a little late. I think you are a wizard, Harry.”

Jeonghan stares at you for a moment before starting to laugh. You watch, amused but also concerned, until he finally calms down and shakes his head.

“Did–did you just quote Harry Potter to me?”

You nod, and Jeonghan scoffs lightly, leaning to kiss you softly, shaking his head as he leans back, feeling his chest lighten as his heartbeat slows and the panic subsides slightly.

“I don’t know how the fuck I got lucky enough to meet you. I certainly don’t deserve you.” You start to speak and Jeonghan shakes his head, lifting his hand to stop you. “I–please, it’s how I feel. I can explain it.”

You didn’t agree with him. There was nothing he could do or could have done to make you agree with him. Furrowing your brows, you want to comfort him but you aren’t sure how so instead, you press your fingers against his chest and just listen.

“Yeah, magic is real. It’s not what they have in Harry Potter. Most of that is bullshit. But I’m a warlock; I was born that way. Anyone with magic is born that way. I think you were born that way too.”

Leaning your head back, you scoff, causing Jeonghan to lift his left hand, letting you see the gold spirling around his hand. Your brows soften and Jeonghan knows his point was taken, allowing him to continue.

“Perhaps not to the degree of some witches but everyone has a little magic in them. All humans, just a little bit. Deja vu is magic…but you there is a little more—fuck, maybe a lot more. We can figure that out together, okay?”

You just nod, feeling your heart quicken at the idea of having some magical potential. You had always wanted to believe in magic. That was something that any little girl or boy would want to believe in but you had never truly let go of it and now it was staring you in the face.

“This…” Jeonghan gestures to the book on his lap, “is my grimoire. I’ll let you look through it later. It’s really personal to each warlock and witch. We can start you one, if you want, once we figure out what’s going on with you.”

Jeonghan glances at you once again, watching you press your lips together. He knew it was a lot of information, even if it was just basic things. He didn’t want to overwhelm you but you had asked. Flipping a couple of pages, Jeonghan sighs and taps the page, causing you to gasp lightly as some words shimmer and then fade back to normal ink.

“Some warlocks or witches have little things about them. My mom could transfigure into her familiar form. My dad could perfect any potion that he tried on the first try. I–I can see auras.”

Glancing down at your hand, Jeonghan slides his fingers over your hand, tracing the ribbons as you watch him.

“Auras? Like, you know when someone is good or bad?”

Tilting his head back and forth, Jeonghan purses his lips, trying to think of how to describe it before he looks up at you.

“It’s more than that and it’s rare. I can’t always see them and they aren’t always that simple. I saw an aura in a warlock who visited my house when I was little. It was dark green and it scared me. I didn’t know what it meant.”

You watch as Jeonghan looks down at his grimoire, your eyes scanning over the Latin that you don’t understand as his voice shakes slightly.

“I should have asked my parents because I had to find out later that dark green auras mean not only greed but to the point of ill intent. That warlock cursed my parents and a few weeks later they were both gone.”

Feeling your heart tighten with Jeonghan’s grief, you look up at his face as a soft "oh" slips from your lips. You aren’t sure what to say and Jeonghan understands by just shaking his head and whispering that it’s okay.

“When I said that I don’t deserve you, Y/N…I mean that because there is a reason that Wonwoo was telling you to be careful around me. There is a reason I moved here. I saw my own aura.”

Sliding your hand over Jeonghan’s left, you tighten your grip on his and he feels the warmth spread through his arm, though he doesn’t have the courage to look at you, feeling like if he tells you the truth, he will lose you.

“I searched for that warlock until I found him and followed him for months last year. I had decided that I would do it indirectly. That’s worse, you know? Cursing someone else to kill someone.” Jeonghan swallows hard, nodding to his own words, feeling your eyes on him even if you don’t speak.

“My aura was black in the mirror. Pitch black, and I knew that was death and it should have scared me from doing it but I did it anyway.”

Lifting your hand from his, you turn Jeonghan’s face towards you, tears running down his cheeks. You watch him close his eyes in an attempt to hide his shame, even as you push away his tears with your thumb.

“Jeonghan…Did you come here to start over?”

Nodding, Jeonghan keeps his eyes closed, leaning into your palm. The brush of your fingers like the rungs of a ladder helped him climb out of the darkness of the hole that he had been in for far too long.

“Then start over. I don’t care about what you did. I care about your past but not that. Open your eyes and look at me.”

Slowly opening his eyes, Jeonghan meets yours, almost afraid that you will be angry with him despite your words but instead he finds you looking at him lovingly. A sigh of relief escapes between his lips and Jeonghan turns his head to press his lips to your palm, whispering, “Thank you.”

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, the story of Jeonghan’s past lingering like a breath before the weight is gone and Jeonghan can smile seeing the ribbons on your hand once again.

“You have an aura on your hand. I think that’s what you are seeing too, on mine.”

It is your turn to tilt your head as Jeonghan turns to sit towards you, offering you his hands and trying to explain the ribbons. The words on his lips seem to fall short when you gasp while watching the gold of his finger extend towards your finger and a ribbon of a different color come into view on your own hand.

“Holy shit…you can see that?”

Jeonghan watches you nod, your mouth open in awe, as his own hand spirals with gold. You watch as your hand shimmers with maroon warmth, extending up your arm and into your chest. Moving his hand from yours, Jeonghan scoffs in disbelief as the gold ribbon from his hand extends from his finger to meet the maroon trailing from yours, tethered.

“What does it mean?”

Jeonghan laughs at first, shaking his head. He wanted to be able to tell you something that sounded less like a fairytale but all he had was magic. Jeonghan recalled being young and his mother telling him about soulmates and how they were incredibly rare. How some witches and warlocks were very lucky and were tethered to another witch or warlock.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

Furrowing your brows, you smile at Jeonghan’s words. You wanted to laugh and shake your head, tell him no, but instead you feel it in your heart that you do believe. You believe full heartedly. You hadn’t before. You hadn’t believed in anything like that or love at first sight and now here you were staring at him.

“Yeah…I do.”

That hadn’t been what Jeonghan had expected. Your words were welcomed but they had thrown him off. He hadn’t expected you to accept him as a warlock or to accept him past and now you were accepting him as your soulmate? You took his breath away.

“Yeah?”

You smile and nod as Jeonghan smiles too sliding his hand along yours, the ribbons fading into your skin. Gold and maroon meshing and becoming invisible to the naked eye. You could feel they were still there if you wanted to but right now you didn’t need to see or feel the ribbons to know Jeonghan was yours.

“Shit–I…this is not how I thought today would go.”

Jeonghan’s words are spoken on a breathy groan as you slide across his lap to sit across his leg. His hands working their way along your thighs towards your hips feeling your body against his for the first time. It was familiar in a way that shouldn’t make sense.

“I trust you. I–don’t understand any of this, not really but god that’s all I know, Jeonghan. I trust you and in my heart all I know is you’re mine.”

It was what he had known and had been afraid to let himself accept all day. You were his. He had felt bad for thinking it, feeling it but there had been a reason. You were his. You were born his.

Groaning at the feeling of your hips sliding over his, Jeonghan leans his head back, trying to keep his cool, unsure of how quickly you want this to go despite your words, “I trust you,” echoing in his mind.

“Baby…fuck. You’re mine, I know. If you don’t…I’m trying to be good. Let me kiss you.”

You wanted him to kiss you but you didn’t want Jeonghan to be good. You wanted more than that and you could feel that he didn’t want that either. You knew it was fast but that didn’t matter. Sliding your hand along Jeonghan’s arm, your nails scratching at his skin, you lean down to brush your lips over his hearing and feel his hiss into your mouth before he mutters against your lips.

“I said I’m trying to be good.”

“And I said I trust you.”

You had lit a fire in Jeonghan and now you were fanning it hotter with your kisses. He remembered how much he had wanted to touch your skin while standing outside of your apartment. How many layers of clothes had been in his way and now here you were sitting in his lap, his fingers pushing your shirt up your back so that his skin could finally brush over yours. It was like pure electricity connecting you to him.

Jeonghan smirks against your lips when you moan into his mouth. His hands pull you down by your waist over his hardening erection trapped in his jeans. Your leggings were allowing you to feel every bump and ridge of his jeans and how his cock had gotten hard for you so quickly between your legs.

“Please…please… touch me, Jeonghan.”

His brows furrowing, his lips pursing into a silent groan, Jeonghan feels his cock twitch in his jeans when you beg him to touch you. It was beautiful, and you were beautiful. He could listen to you say that all night long. He wanted to listen to you beg for him until the sun came up and maybe even longer.

“I am touching you. See, don't you feel my hands?"

You whine, squirming on Jeonghan’s lap, feeling his fingers under your shirt as he trails them along your back. It wasn’t what you wanted and you knew that he knew that. The smirk in his voice told you that. Sliding your hands along his chest, you lean back to look into Jeonghan’s eyes, your voice full of want to the point where you almost sound like you could cry.

“Touch me everywhere. Take me to bed.”

Jeonghan had half a mind to make you beg him again but your lips brushed over his and then his cheek, causing him to lose his resolve. He laughs under his breath before nodding, feeling you slip from his lap to take his hand. The warm feeling of magic, ribbons tangling and spinning around your hands and fingers, makes Jeonghan take a moment to pause before he finally does stand, letting you lead him toward your bedroom.

The scent of vanilla and chai overwhelms him for a moment as he watches you take a step away from him. Your pretty smile enraptures him as his eyes follow you backwards to your bed. Jeonghan breathes out your name, taking a step towards you before stopping to glance at your bedside table. Three candles are placed in a triangle, each a different color.

“Do you want me to light them?”

Your voice is soft and sweet, almost innocent in your question. You clearly didn’t know what they were or what you had been using them for.

“I can, Ignis.”

The Latin word is half whispered and half just a breath but each candle flutters to life with it, causing you to gasp with wonder. Jeonghan smiles at your reaction, moving closer to step between your legs, his fingers once again sliding to the end of your shirt but this time he drags it up your torso, urging you to lift your arms so he can pull it over your head as he speaks.

“Why did you pick those colors? White, red, and pink?”

Shrugging, you shake your head, biting at your bottom lip as your shirt leaves your fingertips. Jeonghan’s eyes are searching your face before he glances down at your body. His fingers glide along your shoulder as his eyes follow until he looks back into your eyes. Your back arches to the feeling of his hand running over your spine, a small laugh slipping from between your lips as his fingers make quick work of your bra clasp, causing the straps to slip from your shoulders.

“I just like the colors. They look pretty together.”

Jeonghan gives you a skeptical look. His fingers trailing back along your shoulder to guide your bra strap further down your arm as you let it fall from you completely.

“God, you are so beautiful, Angel. Lay back on the bed for me?”

You watch Jeonghan drop your bra onto the floor on top of your shirt as you scoot back onto your bed. His eyes follow you, listening to your steady breath while his hands move to his own clothes. You find yourself being jealous of his hands while also enjoying watching him undress himself. You wanted to run your hands over his skin but you also knew you’d get your chance. You knew you’d only get this chance once. Seeing him like this, undressing for you for the first time, only once.

Jeonghan runs his fingers through his hair as he drops his shirt onto the growing pile of clothes, a sigh on his lips. His eyes glance over you as you lay half naked on the bed in front of him. He wanted to get you out of your leggings and panties to be between your legs but he was going to savor this. He wanted to savor all of it, every discovery.

“I think it’s more than you liking the colors together.”

Shaking your head, you give Jeonghan a confused look. Your fingers slide along your stomach towards your breast as his slender fingers undo his belt and jeans, pushing them door. Jeonghan smirks, his dark eyes following your fingers every move as he kicks his pants from his legs and repeats the process with his boxers.

“White candles represent new beginnings. Like a blank canvas. Red, well, that’s an intense color and an intense candle choice, especially paired with white and pink.”

Sitting up, you whine softly, somewhere mixed between Jeonghan’s name and a moan as you see him fully. His body was perfectly sculpted, from his head to the toes. You feel your mouth all but water as your eyes shamelessly look over his cock, hard and leaking for you. While you were listening to him about your candles, you also wanted him in your bed. You wanted his mouth on you, his hands on your body, and him inside of you.

“I know, Angel. I’m right here. Be a good girl for me…be patient.”

Jeonghan walks beside your bed, his fingers trailing along your hand and arm as you reach out for him. A smirk on his lips as you try to hold on to him, only for him to keep just far enough away. Without asking, as if he had been in your room a hundred times, Jeonghan opens your nightstand drawer and tilts his head. You watch as he sighs softly, pushing a couple things to the side before opening a box of condoms and taking one out.

“The red candle represents fire. It means protection, strength, and courage, but also lust and power. So it’s fitting for a bedroom. I keep one in mine as well.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and desire at Jeonghan’s words. Your eyes are fixed on him as he lays the silver square on the nightstand before finally looking at you and resting his knee on the bed to hover over you. Jeonghan’s fingers glide over your stomach and his touch feels like the fire he had been talking about. It’s almost as hot as a candle to your skin but you arch towards it, begging for more as his fingers splay out, inching towards the top of your leggings.

“Pink is an interesting choice next to red. It’s like the flip side of the coin. It’s the candle I would choose for you. It represents tenderness, compassion, and acceptance. If you were a candle, you’d be a pink candle.”

Sucking on your lips, you let go with a small moan as Jeonghan’s fingers dip below the waistband of your leggings. He watches as you lift your hips, your head shaking slowly to his words, before you smile and push your head back into your pillows.

“So I’m a pink candle and you are red?”

Tilting his head, Jeonghan purses his lips, adjusting his fingers into the elastic of your panties as he tugs your leggings down. Jeonghan finally smirked once again, dropping the rest of your clothes off the side of the bed as he answered you.

“That’s a good way of saying it. Do you still trust me?”

Sliding his fingers along the side of your face, Jeonghan stops to rest his thumb against your cheekbone as you look up at him. He knew the answer before you even spoke, but hearing your soft "yes" made his heart beat quicker and his cock jerk against your thigh. You were so innocent and his.

“Mm, yeah? If you ever want me to stop, I want you to say so, okay? I want to try something.”

Jeonghan was moving away from you again, causing you to whine but he didn’t go far. You watch as he picks up your silk scarf from a chair near your bed. You hadn’t given much thought to the scarf in some time; the deep red accessory had been worn a handful of times before you had tossed it on the chair, out of sight and out of mind.

“Hands above your head. I promise, I’ll be gentle. I just want to see…just how much you trust me. Is that bad of me?”

He watches as you shake your head, your arms lifting so that you can cross your wrists above your head. Jeonghan’s breath hitches as your fingers wrap around the wrought iron headboard slot. The cold iron under your fingers causes your skin to erupt with goosebumps as you watch the man in front of you curiously.

“It’s not bad. I said I trusted you. I know you won’t hurt me.”

Shaking his head, Jeonghan smiles a bit at your words, moving to his knee on the mattress next to you. You were right; he’d never hurt you. Not in any way you wouldn’t enjoy it, and certainly not in a way you wouldn’t like it if he could help it.

“This is why you are the pink candle. So tender and trusting. You have your white light around you and yet... you choose a maroon scarf and your arua is the same color? What’s hiding inside of you, my angel?”

Jeonghan’s fingers glide over your skin as he loops the silk around your wrists and finally around the slot between the headboard, loosely tying you to the bed. You were a vision to behold like this, laid out bare and vulnerable for him. So perfectly innocent, yet as he met your eyes, a small smirk played at your lips.

“Oh? Is there something I am going to like when I go looking? Something you might not be able to keep hidden once I’m between your legs?”

With his hand trailing along your side, Jeonghan slowly moves backwards on the bed towards your feet but he keeps his eyes on your face. He didn’t expect an answer but he didn’t need one. The way your breath hitched when his fingers traced over your hip and grazed just shy of your pussy answered the question just as well as anything you could have said out loud.

“Spread your legs for me…”

Closing your eyes, you feel a rush of embarrassment wash over you at Jeonghan’s words. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him between your legs or that you wouldn’t do as he asked; it was that he wanted you to do it for him. He wanted to see you; all of you lay bare in front of him and you could feel how wet you were. You could feel it running between your legs and on to the comforter beneath you, almost as if someone had left a faucet dripping overnight.

“Baby…spread your legs. I won’t force them open. Not tonight, not this time.”

Jeonghan slides his hands along your shins to your knees, watching you consider his words before you let out a slow breath and let your legs fall open in front of him. His eyes drift down your body and fall to either side of him as he moves to kneel between your thighs with a groan.

The candlelight was just enough light for Jeonghan to see how wet you were and he couldn’t help himself. Leaning forward, Jeonghan mutters how beautiful you are as he brushes his fingers between your folds, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. Using what had dripped on his fingers, Jeonghan rubbed his fingers and thumb together before pressing his thumb against your clit, his middle finger sliding back towards your already throbbing entrance.

“This okay?”

He didn’t have to ask. Once again he knew the answer from the way your body was reacting and the moan that spliled from between your pretty lips but he wanted to hear it this time. It was important. It was the first time and it was going so fast.

Pulling at the headboard, the scarf bites into your wrist gently as you feel Jeonghan’s middle finger circle your pussy when he asks for permission. Nodding you whine out yes pushing your hips towards his finger in order to get what you want. You wanted more than just his fingers. You wanted Jeonghan’s mouth, his fingers, his cock. If it were possible to have it all at the same time, maybe then you’d be satisfied.

“More…I can take more. Don’t be so gentle.”

Jeonghan smiles against your knee as he leans to rest his cheek against your leg. His finger is slowly working into you as your walls clench around his single finger. You were greedy. There was the red candle. There was how you were like him.

“You want me to leave marks on you? Remind you who was in your bed when I finally go home? Is that it, Angel?”

Working a second finger into your gummy walls, Jeonghan groans, hearing your whines as you nod and beg him for more. He had never felt like this with anyone else in bed or in a relationship. There had been others in the past. The sex had been intense but there was never this much passion or this much territorial instinct.

He wouldn’t fool himself into thinking he was the first person you had ever been with. He wouldn’t even ask you. Instead, he would fuck you so hard and good that you’d forget their names. He would erase them from your memories so that even if he did ask one day, you’d only be able to say, “I think there was someone…”

Arching your back from the bed as Jeonghan’s third finger slides into you, you cry out in pleasure. His mouth latching onto your thigh hard, somewhere between a bite and a kiss. You can feel the way your skin is going to bruise under his mouth and yet you want spots like that one to paint your entire body like a map that you can revisit in the morning.

“So–I’m so close. Don’t stop…”

Your words cause Jeonghan to smirk against your leg. His tongue runs the length between the love bite and your mound before he replaces his thumb with his tongue. Your mind was hazy with bliss. You were right on the edge when….nothing. Jeonghan kisses your folds but his fingers slide from you, leaving your thighs trembling—your first orgasm taken from you.

“No…no no no… why?”

A quiet laugh and warm breath fanning against your wet folds draw your eyes downward, though you aren’t able to lift your body enough as you strain against silk and iron. Jeonghan lifts his brow at you, his fingers lazily playing with his spit and the wetness dripping from your wanting pussy as you whine at him confused.

“You beg so beautifully. Nothing worth having was given so easily. Try again, Y/N.”

Throwing your head back against the pillow you close your eyes feeling Jeonghan’s fingers slipping back into you slowly, one by one. The pressure slowly beginning to build once again. He wanted you to beg? You could beg for something you wanted, especially when it was him. When it was this.

Jeonghan groans to the taste of you, his tongue running along your folds to his fingers before he finally wraps his lips around your clit sucking lightly. You were panting his name and begging under your breath but it wasn’t enough just yet. He could get you to do more. With a curl of his finger, brushing the spongy spot on the roof of your walls, Jeonghan smirks, his tongue resting against the throbbing bundle of nerves at his mouth as you cry out his name loudly.

“Oh fuck! Jeonghan! Please? I need it. Please? Please, can I cum? Let me cum for you. I’ve been good. I can be better. I–ah! Please!”

Your words were urgent. Tears fell over the rims of your eyes from feeling overwhelmed and the pleasure that ripped through your body as Jeonghan finally gave you what you wanted Groaning against your pussy, he buries his fingers in you deeply over and over again until finally the floodgates keeping your orgasm back break.

Jeonghan’s warm, soft, wet tongue runs to your entrance, collecting your cum on his tongue as he moans in appreciation. His hands slide under your body to pull you closer to his face as he eats you out as if you were his last meal. Alternating between his tongue and his lips, Jeonghan takes his time to clean you of every last drop of cum as your thighs tremble around his head, your muscles screaming from overstimulation by the time he is finished.

Moving between your legs, Jeonghan smiles, reaching up to wipe his hand along his mouth and chin as you look up at him with lustful eyes. There was what he had been searching for. That look in your eyes.

Reaching towards the nightstand, Jeonghan swipes the condom from it, bringing the corner of the silver square to his lips as you watch him catch your breath. Carefully, he rips the foil open as if he’s done it a hundred times, making you roll your eyes playfully. Jeonghan grins, the latex in hand, his eyes moving from yours only for a moment as he reaches between your body and his to roll the condom onto his length as he speaks into a groan.

“What? Was that too cheesy?”

“You reminded me of a college fuckboy, but I think I might love you anyway.”

Your words stop Jeonghan from moving and cause his breath to hitch in his throat. He had hinted at it earlier in the park. The leaf had fallen within his reach and you had mentioned the story about catching them and falling in love…But what if you were already in love with who you were walking with?

Lifting his eyes to meet yours, Jeonghan finds you looking away. You had clearly realized what you had said and you were trying to hide your face without the use of your hands. Your fingers were straining against the silk that kept you bound to the bed but he didn’t need you bound to the bed anymore.

Using his right hand, Jeonghan quickly unties the scarf, letting you pull your hands from the headboard but he is quick to catch them before you can cover your face. You watch as he shakes his head, lifting your left hand to his lips to press a kiss to your fingers as he does.

No, he didn’t need you bound in anyway, except to him, which you already were. The maroon ribbons of magic swirling around your fingers again caused a glow against his lips as he let them rest there but you could see how the fibers of the ribbon trailed off and down to the bed where his left hand rested next to your body.

“You think you love me?”

Swallowing hard, you feel your heart beating hard and fast in your chest. You knew that Jeonghan could feel it against his own skin as he lay on top of you. There was no point or reason for you to lie, so you nod.

“Yes.”

Jeonghan smiles, pressing another kiss to your fingers. His hand slides along your arm until he lets go of it completely, instead of trailing his hand along your leg to your knee. Pulling it up to his hip, Jeonghan groans, leaning down to brush his lips against yours as he rolls his hips towards yours. Your soft moan fans hot breath against his mouth when you feel his cock press against your folds but not quite hard enough to push into you just yet.

“I think I knew that I loved you the moment I caught that maple leaf. You were and are so beautiful. You were smiling up at the sky and the stupid trees and I was jealous of them. Then you were telling me about this fairytale..."

Whispering Jeonghan’s name, you start to tell him that you love him again but fall short when the head of his cock finally gets the perfect angle and he is able to slowly thrust into you. Jeonghan closes his eyes, his fingers digging into your skin at your hip, feeling your warm walls clenching around him with each slow inch that you take inside of you.

“Fuck…baby. You feel so good. I–god…You were telling me about falling in love and leaves and I was falling in love with you. I fell in love with you because we were born for one another. You were born to be mine. No one elses.”

And he would never let anyone else have you. Not now, not ever, Jeonghan thought to himself as he bottomed out into you for the first time. Your hand sliding along his waist to rest on his back, pulling him closer to you as you gasped out a moan, feeling full of him.

While Jeonghan’s words and the magic of it all didn’t make complete sense, what did was the feeling that he was describing. You knew it too. You knew it the moment he walked away the first time at the cafe. That man was yours. This man…is yours.

Scratching at his skin lightly, you nod and mutter his name on a moan before throwing your head back, feeling pleasure rush through you when Jeonghan starts to pick up his pace and deepen his thrusts. He was beginning to learn about you. He could feel it now, every time your pussy would tighten around his cock if he moved just the right way. So he would move that way again and then purposely make you wait before he would do it all over again, just so he could listen to you cry his name against his lips.

“Are you gonna cum for me again?”

Nodding, you wrap your hand around the back of Jeonghan’s neck, trying to keep his mouth near yours but he laughs at your instance. There was your greed that he loved so much. He wasn’t leaving you. He would kiss you every day for the rest of your shared life together but right now…he wanted to watch you fall apart on his cock for the first time.

“Angel, I love how you cry for me like this. Is it that good? You like my cock that much?”

His words were making you feel shy but still, you nodded and whined out a yes as tears ran down your cheeks. The pressure of your orgasm building in your abdomen as Jeonghan reaches between your legs to circle his thumb around your clit only causes your thighs to tremble even harder.

“Ah…Jeonghan! Please…”

The last of your words are whispered, almost tearfully between a moan and a sob, as you try to keep your orgasm at bay, though it hurts to try. Jeonghan hisses back his own groan. His climax is on the edge, barreling behind yours as he tightens his grip on your thighs, thrusting into you harder and pushing your head towards the headboard with each powerful thrust.

“Cum baby. Do it… I’m not going—fuck, I’m right behind you.”

Your hands clench on the bedding under you as you tightly close your eyes, seeing white the moment your orgasm washes over you for the second time. The intensity of pleasure is so intense for you and Jeonghan as you clench around him like a vice that any attempts he has at holding himself back are futile.

Jeonghan groans, feeling warm, thick cum spill into the condom with one final thrust before he falls over you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You are grateful for the weight of his body as you come down from your high. Your legs slowly stop shaking as Jeonghan’s hand runs along the length of your outer thigh. His lips work soft, tender kisses along the span of your neck before he makes it to your lips, catching his breath on the way.

Smiling against your lips, Jeonghan knows he has pulled you. He knows he has to take care of the condom and that he needs to get you cleaned up but when you smile back against his lips he can’t make himself move just yet. Instead, he runs his fingers from the side of your face and neck to the back of your head, pulling you closer to his mouth. The kiss never rushed, feeling like it took your breath away while also giving you all you would ever need to survive, up until the moment Jeonghan finally pulled back to whisper against your lips.

“I love you.”

You had a feeling he would say the words. The two of you had been playing around with the words the entire time. You knew how fast it was. You knew how crazy it was but how crazy could it be when there was something bigger than both of you telling you it was meant to be?

For your entire life, there had only been a handful of people you had ever spoken those three words too and meant them completely. Now you knew that as you said them to Jeonghan, you meant them for the rest of your life.

“I love you too.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Jeonghan takes in the feeling of hearing the words on your lips. His fingers slide along the back of your head and over your hair before he kisses you once more and pulls from you at last. You watch with fond curiosity as he takes care of himself, disposing of the condom, cleaning up the wrapper, and moving towards your bedroom door, searching for something.

“What are you looking for?”

Sighing into a yawn, Jeonghan stretches his left arm above his head to feel the muscles in his back extend, knowing all the while that your eyes were taking in every inch of his skin. He had no reason to feel shy or embarrassed after what had happened. In fact, he was loving every moment of your eyes on his bare skin; he was taking pride in your enjoyment of him.

“Your bathroom. I wanted to start a bath or shower for us. Something…”

Sliding up in the bed, you smile, pulling your legs up towards your chest as you watch Jeonghan as he finally turns back to look at you. There was still so much to learn about one another but you knew there were many hours left in the night and many years left for the rest of your life.

“Next door on the right. I’d prefer a bath.”

Nodding, Jeonghan glances towards the door you mentioned before looking back at you fondly. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his entire life at that moment. The moonlight shining on you from the window, the candle light in the reflection of your eyes, and that maroon arua around your hand that signified you were his.

“Then a bath is what you get, Angel.”

You follow Jeonghan for as long as you can with your eyes until he is out of your view. Just the sounds of water filling the tub and his humming as you lean back on your bed, lifting your hand to look at the magic swirling around your hand. All that maroon and a spot of gold at the tip of your left finger to let you know he was bound to you.

“This is crazy.”

You laugh at your own hushed words, lifting your other hand to run it over your fingers. You don’t notice as Jeonghan comes back into the room, leaning against the doorframe for a moment to watch you.

“No, it’s just a little magic, baby.”

#jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svthub.collab #jeonghan angst #seventeen angst #svt smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen supernatural #seventeen soulmate au

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gimmie-a-sammich · 20 days

Text

Between Two Thorns | Chapter 4 | Simple Terms

Pairings: Mafia!Ateez x Fem!Original Character, Mafia!??? x Fem!Original Character, Mafia!Jeongin (I.N) x Fem!Original Character, feat Stray Kids

Genre: (18+ Minors DNI) Mafia au, smut, angst, fluff

Summary: After an unforeseeable event, Amelia Lee finds herself torn between love and loyalty. What will her choice be? Her twin brother and the only family she's ever know? Or the man she never expected to fall in love with? Every decision, though, comes with a price.

Chapter Warnings: lies, deception, threats, mentions of torture, guns, typical mafia stuff

Word Count: 9.8 k

read here on AO3

Between Two Thorns masterlist

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“Checking the time isn’t going to make it go by any faster,” Hyunjin muttered, sitting on the top of the bench, feet resting on the wooden slats of the seat. He grew tired of Felix’s neverending pacing and need to check his watch every forty-five seconds. “He said seven. It’s 6:52. You know he’s not going to show up a minute sooner.”

The pair had been sitting in the park for nearly twenty-five minutes on the off chance Yeosang came early. Hyunjin surveyed the area beforehand, not wanting to be surprised. The bench he selected was entirely in the open overlooking the riverfront, few trees in sight. Inglewood Park lacked places to hide, making the risk of either party setting a trap slim. Yeosang chose the meeting place well if he wanted to avoid an ambush.

Felix paused his loop only to glare. “What I don’t understand is how you can be so fucking calm,” he spat, resuming his pacing.

“The fact that I am calm is the entire reason you brought me,” Hyunjin quickly shot back. “Do you want Chan here? He’s a fucking wreck. Jeongin? He’d pull some shit and Amelia would be dead before we knew it. So I’ll keep being calm, Lix, because someone has to be. Pull yourself together.”

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair in frustration at the leader’s scowl. He wanted to let himself spiral and feed into the anger and paranoia surrounding him. But that wouldn’t help him get Amelia back. Somebody needed to keep an entirely level head and while Felix would hopefully step up to the plate in front of Yeosang, that responsibility currently fell on Hyunjin.

Much like it did last night when Jeongin destroyed his room in a fit of rage. Seungmin called him immediately, unable to calm his friend down. All it took was Hyunjin mentioning Amelia’s name for poor Jeongin to collapse in despair, guttural sobs leaving his body while his fists pounded into the floor. With his room in no shape to sleep, Hyunjin brought him back to his apartment to give Seungmin a break, especially when he was informed about a thrown picture frame narrowly missing Seungmin’s head. It let him keep an eye on the youngest in case he broke down again, but unlike Seungmin, Hyunjin had no issue knocking sense into Jeongin by any means necessary.

Or when he peeled Chan off the bathroom floor. Hyunjin noticed him sneaking away during the group meeting, but initially paid it no mind. He had been the one with Amelia, so it only made sense that he took her kidnapping exceptionally hard. But when his absence grew longer, Hyunjin felt the need to find him. He just didn’t expect it to be slumped against the bathroom wall with a bottle of whiskey in hand to drown out his feelings. Not once in their many years of friendship had Hyunjin seen him like this. Chan was the strong one, literally and figuratively, yet sitting before him was a broken shell. So again, Hyunjin spoke reason to someone in an unreasonable state, pulling him from his stupor enough to get him back in his seat at the table.

And he continued to stay calm now, snapping Felix back into the mindset necessary to bargain for his sister despite him nearly pulling out his hair with every step along the frosted grass. If Felix slipped up slightly, unintentionally offending Yeosang, then Amelia would be gone.

No, Hyunjin wasn’t calm because he wanted to be; he was calm because Amelia neededhim to be.

The frost steadily wore away from the grass, leaving a perfect line of Felix’s steps. Despite Hyunjin’s annoyance, he continued checking the time, watching as the minutes slowly changed and thought only of his sister.

6:55.Was she still tied up? 6:56. 6:57. Was she scared out of her mind? Crying and sobbing, begging for release? 6:58. How did he let this happen to her? What if they hurt her? 6:59. Was Amelia even still alive? 7:00.

“Felix,” Hyunjin dropped from the bench hastily. He looked over Felix’s shoulder, focusing on something in the distance.

Spinning around, Felix saw two figures walking towards them. He tucked his hands into the pocket of his black peacoat, gearing up for whatever conversation was coming. Hyunjin came beside him, mirroring the position and praying that Felix had his shit together.

Yeosang stared down the two blondes in front of him and couldn’t help but enjoy the power he held. However, the neutrality of their expressions impressed him. Neither showed an ounce of emotion, not even anger. Both stood tall, confident despite having no control over the situation. But it was all a farce.

While Yeosang continued studying the demeanors of Hyunjin and Felix, Mingi scanned the area looking for anything out of place. An ambush would be stupid on Oddinary’s part, but people did foolish things for love. And these men loved Amelia Lee to the point they would easily risk their lives for her.

“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Yeosang smirked and stood face to face with the two men. The sentiment was aimed directly at Felix, the pair locking eyes immediately.

Felix huffed, the air visible in front of him from the chilly November air. He attempted to gather his thoughts, wanting to come up with some sort of bargain to get Amelia back to him.

Though it was Hyunjin who answered with Amelia’s wellbeing on the forefront of his mind. “Before any conversation happens, we need further confirmation that Amelia is alive and unharmed.”

“No time for pleasantries?” Yeosang scoffed, but he nodded at Mingi next to him.

Mingi pulled a phone from his coat pocket. “It’s live. Timestamps are in the lower right if you don’t believe me.”

Hyunjin snatched the phone from his hand. Quickly Felix joined him. There stood Amelia. Well, more like there Amelia wandered. Appearing to be unharmed, Amelia paced the room. Hyunjin contained the smile that wanted to escape. Seemed both Lee twins took to pacing when stressed. But at least Amelia was untied and ungagged. Even on the tiny screen they could see determination on her face, not a single tear in sight. Too soon, though, Mingi took the phone from their hands.

“Tell me what you want, Yeosang,” Felix said sternly. “I’m willing to negotiate.”

Sharp laughter cut through the still air. “You think you have something to negotiate with?” Yeosang’s gaze pierced through Felix. “You took someone from me. It’s only fair that I do the same, don’t you think?”

“Amelia has nothing to do with whatever you think is going on.”

“Don’t play with me Felix. Lies will do nothing to aid your case. We aren’t stupid, despite your beliefs. It was only a matter of time before something ended this foolish truce I had with your father. How fitting that it was his son to ruin it. You’re half the leader he was.”

Somehow, Felix maintained his composure. Maybe it was due to the question of Amelia’s continued safety, or maybe it was Hyunjin’s grip on his sleeve that kept him in check. Yeosang clearly tried to bait him, especially by making comments regarding his father. It was an old insult, one he hadn’t heard in years. Still, it cut deep.

“State your terms,” Felix said flatly, not taking his eyes off Yeosang’s. “Or do you intend on flaunting my sister just to kill her?”

The statement angered Hyunjin. Why would he even mention Amelia’s death? But he couldn’t do anything about it.

Again, Yeosang laughed. “Kill her? No, Felix. I intend to keep her alive, as long you follow the rules.” Smirking at their silence and widened eyes, Yeosang continued. “It would be easier to kill her, a literal eye for an eye. But why make it easier on you? You can mourn a death. Eventually everyone moves on in some capacity. So why would I kill your precious Amelia, when I could keep her alive yet always out of your reach? My terms are simple. Let her go, and she lives. If you try to rescue her or make some sort of move against us, she dies.”

The air turned uneasy with a heavy silence, only the soft sound of the chilly river and the rustling of the evergreens breaking it. Felix clenched his fists and jaw at the unexpected terms. All his and Hyunjin’s preparations to negotiate a restructuring of territories, for Oddinary to give up anything that Yeosang asked, were in vain.

“There must be something you want from us, Yeosang,” Hyunjin said, quickly on the verge of losing his composure.

“What I want is you knowing that Amelia is alive and you’ll never see her again. To know that she is with me. That you will never know what or how she’s doing. For you to mourn the loss of the person you love most when she’s still breathing. If for some reason you force my hand and make me kill her, that death is on you. And you will have to live the rest of your pathetic lives knowing that you are responsible for her demise because you couldn’t let her go.”

Yeosang’s smirk grew at Hyunjin and Felix’s bewildered faces. Nothing they could offer him would change his mind. No amount of territory or money was worth more than the pain on their faces and the sheer horror that certainly ran through their minds. Amelia was his.

“Mingi,” Yeosang nodded at the blonde beside him. “Show them, please.”

Once more, Mingi pulled out the cell phone, offering it to Hyunjin and Felix. Only this time the videofeed didn’t show Amelia pacing around the cement room. She stood still, staring down a gun aimed at her face, not an ounce of fear cracking her resolute gaze. Hyunjin’s eyes widened and his heart raced. Felix’s pounded loudly in his ears, so loudly it nearly drowned out Yeosang’s next words.

“Now, Felix. Do you agree to my simple terms? Or does Amelia need another hole in her head?”

Felix’s entire body stiffened, not breaking his gaze away from the small video. “There has to be something you-” he cut off his statement when the barrel pressed against Amelia’s forehead. Still, his sister did not waver, standing strong and unblinking at the cool metal against her skin.

“This isn’t up for debate, something you continue to misunderstand,” Yeosang sighed, running his fingers through his hair in annoyance. “A simple yes or no will do. I’ll ask again: Do you agree to my terms?”

Attempting to gather his thoughts, Felix remained silent. He didn’t dare look over at Hyunjin even though he felt the stare boring into his side. There must be something he could do. Something he could offer Yeosang. But the sight of his sister facing certain death terrified him, completely knocking him down from being the ruthless leader he should be. His mouth went entirely dry and he struggled to swallow.

“Yes.”

The moment the hushed agreement passed Felix’s lips the gun dropped from Amelia’s forehead and out of sight. Hyunjin didn’t miss her exhale of relief, even though her face stayed stone cold at whomever stood before her. Their time watching her quickly came to an end when Mingi snatched the phone back from Hyunjin’s hands. Too distraught to say anything, Hyunjin only raised his head in defeat and looked at Yeosang’s smug face. How he desperately wanted to wipe that smirk off with his fist.

This was just what Yeosang wanted: having Felix distraught in front of him, eyes angered and chest heaving with the pain of his decision. Not only that, Hyunjin appeared a mess, futilely trying to hide his frustration and wet eyes. In a way, Yeosang owned them now. All because of their precious Amelia Lee. The exchange went smoother than he imagined. He anticipated more of a fight out of them. But he assumed seeing the very real gun against Amelia’s head took away any plans they may have had.

“Well, I’d say it was a pleasure,” Yeosang began, stepping backwards with a dramatic bow, “but we both know I’d be lying. You can assume your sister is alive. If my hand is forced, I’ll at least do her the decency of placing the body on your doorstep.”

With that, Yeosang completely turned away, not allowing either man another word with him. Mingi lingered for a moment, eyeing Felix and Hyunjin until Yeosang was a few steps away before turning to wordlessly follow him. The Oddinary pair watched them walk away and fade into the distance.

“What the fuck are we going to do about this, Felix? We can’t just let her go. Who knows what the fuck they plan on doing to her!” Calm Hyunjin had disappeared, replaced by a frantic and fumbling version. “There’s got to be something we can do, some sort of contact we can reach out to. Something”

Pulling out his phone, Felix dialed Changbin’s number. The rest of the Oddinary eight were on standby at the club, waiting for Felix’s word on the outcome of the meeting. Now that Yeosang was out of sight, Felix became the calm one, wearing the mantle Hyunjin tossed to the side. It needed to be him to take on all responsibility.

“We are going to do something,” he said sternly, casting a glance at him. “But I need your head on straight, like you’ve so kindly reminded me to do today. The others are going to be a mess, I can’t have you spiraling now too.”

Immediately, Hyunjin pushed his emotions to the side again. Felix was correct. The left hand man of Oddinary needed to step back up. He had allowed himself a brief moment, but that moment had now passed. Nodding, Hyunjin locked eyes with Felix just as Changbin picked up the call.

“We have planning to do.”

***

“Seems your brother agreed to the terms,” San stated when he pulled the gun from Amelia’s head. He made a show of taking out the cartridge and bullet in the chamber, handing both to Hongjoong to prove the gun was unloaded.

Even with the removal of the gun, Amelia’s expression remained unchanged. Eyes narrowed and arms crossed, she glared at the two men before her.

Hongjoong took the earpiece from his ear, San following suit. They had listened to the entirety of Yeosang and Felix’s conversation to know just what to do with Amelia. Their instructions had been clear: kill Amelia if anything but a yes came from the leader of Oddinary. Thankfully for Amelia, her brother didn’t put up an outward fight.

“Am I ever going to be made aware of these stupid terms?” Amelia raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms.

Only smiling, Hongjoong busied himself around the room. San leaned against the wall, staring at Amelia. He was intrigued by how she stared so resolutely down the barrel of his gun. Wooyoung was right. She was spicy.

“When Yeosang’s back he’ll go through everything,” San said with an oddly playful edge to his voice.

Rolling her eyes, Amelia shifted her gaze to Hongjoong. “And what happened with my brother?”

Hongjoong turned his focus to Amelia. “Yeosang will tell you what you need to know, Amelia. We were just here to-”

“To kill me if things didn’t go the way Yeosang wanted.”

With a sigh, Hongjoong moved closer until he was mere inches away from Amelia. He reached a tentative hand out towards her waist, letting it land there when Amelia didn’t shy away. Without even realizing it, Hongjoong was already falling into Amelia’s hands, just like she wanted.

“Luckily we didn’t have to do that,” Hongjoong said softly, staring deep into Amelia’s eyes.

Even though he was only a means to an end in her mind, Amelia took in just how handsome Hongjoong was. Those big brown eyes looked at her kindly, but still Amelia saw a slight edge in them, the same one she noticed last night. One corner of his full lips twisted up into a small smirk while he studied her up and down, making no effort to hide his wandering eyes. At the same time, his fingers dug into her hips almost possessively. Although Hongjoong was much smaller than San in build, he was still toned and lean, carrying himself with a dangerous, yet graceful aura. In that way he reminded her of Hyunjin.

“Lucky for who, Hongjoong?” Amelia breathed, allowing the man to trace featherlight shapes on her side.

“I guess we’ll find that out.” Hongjoong’s smile widened and his free hand shifted to brush away a piece of her disheveled hair. “Yeosang will be back soon. He’ll explain how everything will look moving forward.”

On that note, Hongjoong backed away from Amelia, turning to nod at San. He removed himself from the wall, eyes not leaving Amelia.

“Try to behave yourself until then,” San smirked.

Amelia couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Because I can cause so much trouble in here amongst the cement. Worried I’m going to slam my head against the wall? Not like you’ve given me much to entertain myself with.”

San laughed, a loud, boisterous sound that echoed throughout the room. “I think we’d all prefer it if you didn’t do that, Amelia. Were you expecting a 5 star resort? A spa day with facials and massages?”

“Actually, some skincare would be nice if you’re offering.”

San’s eyes glittered with a smile, but Hongjoong answered. “We’ll see what we can do.”

After three firm knocks from San, the door swung back open. The taller man didn’t pay her a second glance back, yet Hongjoong did, offering her a pained smile before the door clicked shut behind them.

Once free of their presence, Amelia moved freely about the room, trying her best to not seem too flustered. All she wanted was answers, yet that was something not so easily provided to her. Knowing that someone was still watching her through the cameras, she kept her smirk to herself. After just a day Hongjoong seemed to be falling into her twisted scheme. Almost too easily. Amelia quickly questioned whether or not something more nefarious could be at play, but how much worse could her situation become?

What she really wanted to do was change out of her now uncomfortable clothes and wash her hair. But she was too stubborn to accept the clothes Wooyoung offered her and they still lay neatly folded on the edge of the bed. The odd acts of kindness left her uneasy and she was determined to remain firm in her opposition.

Amelia resorted to aimlessly pacing again while she waited, head tilted to the floor as she went between the concrete walls of her confinement. Somehow her thoughts were loud and quiet all at once, a raging storm and calm sea simultaneously. Anyone else in her position would be a blubbering mess, begging for release on deaf ears. Instead Amelia continued to run through options in her head and tried to keep the thoughts of her brother and the others at bay, an act much easier said than done.

She wondered just how this meeting went down with Yeosong. Did Felix bring Hyunjin with him? Or Jeongin? Or maybe Chan?

Chan.

He must be devastated. Amelia shook her head at the thought of the strong, unbreakable Christopher Bahng breaking knowing she had been taken under his alleged watchful eye. Failure was never an option for him and he failed at the one thing he’d always prided himself in: protecting the ones he loved, and there were few he loved more than Amelia Lee.

She could picture Seungmin and Changbin arguing over some sort of plan to retrieve her, Han piping in to give his always solid input and quickly bringing focus back where it needed to be. Minho itching to get his hands on anyone from Fever, inflicting his favorite forms of torture for taking her away from them. Felix with his twisted smile while he raised a gun to each of their heads to finally end their lives. Hyunjin laughing maniacally, teasing each man while Felix moved down the line. And then Jeongin…

How was Jeongin taking this? When it came to him all of Amelia’s thoughts became conflicted. She was entirely positive he would be a mess, his complicated feelings for her clouding his judgment entirely. It sent a pang through her heart when she realized he would have been one of the first to realize she had been kidnapped.

Entirely unaware of just how long she had been milling around in her own head, Amelia didn’t notice the metal door reopening. She jumped at the pronounced click when it shut, the first and only break in her armor to show thus far. Her pacing ceased when she shifted her gaze towards the door to meet Yeosang.

He still wore his long tan coat, hands tucked casually into his pockets wit a pink tinge still clinging to his cheeks. “Hello again, Amelia.”

“Yeosang,” Amelia responded curtly, recrossing her arms in front of her. It was odd he entered alone, only ever having come with San and Mingi.

“Now that I’ve met with your brother, I think it’s only fair that the terms we’ve agreed upon be shared with you.”

“I find it ironic that you have these discussions with everyone but the individual these terms impact.”

Yeosang chuckled at her response, stepping towards her slowly without breaking his gaze. “Unfortunately for you Amelia, you are nothing but a means to an end, the perfect way to exact my revenge on your brother and his petty club. Another pawn in my game of chess, although my hope is that I won’t have to sacrifice you as quickly in my pursuits. You see, I intended on playing a very long game.”

Even though being referred to as a meaningless pawn set Amelia off, she remained silent, digging her fingernails into the flesh of her arm to keep sharp words from spilling out. Still, Yeosang provided her space to answer, eyes widening in amusement when she didn’t.

“Now, these are simple terms, simple enough for you to understand I hope,” Yeosang continued, ignoring the tension in Amelia’s jaw at his snide insult. “When I said to make yourself comfortable, I meant it. You’re mine, Amelia Lee. There’s going to be no rescue mission for you, no knight in shining armor coming to save you from me. You’re going to remain here, out of your brother’s reach but always on his mind. It would be too easy to kill you, you see. I’d rather watch him and the rest of Oddinary suffer knowing you’re alive, but that you’ll never be theirs again.”

“Felix would never agree to this-”

Yeosang’s hand on her chin silenced her voice, but did nothing to quell the fire in her eyes. “Your brother agreed to let you go without a second thought, Amelia,” he hissed.

Amelia inhaled abruptly, each of her muscles tensing at his harsh touch. “Take your fucking hand off me before I-”

Instead his grip tightened, the pads of his finger indenting her cheeks. “It’s fucking adorable that you think you’re in the position to make threats.” His breath was hot against her face when he leaned in further, tone somehow becoming more menacing. “Now, I’ll make this even simpler for you. Any attempt at escape results in one of your precious Oddinary men dead, starting with Hyunjin. Follow this one rule and no one dies. Your brother and his idiotic crew have their own rule. If they come for you, you die.”

Amelia attempted to jerk her head out of his grasp, but Yeosang dug in deeper. “Do you understand me?” Both pairs of eyes burned with an unrelenting anger, Yeosang’s teetering on the edge of insanity, Amelia’s with a cold fury. It only angered Yeosang more. “I said, do you understand me?”

There was much she wanted to say. She wanted to cuss him out, to throw out every single threat she could muster. But Yeosang was right. What say did she have? None, absolutely none. Even if Felix did agree to whatever terms Yeosang provided him, she knew that he would never let her go easily. None of them would.

But in her current position, with Yeosang glaring dangerously and clutching her possessively, there was only one thing she could say.

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” his gaze narrowed before he removed his hand and placed it back in his pocket. The suddenness had Amelia jerking her head backwards, craving separation from him

Without another word, he turned on his heel, leaving Amelia dumbfounded and with a sore jaw. Three sharp knocks and the door opened and slammed shut before Amelia could process that Yeosang left. Her chest heaved while she talked herself down, again not wanting to put on the show she knew they wanted. No, the show he wanted. Once more she resumed her pacing, thoughts spiraling back towards an escape that would now be more difficult knowing that everyone’s lives were on the line. Her only hope was somehow being released.

An eerie sense of calm washed over her at the realization, her thoughts all going back to one man.

Hongjoong.

***

Somehow, Amelia knew how to push Yeosang’s buttons with ease. Never before had he met someone who could get under his skin, yet this tiny blonde managed to do just that in under twenty-four hours. Hell, grown men feared him. But not Amelia Lee. Oh, how that irritated him.

“Was putting hands on her really necessary?” Mingi asked coldly when Yeosang reentered the basement.

“It was only my fingers.” Yeosang didn’t want to admit the effect Amelia had on him and how his need for control overpowered him. Every set of eyes were trained on him. “She had an attitude. That isn’t going to fly-”

“Of course she has an attitude,” Mingi retorted. “We fucking kidnapped her.” He stood suddenly, walking past Yeosang and towards the secured hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Yeosang questioned.

“To take her to her new room.”

“Do you think she’s earned that privilege?” Yeosang’s voice rose.

Turning around, Mingi strode towards his leader, staring him down angrily. “I think you’re letting Amelia get to you. It’s eating at you that she’s not cowering in the corner and begging for your mercy. She’s shown more balls than most men. So yeah, I think she’s earned the fucking privilege.”

Yeosang showed Mingi just as much disdain, more frustration seeping into his words. “And what if I say she needs to stay in the cell a few more days, hm?”

“Amelia’s attitude doesn’t mean we shouldn’t follow through with the original plan,” Seonghwa spoke up in an attempt to dissolve the budding argument. He had noticed Mingi’s soft spot for Amelia early on, but this protective edge towards her took him by surprise. “Mingi does have a point. Yes, she’s nothing like we expected her to be…”

“Cheongyang pepper vibes…” Wooyoung mumbled, earning a smack behind the head from San.

“But our intention was always to make sure she was comfortable, regardless of the circumstances that brought her here,” Seonghwa finished with a sigh.

Mingi and Yeosang’s staredown continued until Yeosang turned to face the eldest. Although he didn’t want to acknowledge it, Seonghwa was correct. Even he could admit his errors, even though those moments came fleetingly. “You know she’s going to fight every step of the way.”

“Would you expect something different?” Seonghwa smirked, standing up and patting Yeosang on the shoulder, simultaneously putting himself between Yeosang and Mingi. His attention turned back towards Mingi. “Take Joong and San with you… she seems to somewhat like Hongjoong at least. Let him explain what’s going on. Maybe she’ll settle in better in her own space.”

Hongjoong’s face flushed while a knowing look washed over Yeosang briefly before his smirk returned. Mingi looked at him for confirmation. Despite his anger, their leader still had the final say. With his nod, Hongjoong and San also stood, squeezing past Yeosang to follow Mingi.

“The rest of you, go about your day like normal,” Yeosang ordered, watching the trio disappear through the door. “The last thing Amelia deserves is an audience.”

Wooyoung jumped up, smiling. “I’ll go make sure her room is ready… I worked hard on it.”

Yunho placed his large hands on Wooyoung’s shoulders, steering him towards the staircase. “You’re not supposed to share that, Woo,” he whispered, but still loud enough for Yeosang to hear. It annoyed him just how much effort the others put into Amelia’s comfortability, something the members knew well/

Wooyoung’s shrill laughter echoed. Jongho shook his head, following the pair out of the basement and chatting to Yunho about lunch plans. Seonghwa remained, moving to retake his seat in front of the monitors.

“I can handle the locks,” Yeosang stated, focus quickly going to Amelia and her neverending pacing.

Seonghwa shook his head. “Take a breather. It’ll probably be better if she doesn’t see you.” His smirk widened when he saw just how intently Yeosang studied Amelia through the screens. “I’ve never seen someone work you up this much, Yeo. Has she really gotten under your skin this quickly? Not even Woo can-”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Yeosang said abruptly. He didn’t want to sit and listen to Seonghwa’s teasing any longer, even though he wanted to see the interaction between Amelia and the others. “Avery’s on her way anyway.”

“Awfully early for her to be coming over, isn’t it?” Seonghwa said offhandedly, clicking the mouse to change the camera angle. “Do you trust her enough with Amelia here?”

Yeosang laughed harshly. “Do I trust anyone outside of us?” He didn’t expect a response to his rhetorical question, continuing on. “But Avery knows better than to go against me. It’s better to go about business as usual.”

“Especially if that business involves getting your dick wet, right?”

***

Much like he chastised Wooyoung for attempting last night, Hongjoong knocked on the metal door before it swung up, alerting Amelia to their impending entrance. The warning made sure she was already turned in attention. Her innate ability to keep a straight, yet determined face despite what happened around her still surprised the members, whether it be in person or while they watched her on video.

Unlike previous times, Amelia stayed quiet instead of throwing some sort of witty remark at them. Hongjoong attributed that to Yeosang’s threats and his behavior. She simply watched the doorway, but the trio didn’t enter immediately.

“Can we come in?” Hongjoong asked softly.

Amelia raised an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to acknowledge the irony of that statement.”

“We’ll take that as a yes then,” Mingi said, sliding past Hongjoong into the room and ignoring the small scoff of annoyance. San followed quickly, resulting in both the large men entering the room before Hongjoong. It only served to annoy him more.

Still, Amelia’s hazel eyes remained strong and unwavering with the three men before her. “Can I not get a moment of blissful, kidnapped peace?” she muttered.

San laughed. “You’re going to be seeing a lot more of us, especially with-” A sharp gaze from Hongjoong silenced him. Seonghwa had been clear on who should explain things, and it wasn’t San.

“What he means is we understand that your reason for being here is unorthodox,” Hongjoong began.

“Unorthodox?” Amelia’s voice raised, but did not falter. “You fucking kidnapped me and plan on keeping me here indefinitely. Don’t you think that goes beyond unorthodox?”

Mingi smirked at the weight of Hongjoong’s sigh when he raised his hands in defeat. “Look, we know it’s not ideal. But we don’t intend on being complete monsters with this whole thing,” he said from his perch against the wall.

“Sure, Mingi,” Amelia laughed cruelly. “You’re not complete monsters. At least I’m alive right? Just as long as I don’t try to run away and my brother doesn’t come after me? Only then do I end up dead in a fucking ditch. Very considerate of you, actually. Completely unmonster-like.”

Hongjoong took a couple of tentative steps closer. “You know just what kind of people we are, Amelia. Nothing we say is going to change that. But, what Mingi means is we don’t plan on keeping you confined in this concrete cell for the rest of your life.”

The slight shift in Amelia’s stance caught San’s eye. “Ah, that got her attention,” he chuckled.

It had, but probably not in the way San assumed. “What, am I going to get an allotted thirty minutes of outside time a day? Designated enrichment so I don’t descend into madness?”

“More than that, Amelia,” Hongjoong said earnestly, ignoring the spite and sarcasm flowing through her words. “We want you to be comfortable, as odd as that sounds coming from the men who kidnapped you. So, would you like to get out of this box so we can show you where you will be staying?”

“You’re speaking like I’m on some sort of luxury vacation.”

“Consider me your ever willing concierge then,” Hongjoong said playfully with a smile, gesturing towards the door with a small, yet dramatic bow.

This seemed too good to be true, although Amelia didn’t know where exactly her new quarters resided. It could all be a trick, one that ended cruelly for her. But Hongjoong seemed genuine. Flicking her eyes towards San and Mingi, she found the same earnest look in their eyes, both going as far to offer her thin, assuring smiles and nods.

“We’re not lying, Amelia,” Mingi said calmly. “Let us show you.”

She pursed her lips in thought. This wasn’t the time to make a mad dash, but it could be a chance at alone time with Hongjoong. Anything to further her cause. “It really takes all three of you for this? What an escort.”

“Well, in the words of Wooyoung, you are pretty spicy,” San laughed. He jerked his head towards the door. “Follow me.”

San didn’t give Amelia a chance to respond and abruptly walked out the door. Nor did Hongjoong. Instead, he stepped around her, apprehensively placing a hand at the small of her back to coax her into following San down the concrete hallway. She leaned into the touch, humming appreciatively. Mingi slid behind them, bringing up the rear and watching their odd exchange with wary eyes.

They paused at yet another door, yet Hongjoong’s hand stayed securely along her back. Mingi couldn’t help being confused by their closeness, questioning what was going through Hongjoong’s head. It wasn’t like him to be this touchy with anyone, especially not a prisoner, regardless of how beautiful Amelia may be.

Blocking the keypad with his broad body, San typed in the code to grant them entry back into the basement. Amelia was taken aback by the luxury she stepped into, quickly coming to the realization that she had been in their house the entire time. She knew the main Fever group lived well, but hadn’t expected this.

“You’re to take her straight to her room,” an unknown voice came from her left. “Make sure to share the rules.”

Amelia’s head snapped towards it and she was met with the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But what caught her off guard most was how pretty the man was. He easily could have been a model, tall and elegant, strands of his shaggy black hair perfectly framing his face despite being pulled back in a small ponytail.

“Ah, forgive me,” he apologized. “I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Seonghwa.”

“I don’t think I require an introduction at this point,” Amelia said curtly, ignoring the apology all together.

Seonghwa continued to smile at her. “You absolutely do not, Amelia Lee.” With a quick nod towards the group he strode away towards the staircase.

Hongjoong applied gentle pressure, urging her to also move towards the stairs. “Let’s keep going.” His head dipped low towards her head, lips close enough to brush against her ear.

Obliging to his command, she continued to follow San. Immediately she blinked at the natural light pouring through the expanse of windows on this level. The subtle warmth felt so good on her skin, the air around her fresh and smelling faintly like vanilla. Just like the basement, the main level was lavish from what she could see. The space was immaculate, opening up to a grand foyer with just as grand of a staircase in the center. In its entirety, it was a perfect mix of modern and traditional, although it leaned more heavily onto the modern side. Quickly she found the large front door, quickly noticing the touchpad next to it.

She didn’t have long to survey with Hongjoong leading her up not only the first set of stairs, but also the second, taking them to the top floor of the mansion. Everything was in perfect condition, crisp and clean, light pouring through the many windows. Through them, Amelia saw a large garden and a glass atrium containing a pool. Beyond the landscaping though, she saw the thick brick wall that surrounded the ground. Another obstacle to figure out for her escape.

Turning right, San continued down the hallway until he stopped at a door with yet another touchpad. Unlike the others, this one was wide open. Before San could announce them, Wooyoung popped into the doorframe.

“Amelia!” he exclaimed, greeting her like an old friend instead of a prisoner.

Hongjoong pushed her through the door after him. Amelia fought to keep her jaw from dropping at the room before her.

It was massive. A large king sized bed settled along one wall, a soft gray comforter and endless amounts of pastel pillows arranged methodically on it. The wall in front of her was entirely lined with windows overlooking the backyard and a door that led to a small balcony already adorned with comfortable chairs and a table. Another cozy armchair and small couch surrounded a flat screen TV in another corner of the room. There was also a desk, minifridge, and microwave. Small floral decorations were scattered about, as well as what seemed to be some art supplies.

“Do you like it?” Wooyoung asked softly. “I picked it out.”

“Why?” It was the only thing Amelia could come up with. Why would they put this much effort into a room for her?

She hadn’t noticed Hongjoong entering behind her. “Because contrary to your belief, we do want you to be comfortable here.” He gestured towards the two doors in the room. “Closet on the right bathroom on the left. Both should be stocked, hopefully to your liking, but if there’s anything you need let one of us know.”

“So you bought me clothes… and bras and underwear?” Amelia scowled. “Pervy.”

“WE picked them out,” Wooyoung added with a smile. “Whether or not you think it’s pervy, Hongjoong doesn’t get all the credit because there’s good stuff. Stuff I found, for that matter.”

“Now… rules,” Hongjoong continued, once again ignoring Amelia’s insult. “This room is entirely yours, but we don’t intend on keeping you locked in here. You are allowed out… but one of us must be with you at all times. There’s a button next to the door that will alert us if you do want out and about. We’ll also be by periodically to check on you if you choose to stay in the room.”

“Told you that you’d be spending lots of time with us,” San chirped from the door. Both he and Mingi waited outside, giving Amelia some much needed space despite Wooyoung and Hongjoong being there.

Amelia’s eyes flickered between them, still in shock. Even though she didn’t want to accept it, this was a monstrous upgrade to the concrete dungeon. Additionally, it gave her access to more of the house and more of Hongjoong for her little plan of seduction. It was too good to pass up. So she uttered two words nobody thought she would ever say.

“Thank you.”

Wooyoung beamed at her, while Honjoong’s ears turned an unmistakable shade of pink. San and Mingi were in disbelief, but Mingi’s lips still curled into a small smile.

“We’ll let you be,” Mingi interjected from the doorway. He wasn’t fond of the way Hongjoong was staring at Amelia while she looked about the room and wanted to get him out of there. “Take a shower. I’ll come back and check on you in a couple of hours for lunch since you haven’t eaten anything. Sound good, Amelia?”

She turned and nodded at him. Amelia would rather it be Hongjoong, and judging the look on his face so did he, but her time with him would come. It would be better if he pined after her, anyway.

“Are there cameras in here?” she asked quietly, remembering the cameras covering the cell in the basement.

Wooyoung shook his head. “None.”

“Comfortable, remember?” Mingi added before focusing back on the two men in the room. “Woo, Joong, let’s go.”

Sweeping a hand around her back subtly, Hongjoong leaned in closer. “I'll see you at lunch.”

“Take a look in the closet too, Amelia… you won’t regret it,” Woo smiled when he walked by, following Hongjoong out the door.

San and Mingi lingered for a moment. She didn’t miss the way Mingi’s eyes followed Hongjoong until he was out of the room. The last thing he did before closing the door was throw Amelia a hesitant smile. The unmistakable pinging of the touchpad came through faintly, followed by the dull click of a lock.

Despite Wooyoung’s assurance about the cameras, Amelia tore through every inch of the room in search of a hidden device. In her pursuit, she found herself oddly appreciative of the effort he put into her room. With a few artful touches it could have been something she put together all on her own. It made her wonder just how long the crew had been watching her.

It made her all the more curious about what was hidden within the closet. She opened the door, expecting to find a simple, typical wardrobe. Instead she stepped into the walk-in closet with her jaw on the floor.

Clothes lined half the walls from top to bottom, shoes and accessories intermixed throughout the organized shelving. This was a model worthy closet and nothing she thought Fever would have provided her. Judging by how spot on the styling of clothes was, they must had been following her for weeks.

“What in the hell is actually going on here,” she mumbled to herself as she thumbed her way through some of the clothes.

Maybe a shower would help her get her thoughts aligned, because right now she was entirely confused by this treatment. She expected to be held like a literal hostage in a cage for the rest of her life until it somehow ended or she escaped, not in a fancy furnished room with a promise of being let out into the house, even if that was with supervision. It had her questioning if they were as monstrous as she thought. Well, except for Yeosang.

After she grabbed a matching lounge set, a comfy looking bralette, and underwear she went straight to the bathroom. It was just as extravagant as the rest of the room. The pristine marble countertop already had skin care lined across and she smirked at the sight of it, remembering her conversation with San. A large, enclosed glass shower and porcelain bathtub took up a large portion of the room.

In the linen closet, Amelia found plush towels and extra bathroom supplies. She grabbed one, setting it on the countertop before taking a long look at herself in the large mirror. For being stubborn and not taking advantage of the ragtag shower downstairs, she didn’t look too terrible. Her skin screamed at her, but her makeup remained relatively intact. Her scalp itched and ached from the top knot and she couldn’t wait to wash every inch of her hair and body.

After searching the drawers, she found a brush and took the time to comb out her ratted hair. Turning on the shower, Amelia stripped off her clothes and left them in a crumpled pile on the floor and entered the drizzle. It felt heavenly on her skin, the pressure perfect. The shampoo, conditioner, and body wash were all high end, similar to what she used at home. She’d definitely have to thank Wooyoung, even if she didn’t want to.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that maybe kindness would be a better option for her. As much as she wanted to go down kicking and screaming, she needed to reel them in and somehow build up some sort of warped trust so she could get out of this place. So in the hazy steam of the shower she continued to plan every detail of her escape. If only she could find a way to contact Felix…

But she let that idea swirl down the drain with the rest of the water, not wanting to inadvertently put them in danger. No, her escape needed to happen on her own. And the sooner, the better.

***

Mingi knocked on her door a couple of hours later, waiting for her to assure him it was okay to enter before unlocking the door. Amelia had situated herself on the plush armchair, curling herself up beneath a blanket while she scrolled through the streaming services on the TV. They had absolutely everything, even CrunchyRoll.

“You like anime?” Mingi asked, watching her add her favorites to her list having already taken the liberty of creating her own profile.

“Of course I like anime,” Amelia responded coolly while she added Tokyo Ghoul to the list.

He walked behind the chair, leaning down on his elbows to get a better look at the tv. “You didn’t strike me as an anime type of girl, especially not a Tokyo Ghoul one.”

She looked up to find Mingi perched above and looking at her with a huge smile. “What kind of girl did you take me for then?”

“More of a Hallmark movie one,” he said seriously.

Amelia genuinely laughed. “Well, you couldn’t be more off the mark with that.”

Mingi’s grin widened. “At least I know you have good taste. Tokyo Ghoul is one of my favorites.”

“Well if I want company on my 36th rewatch I know who to come to.”

He rounded the chair, surprised by Amelia’s openness. “Can I sit down?”

At Amelia’s nod he plopped down on the floor in front of the chair, leaning against it so his shoulders brushed against her bent legs. His stretched out endlessly in front of him, arms crossed against his chest while he made comments regarding Amelia’s anime choices and recommending more of his favorites.

Speaking to him was much easier than Amelia anticipated and she found herself quickly falling into it comfortably. She had thought she would have to make the effort to play nicely, but somehow with Mingi it came naturally. Not a thing seemed forced, and he took no offense to any of her sarcastic comments, only matching them with ease. More importantly, he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.

“Are you hungry, Amelia?” Mingi turned to look when he heard her stomach gurgling behind him.

“Nope.” With this, Amelia ws continuing to be stubborn, even though her body ached for something to eat after twenty-four hours without anything but water.

Mingi completely adjusted his body to get a better look. “Your stomach is saying otherwise. Think we’re going to poison you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take the first bites of whatever we give you. If you’re going down, I guess I’m going down too.”

“How very Titanic of you.”

“C’mon, we both know that floaty piece of wood was big enough for both of them,” he stood up, completely dwarfing her and outstretched his hand. “I can show you the rest of the house too, if you’re up for it.”

She eyed him quizzically for a few moments. His pupils somehow became larger and he gave her legitimate boba eyes. All he wanted was for Amelia to feel safe with them, but especially him. He felt an odd sense of guilt with the entire kidnapping, especially since technically he had been the one to do it.

“I won’t hurt you…” Mingi said quietly when he noticed Amelia’s hesitation at taking his hand. He meant it. He didn’t want to hurt Amelia. It was why he went with Yeosang to meet Felix instead of San. If something went awry in the plan, he didn’t want to be the one to pull the trigger.

Finally, Amelia clasped onto it. “Says my literal kidnapper.”

Somehow, his eyes became even wider. “What do you mean-”

“You don’t think I recognize your hands? Or that I wouldn’t realize there was a reason you and San were always with Yeosang? I saw San, just before you covered my face and knocked me out. I may be blonde, but I’m not dumb.” When she stood and met his gaze more fiercely, she could see the hurt in his eyes. For some reason, it bothered her more than it should. “I won’t hold it against you, though. Someone had to do Yeosang’s dirty work.”

Mingi just stood with his mouth open, not knowing how to respond and wondering if he should just deny her claim. But he knew better. Deep down, he knew lying would ruin what he desperately wanted to build with Amelia, as warped as his intentions seemed.

Thankfully, Amelia answered for him. “I’m being serious, Mingi.”

“I’m just waiting for you to spit in my face too,” Mingi laughed nervously, shifting side to side

“Oh honey,” Amelia smirked. “Do you think I’d pull that trick twice? That was a pleasure reserved only for Yeosang. Plus, the angle is all wrong for that right now. You’re too tall… I’m not trying to fight gravity.”

“Any sort of revenge I should be on the lookout for?”

“Maybe a kick to the balls.”

A smile finally returned to Mingi’s face. “I guess that would be deserved. Now, lunch or the house tour first?”

“Let’s see the rest of my prison.”

With another eye roll, Mingi took off towards the door, glancing back to make sure Amelia was following him. Unlike previously when he left the room, the door remained unlocked. He paused outside, wanting Amelia to walk beside him instead of behind. The thought of sprinting straight towards the front door crossed her mind for a split second. Freedom could be closer than she thought possible, but she needed everyone to let their guard down just a bit. They would be expecting her to try something now, so she would not give them the satisfaction of doing so.

Mingi’s tour wasn’t too detailed with him being more concerned about getting food in Amelia’s system. She learned that their bedrooms were split between the top two levels, along with office spaces, and a couple of guest rooms. The main floor housed the ‘fun’ rooms as Mingi put it. In this case it was the library, kitchen, dining room, their conference room, and a couple of different living rooms. The basement was the same, although there was a full gym and more of a movie theater style room hidden there as well. Mingi purposefully omitted anything involving Amelia’s cell, but did let her see the surveillance room even though it was shut down with her absence. He also showed her the way to the pool house, assuring her that after lunch if she wanted to go into it or outside for some fresh air and a walk around their grounds he would take her. Of course she accepted his offer, solely because she wanted to survey the wall. Anything to help plan her escape.

The tour officially ended in the bustling, yet immaculate kitchen. Wooyoung and San were loudly bickering about something while Wooyoung was busy at the stove and San sat at one of the barstools. Seonghwa watched the two of them intently, lip curled into a small smile. Hongjoong sat silently, eyes locked on the laptop in front of him and focused only on whatever played through his headphones. Two more men sat at the countertop, but Amelia didn’t know either of their names. One was as tall or taller than Mingi, but looked much more lean with a well kept mop of brown hair. The other was shorter, but stockier, looking muscular enough but not on the same level as San with clean cut black hair. Noticeably missing was Yeosang, not that his absence upset Amelia anyway. She preferred his absence.

At their entrance, the once loud atmosphere became entirely silent. Amelia was used to having eyes on her, but not like this. But she wasn’t one to let her confidence lapse, even in a situation as fucked up as this. So she strode into the room with Mingi, standing beside him to lean against the island’s counter.

“You’re actually out of the room,” San said with a dumbfounded smirk. “I’m impressed, Mingi.”

Hongjoong slid his headphones off his ears, catching Amelia’s eye before looking pointedly at the seat beside him. However, Mingi latched onto the side of her shirt when she moved to take it. She looked at him with confusion, but Mingi simply shook his head with a furrowed brow. When she made eye contact with Hongjoong again he seemed just as confused as she did. Her plan at getting closer to Hongjoong may be trickier than she thought

“Ah, we should probably introduce ourselves then…” the shorter of the two unknown men began, “My name is Jongho.”

“And I’m Yunho,” the taller one finished.

Amelia put on her best smile. “Hi.”

“Did you like your closet and everything else?” Wooyoung asked expectantly, pausing his stirring of whatever was cooking in his pot.

“Pleasantly surprised, especially with how spot on everything was. Thank you, really.”

Wooyoung’s eyes crinkled with his smile before returning back to his task. “I told you I picked well. Only the best.”

She bit back her snarky comment about the absurdity of it all. There would come a time for more harsh words, and now wasn’t it. Now was the time for them to be lulled into her false complacency and feigned acceptance of her new life.

“Are you joining us for lunch?” Hongjoong asked, eyes going between Mingi and Amelia. Just as Mingi was questioning his intentions with their guest, Hongjoong began to question Mingi’s.

“I’m making pasta, if you want some,” Wooyoung added. “Or there’s plenty of leftovers in the fridge, or I can make you something else or-”

Seonghwa’s soft laughter cut him off. “Calm down, Woo.”

“Regardless of what it is, Mingi gets the first few bites,” Amelia teased, looking up at him beside her.

Yunho furrowed his brow. “Care to explain?”

“Uh, well…” Mingi fumbled with all seven sets of eyes on him. “I promised that I’d taste her food to prove it wasn’t poisoned.”

Everyone erupted into laughter, especially with Amelia’s serious expression. “You all kidnapped me, how am I supposed to be certain you don’t have nefarious intentions with me?” she said without a hint of emotion.

“Our intentions are not to poison you, at least not purposefully,” Seonghwa laughed. “You never know with Woo’s cooking though.”

“HEY! I’M NOT THE ONE WHO ALMOST BURNT DOWN THE KITCHEN!” Wooyoung exclaimed angrily, pointing his wooden spoon at Seonghwa.

Thus ensued more bickering. Amelia sat and watched it unfold, studying the dynamics of the group to get a better understanding of them. They were all extremely close, that was easy to see. Obviously they had to be, considering they chose to live together. She couldn’t help but get caught up in some of what was happening around her, laughing at the insults to Wooyoung’s cooking before he was slathered with compliments.

True to his word, Mingi ate the first four bites of Amelia’s pasta even though Amelia watched Wooyoung finish the preparation of it. To further prove their point, San also took a bite or two. While eating though, Amelia couldn’t help but become curious over Yeosang’s continued absence.

“Does Yeosang not eat?” Amelia asked casually from her seat between Mingi and San.

“Oh he eats,” San said between mouthfuls. “But he’s out with Avery.”

Seonghwa groaned. “Can you not keep anything to yourself, San?”

San narrowed his eyes. “Amelia lives here now. You don’t think she’s going to meet Avery at some point?”

Internally, Amelia cringed at the thought of living amongst them for too long. Outwardly, she kept her kind, curious face. “Avery? Is that Yeosang’s girlfriend?”

Jongho snickered. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He threw his hands up at Seonghwa’s glare. “Really, Hwa? San has a point.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to share these things right away…” Seonghwa mumbled.

Mingi dipped his head towards Amelia, ignoring the new argument around them. “Avery is Yeosang’s… fling. He has many of them,” he whispered. “She’s been around for a couple months though, much longer than the rest.”

Through his voice, Amelia heard a bit of annoyance. Once more, curiosity got the better of her. “I take it you’re not a fan?”

Huffing, Mingi shook his head. Being honest with her about small things like this seemed to be a sure way of building trust. “Most of us tolerate her.” He leaned back up, noticing Amelia’s empty bowl and smiling that she ate finally. “Do you still want to go outside? It’s chilly, but sunny.”

Amelia nodded. “I could do with a bit of sunshine, honestly.”

“Care for some extra company?” Yunho asked with a bit of apprehension.

“How could I resist the tall entourage,” Amelia laughed.

Smiling, Yunho stood up, grabbing Mingi, Amelia, and his plates to take to the dishwasher. When Mingi stood Amelia followed, giving a small smile to those that remained in the kitchen while making sure to catch Hongjoong’s gaze. For a moment, she thought she imagined his wink before returning the headphones to his ears, but Mingi’s scoff reassured her that it wasn’t her imagination.

Things were falling into place more easily than she could have hoped for.

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newgenog · 1 year

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REVENGE

Notes: STILL NOT ready to share part one of chapter six (and am not totally sure that's happening this time around). So, this is another teaser from chapter six.

If you're just stumbling across this, and haven't already done so, please stop and start by reading part one of chapter one.

This #Batwoman AU is based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. Ryan Wilder had just about everything taken from her when we met her, and she was doing her best to get it back. In this version of the story, that means taking some people down along the way. And, she's definitely no hero.

I won't keep you. I'm 35% done w/ this chapter, and have a goal to post it to Ao3 by the last Friday of the month. So, I gotta focus on my focus, and ask for y'all to send me all the positive vibes. Until then, here's another out of sequence and context peek at chapter six.

I appreciate you!

CHAPTER SIX SNEAK PEEK 3

Before retrieving the file they were sent to pick up from Catherine's home office, Evan stops in the kitchen to grab a bottle of Pellegrino for the road. They find Jonathan Cartwright sitting in Tommy's lap, and Beth propped on the table, leaning towards them both.

Jonathan is playing in Tommy's hair, and Evan feels like they walked in on an intimate moment between the three of them, which is emphasized by the audible gasp heard in reaction to the discovery. Beth, Jonathan, and Tommy had gone out after brunch the day before, and Evan didn't think much of it but passed on joining, with the work week resuming the next day. Apparently, they were still going strong. Not knowing what else to do, Evan quickly turns and walks back out of the room. They want to get what they came for, and to banish all other thoughts from their mind. But, they're stopped by someone tugging their arm.

Tommy: "Why did you rush off?"

Evan: "I'm in a hurry."

Tommy: "Because of that…?"

Evan: "Look, I know I'm pretty fluid, but poly just isn't my thing. To each their own, but I personally feel like there's plenty of me to go around and prefer someone who sees me as enough."

Tommy: "Babe, I'm all yours. You don't have to worry about that."

Evan: "Being pretty doesn't make me dumb."

Tommy gets close, so he can speak in Evan's ear.

Tommy: "Of course not. I find your big brain very attractive, but you are also very pretty."

Evan doesn't pull away, but that doesn't mean things are okay.

Evan: "I'm also not easily manipulated. Whatever you're trying to pull on all of them, count me out. I want no parts of it."

Tommy: "I would never-"

Evan: "Wouldn't you though? I find it interesting that you're so suspicious of Robyn, considering. Maybe you've always just been projecting."

Tommy: "Look, I've been honest with you. And I'll continue to be, but neither of us is going to get anywhere if we don't take advantage of our opportunities. I need you to trust me. My success will be yours too. We're in this together, right?"

Evan doesn't know what to say. Kate is important to them, and so is Mary, and Robyn too for that matter. But they can't say they feel an allegiance to the elder Hamilton Kanes, or the evil twin. Moreover, this was only supposed to be a stepping stone, and maybe Tommy was right to remind Evan of that. They might have different tactics for their pursuits, but their goals weren't entirely dissimilar.

Evan: "I don't trust her…"

Evan nods in the direction of the kitchen, indicating Beth.

Tommy: "I'm not asking you to, but she likes to talk, and she doesn't like her parents very much. I'm learning a lot that I can leverage. Proximity to her is advantageous."

Evan sighs, and Tommy places a quick kiss on their cheek as a form of appreciation for the forgiveness.

Evan: "I do have to go. Just remember what I said. And maybe take a shower? I can name every bar you traipsed through last night by how you smell."

And with that, still not totally thrilled, Evan leaves Tommy to whatever he was plotting and orchestrating before they arrived.

~~~~~

To be continued...

I've got two Fridays to finish this chapter. I believe I can do it. Do you? Lie to me if not. LOL!

Hopefully you've been following the Writer and Actor strikes. If not, now's the time to get informed. I support the people that gave us these characters and this story. They deserve to afford to eat and have health insurance while many of them are still in between jobs since they cancelled our show. #PayWriters #PayActors #StopCancellingDiverseShows

#batwoman #wildmoore #ryan x sophie #wildmoore week #ryan wilder #sophie moore #save batwoman #fanfic #lgbtq #wmw23

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journeythroughlifesblog · 1 year

Text

Help au chapter 25.

Red Son did as promised. He only did it for his uncle. He went in embarrassment to the restaurant and found the entire crew there who were in shock.

''Red Son?!''

"Yes that's my name," said Red.

''What are you doing here?!''

''I came...'' and now he didn't know what to say. He couldn't say he had just come to meet them. He had to have some semblance of decency. "I came to eat pasta"

''Seriously?! You?" said MK.

"We somehow don't believe you," Mei said. Red Son rolled his eyes. ''Believe what you want dragon girl. Then can I have that pasta or not?"

"And will you pay?" said Pigsy.

"Of course I will ," he said indignantly.

''Leave him alone. First decent customer," said Pigsy, and set to work.

"But Pigsy is Red Son," MK said. "The person who tried to kill us? Do you remember?''

''If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago and you wouldn't even notice. Besides, I want.. I can't believe I'm saying this.. a truce...''

''Truce?!''

''Why? is that weird? Well, that's how I talk to primitives."

"Wait.. are you here because you just wanted to meet us?" Mei said.

''NO..''

"Okay Red Boy you can stick with us."

"What no.. yhh.. you're annoying"

Red Son sat down at one table. MK and Mei joined him. And they stared at him suspiciously.

"What did you do with that key you stole from us?" Mei said.

"This key turned out to be useless anyway and it's a good thing I took it from you because it was dangerous."

''What? It was just a regular key," said MK.

''No.. it wasn't an ordinary key. I don't have it anymore'

''What? And who has it?''

"My uncle hid it for the sake of the whole world," said Red.

"And who is your uncle?" Mei said.

"A very powerful person you'd better not mess with is all you need to know"

"Uwu.. how mysterious you are" Mei giggled.

Pigsy handed him a bowl of noodles. Red Son took the first bite.

"And how do you like it?" said MK.

''May be''

''What can be?! Maybe?'' Pigsy looked up.

''You know what I prefer spicier food''

Alke Red Son ate and paid. ''At last. A decent customer." Pigsy said.

"So what Red Boy do you want to go with us to the arcade?" Mei said with a smile.

I'm only doing this for my uncle... thought Red and sighed. ''All right..''

Mei dragged Red from the restaurant.

"MK watch out for him," said Pigsy.

''Calm down Pigsy. will be fine''

They spent the whole day together.

''And what about Redboy? Did you like it?" Mei said.

''It was even quite ... cool ... for peasant games ...''

"You won't get bored with us," Mei said. ''Hey.. MK how are you?''

MK thought about it. He was still worried about the monkey king.. "I'm fine" he smiled slightly.

''You dumpling boy? You seem to be worried here."

''MK don't worry. I'm sure the monkey king is fine," Mei said.

"'oh.. are you worried about your.. mentor?" Red said. MK sighed.

''Well, because I feel that he did not tell me the truth.. I am his successor ... and it annoys me that I don't know''

''Noodle boy.. everyone has their reasons..''

''Yeah, but I'm the Monkie Kid and..''

''MK, chill out. Do you have training tomorrow? Yes? Maybe you'll find out tomorrow," Mei said.

"You know what, I'm going home," said Red.

"'Oh.. ok."'

"See you later Red Boy," Mei said. Red vanished into flames.

Guest room. Wukong is sleeping. There was the clatter of machinery.

Red Son sat on the bed next to the king. Wukong opened his eyes.

"Hey.. nephew.. how was it?" he said with a faint smile.

''It was..ok..''

"I knew you'd like them"

''What? NO..''

Wukong just smiled. ''Uncle.. are you sure you can train this MK?''

''I've already made up my mind and I won't change my mind...''

''But in your condition..''

"Red don't worry...Macaque will take care of MK training for now until I can't get up"

''What if you don't get up anymore?''

Wukong looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "Me? can't? Red I just need a little rest to gather my energy... hey, I'm the Monkey King after all. Equal to the heaven''

''I know but..''

''Red will be fine..''

"Do you know that MK is worried about you?"

''He should not...''

''Uncle, everyone here is worried about you. You will tell him?''

''Maybe, but not now...''

Red nodded.

Hi. I'm going on vacation. I probably won't be posting new chapters for a week or two. But don't worry. I can sketch a scene from a some chapter if you want. I will do my best. Just ask. Ok. Thanks for reading 😊

#lmk sun wukong #shadowpeach #sun wukong x macaque #lego monkie kid #lmk monkey king #angst #lmk macaque #liu er mihou #mk lmk #lmk red son #lmk mei #lmk pigsy #jttw tripitaka #jttw sun wukong #monkie kid sun wukong #monkie kid wukong

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chanluster · 3 years

Text

the duke and i | m ; f

“The Duke of Hastings can show you much more than what you write of.”

oneshot | bridgerton! au | f2l! au | 32.3k words

s u m m a r y >> wishing to be a successful writer in the regency period seemed next to impossible for the sole daughter of a dead earl. with arising pressures from your mother to tie the knot, you turn to your dearest friend, hwang hyunjin, duke of hastings and the most eligible, scandalous bachelor of the season, for assistance. when he suggests the insane of idea of marrying each other to help each other, you agree to the proposal, unaware of how much the duke can teach you of the wonders of matrimony.

w a r n i n g s >> noble! reader, duke! hyunjin, hyunjin is a fucking rake, reader is a fucking nerd, also really really innocent, hyunjin is sosososo hot, a lot of teasing, foul language too, endearments, sexual tension, kissing, making out, corruption kink!!!!! corruption! fucking! kink! oral (f. receiving) fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe hoemies!!) orgasming on multiple occasions, there is fluff i promise, yes there is angst, also seungmin cameo of him being a drunk fool, and slight references to regency poets and writers here and there

p l a y l i s t >> here!

t a g l i s t >> @fivefootfuryanon @h0eforhyunjin16 @seoulicitae @linoscult @aliceu @hwangi @shipsaremything98 @babyyynatty @kabira @danyxthirstae01 @sunseokkies @lunefilm @severetimetravelnerd @minaamhh @starry--koo @ninjaleeknow @hyunjeonnies @inlovewithasa @titleisyettobemade @maedesculpaeusoubi @fleeingreality @healinghyunjin

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e >> help i am back from the dead to finally give you bridgerton! hyunjin!! big apologies for taking so long, and i hope you enjoy this whopper :’) thank you for the constant support, and hope you won’t miss me too much while i’m gone ;)

back to masterlist

YOU TURNED THE PAGE OF YOUR BOOK AS YOUR MOTHER REPEATED THE RULES FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME THAT EVENING.

“And remember,” she droned on, voice barely audible from the din of the carriage ricketing across the cobblestone. “You must dance with as many dukes you can get your hands on. Especially those worth over 10,000 a year!”

“As you say, Mama,” you got out, not particularly focusing on her orders, but the characters in your novel, bickering sweetly with each other. You smiled at the heated conversation, marvelling at how the two people did not realise their undying love for each other.

Unfortunately, your mother caught the slight happiness on your face, and simply had to stample it. “Are you even listening to me, child?”

You hummed out a cryptic answer, but that was not enough. “Stop reading that rubbish, ____!” she ordered, trying to seize it from your hands, but you were too quick, keeping it out of her range. “You have a bigger issue at hand here!”

“Leave me be,” you murmured, hugging the novel to your chest, unable to feel its leather due to your long gloves enveloping your fingers.

Of course you knew of the ‘bigger issue’ she would not ever stop speaking of. It was another matter entirely that you did not care for it.

“____, listen to me.”

Groaning, you directed your gaze towards your mother, who looked regal in a light golden gown, shawl enveloping her shoulders. “I know you would much rather have your nose stuck in those silly little novels of yours all day, God knows why.” She brought a hand out, planting it on the silk of your lap. “But that may have been excusable before.”

You understood where she was going with this conversation.

Your father is dead now.

Pursing your lips, you looked out to the tiny window, exposing the other carriages closing up to the huge pathway of the Buckingham estate. The clattering of horseshoes upon the gravel entered your ears, but still could not blank out the information that lingered.

There is no hope for single women in search of a career. Especially if they have no fathers or brothers.

As your own vehicle came to a rest, behind the dozens of others, you held onto your book, a footman opening the door and holding his hand out to your mother. She taking it, you followed suit, dusting away at the dress and tilting your head upwards at the destination.

The Duke of Buckinghamshire could rival the queen herself with his estate — the faded, grey-red brick was alight, orchestral music tuning outside and seducing the guests to enter. Hundreds of windows plastered on the towering walls gave a glimpse of the chaos residing inside, a few couples leaning a little too close behind fans on the sill and men screaming over card game losses. A flourish of men and women adorned in their finest attire rushed to the entrance, the gigantic double doors of the manor welcomed every guest, and you stayed close with your mother as the two of you made your way up the steps, and into the estate.

The interior was even more marvellous — golden chandeliers dangled from the vast, painted ceiling, like glittering diamonds as it shed light on the hallway, servants ready to take any apparel and lead the way to the ballroom. Marble floors glistened as your eyes skimmed over the crowd, looking for a specific person among the riches.

Your mother, finding the host of this ball, patted your shoulder as she began to hurry into the main hall. “Come, my child,” she said as she tugged you along, “I shall reacquaint you with Her Grace.”

Before you could object, the woman rushed into the ballroom, the music louder as the orchestra resided right at the end of the hall, playing its sultry tune to the dancers emerging in the centre. You wished to study the place further, but were turned to face a large duchess of overwhelming dress, red skirts flowing and feathers of the same colour jutting out from her updo.

“Ah, Lady ____!” the Duchess of Buckingham greeted with a shark’s smile. “Lovely to see you back in society. So soon, might I add.”

You had a right mind to say that it was against your wishes, but your mother chipped in, “You know how it is, Your Grace. When one has an unmarried daughter one can only stay in society until that is undone.”

“Rightly so.” the Duchess brought her fan to her chin, studying you thoroughly. “My sweet, you are a pretty girl.” Her eyes landed on the book you held. “But bringing a novel into a ballroom? Do you not wish to socialise at all?”

“Perhaps not tonight,” you said with as much disappointment as you could muster. “The Dashwood sisters will entertain me well enough.”

The Duchess could not respond as you bowed lightly and left your mother’s side, rushing past the other men and women of titles before they could converse with you. Your eyes skimmed the crowd, in search of a particular man, but the amount of guests made it incredibly difficult.

The dancing continued on, laughter ringing throughout the hall as you secluded yourself in a corner, next to the refreshments. The wondrous scent of cakes, pastries and other deserts seduced your senses, but you restrained your temptations as you sat upon an ornate chair placed beside the tables of food.

An unfamiliar lord, as if waiting for you to be at peace, walked over to your side, and you had to contain your disdain as you instantly deduced the motivations behind his coming over.

Reaching out his gloved hand to you, he asked the most irritable question.

“May I have the first dance with you, my lady?”

Brilliant. You looked up at him, plastering a tight smile upon your face. “I deeply apologise, sir,” you began, opening your book. “I am afraid my firsts are promised to another.”

Confused, he tried again. “How about the next dance, then?”

Why was he being so persistent? “I shall see,” you replied, not outright rejecting him, but hoping that he understood the implications behind your lack of acceptance.

Beyond puzzled, he hesitantly dipped his head in adieu, wondering at his rejection as he thankfully left you alone.

It was not like you were lying to him — your firsts for everything had been promised to another man. You were just fortunate enough to use that to your advantage.

Glancing over the crowd one last time in search of that particular man, you dove into the novel, hoping he stayed lost in the crowd for the night.

A sad smile exposed itself on your face.

The thought of Jane Austen gaining little acclaim for the writings in your hands crushed you. Maybe that contributed to her publishing anonymously, but still — everyone knew she was the lady behind your favourite works.

In general, there was simply no other form of joy for you other than reading the works of women. The soul of your gender had only ever been captured by the writings created by ladies of your age and mentality. It almost felt like you possessed a personal connection with them when you read these novels; It felt like that Austen understood you on an emotional level, a degree not many people could comprehend.

You dearly wished you could write such flawless books yourself.

A slight frown enveloped your lips.

As if your mother would let you. Or any man she marries you off to.

Progressing further into the novel, you became so engrossed that you did not notice another man walking to where you were isolated, the soft leather boots near silent on the marble floor. You wished you had perked up at his presence, but you did not realise him there until he got hold of your book.

And snatched it right out of your hands.

A gasp escaped you, features twisting into anger as your eyes followed the origins of such fingers, closing your novel with a snap!

“Of course I see you engrossed in a book rather than in another man’s arms.”

The roll of your eyes was inevitable.

Because before you was the Duke of Hastings, smiling like a pirate finding long-lost treasure.

Your answering grin was more a flash of teeth. “No man is ever as interesting as a good book.”

Clicking his tongue, he plucked a flute of champagne from the table next to you. In truth, Hwang Hyunjin, unfortunately, was one of the most fascinating men you had ever encountered. The greatest giveaway was his appearance — the lean, delicate figure, elevated by his gorgeous features. His eyes, the colour of bitter coffee, shone with mischief as the glass settled on his plush lips, tilting his head back so his lustrous golden curls fell from his shoulders.

His hair alone sent a shockwave through the city. The gentlemen in society spent their time in the barbers’ salons after his new appearance at Lord Lee’s spring ball, and although they aspired, they simply could not compete.

Your best friend was a sacred image no being could ever attempt to replicate.

Releasing a dreamy sigh, he propped the empty flute back on the table, dusting away at his cream-coloured tailcoat. The trousers of the same colour hugged his legs perfectly, tightening at his thighs. “Now, ____,” he began, holding out his free hand before you. “It is time for a human being to entertain you.”

You raised your chin in challenge. “And what if I were to say no?”

The scoff that escaped his lips dared you to try.

“You cannot escape me, angel. Alas, you have promised your firsts to me.”

Grimacing at the truth, you eyed the object he had seized from you, crossing your arms. “What about my novel?” you asked. “I cannot let you discard it in any old place.”

“How about this?” He took a step closer to you. “I will keep hold of it as we dance.”

“And how will you do that, blondie?”

The man narrowed his gaze at the term — a nickname you had established the moment he had revealed his golden locks to you, to his utter dismay. “Well, darling,” he mused, the hand hovering closer, “You are going to have to accept me first.”

First. Always him as your first.

Of course, you were never the one to refuse the Rake of London.

So, making sure you exaggerated as much disdain as you could, you grabbed onto his hand, feeling the determined tug of his hold as he led you to the dance floor. Finding a fairly empty spot among the dozens of other couples, he fully interlocked your fingers with his, snaking the book-held hand around your waist. Feeling the hard leather on your back, you let out a hum of approval as you propped your free hand on his shoulder.

“If you dare drop the book, Hyunjin,” you warned, digging your gloves further into the fabric. “I will tread on your boots.”

His answer was patting your prized possession behind your book. “You worry as if you don’t tread on them anyway.”

As the orchestra began, so did his feet, commencing the dance.

You saw his eyes wander, pausing at a particular image which made him smirk knowingly at you. “I think you should be worrying more about your mother.”

Fearful, you followed his line of sight. There she was, talking to the other countesses with smiles and frivolous laughter as she pointed to your general direction. Their sons pursued her finger, and as they caught sight of you, you gulped. A small chuckle huffed out of your partner. “I think I might see you engaged at the end of the evening.”

“Do not even utter such words!” you exclaimed. “I will either die a successful writer or die a spinster.”

“You do know you can be an author while you are married,” Hyunjin pointed out, turning you about the room.

Shaking your head at his statement, you countered, “That could not be further from the truth! Do you remember Lady Andrews?” An absent-minded shrug was his answer. “Well, she lives up north now, but she once confided to me that she wished to be a painter. Guess what happened to her?”

“I assume this is the part where you attack marriage.”

“Yes! Because her life was ruined after she was wedded to some wretched old viscount!” You shuddered depicting the details. “In the last letters she wrote to me, she spoke of her easels and paints being taken away from her. God, it enraged me when she begged the heavens for any kind of assistance to be rid of the man, but after she became with child, there was no escape.”

Sensing your fingers clenching onto him tighter, the duke instinctively patted the small of your back with your book. “I cannot risk such chains, Hyunjin,” you guttered. “I may not have much freedom now, but it is still better than none.”

Allowing yourself to be twirled by your friend, he brought you back into his arms. His silence, although heavy, was temporary, as his eyes settled on you. “Not every man wants to imprison their wife, ____.”

You did not bother remarking on the statement. “What about your own marital status?” you asked, changing the subject slightly. “Have you not found yourself a nice girl from the many you speak to?”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Speak to,” he parroted softly, as if in disbelief. “The ladies that I...merely speak to...their families are a nightmare.” The repetition confused you, but you persisted until he pressed his lips in an unamused line. “I just...do not want to marry these women. I do not feel any sort of affection for them.”

After a moment of quiet, you let out a huff of laughter. “Look at us, blondie.” You gestured to the crowds around the two of you, the chaos of it all. “Both of us are plagued by pressures of matrimony.”

The music began its path to the crescendo, instruments sounding louder with every second your feet moved in tune to your friend’s. “It seems the value our freedoms too much to sacrifice it forever.”

He did not respond, eyes lost beyond you and the entire ball. His fingers upon yours tightened slightly, feeling the drum of his hands reverberating upon the book latched on your back. You cocked your head slightly, studying his faraway expression, wondering what matter had gained his interest so deeply. It was not an easy feat to gain Hyunjin’s attention.

As the violins sang out higher, the man’s grip on you loosened, almost as he became transported in his mind, losing all grasp on the reality he shared with you. Only when you smacked him lightly on the shoulder did he blink back, staring at you with mild irritation. “Hello?” you said, waving your gloved hand over his face. “Earth to Hyunjin?”

“Ah, um...sorry, angel,” he muttered, looking away as he picked up the pace of the dance once more. “I was just thinking.”

“Of what?” you asked, and when you caught the hesitancy in his gaze you groaned at him. “Oh, do not tell me you are thinking of some poor lady once again!”

“No!” he began, but then he frowned, shaking his head. “Well, yes, I...I suppose I was thinking of a certain lady.”

You grinned. “God help her, then.”

There was another moment of quiet among the buzz of the ball when he spoke again. “____.”

Your stare remained on his face. “Yes?”

As you kept watching him, you witnessed a slight blush arise on his cheeks. “So, um...as you said, correctly, that we both highly value our freedom…”

Not quite understanding, you drawed, “Yes?”

“And of course, you know how we are the best of friends,” he carried on, eyes boring into you, as if you were some child who needed extra explanation. “You know, how everything I would ask of you would be in our best interests.”

A raised brow was your response to his rambling. “Hyunjin…what is the matter?”

He stopped, realising he could not meander any further. Sharp sigh escaping, he proposed a plan which had been haunting his mind since the dance.

“I think you should marry me, angel.”

The words caused you to still completely. Not a very wise decision, considering the dance was still in motion, resulting in Hyunjin stumbling forward into you. His tugging hands had you continuing, albeit with much more shock.

“What…” your insides threatened to retch out of your mouth. “What did you just say?”

“No, no, listen to me for a moment!” He clamped his lips together, searching for the right words to argue his point with. “Now I know marriage is something you have disliked—”

“Dislike?” A scoff. “I think you mean absolutely detest!” You saw him almost flinch at your snarl. “How dare you even suggest such a thing to me?!”

“I know, damn it!” he exclaimed, discomfort clear in his voice. “But if you would hear me out!”

“And what is this plan you speak of, Hyunjin?” you seethed, suddenly tempted to ram your heeled slipper into his boot.

The man looked much in need of escape from this situation, but he merely twirled you about once more, the climax of the music about to begin. “I am very aware of your hatred against matrimony, and believe me when I say that I share in your disdain. Have I not complained of the very ceremony when mothers from every corner of London came to insist for their daughters’ hands?

Grumbling, you nodded. “Exactly, so obviously I must have a good reason why I spoke of this matter.”

“Well, spit it out, then!” you snapped. “It already sounds outrageous.”

With the instruments chanting louder, he commenced. “We both have a dilemma with marriage, especially concerning the burden. Your biggest problem is the freedom being taken from you. Mine is having to live with a woman I have no feelings towards.”

He continued, feet moving quicker and quicker to the melody of the music. “But see, if we wed each other, then those problems would be solved instantly!”

You looked at him as if he was insane. “You do realise that I would still be married. My scrap of independence would be snatched from me anyway.”

“That would be true if you were marrying some silly old lord, who had no interest in you other than your titles.”

His hand on your back pulled you a little closer. “But you see, angel, you would be marrying me.”

Around and around, the two of you whirled, never stopping for a second to the music. “And you have known me long enough to know that I would never stop you from pursuing your passions.”

Higher the melody climbed, lost to your ears as your eyes widened.

His words rang through you with every note that escaped the instruments, sailing through the crescendo that washed over the ball. “You...you would let me write?”

Hyunjin furrowed your brows. “Did you think any different?” he asked, quite offended by your surprise. “Did you really expect that kind of behaviour from me?”

You did not hide your fears. “You may be my dearest friend, but you are still a man.”

That had him twisting his mouth into a scowl. His hands on you clenched harder. “You know me better than that, darling.”

You did, in fairness. The Duke of Hastings, leading you along this dramatic waltz, had been a constant in the entirety of your life. It was in these very balls that he had happened to stumble upon you, a child barely touching your second decade with a children’s book buried in your face. He, the exact same age but with much more excitement, snatched that book from your hands and made you leave your seat, chasing the boy around the ballroom till you burst into tears. After that rather unfortunate event, you vowed never to be in the same room as him, but you somehow ended up being his best friend instead.

Maybe it was because both of you had overbearing parents, driven by pressures of society and personal expectations. Or maybe it was the simple notion that after a while, you began to enjoy his eccentric behaviour and rather addictive smiles.

Perhaps it was better that way, too. For you could not imagine life without Hwang Hyunjin.

Your gaze was apologetic. “I do, blondie,” you supposed, but you steeled yourself once more. “But I have a condition!”

“And what condition would that be?” he asked, swirling you around and around, waiting for the climax to strike any second. The ladies around you were breathless, ecstatic, the gentlemen smug, but you and the duke had only business in your minds.

“Promise me that we remain the same,” you said, never leaving his sight when the music boomed across the ballroom, raw melodies dancing along with everyone within the four golden walls. His grip on you was firm, unflinching as he spun you across the marble floor one last time, dark boots never missing a single note as he nearly swept you away from the chaos of society. “Promise me that you and I will not change.”

And as the music drifted to an end, he finally slowed down. There was a moment of silence, heavier still under his stare.

“I cannot promise you that.”

His next words sent the strangest sensation down your spine.

“For we would not be friends anymore. We would be husband and wife.”

The ballroom erupted into applause.

You blinked back at the new noise, head darting at the couples beginning to clap at the ended dance. Although the others began to depart, the two of you lingered on the floor, hands still clasped.

His stare never faltered. “I cannot promise you that,” he repeated, slowly shaking his head. “Nor can I guarantee you continuity.

“What I can promise, though, is that I will not take away your freedom. You may write as much as you wish.”

It was then his hold on you eased, stepping away as he held out the book — never dropped from his hand, but firm as he brought it before you, a silent offer.

“What do you say, angel?” His gaze was impenetrable. “Will you be my wife?”

Among the lords and ladies, there was only you and him.

You and him against the world.

It was difficult, finding allies in a time you lived in. Reminded of your mother, you had a terrible feeling that only doom would fall upon you if you refused his help.

With good reason, too. No man could match what Hyunjin offered. No man would ever let you pursue your literary passions.

Not a singular male in this society would ever care for your basic freedom, other than he.

Another first, then.

So, in the middle of the ballroom, with your mother watching, you held onto the book, gripping it with a firm promise.

You dared not depart from the Duke of Hastings’ stare.

“Yes, blondie.”

You exposed a smile, a mocking quirk in your brow.

“A thousand times yes.”

THE WEDDING HAPPENED QUITE IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT NIGHT.

You insisted the wedding be small and intimate, for the ceremonies were already boring enough, but both your mother and Hyunjin insisted it be a grand occasion.

The two of you tied the knot at Fulham Palace, a most esteemed estate dating back centuries, adorned in the finest flowers and gifts of nature surrounding its red-bricked walls. You had been there often in your childhood, due to the place being situated at the heart of your friend’s lands outside of the city, but seeing it decorated for your own wedding elevated the speciality of this abbey.

Many of London’s lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses had rushed to your invitation, fawning over the festivities and seated impatiently on the uncomfortable seating to await your arrival. Your friends, some bridesmaids, prepared your hair and fixed your dress, ordering everyone to take their places and sounding the instruments behind the altar to begin playing.

In truth, the ceremony was a blur.

Because this whole occasion was merely a plan, you did not deign to remember the memorable details of each event, the people who came or even the words recited by the priest.

However, the one figure you could not forget was your best friend.

No, you could not forget his face as you walked up to him slowly. It was a sight you had seen him expose only a few times in his life, when he would observe a flower open its petals in the morning, or regard a particular enchanting piece of artwork in an exhibition, which he would refuse to walk away from. You had raised a quizzical brow at him then as you slid the ring upon his finger, but he only offered you a wink, expression fading when the priest addressed you both.

Of course, another little detail you distinctly remembered was the declaration. The words which sealed a woman’s imprisonment.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Your gaze had darted to Hyunjin at that, finding him staring at you already. Meeting his gaze, you found the comfort you hoped you would receive.

The Duke of Hastings will not throw you into the cages of matrimony.

This very thought had relieved your nerves as you thanked every guest who congratulated you on the wedding, a few friends wiggling their eyebrows and wishing luck for the honeymoon. You waved them off, not really understanding the connotations, but carried on struggling at the reception until the sun had descended, and it was time for everyone to return home.

That very evening, the two of you set off for this particular honeymoon.

You bid your farewells to your mother, she much too emotional for your liking, and because Hyunjin had no parents to bid his farewells to, the wedding carriage was up and running before the moon had taken reins of the night sky.

Conversation never ran dry as you journeyed out of the din of London and into the countryside. Your destination was a couple of hours away, so rest was mostly out of the question as the carriage sped on, eager to get the newlyweds to their new home.

It was well into the night when you arrived at Hemingford Manor, one of the many estates Hyunjin had ownership of ever since his father’s passing. Engulfed within the lush nature of Cambridgeshire, the little estate exuded a comfortable sort of radiance which you would expect from warm fires of winter. The gardens surrounding its walls was a whole maze of trees, bushes and an assortment of flowers, heightening its already ancient regality.

The arrangements were made immediately, a small household welcoming you at the door as they took your luggage, unpacking everything as Hyunjin showed you around. It was extremely intimate, you noticed, every feature of any room possessing an unusual air well before your time, almost telling a story of theirs from centuries ago.

He brought you to the bedroom, the grand bed instantly in sight as it’s curtains were fully drawn around its wooden columns, bedsheets black and red with gold thread stitched in swirls at the hems. Two ornate chairs sat beside the windows, and a huge dresser sat opposite the bed, beside it the door to the en-suite bathroom. Oil paintings littered the red walls of his ancestors, noticing your friend’s portrait made in his youth. The entire room radiated warmth, and you found yourself easing completely in his den.

“Well, I guess I should prepare for sleep,” you began, shrugging off your coat, walking over to the chairs and settling it upon one of the arms.

Hyunjin blinked back, as if his thoughts had been interrupted. “Ah, yes, of course.” He gestured to the bed. “You can have this room. I can stay in the one next door.”

You looked at him as if he was insane. “Do a husband and wife not share the same bedroom?”

“Well—” the man put his hands on his hips. “Yes, but I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” You stepped towards him, quite offended. “Have you forgotten when we would sleep in the same bed whenever I stayed at yours for the summer?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “We were children then, sweetheart. The situation is quite different now.”

“No, it is not,” you countered, matching his stance. “You were my dearest friend before, and you are my dearest friend now. That will always stay the same.”

That certainly quietened his tongue. He studied the stubborn quirk of your lips before sighing, unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Fine,” he quipped. “But I will not hesitate to throw you off the bed if you hog the sheets!”

You only offered him a scoff in response.

As the both of you began to ready yourself for bed, you opened your bag, making sure your papers were still intact. Counting up your drafts, you hummed in satisfaction before tying up the bag once again, setting it beside the dresser. Now, in your white nightgown, you went to the grand bed, slipping into the sheets.

Grabbing hold of Pride and Prejudice, you continued reading from where you left off as you waited for Hyunjin to be suitably dressed for slumber. You hoped he would take longer than usual, but he disappointed you, as the fool always does, by arriving much earlier, frilled-collared shirt all loose and trousers all slack.

The minute he saw you reading, he let out a groan. Leaning over, he snatched the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, trying to take it back, but he stretched his hand away from you, propping it not-so-gently upon his bedside table. “Oh my God, not that harshly, you oaf! The book could tear!”

“I do not care!” He jeered, sliding into the sheets, propping his elbow so his hand supported his head. He swiped his locks away from his face, showing his full irritation. “Having your nose in a book on our wedding night!”

“Mr. Darcy was entertaining me just fine,” you sniped, crossing your arms. “You just had to be a Wickham and ruin the whole experience.”

“If this Wickham is a gift from the Lord Himself, then damn do I accept his name with pride!”

His ignorance made you laugh. Sliding your eyes to him, you matched his position, snuggling further into the pillows. “What does one even do on the wedding night anyway?”

Hyunjin’s amusement faltered at this, plush mouth parting ever so slightly.

The Duke knew exactly what one does on the wedding night.

As he raked his gaze over you, you waiting patiently for his answer, he wondered whether he should answer you truthfully. Tell you that he should be towering over you, kiss those pretty lips until they’re swollen and spit-slick, and take off that nightgown and uncover you before the stars. It was only customary, but the thought had his insides churning.

So he decided completely against it, to his absolute disappointment.

“How would I know? It is my first marriage as well.”

“Yes, but you’re aware of the ladies, and the gossip.” You leaned closer to him, unaware that the man’s heart halted for a second at the mere action. “When the guests were wishing me luck on my honeymoon they kept chuckling like children, as if they were in on a secret I was excluded from.”

“To hell with the guests, angel.” Hyunjin patted on your pillows, urging you to put your head down. “Our joining was very different from theirs. We can make our own rules.”

“Finally, an intelligent word from you!” You declared, but yelped as he pressed his hand on your head, sending you to the cushions. “Too harsh!”

“As I said, own rules,” he reminded you, a smile curling his lips. “Now please sleep! It is well past midnight.”

You shook your head no, resting your head in your arms. “Come on, Hyunjin! We have the whole night to ourselves, and you wish to sleep?”

Yes, he very much did. Because if he kept looking at you, excited and giggly and adorable, the tight leash he kept on himself would snap.

He could not have his hands on you on the very first night. Not when you had no knowledge of what that meant.

“Well then,” he started, using all the strength in him to not curl a stray lock around your ear. “Tell me of your writings.”

His request had you face burning. “Never.”

The man made a face. “What?” He demanded, nudging you with his fingers. “Now you must tell me!”

“No, not now,” you hurried off, hiding your face in the pillows. God, the thought of your friend reading anything of yours made you sick to the stomach. “Argh!”

“But why?” he asked, a beginning of a pout etching onto his lips. “Do you not trust me, even though I have tolerated you for all these years?”

You turned to him again, furrowing your brows. “I do trust you!” You reassured him. “And I will tell you at the right time. Just...not at this moment.”

When you saw a frown develop on his face, you pouted at him, shame coursing through your bones. “To tell you the truth, Hyunjin, I am just embarrassed. It is so rough at the moment, so I want to show you the very best.”

“But I want to see everything,” he muttered. “Your worst and your best.”

“And you will see it!” You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his slender hand. The boy gaped at you at the sudden contact, but you continued. “You will be the first to see my drafts. I give you my word.”

The honest consolation brought the duke to a stillness. Hand enveloped by your fingers, he watched you await his reaction.

Being the first to see your private writings was truly an asset. A special secret he would never share to another.

“I wait patiently for that time, then,” he said, offering you a smile which melted your heart. “Now, I beg, sleep!” he added, bringing the sheets up to your chin. “I can tell you’re exhausted.”

Knowing your whining would be of no use, you looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Fine, you absolute bother.” You closed your eyes. “Goodnight, blondie.”

A small chuckle escaped him, never forgetting the hold you had over his hand. He regarded over your resting figure, curling ever so slightly next to him, and he just could not help himself.

Stretching out his other hand, his fingers tucked away your stray locks from your face, curling them behind your ear. The smile ghosted on his lips, and only then he sank further into the pillows.

“Goodnight, angel.”

MARITAL LIFE WAS NOT AS TERRIBLE AS YOU IMAGINED IT TO BE.

A couple of weeks had passed as this ‘honeymoon’ period progressed in Hemingford, and you were beginning to settle in quite nicely to the peaceful time. The birds never ceased to chirp joyfully around the manor, the nature which engulfed the two of you like another living being surrounding you, silent yet welcoming.

The scenery was perfect for someone like you, who was waiting for an environment like this to bring out the papers and put that inspiration to use. Hours rushed by as you sat under the trees beside the manor, writing away the scenes in your head as the maids brought you food. A few of those hours may have just been wasted on daydreaming, but that was the beauty of this entire situation — you simply had the time to waste in this retreat.

Hyunjin had been more than satisfactory: he always came to dine with you for all meals, never concluding conversation, and made sure to accompany you on walks around the lands. Everytime you would step into new landmarks he would instantly recall the history behind it, explaining the work his forefathers had done on the manor, and lead you along till the sun followed you two down the horizon.

You had initial fears. Just because he was your best friend before, it did not predict what his behaviour would be after marriage. You had heard many marital horror stories during the seasons of London society, and each one was worse than the last. Although you always knew the duke could never hurt you, there was no trusting the opposite sex. Fortunately for you, he rid those doubts from your mind, and maybe you began to have faith in the future.

There was, however, a downside to your new husband.

“Why will you not show me the drafts?!” he whined for the last time, following you into the house. Rolling your eyes for the millionth time, you took off your bonnet, handing it to the maid nearby. “I have waited long enough!”

“I do not have to explain myself to you!” you argued back, grabbing your skirts as you rushed up the stairs, Hyunjin right at your heels.

The man was much too quick, overtaking you instantly and barring you from stepping into the hallway. A groan was your reaction. “Let me through!” you ordered.

“Tell me what your book is about.”

“I am not telling you anything!”

He curved closer to you, blond locks sliding off his shoulders. “Why?” he hissed, and you stayed stubborn as his hand on the bannister snuck closer to yours. “What have you written in there that is so exclusive?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, crossing your arms.

It was not like you had written an anti-Duke of Hastings manifesto. Once again, it was just your humiliation — although you loved to write, there was absolutely no way you could ever willingly show him your work as of this moment.

You could not have your best friend be disappointed by your creations.

So you turned completely on your heel, descending down the stairs.

“Hey!” you heard the man shout as you stepped into the entryway, picking up your book. “Where are you going?”

“To talk to the trees!” You looked over your shoulder, making sure to give him a glare.”Because I know they will not argue back!”

Before he could speak any more, you thundered out of the house, taking Pride and Prejudice with you.

An enraged sigh escaped you, walking rapidly into the maze of hedges as you tried to stroll the anger away. When these silly arguments occurred, you began to wish that you had never told him of your work in progress. You could have just admitted that you liked to write, and feared that any other men would rob you off that hobby.

And on the last day of your honeymoon, too. Maybe you should have told him you were illiterate instead.

Settling yourself upon the white wooden bench, right beside the forest, you opened up your book, gritting your teeth still as you immersed yourself in the world of Elizabeth Bennet. Although progressing, your thoughts drifted to another man who did not reside in the pages, and you found yourself even more aggravated.

Damned the beautiful bastard. Of course you were going to tell him of your writings. Why could he not simply wait?

The thought had you rigid on the bench as you read on, the mere wind and trees your silent company as you read away your rage. The duke did not come searching for you — it was for the better, because if he tried you would have ran away from his stalking figure.

Night ascended from the horizons, and as the sun retreated so did you, back into the manor, book at your side. You nodded to the guards who opened the huge doors for you, letting you inside as you went straight for the stairs, void of the man who refused to let you pass.

Dim lights illuminating the way, you walked right up until your bedroom door greeted you, and when you saw Hyunjin, leaned back in the ornate chair as he looked out of the window, you paused at the entrance.

Although your steps were quiet, he turned his head to you. His features held a veil of unreadable emotions, cemented by the slight down curve of his mouth.

You scowled at him as you stepped inside. “I am not showing you the drafts.”

He closed his eyes, nodding. “As you wish.”

You removed your coat, a brow raising. “I won’t show them to you tomorrow either.”

“As you say.”

Another brow joined its partner. “Nor will I show you them the next week.”

“Of course.”

What was this sudden change? “Hyunjin, are you unwell?”

“I am perfectly adequate, darling.”

The endearment had you frowning further. “Fine,” you muttered, knowing he was hiding something from you. “I will be inside, taking a bath.”

You were about to enter the bathroom when his voice halted you.

“____?”

Looking over your shoulder, you answered, “Yes?”

The man let out a soft sigh, crossing his leg over the other. “I...I wanted to say that I apologise for my persistence.”

Now that was a statement you were not expecting. You opened your mouth, but closed it, thinking it was for the better, and instead leaned at the doorway.

“I…” he clasped his hands. “I realised that as I insisted and shouted, I was becoming the very man you wished to avoid. That is the last thing I want for us. If you are uncomfortable in showing me your writings, that is fine. A husband, most of all a best friend, should respect that decision.”

His eyes lifted to yours, pinning you with a fierce stare. “I will not persist with you anymore.”

You found yourself unable to break this stare as you, too, locked your hands together, biting your bottom lip at this turnout.

The duke had never apologised for anything.

In the many years you had known him, he would always stand by his decisions, even if they turned out to be disastrously against his favour. His stubbornness refused to let him submit to the other, and you had watched him have his boney backside beaten almost every week for it.

Hearing the plea for forgiveness had certainly changed that perception.

You took a few steps toward him, willing your hands at your sides as his gaze followed.

Was the denial really necessary? The poor man only wished to take a glimpse into your mind. Was that too much for him to ask for?

No. You had to stay upright. So what if he apologised? He should have! The man had caused a ringing in your ears from the arguing.

But now, even though the entire time your body repulsed at the thought before, you found yourself reaching for your satchel.

His eyes did not leave your hands as you brought out the papers, dumping your bag beside his feet. You held them out, knowing there is no way out of your actions.

“Here.”

Hyunjin looked at the papers as if they were hemlock. “Why are you showing me your drafts?”

You pursed your lips. “Because I want you to eat them.”

“I have no appetite for paper this evening, I’m afraid.”

The attitude had you warning, “Do you want to read it or not?”

He regarded you with an adorable puzzlement. “Darling,” he started, and the word had you raising it closer to him. “You do not have to show me. I cannot have you forcing to do something which you do not—”

“You’re not.”

He paused. Kept that beguiling stare upon you. You carried on, “Hyunjin, I need you to understand that it was never anything personal. It was me just...not really believing in myself.” Gently putting the small stack of papers in on his lap, you locked your hands behind your back. “But I gave you my word on our wedding night. And the day you proposed, and the day I realised you were a dear friend to me.

“You will be my first for everything. Especially in the goals and dreams I treasure the most.”

The duke’s eyes enlarged, darting to the drafts settled on his thighs and then to you, capturing your lip between your teeth in nervousness. He wished ardently that you would break that habit, for if you kept at it he might just grab your face and continue for you.

My first for everything. The declaration had his stomach turning in on itself. He knew he had been there for many of your firsts, but saying it out loud was something else. Saying it out loud meant you were aware of that fact as well.

So unimaginable, that you did not even realise the impact you had on him. So unbelievably innocent, eyes searching for his answer, desperate for consolation, when he had completely different matters in mind.

By God, if you did not turn around and leave him, he would let the control on him falter.

“I...I need to take a long bath, Hyunjin,” you said, finding his stare unusually penetrating. “By the time I am done you would have finished reading half of it.”

Turning, you stalked back to the bathroom, looking over your shoulder as you took a step inside. “No sweetening the feedback.”

You did not wait for his answer as you went inside, shutting the door.

Both of you, not realising that the other was doing so, let out a quivering sigh.

Something was amiss.

There was this...tension. You did not know the origin, but you knew it was there, underlying and creeping closer. Hyunjin was unusually quiet. Compliant even. A small part of you feared that maybe you should not have given him the most vulnerable possession in your care.

Deciding to fill the hot water in the bath yourself, you got on with your task, filling buckets of water in the copper bathtub till it nearly overflowed. Once done, you got rid of your clothes, and stepped inside. You instantly relaxed as the warmth of the water soaked your skin, calming your nerves, which were running high moments before.

As you progressed with using the soap, you distinctly heard the pages turning in the room next door. Scrubbing yourself, you hoped that the man was enjoying your words, or else you were never leaving this bathtub again.

At one point, you leaned your head back, closing your eyes as the water, now mixed with the scent of roses, lapped lazily against you. Your thoughts, once again, wandered to the man a wall away from you — what was he thinking? You wished you were there beside him, witnessing his reactions to the actions, dialogue, romance you had added in there.

Maybe that was the real problem. The couple you had added in this story had a strong relationship, but because you yourself had never experienced any sort of star-crossed love, you did not particularly know how to portray the raw romance. Still, you made sure they held hands in the ballroom at chapter 49. That was the pace in every other book you read, anyway.

After what seemed like a whole night later, you finally got out of the water, drying yourself with the towel hanging beside the tub. Grabbing your white nightgown, you donned the light dress, keeping it as loose as possible as you tried to dry your hair further, opening the door.

When you looked up, you saw the duke, head down, scanning through the papers with a face so focused it worried you. You made to say his name, but his hand shot up, silencing you. He did not even glance at your figure, bringing the hand back to swipe a finished page.

A little smile appeared on your lips. Is he...invested?

Does he enjoy your writing?

Another ten minutes of observing him, and he put the last paper down.

Slowly, he tilted his head upwards, turning to where you stood. His face expressed something cryptic — unable to decipher the emotion which swirled beneath his dark, glinting eyes.

He then let out a scoff.

“Darling, I need you to sit.” He gestured beside him, on the edge of the bed. “Right here.”

Perplexed, you obliged, settling yourself on the soft sheets, watching him heave off his chair, the last piece of your draft still in hand. He began a pace back and forth across the room, shaking his head as he turned at every end.

The pacing began to concern you. “Hyunjin, is something the matter?” you asked, hands grabbing tufts of your nightgown. “If you really wish to walk then you have all of Cambridgeshire waiting.”

“Tell me, dearest,” he said, still thundering across the room. “Remind me why you did not want to show me your drafts.”

That was an usual first comment. “Umm...because I was embarrassed about my writing?”

Your answer made him stop. Whirl to your direction.

“Ah, yes!”

His features twisted into anger.

“Such poppycock!”

You blinked back. “I-pardon?”

“No, you shall not be pardoned!” he exclaimed, pointing at you with the stash of papers. “Not when you have written something like this!”

“Hyunjin, what do you mean?”

The man nearly ripped his hair out.

“____, you have written a bloody masterpiece!”

Your entire body stilled.

“I...I did what?”

“Wrote a masterpiece!” He swiped through the pages, lighting up at each word that passed his gaze. “A bestseller! An award winning novel!”

A smile worked its way onto your lips. “You...you really think so?”

Sighing out in exasperation, he set the papers upon the desk as he began to lose his initial anger. “How could you be embarrassed about something so beautiful?” He put his hand on the gold chair, leaning onto its head. “Your descriptions were lovely, the characters are perfectly imperfect. You have outdone a lot of the writers in circulation.”

Your shoulders sagged a little — almost as if you had been carrying a heavy burden, and this man had taken it off of you.

You made sure he saw your joy when you said, “Thank you, blondie.”

Seeing the pure contentment upon your face had your friend looking away, eyes narrowing to the plans once again.

“There was, however, one thing which needed improvement.”

The setback had you straightening once again, eager to hear. At least he was not sweetening it fully. “Go on.”

“As I was reading through, right till the end, I noticed a lack of very important details.”

That was quite strange. “A lack of?” you asked, when you were so sure that you had added too much of everything.

“Yes.”

His fingers drummed against the velvet of the chair. His other hand tightened upon his hip.

“I noticed that there was a deep lack of...passion.”

An incredulous look was your reply. “Passion?”

“Yes, passion. Desire.” He jerked his head towards the papers. “I hardly saw any of those emotions in the book.”

This new information was certainly quite worrying for you. “But I do not understand,” you started. “My whole novel is based on this relationship, of the love that blossoms and grows—”

“I understand that, darling, I really do,” he said. “I know what you are going to say.”

The drumming continued. “But where is that residing in the chapters? Where is that physical lust implied in the characters?”

Lust.

You had heard of the word before. Heard of its implications, yet never grasped the weight of its meaning. Was it just another form of longing?

If only your mother had given you an education on this side of love.

“What do you mean...lust?”

Hyunjin raised a groomed brow. “What else could I mean, angel?”

The way he voiced that question, that endearment, had you parting your mouth, unable to say anything. You tried to speak, to say something to ease the tension which came slithering back into the bedroom.

“I...what were you expecting? From the relationship.”

Curling his locks behind his ear, his gaze became obscure. “You spoke of forbidden love, of...of a coupling which should not be occurring but happened through the fate of the universe. Is that right?”

When you nodded, he carried on. “See, I did not sense that from their exchanges. Their emotions are tame, chaste. An innocence which cannot be tainted.

“Now where is the fun in that?”

You dared not break his gaze. “What is that ’fun’?”

His eyes seemed to darken. “That ‘fun’ in the relationship is physicality. Where is that in your novel?”

He took a step towards you. “Where are the unbreaking stares? The curious hands, aching to caress another’s? Where are the trembling breaths, the lust-stained sighs that fan lovers’ lips?”

The duke had you craning your neck back as he looked down at you. “Where are the kisses, my darling?”

You gulped. “K-kisses?”

“Yes, kisses,” he repeated softly. “Lips enveloping lips, tasting your inner workings? Travelling to your neck, your collarbone...places which cannot even be whispered in polite society?”

Each part he mentioned had goosebumps pricking at that certain place.

The bastard still did not stop. “Where is that passion, ____? Where is that forbidden love, which only makes the heart burn wilder?”

And as he descended before you on his knees, delicate hands settling on your lap, you had a feeling swirl up your sides which had never struck you before.

“If I were the man in your book, I would not be tame with you.”

His eyes offered a new, intimidating darkness. “Because if you were my woman, then I do not think I’d control myself. The moment I’d catch the innocence dancing in your eyes, I’d have waltzed it away into my shadows.

“Only God could save you from my hunger, then.”

Silence descended upon the two of you.

One waiting for the other to speak, and the other unable to form the words to do so.

The moon had illuminated your husband, one side of his face glowing like a celestial being, the other side basked in darkness. How strange, when he had compared himself to it just a few moments before.

You seemed unable to look away from him. His gaze, always intense, now had become so penetrating you wondered whether he could glance at your soul, quivering from his feedback.

Improvements which you still did not quite comprehend, despite the implications.

Somehow, he could see it on your face. “I have a feeling you still do not grasp the idea. Is that correct?”

A half nod. “I…” God, speak! “I just...I have never understood it, Hyunjin.”

Your head dipped down, darting at the plains of your hands. “You asked me about lust, and I simply cannot answer because I do not know. I have never experienced such emotion.

“Hell, I have not witnessed a single action that you spoke of. How could you expect me to write of desires I have never even felt?”

This.

This was unchartered territory. This was a terrain you had not explored with him.

Yes, he was your best friend. But one does not talk of such...dangerous conservation when your best friend happens to be a male — a complete rake, at that.

It seemed as if the rake, too, was thinking the same.

His legs, a force which had never let him down, threatened to buckle under him. His mouth opened, only for silence to answer you.

Lord and all His subjects help him. He did not think he could contain it any longer.

And as his eyes exposed you, vulnerable before him, he only knew of one thing — one fact within this ocean of uncertainty you swam in.

He would jump into the waters for you. But not to haul you out to safety.

No, the duke would drag you down further, with him as your sole saviour.

Or even your destroyer. Your fated undoing.

For the Duke of Hastings will absolutely ruin you, body and soul.

“Hyunjin?”

A blink.

A singular action, dragging him back to dark, dark reality, even sweeter than his fantasies as it sat before him, shy and wide-eyed.

An innocent reality all for him to defile.

“Yes, angel?”

You tried not to shudder at his lilting whisper. “How am I to be helped?”

The man did not even think of the possibilities, to your surprise.

If only you knew, how long he had kept them hidden for.

“How about...how about I assist you?”

Confusion washed over your features. “And how would you assist me, Hyunjin? You have never written a novel.”

His answer was a chuckle, revealing slight glimpses of his teeth as he stood.

“That is true, yes.”

Sitting down beside you, he planted his hands behind him on the bed, leaning into the position.

“But what I can provide aid for is the one feature you lack in your writing.”

His voice right behind gave you a fright.

“Pure, raw lust.”

Looking over yourself, you watched him reclined in ease. Your speech was uneven as you said, “And...and how will you help me with that?”

“Simple, my darling.” A pause, looking you over. “I shall provide you with examples. Show you what truly happens between a man and woman when all they yearn for is each other.”

He saw the further questions in your gaze. The questions you dared not voice out loud, perhaps dared not understand.

Smirking, he sat himself up, eyes never leaving yours as his hands encircled your own, bunched up in your dress. As his fingers brushed against your linen he felt his skin go aflame.

“If, of course, you would let me.”

Tilting your head slightly upwards, you sensed a foreign warmth envelop your face, burning at the sight of your friend studying you like an empty canvas, begging to be filled.

Perhaps you were an empty sheet of paper, waiting to be painted with guidance by the master. Maybe that master was beside you all along.

“What will you do to me, Hyunjin?”

There it was. The question which may have been his drug — his purest form of opium.

Because when his hands travelled upwards, sliding to your face and imprisoning you with his stare, he knew he would become addicted.

“Not only show you what real passion looks like.”

A shame he did not care for his well-being when you were so fucking tempting.

“But show you what real passion tastes like.”

The shuddering breath that left you caressed Hyunjin’s lips, and he debated throwing the whole course of patience out of the window, and ravage you this second.

But he would never do that. Not unless you asked him to.

“May I?” He whispered, eyes heavy lidded. The need for an answer was beyond rationality.

You looked at him one last time before you let your heart answer for you.

“Show me, Hyunjin.

Those three words were all it took for the duke to close the distance.

Close the final space which had stayed so irritably prevalent, when he brushed his lips against yours.

The first thought that came to mind was how soft his mouth felt.

Plush lips, moving against yours with the utmost gentleness; as if testing the waters, familiarising their new surroundings. He did not know what to expect, which was a thought that shocked him. Had he not bedded half of London to know the ins and outs of how a man should pleasure a woman?

Still, his vast knowledge could not prepare him for you and your shy acceptance.

His fingers cradling your jaw, satisfied, he delved in a little deeper, the weathered leash beginning to loosen as he found his opium upon your mouth.

You attempted to follow his actions — letting him lead the kiss as if it were the many dances you had partaken with him, treating this as yet another waltz you both had to share. The issue was, dancing never brought you the unnerving thrill that these ministrations did.

Hyunjin’s kisses were quite indescribable.

When he tilted your head with the pressure of his fingers, gaining the fullest possible access to your lips, he thought his heart would burst from his chest. So compliant, you were, trailing after his actions. His pleasure heightened when he felt your heartbeat race beneath his fingertips, which resided just underneath your jaw.

He would have been a happy man if he continued the kiss forever, but he forced himself to break away, remembering that this was your first, that you were not acquainted with the dance of passion. His gaze pried over your features, and a famished smile nearly broke upon his face.

He found you shivering beneath his grasp.

Lips glistening, courtesy of his own, eyes wide and skin warm, there was no other reaction which the duke would have savoured more. A fearful excitement resided upon your beautiful face — almost as if you were scared of yourself, of the feelings he ignited within you.

The man was not far from his prediction. You were positively terrified.

Terrified of the fire-like emotion that threatened to turn your stomach in on itself. It was an extraordinary sensation — as if you were engulfed by some unknown, mysterious fire, and Hyunjin was the one sparking it to life.

You parted your mouth, trying to speak but to no fruition.

And him, whose eyes grew darker at the lack of words, curled his fingers to your jaw, smirking. “I can hear your heartbeat from here, darling.” A singular finger tapped against the spot, where your blood pumped quicker than usual.

Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears too, making you all the more aware of the situation — you may not know what these feelings were, but you needed to find out.

It was not entirely your fault. A writer must do their research, after all.

Painfully swallowing the lump in your throat, you made yourself speak, asking the questions which haunted you. “Is...is this all?” you got out.

Hyunjin slanted his head a little, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” your hands instinctively reached for your lips. “What we just did. Is that all that happens?”

The hesitation had him chuckling, the shaky exhale caressing your mouth. “Do not pretend that you were unaware of kisses,” he mused, and you desperately tried to look away.

The slight grip on your jaw had you unable to do so. “And as for your question…” the smirk remained. “We have barely touched the surface.”

His other hand skirting downwards, it grazed along your collarbone, tumbling to the free space at your side. It settled itself among the bunched linen, holding you steady.

“I can show you more,” he whispered. “If only you wish it.”

Face burning further, you closed your eyes, letting your head dip in acceptance. You could not even think at this point — you were curious. Beyond intrigued, wondering whether these feelings would swell up more, take you into another reality farther from your imagination.

It was a slight inconvenience that Hyunjin shook his head.

“No, my darling,” he said softly, the fingers on your jaw sliding to your chin. “I want you to say it. Say you want more.”

You had not the slightest idea what this ‘more’ was, but you sure wished to discover — judging by the ravenous gleam in your husband’s stare, he wished for you to find out too.

“Fine then, Hyunjin…” one last pause ensued. “I...I want more.”

The said-man let a small groan escape before capturing your lips again.

He knew he was being selfish — almost pouncing on you like a man starved, grip on your side tightening as he quickened his pace, slowly prying your lips open.

When you felt his tongue skim along the seam of your mouth, you found yourself opening up to him, shocked at the sudden enthusiasm. Your hands, unoccupied, fumbled at your lap, unsure of their use until Hyunjin, his own hands leaving you, held onto them.

With precise direction he placed them on his shoulders, all the while slithering his tongue inside. You found yourself gripping onto him harder as he explored you, he himself nearly transcending at your yielding. A groan threatened to escape, but was drowned out by his mouth, closing over yours and kissing you insane.

His tongue worked wonders within you, swirling along with yours, desperation increasing with every time you complied with his actions. He opened your lips a little wider, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, and you could not contain your moans any longer. The whimpered replies had him tugging on your lip, slowly sinking his teeth on the swollen flesh. Your fingers could not grasp harder, the lock around his neck tightening with a growing need.

Is that what it all was? Urgency? What was this need for?

You hoped with all your heart that Hyunjin would know.

He pulled away from your mouth, and with gasped breaths, he got out, “Angel, may I—” His thumb caressed the corners of your lips, trailing down to your neck. “May I kiss you here—?”

The second the ragged yes escaped, the man’s mouth began peppering little kisses along his finger’s trail, leaving your skin burning with every touch. Dipping his head into your neck, he tugged down the neckline of your gown, settling on your collarbone. The hem descended to your shoulders, threatening to fall at your waist.

His kisses did not falter, even when you gasped out his name, a soft cry which only grew when his teeth grazed at your skin. Pain bloomed at the touch, but the feeling did not last long, replacing it with his tongue lapping up the mark. The dull ache remained, yet forgotten as he created a pattern of these stinging sensations.

“____,” he whispered upon your skin, a hypnotic chant which only had you whining in response. His mouth skimmed right up to your ear in frantic. “I...I must show you even more.”

You stilled completely. “E-even more?”

Hyunjin’s eyes did not leave yours as his hands travelled down, holding onto your sides. Slowly, he tugged you forward, your body merely following as he laid you down into the bed. Your heart hammered as he towered over you, the loose shirt revealing a glimpse of his chest, and his locks, drooping down to your face.

Your hands held onto the sheets. The gesture had him melting, so endeared by your little scares. What would you know of what will follow?

His idle fingers began to roam. With every shuddering breath they journeyed further below, until they found the hem of your nightgown. He held onto the fabric, slowly sliding it upwards.

You hissed slightly at the cold that welcomed your bare legs, but it was overshadowed by his warm caresses, every touch causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Or something of the sort. That was what it felt like to you, anyway, with how out of place the reaction was.

You asked him as his fingers paused, right on the edges of your upper thighs. Confusion, mixed with an overwhelming sensation, washed over you with every phantom touch. “What are you—” you paused as his hand tugged your legs open, ever so slightly. “What are you to do with your fingers?”

His answering gaze had you praying for the Lord. “How about I show you instead?” The contact lingered. “I promise it will feel wonderful.”

There was no other answer you could offer him. A hasty nod could only suffice as, with that signal, the duke braced himself for what he had been dreaming to do.

Nothing prepared you for the feeling of his fingers past your thighs.

Your breathing hitched as they teased against your entrance, running slowly along your slit. He collected the arousal which pooled at the apex, mouth agape from your reaction.

How you were drenched for him.

The very sight, and the prolonging idea, had the man exhaling sharply. Even now, he could see in your gaze — you were unaware of your own responses, your body’s hurried joy as it begged for his fingers to delve in further.

Tonight, he would show you a glimpse of his fantasies.

His one finger slipped inside you, and you felt the world turn.

Slowly, so painfully slow it slid between your folds, completely halting your breath as you gaped at him. He held your stare with a dark intensity — no doubt there was hesitation on his part, scared his control would shatter, terrified he would submit to your desire and break you under his hold. Already the thought was so appealing.

Still, he kept his fantasies at bay, holding your face like a fragile artifact as he delved deeper. A soft moan escaped your lips, and he cocked his head, realising it was a whine you tried to contain.

“Angel, please,” he murmured, and when he paused on his journey you looked at him in desperation. “Don’t be shy with me.”

And then, grip on your side tightening, he began to pull his finger out.

This time, it was impossible to restrain.

A heightened gasp shuddered out of you, gripping onto his shirt. How could an action so simple be so electrifying? The idea could not make any sense, but it did not need to when it brought such pleasure. You pulled on the fabric harder, elevating Hyunjin’s joy at seeing you so bothered.

“Yes, just like this,” he cooed, repeating the movement. This time, though, he quickened the pace as he began peppering little kisses upon your face. Each brush of his lips was like fuel to the fire below, growing angrier with every leisured plunge. “Say it all for me.”

You did not need to be told twice.

Your whines grew as he quickened, foreign waves of mysterious origin overtaking your body. You feared his singular finger might be enough to do something drastic, but then his thumb started to wander. When he found your clit, he created a slow pattern of circling the bud, causing you to squirm beneath him.

Seeing him above you was all too much — you needed his lips upon yours, needed to be lost in his tongue or else you would lose your mind. “H-hyunjin,” you stammered out, and the dazed expression had him reeling. “Please...please kiss me.”

He nearly moaned at the request itself. There you were, asking for his touch. His delirium spoke for him, letting his delusion a little astray. “But darling,” he muttered, leaning his face closer to you. “How can I watch you like this if I simply kiss you?”

Releasing his finger till the mere pad remained, he smiled at your panting. “How will I be able to watch you when I do this—” and brought two digits inside you.

He felt your walls pulsate around him, and he revelled in your reactions, the groans that followed with his delving. So, so compliant. So wonderfully welcoming, when all he did was touch the surface.

Your speech was all muddled, broken words and half-prayers as his fingers worked within you. As if that was not enough, he curled them inside, and there, he brushed against a spot which had you seeing stars. You could hardly stay still under his grasp, squeezing your legs together.

“Fuck,” he slipped out, and the curse itself had you fisting your hands in his shirt, damning the turnout if it were to tear. “Sweetheart, it’s okay to let go, keep those legs open.”

Further fastening his labour, you found yourself developing the most intense feeling in your gut — like a dark, swirling ball, aching to be released. You tried to raise your head to kiss him, but he only did the same, you barely missing him.

“Hyunjin!” You gasped out, and the said-man knew that no orchestra could compete with the music you tuned for him. Grabbing clumsily onto his collar, you tried with meak strength to bring him down. “Something...it’s wrong, something is amiss—”

You cut a glance down, where your cunt was more than occupied with his digits. “Wh-what am I feeling?!” In a frenzy you stared at him again, tears pricking your eyes. “Why do I feel—”

The duke only shushed you, a gaze akin to affection being offered to you as he trailed a slender finger upon your cheek. “Oh, sweet angel,” he whispered, voice a little breathless.

“That is me keeping my promise.”

And when he finally swooped your lips in a heart-wrenching kiss, fingers never stopping below, you let the overwhelming feeling take over. The aching was freed, and you broke away with a cry as you released onto him, spilling onto the sheets.

Hyunjin commenced a trail of sweet kisses upon your face, slowing his work inside you. Lethargy washed over you, and you barely sensed him slip his fingers out until the hollowness of your cunt welcomed you in his stead.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watched him as he brought the two digits to his parted mouth, sucking softly on the skin. A low noise hummed out of him, and you found yourself growing warmer all over again.

He caught you looking at him, and he slipped his fingers out with a pop!

“Truly divine, you are.”

Skin burning, you quickly shimmied your nightgown down, earning a chuckle from your husband. “That was…” you began, and you did not know why the thought made you so flustered.

“Do not worry your pretty mind, sweetheart,” he reassured you, flicking your nose. “Your release was answer enough.”

That only had you all the more embarrassed. “Hyunjin?”

His eyes rooted to yours. “Yes?”

“Was this…” you paused, trying to find the right words. “Was whatever we did...everything? Was this the end?”

Despite the two of you only finishing now, the duke had his gut turning in on itself all over again. This time, he let patience take over. He had been rewarded more than enough.

He still answered with a hushed tone, offering you another vision. Another promise, which he intended on fulfilling even further.

“Of course not, angel. This was merely the beginning.”

THE NEXT MORNING SAW THE TWO OF YOU IN LONDON.

It was a much more gradual journey than the previous one, with all the time in the world to go back to the duke’s main estate, where he was called to work after weeks of leisure. You, first indignant, were now devastated to leave Hemingford, a place which became a special haven in such a short time.

But of course, one could not neglect their husband. Not when that husband would never let you leave his side.

Hyunjin was all eye-smiles in the carriage, hands refusing to let go of you despite your complaints. You did not particularly mind, but when he resorted to kissing you with the curtains drawn, your levels of embarrassment nearly broke the scale, amusing him to no end.

There was no stopping him, though. After taking the first heated step with you, the vault of restraint in his senses had cracked. All this time he had proceeded with caution, but your heightened whimpers of the night before had undone the cellar of his desires.

Once again, you had experienced another first with him. A first which he wanted to conquer for a long, long time.

Unfortunately, business called, or else he would have stayed a few weeks more. Damn the men begging his presence, when he could have explored every layer of your innocence in that manor, revelled in ruining you of your ignorance.

He thought he had time to show the world of pleasure.

Alas, the fantasy he created in his Manor had to fade.

Reality crashed upon the two of you unfairly quick — there was not a moment’s rest as you arrived at Lansdowne, the official estate of the Hwang family nestled in Mayfair. It was more an enchanting palace than a home, every room, furniture and painting like pieces out of a fairytale. You could never forget the first time you entered, knowing that despite your previous comforts, you were to be spoiled in this abode.

The unfavourable situation which turned out from this was that your husband was not present to spoil you in his royal den.

As the days began there, with banality taking over, the two of you barely had any occasion to spend some time together. Business sunk its claws into the duke, refusing to show mercy. All the days and most nights, he managed tenants on his lands, heard their complaints and attempted to provide solutions.

The problems arose while he was away tending to you in your getaway, his subordinates incapable of handling the work he did so effortlessly. It frustrated Hyunjin to no end, when he had to learn these strategies since his adolescence, yet his employees, far older than him, could not manage to use his funds efficiently.

Although this meant time was sparse together, you did not mind so terribly. Having solitude meant having opportunities to write, and so you threw yourself into your drafts. You revised the more intimate scenes between your couple, and dared write down your first experiences onto the page.

Even documenting the occurrence had your stomach fluttering — when he kissed you delirious, going as far as slipping his fingers inside you. It felt like a delusion in your mind, scared that you merely created such events through your imagination, but you could not not make up such passion.

Hwang Hyunjin had shown you a very tangible fantasy.

It was these memories that kept you company as you penned down your world, a couple thousand words being scrawled on paper everyday. You wished to talk to him about taking matters further with your novel, but whenever the two of you had the occasional dinners you could not bring yourself to address the subject. He was already so occupied, and dumping your own tasks on him would devastate you

So you secluded yourself into your room, and only wrote.

Few weeks into Lansdowne, and you began to miss him.

You did not know how this feeling entered, but the moment it crawled into you it was all you could endure. It was not uncommon for you to miss your dear friend, even before marriage, but now that you lived with him, the situation changed. During the afternoons, when you burned your mind from the constant writing, you longed for his presence; conversation never ran dry when he was around, and the maids who offered refreshment were hardly an alternative.

Your longing, unfortunately, did not stop there.

Ever since that fateful night, you failed in shaking off the ever present tingling. His midnight eyes, akin to the devil, haunted you in isolation, and the sheer image of his full lips quickened your heartbeat. In fact, when you wrote a similar recount into your writing, the incident came into your mind so clearly you had to abandon the task altogether. The familiar wetness pooled at your core, and you cursed the heavens for being weak.

His fingers had an everlasting impression on you.

That was a whole other problem — you and Hyunjin, because of his tightening schedule, hardly had any opportunity to explore further of what happened. Teasing words and stolen kisses were your only alternative, and you dared not ask of him to do more. Your cowardice may have been one of the main reasons, but he was another factor of your silence. The man came home every night, so exhausted that even requesting to have him satisfy you brought you shame. He was much too tired, and you could not be selfish.

So you did not bother him. Let him leave every morning, and imagine what would be if he did not have so many responsibilities.

However, another couple of weeks later, and the need became unbearable.

Your every thought and feeling was replaced with this...this urgency. It was horrifying to you, never having been forced to such extremes, but it preyed on your mind like a beast. Meaningless tasks turned into burdens, sleep was lost, and your very heart threatened to burst from the intuitions. You wished to stop, but once you remembered that phantom touch, it was over. There was simply no alternative.

During those times, you could barely look at Hyunjin, offering you tired smiles as he disappeared into your chambers. You figured he did not notice, or else you knew he would make a comment on your worsening state. Truthfully, you were overjoyed that he was too exhausted to see you like this. If there was any chance he was aware, that alone would kill you off.

But this desire, too, was slowly withering you away.

Even as the sun began to descend, birds singing softly beyond your intricate window, soon to be drawn to a close. The library was bathed in gold from the light, painting your face as you attempted to write the last of the chapter, but to little success.

You figured your creativity had had enough of being stuck in your bedroom, so you opted for a change of scenery, but the parasite was at hand, churning just below your stomach. Even with the thousands of books settled all around you, radiating their knowledge, the ache remained, dull yet present. You scowled, pushing the pencil harder in your hand.

The poor lead broke suddenly, making you flinch. “Argh!” you let out, throwing the object upon the desk. Useless — you were so utterly useless, reduced to a mold of nerves, growing with each image that passed in your head.

Cursing, you put your hands in your lap, looking to the gardens beyond the window.

There is nothing you can do, ____.

The need arising, you slid your palms back, enough so they rested over your core.

A dangerous thought entered your mind.

That’s not true. There is one solution.

Your eyes widened.

Of course, there was always that alternative. Glancing down, you involuntarily pressed your palm to your clothed cunt. Already a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you suppressed any sound with a hand to your mouth.

You cannot. By God, you cannot do such a thing.

Especially in a bloody library.

Turning around, you glanced at the bookshelves guarding your figure, stretching to the painted ceiling. As an aspiring writer yourself, you cursed yourself for suggesting to do such an action in your temple, with the place your church and the books your Bible.

However, when the ache begins to creep over, your morality seemed to fade at first flight.

What a shame your brain was not to be listened to.

Shooting up from your chair, you nearly fell to the plush carpet, leaning against the desk. Gradually, you took a step forward, and another, searching for any secluded area among the lines upon lines of populated shelves.

“Where is it, where is it,” you mumbled to yourself, passing the Greek Literature aisle, moving further into the darker section. When you spotted the end of the library, you turned to a dim lit section of Romantic poets. “Aha!” You exclaimed, finding the place you were searching for.

This particular section has been a favourite little hiding place for Hyunjin. Recalling the memories, you always caught him here whenever the two of you played hide-and-seek, or when to comfort him here after a particularly harsh spat with his father, the late Duke of Hastings. Above all else, he found himself isolating here whenever he wished to read by your insistence, finding solace in the words of Blake and Wordsworth, picked up on the shelves.

You, on the other hand, did not come here to read.

Backing up against the wall, you let yourself fall to the lush carpet. There was barely enough space to stretch your hands apart, feeling the wall on one side, and the bookshelves with the other. It was small trouble, though, as space was not the priority — simply distance.

Thankfully, you had time — dinner would be served in about an hour, and the servants had been told not to disturb you as you ‘write’.

It was now or never.

“Lord forgive me.”

Grabbing onto your skirts, you raised them upwards, along with your petticoats. After undressing your pantalettes, your white stockings came into view, ending right above your knees, tied with baby pink ribbons.

With your underwear gone, you felt the cold caressing your dripping cunt. Immediately your fingers rushed to swipe at the arousal that pooled onto the carpet, a hiss escaping your lips. Then, moving higher, you felt the swell of your clit, and began to rub circles, so, so slowly — just like Hyunjin did, exactly like his fingers did.

The ripples of pleasure crashed over you with every swipe of your fingers. It was the most wonderful feeling, experiencing it after a span of weeks. Yes, somewhere in the back of your rational mind, you knew you looked pathetic, whining softly from your own efforts, but your desperation took over; you had been patient long enough.

Your desire, however, had no such moments to waste with such gradual rubbing, so pent up inside you that it forced you to quicken your pace. You prayed that no one heard you, for the sobs that flew out your mouth increased, playing and teasing your clit till it nearly numbed you.

The real bliss poured out when you plunged two of your fingers into you, going deeper and creating that identical pace, relished before. You closed your eyes, and images came flashing back — the midnight eyes returned, along the malicious grin, and suddenly it was not your fingers that pulled and pushed into your cunt. Your mind dared to conjure up Hyunjin, his dark laughter ringing in your ears as he curled his fingers into you, reaching a spot which had you seeing the seven heavens.

So far along, you did not care if the others heard. With your concoction before you, fingering you delirious, you called out his name. A panted “Hyunjin!” squealed out of you, the word laced with madness. How you begged for release, when it was actually in your control.

And maybe you would have come all over your fingers at that moment. Maybe that was a fantasy that would have been rewarded to you if reality had not been so unkind.

For it was reality that arranged a presence turning to his favourite hiding spot. For it was cruel, cruel reality, bringing at your secret aisle the very man who caused your current frenzy.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Sweet Duke of Hastings, who thought to surprise his wife and return home early, so he could join her at dinner this evening. Curious Duke of Hastings, who found the servants informing of your ‘work’ in the library, and so walking to you himself, expecting the distant sound of sighs and scribbles on paper.

Shocked Duke of Hastings, when he heard his name instead, being moaned at the end of his library.

His pupils dilated, gloved fingers hanging on the edge of the shelf, he grew flushed in his attire as he watched your near undoing. You whimpered his name over and over, as if that was your only comfort among the heavy sensation in your gut, the pleasure which numbed your senses. He trailed down to your sopping fingers, clumsy in their rhythm.

A shuddered breath escaped him.

It was then he let out the most self-satisfactory scoff.

That moment, you opened your eyes. Widened when they settled on your husband, face exposing an aghast expression as he crossed his arms, gaze never leaving the mess between your legs.

He had the audacity to grin wickedly.

“Oh my, sweet angel. What do we have here?”

Your entire body stilled, fingers frozen inside of you. Every ounce of strength, which tried to make you speak, abandoned ship.

Noticing clearly, a splutter of hellish laughter spilled from his lips. “All this time,” he began, feline amusement dripping in his voice. “All these lonely, lonely weeks, I was so guilty.” His boots made a soft thump against the carpets, grey longcoat fluttering after him. “I kept thinking, see, of you, so alone and unentertained. Stuck in her chambers all day and night, burning out her brain with her words. Writing of my examples.”

He unbuttoned his overcoat, pinning you with his gaze. “Little did I know you were impersonating me.”

You almost cried with shame.

“God, I doubt I can call you angel, again,” he drawled, tossing his woolen jacket behind him on a nearby chair, pulling off his gloves.

He uncovered his slender hands, continuing, “Not with your fingers still in your cunt.”

That nearly had you in tears — you yanked your digits out, making to push your skirts down in a hurry but were dutifully stopped by his raised voice.

“Pray, darling,” he inquired, and you could taste the ridicule as he stood before you, crouching down. “What do you think you are doing?”

He did not give you time to answer as he grabbed your hand, half-soiled by your endeavours. “Why have you stopped the show when the intended audience has arrived?”

All these questions messed with your senses, squeezing your thighs together as the high, threatening to undo you before, began to fade. “Hyunjin—” you said, but you were interrupted, as, with his hand, he lifted your trembling figure with ease. Legs unstable, you let him steer you until your back hit the bookshelves.

“Another notion puzzles me too.” His golden locks skirted along as he cocked his head.

“Why did you scream my name when you touched yourself?”

Your mouth parted, remembering your incessant whining. The thought caused your entire body to burn up, your husband taking instant note. “Come on, now, darling,” he taunted, grip on your hand tightening. “We both know you are more than capable of speaking.”

It was surprising how you managed to speak, despite the phantom touches.

“I…” you paused, embarrassed that you tried to tell him the truth. “I do not know...damn it!” you hissed as you saw a phantom smile accompanying his hands. “I had this...this need, Hyunjin. Everytime I recalled that night, I…all I wanted was some sort of...release.”

“Oh?” he got out, and he had to cage you with his hands for his own stability.

The thought of you, withering in pleasure — pleasure you did not realise you yearned for — had his mind transcending any sense. There he was, stirring the cauldron of desire bubbling in your veins, your face twisting in pain from your lack of knowledge.

He had to pray for forgiveness for his mentality, but at this moment in time, he only knew of one religion. You, and your wishes, whispered in panted breaths.

“If that was what you felt, then why did you not tell me?”

If it was not for his hand gripping yours, you would have covered your face. “How could I?” you whined out. “You were so busy! I could never be selfish enough to put myself before you.”

His heart nearly burst from his chest. “My darling,” he hummed, stroking away the flyaways upon your face. “Do you not realise that I put you before myself?”

Your confusion had him continuing. “If you had told me that you had such...needs, then I would have damned the work to hell.”

Suddenly, you wished you were the most selfish person in the world.

“Every wish, your every want…” his eyes promised the world. “It is mine to bring it to you.

“So tell me, angel.” His fingers lingered on your face. “What do you want?”

Alas, that fated question.

What you wanted was to tell him without doubt that you wished for his fingers inside you again. What you wanted was your husband fulfilling his promises, showing you more, more, more until you forgot your name from the sheer force.

You hated how your speech could never voice it out loud with confidence.

The man noticed your face warming beneath his touch as you stammered, “I-I want—” pausing from his fingers on your cheek, “Hyunjin, I want you to…”

Your pathetic attempts had him chuckling. “So innocent to me still?” He asked softly. “Even when I caught you moaning my name like a whore in the night?”

Whore. Sane you would have slapped him for saying such a thing, but the arousal that pooled at the term meant completely different. He was aware of your reaction, causing him to be compliant.

One day, he would voice it out of you. One day, you would say from your own mouth that you wished for ruination.

“How about this, ____?” he started. He brushed a small kiss upon your forehead, heart fluttering at the chaste action. “When you want me to stop, voice that out instead.” The next kiss was upon the tip of your nose.

You thought up a worrying confession, but when you saw his expression change, you realised you blurted it out.

“I don’t think I would want you to stop, Hyunjin.”

The molten lust in his eyes nearly undid you then and there. He offered you a low, satisfied growl, wondering how in God he could ever resist you.

“I don’t think I would be able to, angel.”

He did not say any more, swooping down and enveloping your lips with his.

You instantly accepted him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer, closing your eyes and letting him paint an artwork of desire upon your mouth. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but your confession cracked the glasshouse of desire he had tended for so long.

His tongue was inside your mouth at once, and you relished its desperation, letting it explore all of you as his hands wandered down, your own sliding into his locks. Softer than all the silks in the land, you already felt the moans bubble within your throat, partially escaping with every parting. His heavy breathing in your ears only wished for all distance to fade.

There was so much of him, all at once — you had shared kisses with him after that fated night, but you knew those kisses were the sole form of affection he could offer in those lonely weeks. The way he bit your bottom lip, soft and then a little harder, had you losing all sense.

It was such things that made you realise how much you missed his presence.

Tearing away from your lips, he gave fevered attention to your neck, trailing his kisses down your skin, open and wet and restless. “Hyunjin—” you began, but then you gritted your teeth at the pain of his suction upon your throat. His hands pushed you further into the shelves, and a few books began to fall at the force.

“H-Hyunjin!” you exclaimed, eyes darting frantically to the classic editions that scattered on the floor. “W-wait, not here!”

The man blinked in his haze of desire, looking at you. “Huh?” he got out, spit-slick lips parted, his whole body raising from his breaths. “Why not?”

“The-the books, they...!” you tried to explain, but with the stare he offered, you quietened within moments. “...Hyunjin?”

His answer was his hand taking your wrist and turning from the secluded corner. He steered you out of the hiding place, pace hurried with each step he took. Head whirling to every aisle, he cursed under his breath, finding the spaces between the shelves filled only with books.

“What are you...searching for?!” you demanded in bated breaths, but then he let out a satisfied noise as he found an open aisle, the first line of shelves in the library.

In front of those shelves sat a large, wooden step ladder — no doubt there to grab onto the higher sectioned novels. A knowing smirk enveloped his features as he led you to where it stood, backing you against it.

A small yelp escaped you as the man hoisted you upon the steps, you holding onto his shoulders as he slithered his arms around your waist. “There,” he said, tilting his head slightly upwards. “Now you shan’t worry about your novels falling.”

“Easy for you to say!” you crowed, already feeling unstable, despite sitting on the sixth step. “This time it might be me falling!”

“Well then,” he began, tugging your legs apart till he fit snug between them, “You just have to hold on tight, don’t you?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

Leaning forward, he halted your breath, brushing his lips across your neck. “I can stop if you wish,” he whispered on your skin. His hand rested over your chest, where it rose unevenly under his palm. When you did not answer he looked up, climbing so he levelled with your face.

You felt his heavy breathing fan your lips. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”

His eyes saw right through you — with the way a malicious smile began playing at his lips, he knew his answer long before you registered it yourself.

Head shaking hurriedly, you murmured out your response as you grabbed onto the lapels of his longcoat.

“Never.”

You pulled him down, desire taking control of your senses as he undid you with his lips. His hands, sliding down, hitching your skirts higher than before, bunching it at your waist. Never giving himself a break on your mouth, he peeled off his coat, tossing it beside the ladder. Only when you broke away to take a panted breath did he begin his descent — kisses on your neck dragged down further, along your clothed abdomen until he parted, shuffling the fabric from between your thighs.

An uneasy fuck flew from his mouth — your glistening cunt welcomed him again, the recollections of the last honeymoon night crashing back.

In truth, the events had not left his mind. The memories of his fingers playing with you, inciting those sinful sounds were the few things which brought him a high in the dark days of work. You, drenched by his efforts, dripping for him, and only him, to take care of you.

Seeing the sight before had Hyunjin restraining his cock. Fuck, he thought, leaning closer till his face was a mere inch from the center. He did not comprehend the consequences of this; what if he went crazy? A part of him was distinctly aware that if you were heavenly around his fingers, then you with his tongue would transcend reality.

Hands holding the back of your knees, he slung your legs over his shoulders, securing his fingers upon your thighs. With one last inhale, he closed the distance.

Nothing compared to his tongue running along your slit.

A hiss left you at the contact, tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as he explored the edges of your cunt. He was teasing, being too leisured for your liking — he could not help himself, fearing he would rush the process and end it too quickly.

He wanted to be inside you the entire night.

Your incessant whining had him lapping up the wetness, gripping onto your legs a little harder as he delved in further, tasting your arousal and letting out a satisfied noise. Leaning your head back against the higher steps, your hands carded through his hair, his locks a comfort for the slow torment below.

When his tongue dove upwards, circling your clit, an obscenely loud moan tumbled out of you. He was so exceptional, so good at what he did to you, licking away at the bud as if he had not been served for days. Your whining was more encouragement for his antics, increasing his strokes with a slight curve to his lips.

What reduced you to choked gasps was an old prospect from the first night — his digits, leaving one of their spots on your leg and slipping one inside your folds. As if his tongue was not enough, that singular finger created a rhythmic pattern of plunging in and out of you.

You thrashed under his grip, hips rolling giddily along with his work. Even the ladder began to shudder, jutting slightly back and forth from your desperation. Although the squeeze on your thigh was an indication to calm down, you ignored it, too intoxicated by the thrusts of his tongue to realise his signal.

He made you realise as he paused his ministrations entirely. You nearly shrieked at the lack of his presence, but then you looked down, and found his lust-hazed eyes staring at you.

“H-Hyunjin?” You mumbled, voice raspy from your previous moaning.

The slick glazed on his lips brought you another level of high. “I need you to stay still, darling,” he voiced, slender hand gripping onto your thigh. “You even have the poor ladder shaking.”

You willingly nodded your head, knowing you were lying through your teeth. If he continued with his tongue prodding at your clit, then you would start trembling from the thrill.

“I don’t think I believe you,” he mused, blowing on your drenched cunt. Seeing you shiver had him chuckling. ”I need you to be still if you want true pleasure, sweetheart.”

An ironically chaste kiss upon the edges of your thigh gave you more reason to grip him harder. “I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.”

As much as I am.

Good, sweet Lord.

Maybe you will never move an inch again.

“K-keep going,” you whispered, near frantic as you played with his locks. “Please.”

The please at the end was exactly what he needed before he pounced into you again.

His tongue was relentless — a second finger joined in the venture, and the fullness of him was back again, with an intensity that only promised satisfaction. You knew it was coming, with the heaviness in your lower abdomen.

You needed that release. Whatever it took, it was the only image in your mind, taunting you of the relief that came with it. With the hard grip of his locks, your husband sensed it straight away, quickening his pace with both his tongue and digits.

Damn Hwang Hyunjin to Hell, for he was so unfairly good to you — licking your clit to a frenzy, touching a certain spot inside you, over and over again. He never missed, never faltered his labour as the burden inside you intensified. You sang his praise in your stained mind, hoping he could see the joy on your face.

“Hyunjin—!” You whined out, stealing a glance at his head, moving back and forth slightly between your legs. “It’s—the feeling, the one before—!”

You did not have to say anything else; his free hand, wrapping fully around your slung over leg, made you realise of his awareness. The feeling was at its peak then — one more of his stripe along your cunt, and it was over.

Fortunately for you, the Duke of Hastings kept his promises.

One little nibble of your bud, plunging in his two fingers at the same time, and it was useless. Your release came rushing through, cries escaping your lips as you undid yourself onto his mouth. All sense of surroundings abandoned you: you were drifting away, like a kite losing its roots, further and further as his fingers slowed. You feared that you would lose all sense until his tongue lapped up the release. His hums of satisfaction anchored you back into the library, hands at your hips as he heaved upwards, watching over your dazed expression.

You saw his every move, licking the remnants of your release off on his face. He then hovered closer, locks more sweat slick as they caressed your skin.

“God, angel,” he rasped out, holding your chin with his stained fingers. “You…I can’t...I can’t get enough of you.”

He stole a kiss upon your mouth, but your shy whines caused him to go deeper, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. “Shit,” he whispered as he parted from your lips. “You must stop me, ____. I cannot take you all at once, I…no matter how much I wish, I cannot...fuck, I cannot taint you.”

And maybe it was your husband, admiring you like a poet would his muse. Maybe it was something more than the dull ache inside you, the flutter moving to your heart which had you saying the next words.

“But I...” you paused, every panted breath heavy. “I never…never asked you to stop.”

Hyunjin stilled completely before you.

His eyes were too much, but you did not stop the confession pouring out. “If...if there is something more, I…” his thumb on your chin hardened.

“I want to know. I want to see it all...even if it may taint me.”

There it was.

The thoughts which haunted you for the past few weeks. You wanted more, even if that meant that this more would one day be satiated. You wanted to see the end, the final stage, because you knew deep down, your best friend was still holding back from you.

You saw it in his eyes. You saw his unadulterated desires, dark and fearful, yet you wanted to be surrounded by his darkness.

You wanted Hwang Hyunjin to break you like he wished.

Sure enough, he saw it all over your face too. His jaw turned slack, and he debated slamming his head against the shelves to make sure he was not dreaming.

He did not think his wife would let him have a moment’s peace.

“God help you, sweet angel,” he murmured, glancing at your dress — more specifically, how to get you out of it. “I don’t think I can leave you innocent any longer.”

You parted your mouth to speak — Hyunjin was about to interrupt you, perhaps take you to the final stage of your passions.

Everything was about to descend when you heard the shrill knock on the door.

Your heart jumped out of your dress, the man above you catching onto your shock. With an unexpected burst of anger, he turned his head towards the large doors and screamed, “Who the fuck is it?!”

The servant at the opposite side flinched at the tone of voice. “Um, there is a guest in the living room, Your Grace!”

That did not help his case. “Then tell them to piss off!” The Duke demanded, holding onto you a little harder.

“But Your Grace, he urgently requests your presence!” The boy insisted. “We tried telling him of your...distractions, but he would not listen!”

Hyunjin looked like he was about to tear the manor down with his orders, and you widened your eyes, holding onto him. “It’s alright,” you reassured him, and possibly reassuring yourself too.

He glanced at you, and the frenzied stare he pinned you with shut you right up. “Fuck,” he cursed, running an angered hand through his hair, the other not leaving your side — as if you would fade from his grasp.

You feared it too, in truth, that he would disappear. The thought plagued your senses, much more than you would have liked.

“To hell with that bloody guest,” he growled, leaning into you again. He pressed his forehead against yours, cupping your face with his hands. “To hell with everyone.”

“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, relishing the contact. “Hyunjin, it’s okay…” you held his agitated stare, wondering why you were convincing him to go when you wanted him to stay. “I will be here, you know...when you come back.”

He searched your gaze for confirmation, needing to affirm your words. When he found the suppressed desire within, he could not help himself.

He planted his mouth upon yours, finding solace along the lines of your lips — he loved how your every kiss was a comfort, a sweet little sin all for him to enjoy. In honesty, he could spend an eternity basked in your warmth, but alas, reality was a villain in his tale.

Forcing himself to pull away, he ran a tender thumb along your cheek. “I shan’t take long, angel.”

You nodded tiredly, in time to the man holding your waist as he settled you back onto the carpet. Lingering for a few moments, he made himself leave your side, grabbing his coat and donning the heavy fabric. He satiated his desires with a glance towards you, dazed off with your hands clinging the ladder railing still.

A small smile catching onto his lips, he turned on his heel, promising murder to whoever disturbed the moment he dreamed of. Opening the door, he looked back, catching your stare.

The smile upon his face grew wider. A smile so sincere, so loving, with all the world’s miracles nestled upon his pretty mouth. It was a smile that you had never seen before, with all your years beside him — seeing it now had you wishing you could bottle the image and carry it with you forever.

It was a smile which had you so in love with him.

Love.

It was then your heart dropped.

Hyunjin, unaware, closed the door behind him, leaving you to your revelation.

Instantly, you clutched at your chest, heartbeat racing.

In love.

You were in...in love with Hwang Hyunjin.

“No,” you slipped out, mind rushing a mile a minute. “No, no, no, no—”

You gripped the railing harder as the hand on your heart trailed down, shivering from the phantom touches of your husband.

Hell, of the husband that you had fallen for.

One would think love was an entity writers would idolise — your own inspirations searched and indulged in all kinds of love, but you always accepted that an emotion so intense was not for women like you. Love was a rarity. Love was unconditional, strong and vivid and all-consuming.

Love, undoubtedly, was a weakness.

Your breathing turned ragged, hands reaching to clasp your head in panic.

I will be here...when you come back.

Your promise to him, before he left you to your hysteria.

Why would you ever say such a thing to him?

“Oh, no,” you kept chanting, turning over to your side, away from the door and towards the window, where night was small comfort to your nerves.

You could not let yourself succumb to a man. No matter how dear he was to you.

And if that meant staying away from your husband, then so be it.

IT WAS UTTER AGONY AVOIDING YOUR BEST FRIEND IN EVERY PASSING MOMENT.

Perhaps you should have given reasonable explanation to why you decided to distance yourself, but of course, reasonable explanation was never your forte.

Hyunjin, damn him, tried to make more effort in returning home earlier, despite his business demanding his presence with every passing day. You were almost powerless under his tender gaze, but you knew that you could not be swayed.

As if you had not fallen under his spell already.

Your only distraction was your novel, so you did just that — even with your husband in the manor, you closed yourself from everyone, writing furiously on your desk as if committing to anything else would cost your life. The flushed skin did not shy away as you wrote of your second experience, changing the events slightly so they fit your story. The memories tried to torture your mind, but you refused to submit. You could not fall for Hyunjin.

You could not fall for a man.

The duke did not realise of your avoidances, simply thinking that you evading his more heated kisses, his dangerous touches, was a result of your fatigue. He understood, knowing you worked your brain as hard as he. He was upset, obviously, when he craved your touch every waking second. For you, though, he would do anything. If that meant waiting, he would do that too.

However, your recoiling could only last so long. Your best friend knew you like the back of his hand.

He figured something was amiss when he decided to grace you with his presence one evening, expecting another show of your moans behind the door, only to have the distant scribbling of ink against paper. Entering inside, he awaited your surprise, your unadulterated joy, bracing himself to have his arms engulfed with your hug.

In reality, he received a mumble of blessing, and the continuing scribbling.

He was not trying to coax you into giving him affection. He was well aware of how hard you worked on your novel, but that day, he dearly wished you would abandon your project for just a night. Just one, single night, so he could show you how much he missed you every single moment.

Poor, unfortunate man. How was he to know that your affection was the one thing you could not give him?

Another few days into the silence, and Hyunjin had had enough.

He called to you one dinner, ushering the servants away with the flick of his hand. The dining room became all the more huge, like a lush vault, perfect for a sweet interrogation as the velvet curtains drew to a close, and the eyes of a hundred paintings focused on you. You swirled the soup with your spoon, refusing to look at him.

“Darling?”

Damn him and his endearments. “Hmm?”

The man, too, seemed to be unsure of how to talk of the subject. “Is…” he put his cutlery on the table. “Is everything...alright as of late?”

Your gaze remained rooted to your food. “Of course,” you said. “Why would I not be?”

There was a heavy silence in the room, new and uncertain between the two of you. Your friendship with the duke had never been filled with such quiet — why were you creating such awkwardness around him?

You already knew the answer.

“Do counter me if I speak incorrectly,” he began, grabbing the stem of the wine glass. “But I have noticed you to be quite...secluded.”

“I am busy, Hyunjin,” you said curtly. “I have a whole novel to edit.”

His lips twitched downwards before opening his mouth, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. “I know you do, and you know I am proud of you for it.”

Choosing to not say anything, you tried finishing off your dinner, aware that you were losing your appetite. It seemed your husband did not want to back down tonight. “____, I feel as if you are hiding something from me.”

The spoon in your hand nearly clattered in the bowl. “And why would you think that?”

“Because—!” Hyunjin paused, downing some more wine. “I do not know, but I feel as if you do not want to speak to me.”

He was too smart for his own good. “You are imagining things,” you waved him off, finding your salad fork oh so interesting in the candlelight.

“Look at me.”

His voice stopped you cold.

Your gaze scrambled to meet his, and although his command was rough, his eyes exposed a completely different emotion.

Pure concern washed over his features as he muttered, “Have I done something wrong?”

That question broke your heart.

“No, no, of course not,” you quickly said. You bit your lip in guilt, watching him sigh, almost in relief.

This was the consequences of your actions. A man who had done nothing unjust, yet was being punished. Pure shame coursed through your veins, catching the distress on his face, and you wondered whether you were being cruel. Maybe this time, your feelings were exaggerated.

If you were aware of such truths, then why could you not look your best friend in the eye?

That night, you hurried to bed, leaning on the edge in wait for him. Your thoughts were in disarray; your heart impatiently desired his return, and your brain berated you for daring to.

Truthfully, it was horrifying how you had become so dependent on someone, when your entire life you relied on the fantasies in your head. Although your revelation was every lady’s dream in society, you felt as if another burden had been dumped upon your shoulders. This time, though, this burden would last for the rest of your life.

These thoughts were your singular company, when you lay awake all night. You were acutely aware of Hyunjin slipping between the sheets, but you did not move a muscle. A small part of you knew that if you turned, you would be unable to resist his whimsical gaze and wandering touches.

So you lay rigid, only letting yourself sleep till your best friend submitted himself to oblivion.

He, too, could not bear to live like this.

The Duke of Hastings was not a fool. He had not known you for over a decade to discard you lying through your teeth. It was beyond his understanding the reasoning of your change, but it deeply disturbed his soul.

He turned in the bed, watching your back bathed in moonlight. Why would you not tell him what bothered you? What had he done wrong?

As he watched you stay rooted in one position, his thinking turned to dark corners. A realisation struck him; you started acting this way the day after he nearly took you in the library.

This alarmed him greatly — was that why you were so troubled? Were you...uncomfortable with his touch?

His heart dropped down to his gut.

If you truly detested his affection, then he would not know what to do with himself. Recently, it was all that haunted him — you, you, and a little more you, strolling through his mind as if it were your domain, creating stories underneath his eyes. It only worsened when he discovered your sweet moans, triggered by his kisses and touches. God, the very thought of you, whining his name as you touched yourself, brought him a familiar feeling amplified. So ardently he wished to taint you further.

Even thinking of the images had him clutching his pillow tighter, fingers aching to turn you over.

However, the harsh fact was that you could not bear to look at him, and he had to live with that. Questioning you was of no use.

Hyunjin only prayed that he did not scare you off.

Unfortunately for him, his prayers were not to be answered.

Days passed, and the distance grew. The man dared not say a word to you in fear you would stray further, and you dared not approach him in fear you would fall harder. It was the most abhorrent situation, and you knew you had to get away somehow.

Fate spoiled your plans when Hyunjin revealed some news.

You looked at the invitation in slight horror. “A ball?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained further. “When we were...interrupted that day…” he sighed a little. “It was Seungmin who was downstairs.”

“Kim Seungmin? Has he returned from the States?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And he has decided that the first thing he wishes to do is throw a huge ball in celebration of his return.” A roll of eyes followed. “Forever the dramatist.”

You restrained your laughter. “It has been over 2 years since we met,” you wondered out loud.

“Well, you can meet him at his estate when we attend the ball.”

He felt your eyes on him as he declared his words. Awaiting your outright rejection, settling down on the chair in the living room. You watched his thighs tense under the peach trousers as he folded a leg over the other — damn him for being too attractive to refuse.

“Very well,” you only said, not ignoring the nerves which threatened to take over. They increased a little at seeing the smile on your husband’s face.

You needed to stop leading the man on. Never could you go to the ball with him.

“It is a week from now,” he added, bobbing his foot excitedly. “I shall write back in acceptance as soon as possible!”

Nodding, you returned to your reading, hoping the faux conversations were enough distraction.

A week. Seven days to somehow escape from this event, or else everyone would see you enter the ball as an official couple, and then your fate as another man’s property would be sealed.

Had he ever made you feel as such?

You did not let yourself ponder over this further. Your only objective was getting out of this invitation.

However, you were a duchess. Trying to hide yourself from London society was an unattainable feat.

The reminder had you nearly ripping the page off your book, too stressed to read on.

This became your focus of the next week, pondering over the night of the ball, scouring your mind with the possibilities which may occur at Seungmin’s estate. As the days neared, Hyunjin insisted you go shopping in search of a special ball gown, and you only obliged so you did not have to be in the same house as him. Still, if he was not there physically, his image preyed upon you in the markets, constantly reminded of his opinions and likings in every fabric you ran your hands upon.

There was no escaping him. You were disgustingly obsessed.

Purchasing everything you needed, you requested it to be charged on Hastings’ tab, a privilege awarded to you ever since your joining with the duke. You always argued that you wished to spend your own money, but he would not listen.

“But I adore spoiling you, angel,” he would merely say, and buy up half the boutique, leaving you a flustered mess. The conversations did not leave you as you bought your dresses and accessories, returning home and dreading interaction.

Excusing yourself, you shut yourself in your room once more, and wrote.

Wrote away your soul in the last days, till it was the morning of the fated event. The sun shone magnificently on your home, but failed to radiate its light on your darkened mood. You had no choice on the matter — you were to accompany Hyunjin to Seungmin’s celebrations, and that was final.

You were about to fake typhoid when a letter arrived for you.

It was from your mother; she wrote in question of your wellbeing, and how much she felt your absence in the house. The content was not very interesting, and you debated writing back with a lack of enthusiasm when you read the last section.

She mentioned tonight’s ball — more significantly, how she felt ever so lonely without you with her, “enlivening her spirits”. The praises were nothing further from the truth, but it was her confession which had an idea rushing to your head.

“Lonely without me, huh?” you murmured, as you rang a bell for a maid. Arriving, you requested for a little trunk, asking for your new dress and other adornments to be packed. “For once, Mama, you have been useful.”

The packing did not take much time, the other servants calling for a carriage as you made preparations to leave for a night. Hyunjin, making his presence known, descended down the stairs, a grin upon his face as his hand fished in his inner pockets.

When he saw your endeavours, though, his beaming flickered. “What is going on here?” he asked, refusing to look away from your luggage.

You turned to him, mustering up the bravado to face him with your decision.

“I received a letter from Mama this morning,” you explained to him in faux ease, gesturing for the servants to bring your belongings outside. “She is feeling rather lonesome, so I thought to see her.”

The man was not convinced in the slightest. “Since when did you garner sympathy for your mother?”

Never confide in your best friend again. “Please,” you stressed, holding the letters in your hands. “She still took care of me the best she could. Plus, I would never want to be lonely at that age.”

He was not listening to this explanation though, his hands going into his pockets. “When will you be back, darling?”

The endearment made this all the worse. “The morning after.”

A heavy pause instilled on the both of you before he broke it. “But...but the ball. A-are you to just...abandon the invitation altogether?”

“No!” you began, locking your hands behind your back. “No, I shall meet you at Seungmin’s estate. It is a small setback, but—”

“____, this will be our first social event as husband and wife!” he countered, you grimacing at his minor outburst. “I want you by my side when we walk down the steps!”

“But I will be there, Hyunjin!” you exclaimed. “I do not understand why you suddenly want to follow these silly traditions!”

Gritting his teeth, your friend pinned you with his stare, growing fiery the longer you held it. Traditions never interested him, but this one had been a certainty he had been looking forward to. The image of you, descending the stairs with your hand on his arm, brought him an absurd amount of joy.

But there you were, bursting his bubble of dreams.

“Why is this all coming to light today?” he muttered, taking a step towards you. “Why, on the day of the event, you decide to tell me that you would rather go with your mother, who never truly cared for you, than me?”

Than me, who always did?

You dared not answer his question truthfully — instead, you let your undeserved anger take the reins of your tongue.

“So you are already suspicious!” you snapped. “Why am I not surprised in the slightest?”

His eyes narrowed at the statement. You did not look into it further as you turned on your heel, heading towards the door. “Do not run away from me, ____!” He shouted, following after you. “Tell me what you implied from that horrendous comment!”

“Oh, let me uncover it clearly for you, dearest,” you snarled, standing at the doorway. The words which were to leave your mouth had sure consequences, but in the moment, you did not care. All you wanted then was an escape.

“You accuse me of scheming and demand me things which I do not want to give you.”

Your hand gripped the letter behind you. “You’re becoming the one thing I feared, Hyunjin. You’re turning into a typical male.”

The man froze entirely at your claims.

Did not utter a defense against him as you sighed out, glancing away from his shell-shocked eyes. You did not bid your farewells as you descended down the stairs, reigning in your temptation to look back as you made your way to your transport through the gardens.

As you slipped inside the carriage, clasping your hands in your lap, you wondered whether you had taken a step too far.

You wondered, with rising dread, whether you had broken your best friend’s heart.

MAYBE RUNNING TO YOUR MOTHER HAD NOT BEEN THE BEST OF IDEAS.

Biggest reason being that she was truly a pain in the rear. The moment your carriage had arrived on the rocky entryway of your mother’s manor, she rushed down the steps. After engulfing you with an embrace which might have caused a minor stroke, she hurried you inside, her servants bringing your possessions.

You did not particularly miss your previous abode, although it gave you small relief. You passed the familiar hallways, and settled in the nostalgic parlour room where your mother gushed over your presence.

Still, this manor did not seem like home to you.

Conversation was mostly struck from your opposite, you nearly silent as the woman vented out her frustrations of every family in London, drinking her tea and urging you to take a biscuit or two. Your stomach was void of an appetite, missing other emotions which you abandoned on the other side of the city.

By the time evening arrived, all you wished to do was hide yourself into your old room, but your mother would not accept. Having the maids open your trunk, they brought out the ball gown you had picked for the occasion.

It was a dark, seductive red, swell of its puffs cuffed with black lace — this lace scattered over the fabric, lining not only the neckline but down the chest, rose-like stitches etched onto the bust. The high-waistline also bled further black stitching, almost all over the gown as it fell to the floor, with a midnight ribbon trailing at the back.

You bit back a fevered sigh. Hyunjin would have adored this gown.

The thought had you pursing your lips, requesting the gown be pressed. Then, walking over to the dressing table, you settled yourself onto the seat, using the accessories bought previously to style yourself. With the assistance of a few maids, you managed to accentuate your hair, adding small pearls within the locks.

The ballgown came back in an instant, and you undressed yourself, waving away the girls in your room. Firstly, you slipped on a thin chemise — then, you allowed a maid to enter to help with the corset, who tightened it at the back without mercy to your body. Barely able to breathe, you loosened it slightly after the girl left, focusing your attention on the gown. After adorning the petticoats and white stockings, you adorned your attire, slowly as to not crease its fabric. Hooking the back yourself, you turned to the mirror, holding the black gloves.

There was no doubt about this countenance — it was exactly to your husband’s taste. Clamping your lips together, you donned the gloves, the silk smooth beneath your touch as you filled them to the fingertips. With one final peek at yourself, you slipped into your shoes, and left the bedroom.

You were a fool to think of any other person but your mother welcoming you at the entrance, but wishful thinking had always been your flaw. Her string of compliments had you adorning a ghost of a smile, but you did not say much as you both climbed into the carriage, instructing to journey to Seungmin’s estate.

Without a novel to distract you, you fell into a habit of clasping and unclasping your hands as you sat, waiting for the ride to be over. Your mother was small comfort as she filled the silence for you, but even her voice strained your mood — you wished for other discourse, or other meaningless entertainment.

You ached for laughter.

Whatever. This was your consequence. You must bear with it.

If your mother knew of your troubles, she certainly did not voice them out loud. She did ask of your relationship with Hyunjin, but you waved her off with false reassurances — you could not have her prying into your private life.

“I hope he has burned off your silly writing fancy!” she drawled, catching the lights of the destination flickering closer to our transport. “As a wife you have much more important duties.”

Gazing afar through the window, you spoke your truth. “Actually, Mama, he encourages it.” A small chuckle escaped you. “I think he wants me to be an author more than I do.”

“Oh?” The woman brought a hand to her chin, impressed. “That is a rare occurrence indeed.”

Catching your raised brow, she scoffed. “Do not gawk as if you are not aware of men. I am shocked he has given you freedom.”

You listened to her, watching the estate linger closer. “Child, you have found a man who does not restrict you in your passions. I do not know how you accomplished such a feat, but you must be extremely thankful.” A glance was stolen towards her. “Such husbands only exist in those books you love so much.”

Before you could comment on her statement, the carriage slowed to a stop, reaching the final stop. The footmen opened the doors, and your mother stepped out first before you followed, careful not to ruin your dress on the pathway.

The crowds had you leading inside the estate, luxury which could compete with the Duke of Hastings being exulted in every corner of the interior. Dozens of lords, ladies and other aristocrats wandered in all places of the house, your own mother being swept away by her friends in her social circle. Your presence felt less relevant with each passing second, fearing you would lose yourself in the rush of golden curtains, rose perfume and unwelcome conversation.

You thought that this ball would grant solitude, but then you heard the bright drawl of a familiar lord.

“By God, is that my dear bookworm I see before me?”

Jumping from the voice, you whirled on your heel. A surprised smile caught on your face.

“Seungmin?”

The said-man returned your shock with a mischievous grin. Lord Kim Seungmin changed greatly since the last time you saw him — what was once thinned, pale cheekbones were now full and golden, amplifying his eye-smile, which he did not lose in the Americas. He was adorned in navy blue, contrasting with his off-coloured pants, black hair styled effortlessly away from his forehead.

“My goodness!” he began, strolling over to you with his mahogany cane. “Even after two years you upkeep your radiance.”

“You flatter me,” you said as your smile widened. “You certainly have changed. I adore the tan!”

“I fear you are the sole admirer,” he confided, narrowing his gaze at his incoming guests. “As if I wish to look like a ghost among men!”

“You have earned my approval, at least,” you complimented in earnest. “Not that it would matter much.”

Seungmin scoffed at your comment. “Says one of the most affluent women in the country! When were you going to tell me you were Hyunjin’s bride?”

Your irritation sparked as your heartbeat raced. “It was very recent, I admit. I would have sent word, but it would not have reached you.”

“I daresay I am not surprised.”

You peered at him, then. “No?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “My dear, everyone anticipated the occasion. Only you were clueless to the possibility.”

Gritting your teeth, you jabbed him with your hand, causing him to chuckle. “Ow! I was hoping you would mature by this time! No doubt your duke encourages this!”

Preferring to stay silent on the matter, Seungmin continued on the subject, making it difficult. “Where is he, by the way? Gossip tells me it is your first ball as a couple.”

“Is he not here?” A shake of his head had your nerves creeping back. “Oh, um, my mother was alone, so I thought to accompany her instead.”

You nearly grimaced at his callous features. “How bizarre,” he murmured. He then offered you his arm. “If so, then allow me to accompany you in his absence.”

Accepting his arm, he helped you navigate your ways through the huge foyer, the grand stairs welcoming you two as dozens upon dozens of aristocrats came into view — the host nodded his head in greeting at every passerby, leading you down each step, until your feet landed on the floor of the ballroom.

Examining the area, you marvelled at the pastels colouring each wall, corner and crevice of the vast space in the room. Sweet music filled the air, and murmurs of many ladies and gentlemen resonated everywhere around you, growing louder as their eyes rested on you, your sensual attire, and the lack of husband on your arm.

“How about a dance, Duchess?” Seungmin asked you as he brought you closer to the center.

Instantly you shook your head, stopping in your tracks. “No,” you refused, tugging on his arm. “I have no wish for dancing this evening.”

“As if you ever have,” he mused, earning your glare. “I presume you await for your beau? Everyone knows you dance first with him.”

A sharp breath exhaled from your nose. “Nevermind that, just take me where the cakes are.”

Laughter spilled from his lips, stirring you to the refreshments. “As you wish, ____.”

Making your way through the guests, you finally ended up where the food resided, tables lined from one corner of the room to the other, flanked in every type of nourishment. Your gaze found stands of cakes, and you left your hand on your friend’s arm, raised towards the deserts. As soon as a servant handed you a plate, the chocolate cake was in your hold.

“Honestly,” the host started, as you cut a piece with a fork, digging straight in. “And they call you the pinnacle of grace!”

“Who in heaven said that?” you asked, baffled as you ate another small piece. Seungmin, snapping his fingers, brought a tray of champagne over to you. Picking up two flutes, you began, “For me?”

Downing the first, he offered you a grin. “What made you think that?” he replied, already sipping the second. “My party, my alcohol.”

This time you giggled at his demeanour, he handing you a drink as you finished your cake. The bubbly goodness was welcomed, warming you up and calming your senses.

After the third glass, the champagne-induced man let out a huge sigh. “Right!” he exclaimed, propping the glasses on the table beside you. “I must find myself a pretty lady to dance with.”

“Do try to stay on your feet, Seungmin,” you said, raising your flute in toast.

“No promises!” he merely countered, disappearing into the crowd.

Your smile faded at the isolation which hit.

There you were — hundreds of people surrounding you, many potential partners to dance with, yet there you were, hand not in another hand but wrapped around your alcohol.

You could not blame a single soul. This was all your doing.

That had you consuming the champagne to the last drop.

At least there was some form of relief in this ball, as you watched Seungmin and about a dozen couples form a circle at the center of the room. With the first opening of the music the host led his partner, all the others following suit.

Watching the waltz had you remembering the last dance, the fateful night where this union came into fruition. Your friend’s smile, his hand on another’s waist, all these images reflected the very same you experienced many weeks before.

You bit the inside of your cheek, reminiscing deeper and deeper. You hated how every fibre of your body ached for his presence. The worst part was that it was not mere lust, or the carnal desire which erupted at his thought.

You longed for him — his banter, his mischievous eyes, and his rather heart-wrenching smile.

The music heightened, the climax of the dance falling on the ball room as Seungmin whirled and whirled his partner, a string of giggles faintly heard from the crowd. When he twirled her one last time, he caught her instantly, at perfect harmony with the ending of the sweet melody.

Applause scattered across the hall as the couples bowed to each other.

A curse escaped you then.

There was simply no doubt of your feelings — avoiding him could never be the solution.

This revelation may have arrived at the perfect time.

Because, as the music played once more, a figure emerged at the entrance.

The murmurs, one by one like a slow wave, died down as they caught sight of him, gazes shocked.

Sipping your champagne, quite puzzled, you turned to the origins for this change of atmosphere.

Every atom in your body stilled.

Froze completely at the sight which stood at the foot of the steps.

You were unable to suppress his name.

“Hyunjin.”

It was as if, by a miracle, he heard your shivered whisper — his eyes skimmed the crowd, frantic beneath the calm.

They found you in the chaos.

Your very breath disappeared from your lungs.

Hwang Hyunjin looked like the devil’s greatest fantasy; as if he stole the night and imprisoned it in his attire. He was adorned in lustrous black, waistcoat patterned with red swirls of velvet. His collar was slightly ruffled, cravat of midnight as it barely brushed against his chin. His tailcoat somewhat glistened in the chandelier light, dark leather boots still as he stood before the hall.

His greatest change was his hair. Once golden like the lights of heaven, it was now as black as the underworld. Half of the locks were swept up in a ponytail, the rest curling at his shoulders.

The flute nearly dropped from your hands.

Seungmin, finding his friend on the steps, burst into a smile. “Hastings!” he broke through the silence with enthusiasm. With his voice the crowd fell into frenzied discourse, the host making his way through his guests, strolling towards the new arrival. “By God, it has been too long!”

Hyunjin hummed, not particularly interested in what he had to say. His gaze from you did not stray for a heartbeat. Seungmin, catching on, wrapped a hand around his friend’s shoulder. “I see you only came for one person,” he said, leading him to where you stood.

Champagne was not the only substance which heated you further, cheeks growing warmer the closer he walked over to you. Every move he emitted exuded sensuality, as if his bones were made of silk.

You let yourself to a third serving when he stopped before you, Seungmin clapping his hands together in excitement. “Look at the two of you!” he proclaimed. “Your clothes match so perfectly!”

Sure enough, both of you adorned the same hues of dark reds and raven blacks. You felt his eyes rake over you, and you restrained to not do the same, lest you let more than your stare wander. “I always knew you two were right for each other,” your friend continued, grabbing his fourth flute, drinking away in glee. “I am overjoyed to see that you both see it.”

Something cold swirled in your husband’s stare, and you ran a finger along the empty glass, embarrassed to hear such genuinity. “Hyunjin, the second waltz is about to start.” He gestured his flute towards you. “I know you always dance with each other first.”

The duke’s eyes flickered to the host for a mere second before pinning on you again. “I have no desire for dancing tonight.”

You had trouble downing your drink. “How strange...” Seungmin noted, darting between the couple. “Your wife here said the same thing not an hour ago.”

“Did she now?”

The silence that followed was quite unbearable. Even your friend was unimpressed, offering Hyunjin a drink from the waiters nearby. “Oh, you both are such bores! Maybe marriage is not the solution after all.”

You dared not look at him then, fiddling with your black ribbon. “I need to get drunk!” the host declared, tutting his head at the tension created. “I will come again when you two stop being so bloody shy.”

Shy would not be the most accurate term, but Seungmin was too intoxicated to care. He strolled to compliment a gathering of ladies within your radius, which left you with the one man you feared to be alone with.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Hwang Hyunjin, in his changed, midnight glory, watching you with an indecipherable intensity. Creating the wildest butterflies ever felt inside your body.

You did not know where to start.

The man did not understand where to begin either, tongue at loss for words. There were too many words to spill, too many feelings left constricted.

He wished to say something, but his senses had failed him. So, much like you, he stayed silent, wondering if the two of you would ever break this barrier.

Even then, he could not help but linger closer, leaning against the lush walls of the room, right beside you. His presence was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Tailcoat brushing against your skirts, he examined the ballroom along with you, itching to reach for your hand. He would never really, but in that moment, you were beyond tempting.

You see, he had no idea what you would wear tonight, and after the spat at Lansdowne, he yearned for change — hence the raven hair and darkened clothing, so unlike his usual pastel attire. He did not even think that you would attend the ball in fear of his presence, but seeing you before him, engulfed in his favourite colours…

He would have damned society and taken you in this very hall.

Daringly, he let himself wonder whether you felt the same — he heard your shocked murmur when he arrived, and the further shocked stare which made him ever so smug. If only you would let him do something about it.

If only you would let him ease this tension before it spiralled out of control.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Seungmin came stumbling back, alcohol, swishing back and forth in his new glass as he giggled at his guests. “Dear friends!” he broke out, hands raised, some of the drink accidentally slipping out. “Oh, forgive me, gentlemen!”

You heard Hyunjin sigh beside you as he held his own hands out to steady his friend. “Steady now, man!” he warned. The drunkard only chortled, foot stepping onto your dress.

“You should not have drank so much!” you scolded, raising your skirts. Glimpses of your stockings came into display, and Seungmin shrieked.

“Careful duchesh!” he slurred excitedly, leaning right into you and wiggling the glass as if it were a finger. Unfortunately, he had little control over how hard he shook his alcohol, and it all spilled over.

Right onto your white stockings.

Yelping, you saw the middle part stain in pinkish-red, murking the material with every drop landing. “Seungmin!” you yelled in agitation.

“Oh bollocksh!” he cursed, causing a few gasps around the hearing radius. “I apologishe, dear, so very very much—”

Hyunjin, witnessing the scene, stopped a nearby servant. “Please tend to your master, here,” he ordered, pointing towards Seungmin begging for your forgiveness. Nodding, the boy took the host away, the latter hiccuping as he asked for more wine. “And do not give him any more to drink!” the duke added.

Focusing on you, he rushed over, assessing the mess made. “Damn fool has spilled quite a bit.” Whirling his head to any exits, he spotted a dark hallway, remembering the route of the estate. “Come with me.”

You glanced at him, frantic. “Where to?”

He did not answer fully as he wrapped a hand around your waist, almost making you forget that you had wine spilled over you. “Seungmin has many spare rooms,” he explained, leading you out of the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd was too occupied in preparing for the second waltz to care for the distressed couple.

Keeping your skirts raised, you managed to keep your gown safe from spillage as Hyunjin led you down the less crowded hallways, depictions of the Kim family painted on the walls. “Ah!” He got out, reaching to a familiar room as he opened it, ushering you inside. “This is where I usually reside whenever I stay at the estate.”

The room was basked in dark, velvety colours, perfect for the man next to you. Lush carpet underneath, the huge bed, nestled at the wall at your right had its curtains drawn, revealing glistening indigo sheets, matching the framing of the bedroom. Dressing tables, wardrobes and the like were furnished at each corner, your focus drifting back to the dweller.

There was barely any light, save for the oil lamp sparked to life by his match. Setting it to the side of the bed, it brought much more life to the room, previously engulfed in mystery.

Without the upheaval, the space was basked in silence. You realised the hand on your back was sorely missed, and Hyunjin, standing a few feet away, clenched and unclenched that very hand, yearning for his fingers upon you once more.

But the two of you kept playing that little game of keeping quiet. Sooner or later, one of you will have enough of this sickening ploy.

Groaning, you walked over to the edge of the bed, kicking your heels off as you saw your stockings, fully stained. “Damn it,” you muttered, promising Seungmin murder.

Another few minutes of your grumbling, and he had had enough.

“Maybe I can be of assistance.”

Perking up, you found Hyunjin, walking slowly to you, hands fumbling in his coat pockets. After a few seconds of rummaging, he brought out a package, tied with red string.

You raised a brow. “What is this?”

“Open it,” he merely said, taking a step closer as he held it before you.

Hesitantly accepting, you tugged on the end of the bow, unraveling the tie. You did not forget the stare which rested on you the entire time you opened the wrappings.

When the paper unfurled, you examined the contents.

Before you were a folded pair of black stockings.

A soft exhale escaped as you beheld the present, the midnight silk soft to the touch, already aware of its rich feel. You delved in further, and uncovered white ribbons at the top, for tightening their grip.

“How…” you trailed off, dumbfounded at the coincidence. “How did you…?”

“No, no, this was…” he locked his hands behind his back. “Something I was supposed to give you this morning.”

“Oh.” This morning. When you two had that particularly nasty fight. “I see.”

You glanced down at the present again. Hyunjin had proven, once again, how refined his taste was. “I have never seen such exceptional detail on stockings before.” Discarding the paper at your feet, you ran your thumb across the material. “I doubt this suits me at all.”

There was a pause at that.

You knew there was something he wanted to say. The way his jaw ticked, the boot lightly tapping on the floor — he was bursting to add a comment which may be a risk, considering the circumstance of your relations.

Allowing yourself to be the first to dare, you peered up at him. The curiosity, explicit in your eyes, had him clearing his throat.

His hesitancy faded. “Show me, then.”

Catching the ferocity in his stare, you swallowed, hand at your skirts. “If…if you wish.”

And that was all he needed to begin.

You watched as the man descended on his knees, lingering upon you until he looked down, revealing your white-clad legs the further you raised your gown. You stopped before the ends, holding onto your skirts and petticoats as if your life depended on it.

Hyunjin’s gaze did not waver as his hand raised forward, finding themselves upon the bow at the top of the stockings as the other gently held your ankle. Untying the ribbon, he hooked his fingers under the tight fabric, your skin brushing against his knuckles. Slowly, he pulled down the stocking, uncovering your skin before him under the dim lamp light. When it bunched up, his hand at your ankle stretched the ends of fabric, sliding the stocking right off.

Discarding it behind him, he repeated the unveiling on the other leg. He noticed your skin heating underneath his touch, and he dared not expose his growing delight.

Once the other half slid off, joining its partner, a hand raised in front of you. You stared at him in dazed confusion, and his fingers curled, save for the pointer directed at your present.

“The stockings, darling.”

The endearment had you falling short — his caresses on your shin brought you back to consciousness, your hand beyond your control as it handed the gift to him. Taking it, he put one of them beside him, bunching the other with his hands till he directed the entrance to your foot on his lap.

Slipping them on, he worked his way upon your heel; his hands were slow, fingers softer than the silk beginning to cover your leg. Every fleeting touch had small shockwaves coursing up your body, as if it was the first time he laid his hands on you. How were you so unaccustomed to his caresses still?

Maybe because he knew how to agonise you.

When reaching above your knee, he brought the ends of the stocking to your thigh. His fingers fell to the ribbon dangling from the underside and, with the utmost care, began to tie the two pieces together, forming a pretty red bow.

As he closed the pattern, he tightened the bow, securing the fabric — snuffing out any possibility for the fabric to fall.

He then continued on the other leg, gaze flickering from your legs to your face. He caught every laboured breath you released, every flutter of your eyes slipping you in and out of a daze. His fingers were slower still, as if he never wanted this to stop. The stockings were like a second skin, adding a lustre to your legs the more he covered you with it.

Sliding over your knee for the last time, he held onto the blood-coloured ribbons. Fingers skimming against silk-stained skin, he tied another perfect bow, tightening it at the ends.

All done.

His gaze lingered on the bows, the sliver of skin past your thighs. His hands too, refused to leave your legs.

It was then his eyes flicked upward — right into yours.

You caught every swirl of desire residing inside.

Every little detail etched on his face was stained with lustful anguish, suppressed hunger of things you dared not imagine. You held onto your skirts with more force, afraid you would lose strength in your hands.

Hyunjin’s hands, however, had no such troubles.

For they began to carry out his wishes — they slid upwards, past the stockings and upon your upper thighs, spreading them enough to slip himself between your legs. This alone had you near crumbling for him, but his eyes asked for more. Even with the dim light, you had never seen a man so beautiful in agony.

You wondered whether he was going to say anything. Silence was a giver of many answers, but the questions you held could only be answered by his lulling whispers. Despite protest, you willed your hands beside you, clutching the sheets, waiting for him to tear your soul in pieces.

Finally, the Duke of Hastings parted his mouth.

“One word, angel.”

He squeezed your thighs softly.

“One word, and I will never torment you with my presence again.”

A bated breath escaped you.

It was much too late for that. Hyunjin had already tormented you, had done so ever since your fateful realisation, and you knew he would do so for the rest of your life. It would hardly matter whether he was oceans apart or a hair’s breadth close — him, and everything he represented, was complete and utter affliction.

Such a shame that he was a torment you would sacrifice everything to be around every day. Such a horrible, horrible shame that Hwang Hyunjin was a presence you loved more than you could let on.

Hence was the reason you did not answer him with words. What you wished to say was much too vulnerable.

No, you answered him in actions — replied with your hands raising to clasp his face, leaning down to envelope your lips with his.

You were surprised to hear a pained moan leave his mouth, and you realised that was the sound of pure, heart-breaking relief. Instantly his hands travelled further as he kissed you back with twice the fervour, hands sliding to grip your waist. Pulling you to him, he erased any distance between you, delving deeper into your mouth. He shuddered at how he went so long without your tongue swirling along with his, like parting from a lost companion.

Fingers sliding to his neck, you welcomed his enthusiasm, his desperation which heightened with every searing touch, every soft bite of his teeth against your lips. He broke away, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eliciting the sweetest whining from you.

“...missed you,” he murmured on your skin, sending chills down your body as he kissed the edges of your dress's neckline. “I...missed you so much.”

“Hyunjin—” you began, wanting to say that you yearned for him, but the words on your tongue faded when his fingers bunched up the skirts of your gown, hitching it higher until the midnight stockings were back in view — he did not stop there, pushing the fabric further till it bunched at your waist, along with the petticoats. His hurried hands pulled down your underthings, sliding them right off your legs, discarding them behind them.

Seeing your cunt glistening in the lamplight nearly broke him.

“I—God,” he breathed out, hands spreading your legs apart. An aching whine escaped you at the action, the cool night air caressing your inner thighs. “Angel, tell me...we do not have to do this.” He glanced up at you, and the madness residing in his eyes infected your soul.

Maybe madness was the only reason you damned the consequences.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Hyunjin licked his lips before blessing you with his closure.

The first stripe across your slit set you on fire.

A soft groan through your mouth at the familiar sensation, the overbearing feeling of being ascended far away from this obscure bedroom. He had always worked wonders, but this time, the languor had faded, desire hardening his tongue against your folds. He pulled on your legs, sending his face further into your cunt, and you yelped at the ferocity of his actions.

There was no denying it — the man had grown frantic without you.

Swiping in the arousal coating along your slit, a satisfied hum escaped him as he travelled upwards, your seething more encouragement. He struck gold as he found your clit, circling his tongue along the bud, rendering you helpless as you moaned without shame. You cared little if the guests heard you beyond the door, your husband making it too hard to contain yourself.

Perhaps you would have survived his treatment if he did not leave one of his hands upon your leg, trailing up your thigh. He slipped in not one, but two fingers straight inside, and your voice raised an octave — the gradual rhythm of his digits had that overflowing feeling creeping over you all over again. Your grip on his half-ponytail tightened, pleading for him to give you mercy, but the man was relentless, never opting for a break in his devouring.

“Damn it, please—” you grated out, instinctively rolling your hips against his face. The edge of the bed seemed more like the edge of the world. “Wh-whatever you do—”

You did not finish as Hyunjin squeezed your thigh, and you knew then in your dazed mind — a certainty that he understood.

Within moments his pace quickened, fuelling the spark of nerves which swirled in your gut, threatening to overtake you. Teething your clit softly, then swirling his tongue along, you knew that if he carried on, he would break you on this bed. Something within you felt as if that was his was his very purpose.

Why the thought thrilled you, you would never know.

His rapid fingers and sensual tongue working harmoniously finally got through to you, as, with a whimpering cry, you came all over him, closing your eyes as spots of white stained your mind. You felt his ministrations slow, a small kiss gifted upon your sensitive clit before his lips pulled away. Other hand brushing across your leg, he soothed you from the high you experienced, whispers of his lilting voice perking you from your stupor.

“Hyunjin?” you quietly called, gazing at his lust-struck face. He did not look away as he brought the finger to his lips, sucking away at your residue.

You did not think you could ever get used to this image.

“Yes, angel?” he rasped out, straightening on his knees so his head nearly levelled with yours.

Catching the implications within your eyes, his own widened slightly.

“More?” he let himself wonder, and when you nodded much too desperately, he realised he had done it.

All he needed was for you to voice it.

“Oh, my sweet little darling,” he whispered, taking one of your gloved hands. Slowly, he slid off the long gloves, repeating the same for the other. “This time, I cannot let you off.

His hands then clasped yours. “This time...I need you to say what you want for me.”

The declaration would have had you closing your legs in embarrassment if your husband was not between them. Not even embarrassment for what he said but...the idea of you wanting to completely oblige it.

Look at you — a few months ago, you possessed not a single inclination of what he suggested; what he asked for, what he so direly wanted you to say. The woman before this one would have rather buried herself under the earth than admit such desire for a man.

The Duke of Hastings, though, brought her out from her underground retreat, and revealed to her all that she was capable of. He showed her what everyone was so afraid to even talk about, and made you addicted to what was forbidden.

A dire shame you wanted Hyunjin to keep you intoxicated for the rest of your life.

You faced him once and for all. Asked him for the one thing which you never thought imaginable.

“Show me...all of it.”

Your hands travelled to his shoulders, keeping him close.

“Show me everything.”

If there was a way to bottle this moment and hang it on the walls of his heart, Hyunjin would have jumped at the chance.

Had he defiled you, after so long? Had he slipped his dirty fantasies into your mind, tainted you with his infatuation?

The answers to his questions were found upon your lips. He collided his own against yours as he gathered you up in his arms, standing up and taking you with him.

Your legs would have given way if we’re not for him keeping his grip — a grip which wandered upwards, catching the little metal hooks of your dress. He thrust his tongue inside your mouth, and the harsh frenzy delighted you, welcoming all of it as you opened for him wider. A shuddered breath escaped you at the hooks being undone by his hands, one by one till you felt your gown loosen.

At the last hook, Hyunjin pulled the sleeves off your arms, and the dress fell to the floor, leaving you with your corset and petticoats. You were caught off guard when he swivelled you around, you feeling the tugs of lace being unravelled with each pull of his fingers. The kisses did not cease, being rewarded at the crook of your neck. Each caress of his lips sent shivers down your spine — more so when he eased off the corset from your body, tugging off your petticoats along with it.

All that was left was a thin, loose chemise, everything shown clearly beneath the white veil of its fabric. The man turned you to face him again, and his gaze turned molten at the sight that welcomed him. Taking your lips in his, he ripped off his own attire — the long coat, waistcoats, every piece from the waist up being discarded. He had to break away for a moment to take his shirt off, and you caught the sight of his lean figure, turned golden in the light.

You could not help reaching out, running your curious fingers against his skin, soft and warm beneath your touch. He dared not speak, fearing you would take away your hand, but that was the last thing you wanted to do.

Tonight, you did not want distance — and neither did he.

Kissing you again, he pulled the lace in front of your chemise, loosening the attire until, with wandering hands, he dropped the last layer you upheld. Slowly, never leaving your lips, he backed you against the bed, holding you steady as he laid you upon the sheets. You never let go of him, aching to take all of him in your mouth, taste his very soul till it was the only thing that remained on your tongue.

“Fuck—” a curse escaped him as he broke away, catching the swelling of your lips. His gaze trailed downwards, upon your breasts which perked at the sight. “You’re so—so beautiful, I—”

Trails of open-mouthed kisses attacked you after, falling upon your breasts where Hyunjin began swiping his tongue along the nipple. The foreign wave of pleasure had you ripping out the most atrocious moan, caring less if the whole manor were to hear.

While his tongue played with you, his fingers worked at his trousers, unbuckling his belt as he peeled off the clothing, tossing it to the ever growing pile. You craned your head forward, glancing at the bulge near bursting from his underwear. A quivering sigh escaped you, rendering louder by the quickening of his actions.

Getting rid of his underwear, his cock sprung free, and you were surprised you had not passed out from the mere sight, red and angry and too bloody big. You could not stop staring, hard to believe that a man could possess such...such substantial anatomy.

“Like what you see, angel?” Your husband mused, leaving his place upon your nipple. Flustered, you tried to look away, but it was no use, when the man caught your chin with his fingers. “I’m surprised you can be shy even now.”

That did not help with your situation, causing you to heat drastically beneath his touch. Chuckling, he dropped a little kiss upon your nose before resting his forehead against yours.

Grasping his cock, he levelled it against your leaking cunt, the head teasing your folds. Even the small action had you seething, the warm residue sending shockwaves across your body. You held onto his neck, fearing you would lose yourself if you dared not hold onto him.

His midnight eyes turned to yours, noses brushing. “This may hurt for a second, ____,” he confessed, voice barely a murmur. “But I promise I will make that second up to you.”

Nodding slightly, you watched only him as his gaze travelled downwards. Fear threatened to take over, but one look at your husband, and it all faded.

With a final prayer to the heavens, Hyunjin began his descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his cock slid into your cunt. A heightened whine bubbled up to your throat, and you let it free with each inch that entered, terrified that this man could break you with what he slipped inside you. Your walls tightened with its entrance, and the more you voiced out the more he tended, peppering sweet kisses upon your cheeks.

You did not know how long it was till he stopped, letting you adjust to him inside you. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets, yet your husband was a huge comfort, circling smooth strokes upon your hip with his thumb, holding your face as he held the universe in his hands.

Breathing deeply, he glanced at you — a nod was your response to his consoling gaze, knowing what he meant.

With that, the duke began to pull out.

He was slow, just as he was when he first entered you. He was gradual, languid, and the terror that haunted you was replaced with a new, different kind of high.

You had never felt something so pleasurable.

You revealed your surprise to Hyunjin, stare glistening at the foreign sensation — your entire body was up in the clouds, relishing the slow withdrawal and the skill he brought in the bedroom. You were so sure that he was terrified too, scared of ruining this, but all you could feel was pure, unadulterated delight.

When the head reached the beginning of your folds once again, you thought that this was it — there was no more to be done, and your contentment was short-lived.

However, your husband surprised you as he slid inside you once again.

This time, there was a slight increase of pace, and it kept getting better, your feelings heightening with each passing second as he dipped further into you. He was so unbelievably good, knowing just how to make you whimper — God, his gaze was enough to undo you, ablaze with all the hellfire from the underworld. The devil worked hard, but Hyunjin worked overtime, bottoming out into you once more.

From that point on, your bodies began to move in sync, you giddily moving your hips along with his, aching to have him inside the whole time. Your hands carded through his velvety locks, taking out the ribbons so his hair fell all about him, curtailing his face as he rocked back and forth upon you. By God, he was so exquisite, something straight out of an artist movement, despite the sweat beading down his forehead, despite the parted mouth, the slight panting.

“H-Hyunjin—” you began, interrupted by another sharp moan from his efforts. “Hyunjin, I think I’m close—”

This time, you were interrupted by his lips upon your neck, teething love bites everywhere upon your skin. He hummed against you at your warning, and thrusted his cock into you. The head reached a certain spot which had you seeing seventh heaven, seeing truth and peace and everything in between, because fuck, he knew where to strike.

You did not know how long it had been till you felt yourself dizzying, the feeling in your lower abdomen warning you of its leash snapping. Hyunjin, aware that you were close, only brought his fingers to your clit, prodding at the bud till tears stung your eyes.

“I...fuck, angel—!” He gasped between thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses upon your lips. “Look at you, all...all messed up from my cock!”

Heightened wailing was your response, broken murmurs being spewed from your lips. Hastily the man shook his head, revelling in your utter ruination.

“Ah—! Come on now!” he cooed in his husky rasp, holding onto your head. “Say it for me, darling.”

A part of you did not think you could manage, but you had to if it meant he would bring you relief. The duke may have been the love of your life, but he was still, undoubtedly, a smug bastard.

Despite that, you could not believe how easily you resorted to begging.

“Please, Hyunjin!” You pleaded in half-pants, the tears spilling when he delved into that one particular spot again. “Make me do—whatever the hell I do, damn it!”

Huffing out a small laugh, the man held onto you a little tighter, retaining his grin. “Oh, ____,” he said, and the next words slipped out in his haze of lust, not realising he had revealed something of terrible importance.

After planting another disheveled kiss, he murmured, “You are so lucky that I love you.”

You did not have time for this declaration to settle before your husband obliged you in the best possible way; his thrusting turned erratic, fast and uneven, and the increased pace of his fingers was too much, all at once.

You had no choice but to let out a cry as you spilled onto him — some escaped from your walls and stained the sheets, whimpering breaths keeping you alive. His ministrations slowed as well, fingers stopping at your clit.

Watching you undo yourself for him was certainly the last straw for him — for the first time he released into you, grunting at the impact. Parts of his orgasm, too, sullied the sheets, but that was the least of his concerns, as he held onto you for dear life, nearly shattering his entire self upon you.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed beside you on the bed, his deep breaths breaking the silence. You, too, panted for a while, gazing up at the dark ceiling.

You expected your first thought to be utter delight at your first time. You had finally done what no one in polite society ever told you about, and it was so wonderful that you doubt anyone would have shared in your fortune.

However, your mind was occupied with another matter entirely.

You are lucky that I love you.

You closed your eyes.

Hyunjin loved you. Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend and husband, loved you when you thought it impossible.

Something within you then wondered if it was too good to be true.

“____?”

Noticing your name, you turned, finding the very man staring at you — in a way which would have your theories proven true. You did not know about yourself, but seeing him before you, black locks disheveled, skin glistening from sweat, you could not deny that anyone would fall for him if they saw him now.

You tried to push your emotions past you, blinking back a bit of fatigue. “Yes?”

“Tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” Turning over, he propped his arm, holding his head in his hand. “Are you alright?”

Perhaps you should have opted for a vague yes, but something in you did not want to beat around the bush anymore. You wished to tell him your truth.

“I was wondering about what you said,” you began, reflecting his position.

“I have said many things, darling,” the man drawled. “What do you specifically mean?”

“Well…” you tried to avoid his gaze, but you knew by now that evading Hyunjin was useless. “Before I...you know…”

“Know what?” He mused, which had you rolling your eyes.

“You know what I mean!” Sighing, you continued, constantly looking at his features. “Well, just before that, you said something to me...is it true?”

Silence fell on the room as your husband pondered at your question. His eyebrows raised, and you realised that he had figured it out.

“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I know exactly what you speak of.”

You waited for his response, suddenly aware of how naked you were in this bedroom. Dread curled at your stomach, and you debated grabbing the sheets and sneaking out of the manor.

That is when Hyunjin gave you his answer. Gave it to you as he took your hand in both of his, pinning you with a stare he reserved only for you.

“They are the truest words I have spoken.”

He leaned into you, and your heart fluttered, much more dramatically now because of what he revealed.

A soul-saving smile adorned his lips. “Despite our circumstances, it was inevitable that I would fall, and I thank the heavens that I did. I love you, ____, even if you cannot return the feeling. I love you as the friend I never had.

“I love you because you are the most inspirational woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.”

When he finished, you wondered whether you had the words to respond to a confession as heart-wrenching as the one your husband blessed you with. Tears pricked the corners of your vision, and you leaned into his hands which cupped your face.

Brushing his lips against yours, you willingly accepted, giving him all the affection you garnered within you for so long. The tears trailed down your cheeks, and you had to pull away, hands curling at his locks.

“I-I…” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hyunjin, I-I love you so much—”

The man’s heart burst from his chest.

His rashness got the better of him, interrupting you with a searing kiss as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip.

Never in his lust-hazed mind did he foresee you reciprocating his affection.

He was ready to spend eternity in a one-sided relationship. He was ready to stomach the melancholy you brought if you were to fall for another, or if you simply never loved at all, blankly living your life without any form of affection to give.

But…to have you fall for him.

What he said to you was wrong.

You were not lucky that he loved you.

He was lucky that you loved him.

So the Duke of Hastings, pulling the clean sheets upwards, showed you how lucky he was, deepening the kiss and you offering all of you again, moving your lips along with his.

And in this night, the two of you made another revelation — that perhaps reality was not the villain in the both of yours tales after all.

THE DAYS AFTER THE BALL WERE NOTHING BUT EUPHORIA.

You wondered whether it was all a dream, with the happiness that followed without any strings attached.

The passionate endeavours between the two of you did not stop at Seungmin’s manor — hands wandered in the carriage back home, and the moment you stepped at Lansdowne, Hyunjin backed you against the wall and ripped your dress right off, never wanting to stop ravishing you. You did not stop him, did not want to stop him, when you waited so long for him to engulf you without any barriers. By the time you both stopped in the shy hours of dawn, you had been drained of all physical strength, but filled with mental joy.

You fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and had the fortune of this love reciprocated.

Sometimes, you wondered if it was all a dream — a twisted, subliminal illusion, tricking you into believing that marital life is what every writer writes of in the end, the solution filled with flowers and sweet kisses. You never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that you could achieve such bliss with another.

Then, you would wake up with your husband’s arms around you, and finally understand. Finally comprehend what it meant, to never stray from a soul connected with yours.

The weeks after also brought the finishing of your novel, your childhood dream all polished in your hands as you took it to the most famous publishers in town. You had fears of the reactions, as what you wrote during certain parts of the novel was borderline scandalous, but the men at the publishing house enjoyed the first few chapters you showed them, and asked for more on the next visit.

You were overjoyed by their reaction, but then doubt entered your mind at once — what if they were only agreeable to your writing because of your position?

The thought soured your happiness. You did not want to be a writer because of your position in society, but because of your skill. There may have been thousands of other women with talents surpassing yours, but would never be able to achieve even the interest of a publisher.

Hyunjin was the first to know of your news, and the worries which accompanied it. He listened to you on your second, third visits, scoffing at your disbelief of your turn of events. It was ridiculous in his mind how ardently you doubted yourself, waving off the publishers’ interests in your novel as sheer luck, or your station as the Duchess of Hastings. He assured you many a time, that your flair in creating stories surpassed no man or woman living in London.

He knew those publishers well — well enough to know that they had never released a novel written by a woman, no matter how influential she may have been. Knowing you had managed to enter consideration for publishing was a feat in itself. The duke had absolutely no doubt that he would see your works in the hands of every person who knew how to read.

What you did not expect, however, was the request from the publishers to have your novel anonymously published. You demanded a reason, and they provided a whole list — women writing was only considered a secondary activity, and if word were to reach the city of a Duchess writing books instead of tending to her family, then it would cause an outrage. You could not believe your ears, despite a small part of you expecting this setback.

You wanted your name on the book.

Confiding in your husband once more, you told him of the condition, angrily pacing back and forth in your home. “It is simply...awful!” you spat, locking your hands behind your back, turning the room once more. Hyunjin watched you with a concerned look passing over his features as he looked up from his book. “Why should I hide my identity? I am proud of what I wrote, damn it!”

The man let out a sigh. “I think you should keep the name anonymous.”

That had you pausing. “I beg your pardon?” you demanded, thundering over to him. “Are you saying I conform to their conditions?”

“I am not suggesting it because of their reasoning. I know they are still too ashamed to try publishing a woman’s creation.”

Closing his book, he set it to the side table. “My love, there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you accomplish your dreams. I want more than anything to boast of your mind, and the writings it invents. However,” he continued, “I fear when the public sees your name printed on the novel, a controversial one at that, and see it that they attack you.”

“But that does not matter to me,” you responded, hands on your hips. “In fact, I welcome their criticism! Let me see what poppycock they want to say of my hard work.”

Hyunjin clamped his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “I am happy you do not care for such people, but it would damage your future writings. It would damage your future.”

When you frowned at him, he held out his hands. You closed the distance, settling upon his lap, sliding your arms around his shoulders, while he did the same around your waist. “Tell me, angel, do you wish to write after this?”

“Of course.”

“Well, see it like this,” he began. “Let us say you publish the novel anonymously. It would be in instant circulation, and everyone would read it, no matter who they are. Why? Because your identity is hidden. There would be no bias against you.”

“So?” you asked, and Hyunjin gave you a look. “Okay, okay, continue!”

“As I was saying,” he carried on, “This would not only help you gain an initial audience, but, if you do wish to reveal yourself after that, then it would be perfect. You would have not only shown the public that a woman had written such a brilliant novel, but anyone who would have had previous biases would either conform to reading your writing, or be furious that they had been tricked into reading a woman’s novel.” He then added, smirking, “Which, in my opinion, would be a very amusing situation to witness.”

You thought over what he said, mind in slight conflict. “In the end, though, it is your choice,” he reassured you. “Whatever you do, you have my undeterred support.”

The little addition had you smiling. “You make valid points,” you admitted, which had the man releasing a chuckle.

“You say that as if I have no intelligence,” he jeered, pulling you closer. “You will be thanking me when all of this goes as I predicted.”

“Don’t push it,” you countered. “We both know you have been proved wrong many times.”

“Hmmm…” he trailed off, leaning in, brushing his lips upon your skin. “At least I know I am right about one thing.”

“Oh?” Your head began to swim as he trailed a few lingering kisses up your neck. “And...and what would that be?”

He did not answer you — only offered an alluring smile before pressing his lips against yours. A soft hum left you as he moved his mouth against yours, slow and languid, teasing his tongue against the seams.

You would have offered yourself right then and there if he had not broken away, drumming his fingers against your waist. The smile darkened as he gave you his reply.

“You cannot resist me, angel.”

That, no matter how much it worked against your favour, was an undoubted fact.

After this though, you made your decision to keep anonymous, letting the publishers know of your change of heart. You knew that what Hyunjin said made sense, and, if your novel does receive recognition, then revealing yourself would create a huge statement in London society, positive or not. With this in mind, brought the final edited drafts of your work, and received information of the commissions and percentages taken by the publishing house.

Because the release of your novel was to take some time, you had some freedom with your everyday activities, which were once taken up by the constant editing. The duke, luckily, had begun to employ much more able men in his authority, and so his work was decreased significantly, to the point where he had days to spend with you alone.

During that waiting period, he suggested the two of you retreat to Hemingford, where you both spent your honeymoon. Your smile never left as you jumped at the idea, the man in turn making arrangements for the earliest carriage out of the city.

Within two days, you were welcomed by the little manor, nestled in the gifts of nature. You found yourself warming to the whole place once more, memories of the past months returning in a flash. Images of the many groves of trees, small network of rivers and a special presence, soothed you in every part you walked through. You nearly forgot how dear Hemingford was to you in the chaos of city life, engulfing its regal, almost mystical atmosphere. A part of you hoped that the book would take forever to be published, so you could never leave the natural retreat Hyunjin’s ancestors had created.

The man himself was glad he opted to take you to the manor — he saw your nerves slowly taking over in London, and knew that the more you stayed in Lansdowne, the more the wait was going to eat you alive. Aware of your attachment towards this place, he made it his personal mission to bring you here, and try to provide you with a little peace. When he caught that certain smile of yours when your eyes fell on the manor and the gardens around it, he felt half his worries melting away in the spring air.

He hated seeing you so unnerved.

After a few days resting in paradise, the situation was changed for the better. You, breathing in the very earth beneath your feet, observing the trees curved over you like a concerned parent, thought that you could stay here forever. Receiving a letter from the publishers’ of the near completion of copies made only brightened your spirits, and you sighed out into nature.

“Is something the matter?”

Perking up, you saw Hyunjin, who walked over from behind you.

“Ah...not much,” you said, watching him settle beside you on the bench you sat upon, folding one dark-clad leg over the other. In his hands possessed a book of deep-shaded red, which he held with great care. “Thinking about the letter today.”

“I see.” His eyes wandered down to his fingers. “Actually, I do have something for you, relating to the subject.”

“Oh?” You followed his trail. “Does this book have something to do with it?”

“However did you figure that out?” He drawled, but then he faced you properly, unfolding his leg. “Here.”

You took the possession, eyes on him. “Whose book is it?”

A knowing smile escaped his lips. “Look at the front, angel.”

Curious, you obliged, checking the title.

You completely stilled.

Written on the front was the name of your novel.

“Oh my God,” you got out, holding it with both hands, opening it to the pages. There it all was, inscripted upon the hundreds of pieces of paper.

Your writing.

Your sleepless nights, your labour, your every ounce of strength, tied together by paper and leather and string.

Rushing, you opened to a random section of the novel, smile widening at the typewriter’s neat, cleaner version of your manic scribbles. The dialogue, the description of each environment — it was there before you, but this time it was not in your head, whirling indefinitely without a place to explain itself.

It was all on paper — in your very hands.

“H-Hyunjin,” you stammered out, not realising your heart was becoming a little too heavy. “Oh my God—where did you get this? Have they—they have begun to sell copies already?”

“Oh Lord,” your husband murmured, hands on your shoulders. “No, no, my love, this was of my own doing.”

When he caught the confused expression upon your aghast face, he explained further. “Before we left for London, I paid a visit to the publishers’, who had started typing up copies of your book. I requested the first copy made be given to me.”

His thumbs began to stroke soothing circles onto your skin. “I know you would have wanted to hold it in your hands before anyone else.”

Heavens above. He truly knew you so well.

You focused back on the book, closing it as you ran your fingers over the leather cover. “I…”

“No need,” he said, giving you an amused grin. “I already know I am the best husband one could ask for.”

He expected his banter to be returned, but you responded to him with a heart-shattering smile.

Holding out the book, you propped it in his hands. “I want you to have it, Hyunjin.”

This time, it was his turn to be confused. “Am I missing the joke here?”

You held his gaze, albeit with much difficulty. “I promised you something once, quite a long time ago. All my firsts are yours.”

Your hand reached out, brushing against his. “This is my first novel. My most prized possession.” A pause, before holding that state with all your might. “I would want nothing more than for you to keep it.”

The duke used his every ounce of strength not to cry upon the bench. “Well then…” he began, taking the book from you. He turned to the front page, which was blank, save for the title name again, and the written anonymously typed onto its surface. “Well, ____, you must sign it for me!”

A laugh escaped you at that. “An autograph?” You jested, spluttering further when the man brought out his fountain pen, opening the cap. “I suppose with this enthusiasm, I shall throw in a little message.”

Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest, brows raising in mock surprise. “By God, you spoil me!”

“Give it here!” You retorted, taking the pen and book once more as you found the landing page.

You pondered for a few minutes on what to write, earning a few hurry ups! and the occasional she does not love me after all, the latter greatly exaggerated. Berating him, you finally thought of the words, arriving straight from the heart.

Finishing off, you gave the novel back. “Let us see what faux sweetening you have made for me,” he chortled, eyes lowering to the text.

His grin began to fade as he read the message in his mind.

TO THE MAN WHO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND, MY FIRST KISS, AND NOW MY FIRST LOVE.

HERE’S TO MANY MORE FIRSTS WITH YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ALL LAST.

I LOVE YOU.

Hyunjin knew that the sting in his eyes was not the spring breeze.

Slowly, he looked up, catching you staring at him with a smile—loving smile upon your face. A shuddered breath left his lips, unable to form the words.

“Oh no,” you began, jesting despite tears welling up in your own eyes. “It seems the duke believes in my faux sweetening after all.”

A coughed laugh left him at that, trying to clamp his lips together from smiling, but his emotions refused him to suppress himself. His eyes crescented, adding to his near teary grin. Propping the book to the side, he offered his familiar stare, laced with every fibre of affection.

“Come here.”

You jumped at the command, leaning closer as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him. He moulded his lips against yours, and you readily accepted him, offering yourself up entirely for him — as if you were not completely his by your own choice.

The slight madness laced upon his mouth had you whining onto him, taking in the entirety of his affection as you opened up to him. Your request was teased upon with his tongue, sliding along your bottom lip, but the man pulled away, panted breaths fanning your mouth.

He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers holding onto your face as if letting go would cause you to stray. “I…” he let out a deep, trembling breath. “I love you, ____. So much.”

Your heart would never tire of the declaration. “I love you too, Hyunjin.”

And as he claimed your lips once more, you wondered whether you had finally achieved what every work of literature praised in the most elevated of languages.

Still, at least you knew this — that once there was a duke who you promised all your firsts to, and had somehow found his way into your heart.

There was once a woman, who refused to believe in love for herself, only for this duke to convince her otherwise, by falling for her completely.

Love stories may be a mere creation of the mind, but at least, at the very least, you knew.

Your love story was real. The first which was not mere fantasy, but real and true and tangible.

You had a feeling that this first, out of all the others you shared with the Duke of Hastings, was going to last.

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guqwrvte · 3 years

Note

hi, this is for the quote game.

"but am i not important too?" w/ any boy. i really don't mind :) ty!

⨽ pairing: mafia!jimin x reader (f)

⨽ genre: established relationship au , hurt/comfort au , hint of angst (i think)

⨽ warnings: strong language , crying (again, is that even a warning?)

You peeped into Jimin's office through the crack in the half-open door. You were unsure of whether to walk away or go in.

Your boyfriend hadn't been in a good mood for the past couple of days, and you were afraid you were going to make it worse. He did chase you out when you tried to talk to him yesterday...

But, you really wanted to see him. In fact, you hadn't seen him outside of his office ever since that day. You remember how shocked you were to see an angry Jimin stomping out of his office and screaming on the phone.

You weren't entirely sure what went wrong, but from what you could make out, something went horribly wrong with Jimin's business, and he's been trying to fix it.

Letting out a sigh, you decided to try your luck and go in.

"Jimin..." you softly said as you closed the door behind you. A frown formed on your face when you received no response. Your boyfriend was too busy typing away on his computer.

Did he even notice you came in?

"Jimin?" You said a bit louder as you made your way to his table. "Jimin-"

"What is it?!" He suddenly said, causing you to flinch in surprise. "I'm busy, y/n, what do you want?"

"I... I just wanted to see how you were doing. I haven't seen you step out of your office, and I miss you... It's been days, Jimin." You slowly stepped closer to his table. "Don't you want to take a break? How about we get some food or-"

"No, y/n! I told you I'm busy. I don't have time for that. I've got important things to focus on," he said, not bothering to look up from his computer, and you let out a sigh.

"Oh... okay. I'll just bring you something to eat, then." You didn't want to make it any worse. So after giving a little bow of apology, you disappeared to your shared bedroom.

For the fifth night, the bed was cold, and you went to sleep without him by your side.

The following morning you tried again, hoping work would've eased and Jimin would finally have time to step out of his office and spend time with you.

It had almost been a week. Surely whatever was going on would've died down a bit, right?

Wrong.

When you walked into his office, Jimin didn't spare you a glance and kept his eyes glued to his computer. But at least he somewhat acknowledged your presence this time.

"What is it this time?" Jimin grumbled.

"I just want to talk..." you told him. Your boyfriend closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "How many times do I have to tell, y/n... I'm busy. I've got important things to focus on!"

Your eyes cast to the floor. "I know... but am I not important too?"

And that's when Jimin finally decided to look at you. "What?" He whispered. You let out a soft sigh and gulped as you tried to prevent your tears from falling.

"Am I not important too? Jimin... it's been almost a week since I've seen you step out of here. It's almost been a week since we've hugged, kissed or done anything together."

"I don't know much about what's going on in your mafia world, and I tried to give you space so you can work, but I miss you... Every time I tried to talk to you, just to check in on you, you'd chase me out and tell me that you had important things to focus on."

And then you asked him once again. "But am I not important to you too, Park Jimin?"

Jimin hadn't realised how much he had been neglecting you for the past six days. "Oh my Gosh, I'm so sorry, baby."

There he was.

"I'm so so sorry," he immediately got up before making his way towards you and pulling you into his embrace. "I'm so fucking sorry for how I've been acting. Of course, you're important to me."

"It's okay, Jimin... I-I don't mind you wanting to focus on your work but please-" Jimin hate to see you cry. And he hated it, even more, knowing it was because of him you were crying. "Shhh, don't worry. I won't do it again. Ever."

"Promise?" You asked, lifting your head off his shoulder. Jimin placed his hands on your cheeks and nodded as he whipped your tears. He gave you a quick peck on your lips and smiled.

"How about we do whatever you wanted to do, hm?"

hi. it's been a while since i've done a request and sorry for making you wait! (also sorry for the shitty ending)

hope you like it though <3

part of quote game , no longer accepting requests

#jimin fanfic #jimin drabble #jimin oneshot #quote game #writing promt #bts one shot #bts fluff #bts drabble #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #park jimin #jimin #mafia!bts #mafia jimin #boyfriend jimin #kpop angst #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff

189 notes · View notes

btsbling · 4 years

Text

— Chocolate Syrup — Kth

🍒 pairing: Taehyung x reader

🍒 genre: sugardaddy!au, fluff, relationship!au

🍒 warning: smut, daddy!kink, breeding, unprotected sex (stay safe), foodplay

🍒 summary: When he asks you to become his

🍒 w/c: 2.54k

The sound of the elevator rang through the hallways as Taehyung stepped out. Loosening his tie, while the other held onto his suit jacket and phone. He sighed and stretched his neck as he walked through the corridor to his luxury penthouse.

It was another tiring day, the office was buzzing, non-stop calling and meetings. Yet another day of fun filled signings of new business ideas.

Taehyung combed through his hair, he could finally take a breather when the clock striked twelve. He was finally done for the day and longed to rush back to his penthouse for, someone special.

He’d never thought he would ever admit it. But he had found a place for you in his heart. It was never supposed to be something long-term. Only for its short-term benefits that would provide him with immense feelings of satisfaction.

Taehyung had met you, fatefully, under the dim lights that slightly lit the bar. He had a meeting with one of his associates there. He didn’t understand why or how, but the way your eyes glimmered as you conversed with the customer in front of you, your actions while making drinks, captivated him. Everything about you, attracted him like bees to honey.

The pull he felt towards you was indescribable and he felt his eyes resting onto you whenever he got distracted which was, frequently. You weren’t dressed as scandalous as the performers on stage, but neither were you conservative. He couldn’t see anything behind the bar, but your shirt was a tight fit and provided him with enough cleavage, making his dick grow tighter in his pants.

But after the meeting, he had realised you were long gone, another bartender replacing you. He immediately felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. He went back home, asking his assistant to get more information about you.

It was then the beautiful chapter of you and him bloomed. When he had asked you to be his sugarbaby, after a few weeks of sitting at the bar and getting to know you better, you were genuinely surprised.

You were never opposed to the idea of being someone’s sugarbaby, but from someone like Kim Taehyung? That was something you’d never expect.

Kim Taehyung. Multi-millionaire living in the state of Korea. He was young, Greek god looks and a voice that could literally send you chills down your neck. In a good way of course. The way he stood, the way he stared at you made you feel the butterflies fluttering around your belly. It came as a surprise to you, he was kind, approachable and caring. Over the weeks of getting to know him from serving him at your bar, he would always remember to ask about your day, if you had eaten, and made sure you had a safe trip home.

When he approached you with the idea of being his sugarbaby, it took a few days to make a decision. Being his meant a possibility of having your identity talked about in the media like the next hot tea. But it wasn’t a bad idea. You were desperately trying to survive of two part-time jobs and having to pay for your apartment rentals and the medical fees of your sick grandmother.

In conclusion, your decision was something you would never regret.

In the beginning, it was definitely abit awkward, considering the fact that you were a naturally conservative person who wasn’t used to someone buying branded items for you or spending that much money either.

But Taehyung made sure you were comfortable with it and you grew used to seeing branded goods being sent up to your new luxury apartment, as well as a new car. It was never-ending, Taehyung spoiled you like you were his princess.

The two of you had grown extremely close, considering you guys spent much more time in his penthouse. Every night or even day if he ever had a break, was a new sex adventure in a different corner of the house. Sofa? Kitchen table? Windows? Every single place.

He was a literal greek god. Chiseled abs, toned muscular arms that held you firmly as he thrusted into you. His moans were like sounds made by an angel and the way he fucked you, made you even more happy that you accepted his offer.

Taehyung would be lying if he said that he hadn’t gotten used to your presence. Immense happiness would fill his chest with a warm feeling whenever he awoke to the sight of your beautiful face, figure curled and snuggled into his chest. He would take the time to enjoy the sunrise if he had woken up early, hand brushing softly through your hair and leaving light feathery kisses on your face and neck.

It was the best feeling in the entire world, watching as the sky turned into a canvas that was painted with a variety of warm colours. It was a sight to behold. But it was nothing compared to you.

Memories of the night before, where the two of you just cuddled in the bed, his cock stuffed into your warm pussy, sharing stories about your day before falling into deep sleep soon after. Cock warming would have to be one of his favorite cuddle positions.

His heartbeat slowed to a comfortable pace. He felt at peace with you in his arms, as he looked out into the windows.

Taehyung couldn’t live without you.

It was a scary thought, given the fact that he never would’ve imagined falling in love with you over the year you guys spent together as Sugardaddy and sugarbaby.

But he got over it, you were worth it. Even with your hair in a mess, and a small drool dripping from your face, you were still the most gorgeous woman he had ever met. Not only that, you had the kindest of heart, always checking up on him, buying him good health products with your own money and even preparing home cooked meals for him.

Taehyung glanced down at you, a big smile gracing his face. He was staring at his sweetheart. The only person he could love with all his heart for the rest of his life.

Taehyung could only hope that you felt the same way as he did, even if you didn’t, he would’ve chased after you until you told him to stop.

He loved you more than anything.

and he couldn’t lose you.

He placed his shoes neatly, knowing how much you hated when he threw them without any care in the world.

“Babe?” he called out for you from the kitchen as he made a beeline for the cold, refreshing water in the fridge. As he turned around, he saw you cuddled up with a blanket on the sofa, a book loosely hanging from your hand while you slept in Taehyung’s hoodie.

Taehyung’s heart swelled, knowing that you had stayed up to wait for him. he sat on the sofa beside you, brushing your hair and leaving kisses on your face before you woke up.

“Tae? wha-what’s the time?” you asked groggily, which Taehyung found to be extremely adorable.

“Come on Honey, let’s get your sweet ass into bed. It’s one am” You had no energy to respond, only managing a small nod before you were lifted into Taehyung’s hard chest. His familiar smell making you snuggled closer into the crook of his neck.

Taehyung gently placed you on the bed, covering you with the comforter before taking a quick shower and joining you in bed.

He lifted the duvets before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You eyes were closing by the second. Taehyung gave you a kiss, gentle and sweet, taking his time to savor his favorite moment of the day.

“I love you so much” he mustered up when your eyes closed fully. Taehyung stared at you before kissing your forehead and taking a whiff of your shampoo that he absolutely adored. “i hope you’ll say yes baby” he mumbled, before joining you in dreamland almost immediately

You awoke to the sunlight peeking through the windows and the heavenly smell of pancakes. Stretching out a yawn and sitting up, you smiled, thinking of how perfect everything was. Although you knew it wasn’t going to be like this forever, at that moment, it seemed like happiness would be eternity.

With that you cuddled back into the blankets only to be dragged by taehyung as he chuckles at you.

“Babe wake up, i made pancakes” he whispered to you, carrying you and placing you on his lap like a baby. Taehyung placed a kiss on your lips before smiling cutely at you.

You shook your head and pouted cutely, knowing full well he would give in and feed you in bed. Taehyung groaned before pushing you playfully, heading towards the door while you laughed.

You quickly washed up and as you were coming out of the fancy bathroom, your jaws dropped at the scene in front of you, your eyes welling with tears.

Presents from different expensive brands, shoes, bags, flowers and balloons. A pack of your favorite candy, Hershey kisses on the bed and he held a plate of pancakes while waiting for you in bed.

“Tae...what’s all this?” your voice almost broke as you quickly strolled to his side. He set the pancakes on the bedside table and quickly pulled you to sit on his lap. His face had a slight red hue as he nuzzled into your neck nervously. “i er” Taehyung mumbled before take a deep breathe, turning your face towards him.

“Y/n L/n, you genuinely complete my life” he chuckled, booping you on the nose. “Baby, you’re the one i want to see whenever i wake up in the morning, the one i want to greet whenever i reach home. I want to do things just to make you happy and see your beautiful smile.” As he said that, you smiled widely.

“I know this wasn’t supposed to develop into a deep relationship but i can’t help it. You’ve made me fall, so deep in love with you sweetheart” He whispered, holding your chin and placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Be my girlfriend, move in with me. We can write a new chapter. I just want everyone to know that you’re mine, as much as i’m yours, officially” The tears you were holding in, finally slid down your cheeks as you nodded frantically and turning to hug him as tight as you could.

Taehyung wiped away your tears, smiling as he was trapped from beneath you. Unconsciously, you grinded softly on his manhood, feeling his rod perk even though he had already taken a cold bathe to calm himself down.

His moans motivated you as you sat upright, grinding harder onto his clothed manhood. His large hands radiating heat as he rubbed your hips from the sides before grabbing the ends of his t-shirt that you were wearing and pulled it over your shoulders and head.

“So beautiful, my angel”

His actions left you completely bare except for your panties that barely covered your pussy lips. Taehyung captured your lips in a hurry, but it expressed the passion and heat he was feeling.

His experienced hands maneuvered its way to your nipples, massaging them and he broke away from your kiss to suck on one of them. You unconsciously pushed him closer to your breasts, the immense pleasure overtaking you.

“T-tae please”

“Tell Daddy what you want hmm” he hummed, his lips leaving your breasts and instead sucking onto your neck like you were his next snack.

You were breathless, your pulse racing, you damn well feel the wetness pooling in your panties beneath you.

“w-want your dick please” you almost screamed out as his fingers pulled your panties aside and inserted three fingers in one go.

“So wet for me already baby? Bet i could slide my cock right inside of you easily. But first” Taehyung whispered. “Daddy’s going to enjoy himself”

he reached towards the bedside table, grabbing the choco syrup bottle that he left, and squirting it all over your chest and thighs.

Taehyung continued to finger you as he licked the syrup off your body. Your spine arched to meet his tongue.

“Moan out my name baby” Taehyung demanded, his thumb rubbing on your core, edging on your orgasm.

His fingers and tongue wonders for you and soon your toes were curling and your eyes were rolled back, screaming as you came on Taehyung’s fingers.

Taehyung groaned as he slid his fingers out of you and licked your juice, humming as he did so. “Sweeter than syrup” he smirked.

You were breathless, chest heaving up and down. Taehyung took out his dick from the sweatpants he were wearing. You licked your lips as the delicious sight of his erect cock made you even wet than before.

Taehyung slid down your soaked panties slowly, before pressing his face towards your wet cunt and taking a swift lick.

“you’re so damn delicious babygirl” licking his lips as he aligned his cock with the entrance of your pussy, prepping your already wet pussy with his precum

“P-please tae, put it in me” Taehyung smirked

“What’s my name babygirl” Taehyung demanded

“T-taehyung” you whimpered out, feeling his head sliding in and out quickly.

“No baby, what’s my name” He asked again

“D-daddy please” screaming as he entered with one big thrust

Taehyung’s hands held your hips as thrusted harder and harder. You moaned with each thrust as you felt his big cock stretching you out. “You look so sexy, beneath me, taking my cock like the good girl you are” Taehyung breathed out.

He watched your breasts bounce as he thrusted harder into you, watching your face contort into full pleasure as he hit your g-spot.

“Right there d-daddy, right there” you screamed, ready to release.

Taehyung groaned as he changed his angle, sliding into you deeper and harder. “I’m coming babygirl, cum with daddy”

“Give me your milk daddy please, use me, cum in me. I’m on the pill, please i need your cum” You cried out, Taehyung moaned at your dirty talk, loving how it sounded coming out of you.

After a few more thrusts, you came first, milking his cock and after helping ride out your high, Taehyung came afterwards, filling you with his hot cum, thick spurts releasing in you. Your chest heaved up and down, as Taehyung collapsed tiredly onto you, his face nestled in your soft breasts.

He pulled the blanket over the two of you, resting on his forearms to stare lovingly at you. Taehyung smiled softly, loving the after-sex glow and the soft sunlight that made you look more like an angel. You smiled tiredly at him, brushing away his bangs and gently rubbing his cheeks. Your smile widening as you felt him nuzzle into your soft touch.

“i love you so much Kim Taehyung, and i’ll be so happy to be your girlfriend” you whispered Taehyung grinned before standing up and carrying you princess style to the bathroom.

“I love you as much as i loved the breakfast session i just had” he grinned mischievously

Please leave some feedback!

#kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader fanfiction #Taehyung x reader smut #Taehyung smut #BTS #bts fanfiction #Bts smut #BTS smut #Taehyung fluff #Taehyung x reader fluff #Taehyung sugardaddy!au #BTS sugardaddy!au #BTS taehyung

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

I really enjoyed reading your fic fall in hatred with jin and liked the concept of a couple on the verge of a divorce. I thought I’d make a request for an angsty marriage/divorce au with another member like jk but it ends fluffy🥺

Whether you take this request or not, I wanted to say that you’re a great writer and I always love reading your stories 💜

↳ Honeymoon Horrors

3.7k || 55% Angst, 45% Fluff || Min Yoongi || Divorce!AU

It was great when it started. Cloud nine had descended down and made its home above both your heads. You were practically floating, swooning, living a romance that Nicholas Sparks would’ve envied. You felt like you were on a permanent high as if weed and cocaine was permanently stuck in your system. You had reached enlightenment and you were permanently euphoric. How could you not be? You had met your soulmate after all. But as the years passed, it came tumbling down. Cloud nine started to rain. You swooned so hard that you struck your head against the edge of the kitchen counter. Instead of floating, you were getting dragged down to hell and the high you felt turned into a crash. Most importantly, you became enraged. And you’re still mad now. When you watch your wedding videos, all you can do is throw popcorn at the screen and scream at the grinning bitch that she’s making the worst mistake of her life. Life’s full of plot twists, isn’t it? And you can only chuckle at that realization now. Because what was meant to be the honeymoon you never had, a replacement honeymoon of sorts, is turning out to be a nightmare. “Hey. Can you move?” You rip off your headphones. “Excuse me?” “You’re taking up all of the space.” Yoongi stares at you lazily. “This is supposed to be my armrest.” “No. This is mine. That’s yours.” “No. Yours is next to the window. This one is supposed to be mine. If you’re that uncomfortable, you should’ve just given me the window seat.” You scoff and shove his arm off the armrest with your own. The half-offended, half-amused expression on Yoongi’s face is utterly stupid. It’s as if he’s judging you for being childish when he was the one who started this. You wish you could punch him square in the nose. “If you want me to move, then why don’t you move your legs? You’re taking up all the leg room!” “You’re only out of space because you had to put your purse under the seat.” “Where else am I supposed to put my purse?!” “Do you see me carrying a purse?” Suddenly, there’s a clearing of the throat. A female flight attendant is standing at the aisle and leaning over while wearing a perfectly, cordial smile. “Is there a problem over here?” Your eyes narrow into the nosy bitch sitting across the aisle who probably tattled. You saw her looking in the corner of her eye from the very start. “No. Not at all.” Yoongi smiles easily. “We’re fine.” There’s an urge to roll your eyes. In all honesty, you underestimated Yoongi. While your divorce was well on its way and heading off like a bullet train, you had forgotten how petty he was. Exactly like you. Maybe that’s why for a period of time, you suited one another so well. With the deposit already given on what was supposed to be the honeymoon extravaganza you never had and the plans already made long ago, you were set on going no matter what. Except he was also set on going. The asshole couldn’t give up and neither were you willing to give in. So here you were. With your worst nemesis. “Can you repeat that?” “I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s no possible way we can get you two rooms.” The receptionist looks up from her computer screen. “You originally booked the presidential suite, correct?” “Yes, but we changed it into two regular rooms a while ago,” Yoongi says. His brows are cinched together and he’s gripping onto the itinerary tightly. The girl behind the front desk looks at her computer again and clicks twice but probably at nothing. “I’m so sorry. It looks like it didn’t register into our system. Is there anything else I can do for you?” This is dreadful. As if things couldn’t get worse, they got much much worse. “Great.” You haul in your luggage, no thanks to him. “This is just great.” “Yeah, keep complaining,” Yoongi grumbles, “See how much that helps.” “Shut up.” On the top floor, the room is quiet and open. There’s a love seat in front of a flat screen television, a dining room and an open kitchen and bar. The large glass windows fully face the sandy, blue beach and allows light to pour into the enormous space. There are two chairs outside the private terrace and a jacuzzi too. But as beautiful as the place is, you feel bitter. It should’ve been great. It would’ve been great if you were alone. And to make matters worse, it seems like the resort hadn’t gotten the news that your relationship with Yoongi was essentially decimated. Not when there was a scattered rose petal path leading up to the king-sized bed which also had two folded doves on it with the word ‘congratulations’ spelled out in more petals. There’s also a note: I hope you enjoy yourselves, Mr. and Mrs. Min. And neither of you miss the mountainous stack of condoms on the nightstand. Yoongi’s pale. “Christ.” The knock on the door breaks the thick tension. Yoongi opens the door, and he immediately steps back as two enthusiastic employees enter while wheeling in a silver cart. “Aloha, welcome to Hawaii! Are you the newlyweds?” “Umm…” The two of you are well past that period. To be exact, you married nearly two years ago, but you don’t know how to break it to them. Yoongi’s never been good with words either. “Enjoying your honeymoon, aren’t you? Congratulations!” The older man is excited as if he was the one who got married. “We bought you a bottle of our best champagne to celebrate and hope you have an everlasting marriage!” The girl beside the man pops the cork and pours the champagne, and you realize it would be more painless to go along with it. “Thanks,” you mumble, taking your flute of champagne and nearly downing the entire thing in one go. Yoongi holds his and raises a brow at you. “We also have a red velvet cake.” He shows you on the busy cart. “And our freshest chocolate strawberries just made earlier by our finest chef. I think you’ll enjoy this chocolate as well.” “Thank you.” Yoongi offers a faint smile. “This is really nice.” “Of course, of course! Anything for our newlyweds!” There’s a small bowl of almonds next to the chocolates and two raw oysters served on a plate. It’s odd with the ensemble, but then the man leans closer as if revealing a secret and puts a hand by his mouth. “It is said almonds, chocolate and oysters are aphrodisiacs.” You choke on your champagne, sputtering. The girl grins. Yoongi’s wide-eyed. He collects himself quicker than you do. “Thank you.” Luckily the friendly, borderline-overbearing staff leave the both of you to it and you’re put out of your misery. For only a moment. “Are you going to finish that bottle of champagne by yourself?” Yoongi asks across the room and you turn your head to see his cocked brow. Of course, he’s unpacking. The asshole doesn’t know how to relax and always has to make you look bad. You scoff. “I’m about to open the red wine too.” “Never thought I’d see you be reduced to a drunk so quickly.” “Why can’t you just leave me alone? You’re always judging and nitpicking me.” “I was making a comment.” “Yeah and no one asked you to,” you mumble into the glass. Yoongi eyes you. “You don’t have to get so upset, Y/N.” “Are you serious?” Your posture straightens, legs lifted off the chair you propped them on and feet shifted onto the ground. “I was sitting here minding my own business. Why don’t you mind your own business.” “I just thought you didn’t want to be sloppy when dinner hasn’t even started yet.” “I know how to control my pacing.” Yoongi snorts. Your tongue rolls inside your cheek. “Excuse me?” “What?” “You look like you want to say something.” “No. Not at all.” You place the flute down onto the table. “Say it, Yoongi.” “I thought you said I should mind my own business.” “You’re such a condescending asshole, you know that?” Yoongi stops folding his shirt and shuts the drawer. His expression is impassive and it irritates you more. “Pot meets kettle.” “For someone who’s supposedly quiet, you fucking never know how to shut up.” “Can’t you just calm down, Y/N? Unlike what you think, I’m not trying to get on your nerves. I’m trying to enjoy this trip.” “Why are you acting like I’m the only one getting upset and that I’m the crazy one,” you spit, and he opens his mouth as if to say you are being crazy. But you don’t let him— “Don’t you dare say it. Fuck you, Yoongi. You don’t think I’m trying to enjoy this too? You think I wanted it to be like this?!” “Maybe if you weren’t trying to pick a fight with me every goddamn second, you would have a good time, woman.” “You’re the one who’s always trying to pick a fight with me!” He sighs, body language dismissive to what you’re saying. “Stop being so upset—” “Well too bad, I am upset! So just let me be!” You stand on your feet, teeth gritted and fist clenched. You’re practically screaming across the suite but there aren’t any close enough neighbours to complain. “You’re always telling me what I should and shouldn’t feel! This is exactly why we’re getting a divorce!” With the last word said, you stomp away and the bathroom door slams shut. It’s the only place you can be alone, but even then, the four walls are frosted glass. … You’re not sure who brought up divorce first. It’s not like it matters. But one thing you do know is that it came up in an argument. A jab where someone’s sole intention was to hurt. And the other person stubbornly retaliated with ‘fine, have it your way’. You remember calling your lawyer and him calling his. The process continued and continued and as it did, so did your arguments as the two of you realized no one was going to stop it. It became more painful the more time that went on. Clearly, it meant he was serious about it. Clearly, he didn’t care if he was happy to sign divorce papers. So you made yourself not care too. And it continued to snowball like that. Before you knew it, you were telling your families that the divorce was happening, much to their distress. Before you knew it, here you were. By the time you get out of the bathroom, Yoongi’s gone. He probably left for some peace and quiet. After all, it’s volatile when you’re together. It’s not like you want it to be that way, it just became that way. What sucks the most is that you know he’s right. You’re part to blame for the recent argument. You got too worked up unnecessarily. You’re constantly on the defensive as if he’s out to attack you. And once it’s quiet, you hate that you shouted. But he has his own part to blame too. Yoongi knows how to get under your skin. He knew he was egging you on and he didn’t stop. So it escalated and escalated. You end up wandering the resort by yourself. You enjoy the sunset on the beach and when the dinner buffet is open, you sit alone with your plate, staring out into the empty abyss of the ocean shrouded in darkness. All around you, there are families and lovers, jovial music that’s inviting. Yet you feel isolated in the crowd. You try to move around, preoccupy yourself. But the last thing you expect is to see Yoongi. Across the bar. With a pretty, young girl on his arm. A sun-kissed blonde, to be specific. Wearing a crop top with booty shorts. Yoongi’s nursing a whisky on the rocks, his usual drink, as she grasps onto his bicep. The swell of her breasts are practically pushed onto him. She says something and he smiles. At the same time, something boils in the pit of your stomach. It’s pure, unadulterated rage. Before you know it, you’ve turned on your heel and beelined to the hotel lobby bar. You call yourself hard liquor and down the drink as you seethe. The image of him and that Barbie doll is seared into your mind, flashing beneath your eyelids each time you blink. The liquid burns and tears pool into your eyes, but you hold them back. The bar is busy, filled of guests constantly ordering, so no one notices that you keep downing bitter drinks until there’s a tap on your shoulder— “Aloha.” A concerned employee looms over you. “Is everything alright?” That’s when you realize you’ve been drinking by yourself for three full hours. The table’s crowded with glasses and the ones on the edge are a centimeter away from falling over. You end up waving him away and stumbling back to the room. The world is teetering and you try to lean onto the wall for balance. It’s a miracle that you pressed the right number on the elevator when everything was swirling together. Or at least, you’re pretty sure this is the right floor. You pound on the door. “Yoongiiiiii! Yoongiii! Open up!” When there’s no response, you mutter ‘asshole’. Then your eye peels open and you realize you’ve been knocking against the door of the ice and vending machine room. You turn on your heel and careen to the next door. “Yooongiiii!” you whine his name in exasperation, cheek pressed against the smooth surface. You only have to call out twice before the door’s suddenly swinging open and you’re falling into the arms of your (soon-to-be ex-) husband. “‘Bout time. Was waiting foreverrr!” “Fuck.” Yoongi’s nose scrunches at the smell of alcohol and he grabs a hold of your shoulders, pulling you away from him, nose scrunched at your smell. He keeps you at a safe distance as if you were nervous middle-schoolers at your first dance. You hate it. Why can’t he just hug you? “God, how much did you drink, Y/N?” “Dunno. Lost my key card.” “What?” The door swings shut. “Are you banging a chick in our room?” you slur, trying to keep your eyes open to look at him. He was already changed into his soft pajamas, a blue checkered print that made him look so much cuter. It’s unfair. “Am I interrupting?” His brows cinch together, lips turning down. Yoongi’s visibly confused. “Ban—” “Saw you talkin’ to that pretty girl at the bar,” you huff, wobbling back and forth. He’s dumbfounded. “Who?” “Don’t play stupid!” You poke his chest with your finger. “That lil girl who looks like a model!” Yoongi winces at the volume of your voice and you add in frustration, “I’ll leave if you are, so just tell me already.” “No, I’m not sleeping with anyone, Y/N.” Yoongi fixes his arm around your waist to keep you balanced and he sighs, reaching down to help you take off your shoes. “So much for knowing how to pace yourself, Y/N,” he mumbles with a faint smile on his lips instead of the annoyance you’re used to. Yoongi loops your arm around his neck and begins to guide you towards the bed. But you stop, making your legs deadweight and you turn to him, staring into his eyes so deep, it’s like you’re looking into his soul. It’s pretty. “What?” he asks, almost uncomfortable by your intense gawking. “Do you not love me anymore?” “What?” “Just tell me, goddammit. Do you have no feelings towards me no more?” You pound your chest with your free hand. Yoongi plops you onto the love seat when he sees that you have no plans of making it to the bed. “Did everything mean nothin’ to you?” He remains silent. You angrily shout— “Answer me!” Yoongi flinches. “God, Y/N. You don’t need to scream, I’m right next to you.” He sighs and drags a hand over his face. “If it meant nothing to me, do you think I’d be taking care of you right now? Now sit here and wait.” With his dictatorial command wielded with his low voice, you pout but obey. Yoongi returns a minute later with your pajamas in one hand and a cool glass of water in the other. “Drink this. And all of it.” You nurse the glass of water with two hands and get a sip in. But your pout persists and before you know it, you’re bursting into tears. Yoongi all but freezes. “’m sorry,” you sob, “I didn’t wanna fight.” “Y/N.” “I don’t mean to be so mad! I’m sorry.” Yoongi kneels in front of you with a long sigh. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he coaxes and tugs the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the beads of teardrops trekking down your cheeks. “I know you didn’t mean it.” “Really?” “Yes. If anything….I’m sorry too,” Yoongi mumbles solemnly and before you can react, he’s already moved on. “Now drink your water.” You cry into your glass, but you down the entire thing like he said and your crying stops by the end. “Arms up,” Yoongi commands and you listen to him. He peels off your shirt in one single swoop and tosses it aside. He helps you put on your pajama top without blinking an eye and pulls the hem of your leggings to replace those as well. Yoongi even takes a damp washcloth to wipe your face and you watch him the entire time. His lashes are long, and Yoongi’s so nice and reliable. “Let's get you to bed, alright?” You nod, and he guides you to it, having cleared the rose petals earlier. “So you didn’t sleep with her?” “No.” “Why not? She was hot!” “I wasn’t interested.” “Really?” “Really,” Yoongi assures as he sets you to sit on the edge of the mattress. He moves to pull the sheets and struggles with how tucked in they are. In the meanwhile, you get the greatest idea you’ve ever had— “Then fuck me instead before you fuck her.” “What?” Yoongi’s entire body goes rigid and he whips his head towards you with eyes that nearly bulge out of their sockets. You pout at him. “I wanna suck your dick and feel it in me, Yoongi. I miss it. When we used to have sex. It was so good.” “Oh, you are so drunk.” He chuckles, a sound that sounds so nice you wish you can hear it forever and ever. “You’re going to be so embarrassed when you wake up tomorrow, Y/N.” Yoongi pulls the sheet and is about to get you tucked in. But you steal the opportunity when he gets close and you loop your arms around his neck. “No, I’m not.” Your voice drops into a whisper. “Remember when you used to spit in my mouth? And you liked it sooo much.” You giggle when you notice his ears becoming hot and red. “You still like it now, don’t you, you nasty freak!” You smack him on the shoulder in the midst of your bubbling laughter and he winces. “Ow!” “Imagine if I got pregnant from it too!” you add in your hysterics. “Let’s not.” “I always thought our kids would be so cute. Especially if they got your cheeks.” You reach and tug on Yoongi’s cheeks while giggling. He lets you have your fun, staying still and letting you squish his face together. And in your drunken state, you don’t realize how tender his eyes become. “We’re getting a divorce, Y/N.” You frown. “Why on earth would we do that?” “Because,” he murmurs. “Let’s not,” you slur. “Can’t we cancel it?” It goes quiet with Yoongi gazing into your eyes. “Do you even know what you’re saying?” “Yeah.” You grow sheepish. “Aren’t you supposed to get a divorce if you hate each other?” “That’s how it works generally.” Yoongi stands and gently presses on your shoulder to lay you down. The pillows feel soft underneath your head and he starts to tug the covers up to your chin. “But I don’t hate you. I care a loooooot about you.” You sulk. “Otherwise, why’d I get jealous when I saw you at the bar?” The corner of his mouth tugs. “So you’re admitting you were jealous?” “Wouldn’t you get jealous if you saw me with someone else?” Yoongi thinks about it. “Maybe.” “Maybe?” He finally admits, “Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed.” You hum contently, lids becoming uncontrollably heavier. You want to stay up. It’s so much fun talking to Yoongi. It feels like forever since you talked to him like this. But you’re so tired. And comfortable. You want him to cuddle and spoon you to sleep. Yoongi cuddles are the best. “Yooongiiii.” You call out to him with your eyes closed. “Yeah?” “I think—” You go dead quiet and after three seconds, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then your mouth moves again. “—I loooove you.” A beat later, your two arms suddenly raises up into the air. Hands measuring about a ruler stick length. “This much.” He snorts and turns off the lamp. “Go to sleep, Y/N.” … When you wake up the next morning, your head is absolutely pounding. For the first time, you detest how much light the damn room lets in. You also curse aging and having to suffer hangovers when five years ago, you were perfectly unscathed the next day after drinking. Luckily, there’s advil on the bedside with a tall glass of water and you down the entire thing after taking a pill. You’re not so sure where these came from, but your answer is across the room. Yoongi, realizing you’re awake, has an amused smile on his face and his brow cocked. More importantly, his eyes have somehow softened. You groan, remembering last night. Every detail. Every word. Like a film that could be played back. It’s mortifying and even without your obvious reaction, Yoongi’s been with you long enough to know how superb your memory is even after being wasted. He knows you know. And the worst part? You meant it all.

#bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #bts fluff #bts angst #yoongi reader insert #yoongi x reader #Anonymous #omeone tell me why two of my Yoongi drabbles are so FUCKING LONG. it's practically a oneshot ;_;

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aellynera · 3 years

Note

Hi love! Can you do a Oscar Isaac x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and he gets jealous of the tweets? Thank you so much, I love your page. ❤️

Hello lovely Nonnie! I’m sorry this took so long, but I finally got super inspired to finish it. It’s not Oscar Isaac per se (I don’t do RPF) but I thought about it a bit and I was like...but I will do a Llewyn AU. So that’s what I did, and here it is, and I hope you and whoever else reads it, enjoys it! (note: most of the tweets came from various Thirst Tweet videos on YouTube, but there are a couple I just made up.)

I Want Llewyn Davis to Blank Me in the Blank (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader, Modern AU)

Word Count: 1300(ish)

Warnings: Some language, sexual references but nothing graphic or explicit just suggestive, floof.

- Llewyn isn’t sure what a BuzzFeed is, and to be honest, he’s not even sure what the hell a thirst tweet is.

- You’re always teasing him that, if the world suddenly loses all technology tomorrow and the internet and social media disappear, he’ll be the only one who will still be able to function, and he’ll probably be a lot happier.

- You’re not wrong.

- He hates social media. Doesn’t understand what the point is really, why so many people are obsessed with it. Yeah, he technically has official accounts on all the major platforms, mainly because you insisted and set them up. They’re just placeholders and he never uses them.

- The only reason he’s even here to do this media gig is because you asked, all wide puppy-dog eyes and gnawed-on bottom lip, and he knows that you know he can’t say no to that.

- Not that he ever really wants to say no to you, but sometimes...

- Now he’s almost one hundred percent certain he regrets it.

- You’ve tried explaining the concept to him, probably like twenty-some times, and you’re trying again now, but as you lead him into the studio it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.

- People don’t know you’re together, so he’s annoyed by that on top of everything else, because he can’t call you any of the usual pet names that roll off his tongue like melted butter.

- No angel. No baby. No sweetheart. It fucking sucks.

- "It’s not a serious thing, Llewyn. Just...fake it till you make it. Make jokes about it, it’ll be fine,” you tell him.

- You sit side by side at a little table, a couple feet apart, and a production assistant put a little metal bucket in front of each of you.

- Llewyn gives you a weird look. You just shake your head and smile this cute little smile that he does his level best to ignore because, well, you’re in public and nobody knows.

- Then the tweets come out of the buckets.

- Things I requite in a man: five nine, pisces, grammy nominated, llewyn davis. That’s all i ever need.

- Why is Llewyn Davis so attractive? He’s like 30 years older than me and I’m a lesbian but he still gets me hot and bothered.

- I cannot believe Llewyn Davis invented being sexy.

- Llewyn Davis got thicc lips and thicc hips

- I want Llewyn Davis to be my daddy but not in the fatherly kind of way.

- There’s a lot more, but honestly, they all sort of blend together.

- He manages to laugh them off and make some clever comments but he shoots you a look that’s part confusion, part disdain, and really annoyed. You just shrug.

- But then the tweets start coming out of your bucket, and Llewyn’s brain instantly regains its laser-focus.

- First, because everyone calls you by your online handle, which drives the nail further into Llewyn’s coffin because of his inability to actually call you cute names night now.

- Secondly, who do these assholes think they are, talking about his girl like this?

- Hello? Maker? Can we talk about how you put the heavens in AngelEyes’s eyes, because it’s starting to cause some serious problems over here. Kthx.

- I want to lick cherry-flavored jello off AngelEyes fingers, why does life have to be so unfair?

- Sit on my face and suffocate me, AngelEyes.

- AngelEyes’s boobs are a gift from whatever deity you choose to believe in, and if you’re an atheist, well, then more tits for me.

- I’m pretty sure AngelEyes could get all my children out of me, and I’m willing to take that challenge.

- Llewyn’s kind of tuned out, trying not to pay any attention to all the dirty things the world wants to do to you, but his head finally snaps up and his arm does too and his little metal bucket goes crashing to the floor.

- You (and everyone else in the studio) just stare at him.

- “Could I...” he clears his throat, “could I speak to you, for just a minute? Like, out in the hall?”

- “Okay?” you say slowly, but stand up and head towards the door, with him right behind you.

- The door barely has a change to swing shut behind you before Llewyn is on you, frantically pressing his lips to yours in a soul-sucking kiss.

- “Llewyn, what are you doing?” you hiss when you finally break away for air.

- It took quite a few minutes before you absolutely needed that break and you’re fairly certain people are going to come looking for you any second because you have to be taking a lot longer to “talk” than Llewyn implied.

- “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and pretend all those tweets are okay”

- He’s pressing you against the wall and you can’t help the slightly impish smile that comes to your face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

- Llewyn glares through narrowed eyes. “This isn’t funny, AngelEyes.”

- “I was listening to all the ones people said about you too. Don’t get so worked up, Llewyn, it’s all in good fun.”

- Llewyn snorts.

- “Baby, are you...jealous?” You raise a brow at him.

- “I have half a mind to just take you up against this wall, right now.”

- “You’re jealous.”

- His mouth is suddenly a breath away from yours again, and he murmurs, “I just want people to know that you’re mine. And to know that I’m yours. And to never read a single thirst tweet ever again in my entire life,” before his desperate lips are back on yours.

- This time, he pulls out of the kiss first and you rest your head on his shoulder and try to catch your breath again.

- He’s checking something on his phone - replying to a text from his manager Snap or his sister, maybe, you’re only vaguely aware that he’s actually on his phone at all.

- But then you feel your own phone vibrate in your pocket.

- You pull it out and immediately almost drop it.

- “Llewyn. You...you didn’t.”

- Llewyn looks at you with a completely innocent face. He slides his phone back in his pocket and hooks a thumb towards the door. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Come on, we should probably get back in there before they send a search party.”

- You barely have time to process the notification that Llewyn Davis (@ folksingerwithacatofficial) has made his first tweet! Check it out! and even less time to actually read it before Llewyn disappears through the door and you have to follow.

- But it there was a picture - you didn’t even know Llewyn knew how to do that. And if he had an extra minute, he’d be inordinately proud of himself.

- It’s from a friend’s rooftop party a couple weeks ago. You’re behind him with your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, and he has his eyes closed and a happy, content little smile on his face.

- There’s no way anyone’s going to look at it and be like, ‘oh they’re just friends.’ But the caption definitely clears it up.

- Never been happier than I am w/AngelEyes by my side. Aren’t enough words to say how much I love you, baby. Maybe I’ll just write you a song or ten.

- You head back into the studio, about to shove your phone back in your pocket, your face burning hotter than the sun, but it vibrates again and you see the corners of Llewyn lips turn up, even though he’s pointedly not looking at you.

- There’s another tweet.

- Now go get some water y’all and stop talking about my girlfriend’s tits. At least give her ass the credit it deserves too.

- Llewyn pretends not to notice when, five minutes later, everyone’s phones and laptops and tablets start blowing up with notifications and reactions. He just pulls you into his lap and kisses you softly on the cheek.

Everything Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @iflostreturntobudcooper @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @leto-duke @littlebopper96 @reysflyboy @rosemarysbaby13 @spider-starry @veuliee @waatermelon-sugaar @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @yourbucky084

Llewyn Taglist: @santiagogarcia

>>join my taglist here<<

#allison answers #lovely anon #llewyn davis #llewyn davis blurb #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #inside llewyn davis blurb #inside llewyn davis modern au #my writing #oscar isaac characters

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justauthoring · 3 years

Text

Then, The Moment Came

Prompt: It just never was the right time. Not then, not later, until it suddenly is and everything’s... different. Requested by: no one.

A/N: The Atsumu debut on my account has finally happened. And yes, this is very loosely, loosely based off of A Silent Voice because I literally cannot get it out of my head. Oh, and I love soulmates au’s. Pairing: Atsumu Miya x F!Reader

A hard shove to your shoulders sends you to the ground with a huff, pain radiating through your being as you huff.

There’s jeering laughs that echo, hurtful enough that you don’t say anything, don’t try to stand up for yourself -- instead, you keep your head down, hair falling into your eyes as you bite your lips to fight back the tears that threaten to fall.

It’s not even the shove, or the pain that follows, that has tears welling.

They hurt so much less then...

“You’re just a freak,” Atsumu spits at you, “no wonder no one likes you.”

Atsumu Miya, ten years old, and he absolutely hates you. Why, you have absolutely no idea. It’s been like this ever since you moved into the house across the street from him, walked into his class that one fateful day, and introduced yourself.

You’d felt his glare on your back as you took the seat in front of him, and when you’d turned to face him, a harsh kick at the leg of your chair had you freezing in surprise.

You’d never spoken to him. Never directly. But after school that first day, he’d found you on your way home, tripped you so hard you skinned your knee, and laughed as he walked off.

Then, just as he went to turn, his twin beside him, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else; Atsumu had turned to you, a glint in his eyes. “You’re just a freak. No wonder no one likes you.”

It just never really ended after that.

But when you got home that day, brushing your mothers concerned hands away as she reached for your knee, you’d sat on your bed and looked at your arm only to see those exact same words.

Those cruel, cruel words, and wondered, how unlucky you must be to have a soulmate that hates you.

“Do you want to go to the game tonight?”

You blink, pulled from your thoughts at the sound of Misaki’s words. With a drawl, lips pulled downwards, you turn to her with a quirked brow. “No.” You say simply, shaking your head.

“Come on,” she huffs, head falling into the palms of her hands with a huff, “you never want to go to anything.”

You sigh. “That’s not true. I let you drag me lots of places.”

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

She pouts at you, lips pursed, eyes set into a teasing glare as she takes another bite out of her lunch. “Our volleyball team is supposed to be so good, though,” she whines, trying to appear nonchalant (though very much failing), as she lets her eyes wander on anything but you. “One of the best, actually. They make it to nationals every year and--”

“And they have their own cheer squad,” you cut in, “good for them.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

She just glares at you.

“If you want to go so bad, take one of your other friends,” you shrug, brushing her off. “I’m not your only friend.”

“Yes, but you’re my best friend,” she smiles, sickly sweet, all bright eyed and twinkling and you sigh, once again, at the look she sends you. “And I only want to go with you.”

Staring at her for a moment, you laugh; “you’re good.”

And her eyes brighten, hope flooding them; “you’ll go, then?”

“I never said that.” She deflates, “but... sure.”

“Eeee~!” She jumps to a stand, reaching across the table to grab your hands, shaking them with a bright laugh. “Yes, yes, yes! You won’t regret this, Y/N/N, we’re going to have so much fun!”

I’m sure, you can’t help but think. It’ll be so fun to watch him show off.

And even though you don’t say it aloud, Misaki seems to just know.

“Atsumu-san will be there too.”

“He is apart of the team.”

“Maybe you could even try to--”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me,” you cut in, voice sharp, maybe a little more sharp then you mean to be. At the look Misaki sends you, you frown at the guilt that floods you, the hurt look in her eyes, before softening your voice. “Atsumu hates me, Saki. I’ve told you this.”

“But-But that was when you were kids--!”

“And he hasn’t talked to me since.”

Her shoulders fall, and she doesn’t argue after that.

Inhaling deeply, you reach across the table, taking her hand in your own like she had moments ago, though gently and squeeze it softly. It pulls her eyes on you, and smiling gently, you add; “I appreciate you, Saki, and what you’re trying to do. And I love that you want me to be happy, but I don’t need my soulmate to be.”

“You say that,” she frowns, “but you hardly ever smile...”

And she says the words softly, carefully, not wanting to hurt you, but you can’t ignore the pang in your heart at her words. Your hand slips from hers as the words repeat in your mind, and you think of all those years ago, the constant, relentless, cruel teasing that you’d endured from the person that was meant to be your one and only.

You realize, Misaki’s completely right -- you weren’t happy. And it was silly to pretend that you were.

“Yeah, well,” you whisper, and it’s like ironic and cruel perfect timing that has Atsumu walking into the lunchroom at that exact moment, surrounded by his friends, laughing. He hasn’t a care in the world, head thrown back with a laugh as passing girls flock towards him.

“That doesn’t matter to him.”

“Damn you, Misaki.”

Huffing out the words, followed by a curse, as yet another call to your best friend is all but ignored, you grit your teeth.

Where the hell could she have gone?

One second she was right beside you, laughing and cheering as Inarizaki took an already expected win. And then you’d run to go to the bathroom for a minute, only to find the girl had absolutely disappeared on you. Seriously, she was no where. And it didn’t help that the gym was absolutely flooded with other people that you couldn’t properly see anyone.

“I swear to Kami, Misaki, when I find--”

“--Are you okay?”

You freeze.

No. Please, anyone but him.

A hand falls on your shoulder, spinning you round and of course, it is him; Atsumu Miya in all his glory, smiling down at you. And then, as you meet his gaze, his own falters, and his brows furrow and the next words that leave his lips sting more then they probably should.

“Y/N? Y/L/N Y/N?” He laughs, shaking his head, “I didn’t know you went to Inarizaki.”

Yeah, ouch.

You’ve only been in the same school as him since literally elementary.

But apparently, after he got bored of bullying you, he also got bored of acknowledging your presence at all.

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Words feel like they’re lodged at the back of your throat, and it suddenly feels like you can’t breathe. All the people feel like too much all of a sudden, and you’re desperate to get away. You’ll apologize to Misaki later, but you need to leave. You turn, moving to run off, because you just want to get out of there, but then, he reaches for you and--

“Don’t touch me!”

People stop, pausing for a moment at your booming voice, all eyes on you as Atsumu pulls back like you’ve physically slapped him, shock clear on his face.

And then you turn, once more, and walk off before he can say anything else.

You don’t see the frown on his face, don’t see the way he glances down at his arm, nor the realization that dawns on him then and there.

“You just left me.”

“Technically you left me first.”

“Suna-kun wanted to talk to me.”

“Then, it’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

Pausing, you turn to Misaki; “I sent you a text.”

She blinks at you. “I thought you’d been kidnapped! Or worse, killed!”

“Now, you’re being dramatic.”

“Y/N/N!”

Pausing by your locker, you turn to her; “I’m sorry, I just... I had to get--”

“Y/N!”

What in the world--

“Is that--”

“I know who it is, Saki.”

“Okay,” she breathes, “why is he walking our way? Why is he calling for you?”

“I don’t know!” You stress, turning to her with wide, panicked eyes. “Hide me!”

“How in the world am I--”

“Y/N,” Atsumu smiles, finally reaching you.

You freeze.

Misaki stares at you, then Atsumu, then, with a light nudge, turns; “w-well,” she laughs, “I should really get going. Have fun, you two!” And she promptly ignores the absolutely terrified look you send her.

You’re so going to kill her.

Later. Definitely later, when you manage to escape Atsumu, somehow, yet again--

“I’m so glad I found you.”

Turning to him, you swallow thickly.

“I tried to find you yesterday, but I couldn’t and I got scared that--”

“What do you want.”

You’re blunt, more blunt then you mean to be. But you don’t want this mindless chatter, whatever it means, and you’re absolutely desperate to get away that you don’t even care if talking like that makes him mad. You used to deal with it as a kid all the time anyways, so...

“Well, I just wanted to catch up,” he laughs, lightly, a little too airy. Is he... nervous? “We haven’t talked since we were kids, so--”

“You mean when you used to bully me?”

You have no idea where this confidence is coming from.

“I’d hardly call it bullying--”

“I used to come home in bruises because of you,” you whisper, avoiding his gaze as you hug yourself. You’re uncomfortable. You want to leave, you need to leave. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. I have to--”

He grabs you, your entire body going cold at the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your arm. On one hand, it’s like you can feel... this electric shiver run through your entire being and you figure it’s because of this supposed connection the two of you are supposed to have. But on the other hand, it fills you with such terror, that you almost want to cry.

“I didn’t know.”

But his words makes all that go away, and instead you’re just confused.

“What?”

“I didn’t know that we were... you know.”

Blinking, you finally meet his gaze head on. “How could you have not known?”

“You... You never said anything.”

Shaking your head, you rip your arm from his grasp. “That day, when I introduced myself--”

“You weren’t talking to me,” he argues, “not directly, at least. And you were always so quiet when I’d...-- But then, yesterday, when I grabbed you, well--” He holds his hand out towards you, and sure enough the words written on his arm are:

don’t touch me!

So, apparently he never did know.

It doesn’t change anything. How could it?

Him not knowing doesn’t excuse bullying you. Doesn’t erase everything he did.

It could never.

“What to know what my words are?” Practically yanking the sleeve of your sweater up your arm, you thrust it towards Atsumu, gaze harsh. And his eyes slowly flicker downwards, frowning as he reads the words.

You’re just a freak. No wonder no one likes you.

And the stupid guilty look on his face pisses you off even more.

“I want nothing to do with you,” you spit, “so just leave me alone.”

What the hell is Atsumu Miya doing at your front door.

“I was hoping you still lived here.”

Pausing, you sigh. “You don’t give up do you?”

Grinning, Atsumu rubs the back of his neck, “unfortunately not.”

Sighing, you let your hand fall on your hip, tilting your head to the side curiously. “So what, you know I’m your soulmate now and you want to walk me to school?”

There’s a nervous smile on his face, one that seems odd on him, as he laughs lightly. “Yeah?”

Rolling your eyes, you brush past him, “whatever.”

But he follows, and you don’t argue.

“Let me grab those for you!”

With a blink, the stack of textbooks in your hands is suddenly gone and in another’s. You sigh when you meet Atsumu’s familiar gaze.

“You don’t have to do that, Miya-san.”

“I want to,” he shrugs simply, and you pointedly ignore Misaki’s laugh from beside you. “And, it’s Atsumu.”

“What?”

He meets your eyes, smiling; “call me Atsumu.”

Misaki nudges you with her elbow, pulling your gaze on her momentarily as she grins brightly. Sighing, you turn back to Atsumu, watching as he gently places the textbooks down in the locker you’d just opened. Turning to walk off with a grin, clearly proud of himself.

“Thank you, Miya-san.”

“Atsumu!” He calls over his shoulder.

“Well,” Misaki adds after a moment, “that was sweet~!”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I would like you to come to my game.”

Staring up at Atsumu, you blink.

“Please.”

Licking your lips, clasp your hands together behind your back; “won’t I be an embarrassment?”

“No.” And he says it quickly, barely letting you finish your sentence, adamantly shaking his head. “No, you could never.”

I used to be.

But you don’t say that.

“Okay,” you heed, hating the butterflies that flood your stomach at the bright grin that curls onto his lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!”

“Congratulations on the win, Atsumu-san.”

“Y/N/N, you came!”

It’s hard to fight back the blush that threatens to grow on your cheeks at the smile he sends you. Hard to ignore the way your heart flutters as he calls you by that stupid nickname that he’d picked up from Misaki. And hard to forget the way everything screams in you for him at the way his eyes sparkle as he looks down at you.

“Misaki dragged me,” you gesture behind yourself where you know your friend is, shaking your head at the bright grin she sends the two of you.

“Still,” he nods, eyes softening as he looks down at you; “you came.”

“Yes, well,” tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling nervous, you shuffle on your feet. “I should be going now. Congratulations again on the--”

You don’t make it two steps before he’s wrapped a hand around your wrist, tugged you into him and slipped the other around your waist. You’re flush against him, a huff of surprise leaves your lips as you blink up at the boy, trying to ignore the way it feels like your body has ignited with electricity at just the simple touch of him.

And then his fingers are ghosting across your cheek, brushing back loose hair, and pulling your gaze solely on him, where you can’t seem to look away as everything just... fades away. The crowded gym suddenly feels empty, and everything is quiet as you stare up at him.

You also note that you feel at ease at his touch.

“I never said sorry.”

Lips parting, you swallow thickly; “it’s okay--”

“No, it isn’t,” he whispers, resting his forehead against your own, and it feels like you might melt right there at the feeling of his warm breath on you. “None of what I did was okay.”

“Atsumu...”

“I’m so sorry...”

You relax in his touch, hands moving to fall on his shoulders, where you squeeze, eyes falling to his lips before flickering back up to his own.

“It’s okay...”

“...I want to kiss you,” he whispers, voice gentle, nervous. “Is that okay?”

You nod, feeling the words slip out all on their own; “please.”

And he obliges and suddenly everything just makes sense, just works, and all that gushing Misaki used to go on about about how wonderful soulmates are you completely agree with. Having Atsumu so close, having his warm touch on you, having his lips molding against your own, barely a breaths away, feels so incredibly amazing and right that you wonder how you’d ever existed without him.

He makes up for it all then. None of it matters any more, not the teasing, not the pushing and shoving, nor the tears that would follow.

It’s all worth it for this one moment now.

a little ooc? maybe?

whoops.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq imagine #hq x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu miya imagine #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu imagine #atsumu imagine #atsumu x reader #atsumu #atsumu angst #miya atsumu angst #imagine #imagines #my fics

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junko-and-riri-domain · 3 years

Text

₊·˚♤˚· inconvenient | lhs ˚₊·˚♤˚·

↬ part of: 500 followers event <33 ↬ pairing: lee heeseung x reader ↬ genre: fluff | slight angst (happy ending dw) | idol!au ↬ warnings: slight angst in that reader feels as if hee doesn’t have enough time for them bc of hee’s busy schedule and heeseung calls reader’s efforts inconvenient w/o realizing the weight of his words :( ↬ w/c: 1.4k ↬ requested by: anon, no specific name

As your eyes settled on the screen of your phone, reading Heeseung’s text message, you couldn’t help but scoff at it. You looked out the window of the cafe you were supposed to meet your boyfriend for your lunch date but he sent a text, canceling for what felt like the hundredth time this month. You could feel him slipping away from you with the other half of the bed empty almost every night, your dates constantly canceled, and your texts going unread. You decided not to respond to Heeseung, after all, what was the point? As you finished the remainder of your drink, you decided that you were going to enjoy the day to yourself regardless of whether or not Heeseung was going to be with you.

And that’s exactly what you did.

You explored the city and took your own pictures, found a new favorite trail to walk on, and bought yourself a new bag. Despite all the texts and calls from Heeseung, you ignored them all to give him a little taste of his own medicine. When you got home, you were more surprised than anything to see Heeseung waiting for you.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked. You looked at him, noticing how his eyes narrowed in on you and his arms crossed over his chest which caused his biceps to bulge out.

“Oh, so you care about me?”

“Of course I care, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well you canceled for the hundredth time today, I decided to have fun by myself.” His eyes cast to the floor, unable to look at you. You heard him let out a sigh as he muttered,

“I’m sorry.” You knew that when Heeseung became an idol, he’d have a busy schedule. You supported his dreams, had been there from the start but what good was your efforts when right now it felt as if you weren’t even in a relationship? Sure, Heeseung was sorry but you had heard the words thousands of times that you felt nothing anymore.

“How many times am I supposed to forgive you?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Babe, I’ve just been busy. You know how important promotion season is, I just don’t have the time for things like I used to.”

“I know that but you can’t even go on one damn date the entire month?”

“We spend all night practicing for performances that I’m better off spending the night at Jay or Jake’s instead of coming home. With the events we have along with the dates you wanna go on and your constant texts, it’s just inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient?” It was with Heeseung’s words that you realized, you had had enough. If your constant attempts to keep the relationship, well, a relationship turned out to be inconvenient to Heeseung then there was no point to it. If all the time you spent checking up on him turned out to be inconvenient then you had no reason to put in any effort anymore. You knew that work and his dreams were important but so were you.

“I didn’t mean it like that, there are things that I need to do and responsibilities I need to focus on-”

“Am I not important to you anymore?” As your ears were met with silence you felt your breathing caught up in your throat. Waiting for Heeseung to answer only to be met with no reply, through his hesitance you found your answer.

“Baby, I-”

“Forget I asked.” You walked past him, heading into your room and in the process shoving his shoulder. As the door slammed and you flopped onto the bed you waited. Waited for Heeseung to knock on the door, waited for him to say something, anything, but waiting only led to self-given heartbreak. You heard the opening of a door ringing throughout your ears but it wasn’t the door you had hoped. After hearing the key, you came to a realization. Heeseung decided to walk out.

Following the next few days, you and Heeseung entered a stage of your relationship you weren’t quite sure what to label as. It wasn’t that you broke up per se, but you weren’t exactly together either. Sure, you exchanged a few messages here and there but you could feel Heeseung slipping away or maybe it was you slipping away, you weren’t quite sure. Throughout the week, you found yourself unable to sleep. But one Friday night, that inability to sleep turned into a 3 am movie marathon spent on the living room couch curled up under your blankets and one of Heeseung’s shirts. You heard the front door open, glanced over to see the light turn on and Heeseung taking off his shoes.

“You’re up?” he asked, slight worry filling his tone.

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all you could bring yourself to say.

“Should I make us some ramen?” he offered.

“Yeah, if you want.” You stayed in the living room while Heeseung made his way to the kitchen. You didn’t know what to say, how were you even supposed to start? With your eyes settled on the tv, you entered a sort of daze where your head felt heavy and clouded with thoughts but your throat was unable to get any words out. It wasn’t until Heeseung was in front of you, blocking the tv that you drifted back to reality. You let out a small “thank you,” as the warmth of the bowl of ramen met your palms, couldn’t hold back your small smile as you saw that Heeseung had given you one and a half soft boiled eggs. When the both of you finished eating, you found yourself almost scared to talk to Heeseung about what went on that night. Your relationship was either going to continue, or it was going to end. As Heeseung reached towards the coffee table, about to take the bowls to the kitchen, your hand reached out to hold his arm, stopping him.

“Stay,” you whispered. Heeseung only nodded, settling himself so that he was laying on the couch with you. Face to face with him, you moved so that your head was laying on his chest. His heartbeat was calming, embrace comfortable, and scent making you feel complete. The next step in your relationship, or its end, whichever it was, you’d find out tomorrow. Closing your eyes, all you could do was wait.

When you woke up, your ears were met with a slight groan and the hold around you tightened. As you lifted your head up, a hard sort of knock was heard paired with an,

“Oww, what the hell?” from Heeseung. You brought up a hand to massage his chin while you felt him kiss the top of your head,

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be here when I woke up.”

“I, uhh, have something planned for us today. If you’re up for it?” Heeseung seemed kind of nervous as he spoke, avoiding your eyes and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You do?”

“A date, as an apology, because I’m sorry.”

“What about work?”

“I told our manager that I was taking today off.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re important to me and I hate that it’s taken so damn long for me to show it to you.”

While you got ready for whatever it was Heeseung had planned, he was making breakfast. After breakfast, he brought you to a festival you didn’t even know was going on. While you walked past the stalls set up, occasionally stopping to look at something that caught your eye, Heeseung’s hand stayed intertwine with yours. You had missed it, being with Heeseung, and feeling loved by him. When lunchtime came around, you ended at the park. There were both couples and families with a towel, eating food they had packed, but all of a sudden, Heeseung was leading you to a towel with a picnic basket.

“This is our spot,” he said. Your eyes went wide,

“You set this up?”

“Mhm. I know how much you love picnics and I figured… let’s go on one.” You sat down, unable to hold back your smile as Heeseung sat next to you. You really did love picnics, but more so with Heeseung. After eating, you laid down and looked up at sky feeling as if the world was so vast and wide. You found yourself looking at Heeseung,

“Y’know, keeping my head on the ground is really inconvenient right now.” Heeseung’s eyes filled with alarm,

“I’m sorry, I never should’ve said that.”

“It’s ok,” you said. And you meant it. “It’d be less inconvenient if I could use your arm as a pillow though.” As Heeseung’s arm extended, you rested your head on it while you wrapped an arm around his chest. Waiting often led to self-given heartbreak, but sometimes, it was worth it.

❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul ) | main blog masterlist | 500 followers masterlist

tagging: @bloom-bloom-pow | @markleepooh | @sunshineshouchan (permanent taglist open if anyone wants to be on it !!)

#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung imagines #lee heeseung angst #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #enhypen lee heeseung imagines #enhypen lee heeseung x reader #enhypen lee heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung

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notnctu · 4 years

Text

through the lens ❀ l.jn

❀ lee jeno x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, smut/mature content, fluff (romance?), slight angst ❀ details - photographer!jeno, model!reader, college!au, shy!jeno but he aint shy in bed, strangers to fuckers!au ❀ word count - 8k (this is the longest thing ive ever written) ❀ warnings - nude modeling, swearing, oral (f/receiving), some sweet love makin’ ❀ brief synopsis - jeno asks you to model for his internship project, but little did you know, it was going to be a nude photo shoot.

❝ jeno was too shy to hold eye contact, but he stared at you endlessly through the lens. ❞

❀ a/n - hihihi this is author doie❀ ! im bad at writing smut so pls dont hate me ah ha lol i tried my best i also dont model/do professional photography so really apologize if i butcher any terms lmaoo the only thing i am is that im in college and im shy

Jeno had applied to almost a hundred internships and almost close to none returned with an offer, even after a whole month of waiting. He absolutely needed to start building his portfolio before the beginning of his senior year of college. The embarrassment of possibly graduating without any experience loomed over the desperate boy.

Photography had been more than a hobby to him, to the point where he wanted to take it seriously. His parents weren’t the most supportive of an Arts major, but that couldn’t stop him. Jeno saw the best through a camera lens. He had a special eye for beautiful moments and the impressing urge to capture it forever.

It was too late to change his major, if he wanted to graduate with all of his friends. If he wanted to be successful, he had to act on it now.

The swoosh! of a new email startled the sleeping boy. He stared at the brightly lit screen, reading the words over and over again to make sure it was real. Jeno was so enthralled with excitement that he scrambled out of bed to wake up his roommate, Jaemin.

He shook him so violently that the sheets fell from Jaemin’s warm body. “Dude! I got an internship!” He spoke with incredible glee, a wide smile couldn’t leave his face.

Jaemin groaned and had to hold Jeno by the shoulders to halt the boy from causing the room to spin. “Why--What is going on?” He dazely rubbed his tired eyes to blink at his giddy roommate.

The screen blinded Jaemin as it was shoved too closely to adjust. “Whoa--,” he pushed it away and shut his eyes, “--repeat what you just said one more time.” Jaemin held a finger up and Jeno grabbed it, jumping onto his best friend’s bed.

“I got an internship. Someone got back to me.” Jaemin returned the same excitement the moment he processed his words. He shot up in bed and hugged his friend tightly.

“Wo-w, dude! Congratulations!” The two boys hurried on their feet to cheer together. There was no concern for the rest of their housemates, only celebration that roared throughout the entire night.

Truthfully, Jeno had no recollection of applying to this studio. It could have been a random link on a job scouting website, but he couldn’t be more grateful. An internship was long overdue and Jeno had been itching to get some recognition for his craft.

“Hello, I’m Lee Jeno.” He bowed slightly at the receptionist, who had a stern stare that made him feel vulnerable. The first thing he noted about the office: white and minimalistic.

Jeno’s specialty was landscape photography. His aesthetics consisted of black and white filters, city lights, dark mood lighting, and background commotion. He enjoyed capturing chaos the most, a scene where more than one thing was happening. The only reason being that there was more to look at.

“Nice to meet you. The name is Lee Taemin, but you can call me what you please.” A young, lean man strolled his way towards Jeno with a wide grin and his hand for him to shake. Taemin was slightly shorter than him, but his stylish, expensive boots made up for his height. He had to be only a maximum of five years older than Jeno as Taemin appeared relatively youthful.

Taemin’s firm grip pulled Jeno along inside the studio. A small gasp escaped from Jeno which earned robust laughter from the older man. “I hope you can break out of your shell soon. There is no room for timidness around here, Mister Lee.”

“Please, you can call me Jeno.” He smiled, quite awkwardly at the beautiful man.

The tall glass windows, the concrete, gray floor, the white doors that lined the hallway, had to be all too predictable. Jeno envisioned this is what high class must look like. It was the pristine, bright feeling and the smell of vanilla that lingered distastefully. There was chatter behind the closed doors --- mainly directing, and high praises.

The only off-put was that photographers worked behind closed doors. From the few studios he has visited previously, photographers often worked in open spaces due to lighting fractures or the ability to roam more freely.

“I’m actually very ecstatic you signed up for the internship, since you do seem a bit on the younger side.” Taemin gestured toward the sofa in the middle of his massive office. Jeno sat across from him. Water was already placed on the glass coffee table that separated the two. A laptop was opened to face Taemin.

Jeno slyly rubbed the condensation from his palms on his jeans. Taemin’s stare bore deep into the shy boy, who had to break eye contact from time to time. “I know.” Jeno chuckled nervously, “thank you for getting back to me. I was really hoping to gain work experience through mentorship.”

Taemin nodded at everything Jeno was saying. His face being completely expressionless. Jeno sipped his water to regain moisture in his dry throat. Taemin was more intimidating than he was anticipating. “Sounds great. Happy to have you here. It might be a small business, but the experience is worth investing in. Every photographer who has come in and out of my building has found their forte. Let’s say, it’s eye opening.”

“That’s exactly what I was looking for actually.” As scared as he was of this mysterious man, he really enjoyed the comfort the environment radiated.

Taemin leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “I noticed in the portfolio you sent that you don’t have any portraits or any people, in general, in your photos. Do you have any works with people? Since this is a studio of fine art nude photography.”

Nude. Jeno practically choked on the last remaining spit he gathered. Taemin acknowledged the boy’s shocked reaction and tilted his head curiously, “you did know that I specialize in contemporary fine art nude photography, right?” Unfortunately, Jeno did not.

Jeno cleared his throat, “yes, of course. I wanted to challenge myself.” He had to lie, there was no other way to cover up his disbelief. This internship was the only hope left for him to gain something. Though, even the thought of shooting a naked body made him anxious.

He hated how timid he was. His friends and family say otherwise, mainly for the reason that Jeno automatically lit up behind a camera. In all honesty, he hid behind it. It was the only safe place that Jeno knew what he was doing. However when it came to real life situations without it, he lacked the confidence to be himself.

As ironic as it was, he hated being seen. He liked to be the background character in his own life, because the main character took too much of a toll. It could also be his deafening insecurities and lack of self esteem, but Jeno didn’t mind not being the center of attention.

“You like a challenge?” It was more of a statement rather than a question. Jeno caught a glimpse of the twinkle in Taemin’s dark eyes. “Then for your first task, I want you to show me that you can take on this role.”

Jeno scrambled for his phone to jot down notes. “Send me an emotional portfolio, model of your choice. They could be a friend of yours that you feel comfortable seeing naked. It must include a variation of headshots, full body, and body details. It must also be raw and unedited photos. I want to see if you have the eye for the art to capture these types of images.”

“When would you like it by?” He stammered, completely winded at the sudden project that unloaded on top of him.

“Next Friday, and you’ll present it to me here in person. Feel free to use this studio if you don’t have a place of your own with equipment. All you need to do is book a room with the front desk. Any other questions?” The sound of the laptop shutting caused Jeno to look up at the brilliance in front of him. He needed Taemin to help him succeed.

“Why do you take nude photography?”

Taemin was unable to stop the laughter that erupted into the room. “I don’t run a pimp business or sell soft core porn, if that’s why you’re staring at me so funnily. What I make is an art masterpiece, it has nothing to do with physical features or desires. It’s the pure emotion that clothing distracts from. Clothing conforms the model into an aesthetic, and while that works for editorials, it won’t be a consistent thing here.”

Jeno nodded understandingly. Overwhelmed and lost at words. He was unsure what he had gotten himself into. Where was he going to find a model on such short notice on such lewd conditions? He was really going to need to step out of his comfortable zone, in his photography and social skills.

Taemin stood up and extended his hand once more. “I take pride in my art, so I hope you, too, start finding that in your own.”

Jaemin held his stomach from the endless laughter, tears welling up in his eyes. “Nud-Nude photography? And you didn’t know?”

“Jaemin, keep it down.” Jeno whispered and cautiously peered around at the few people flooding into the small lecture hall. “I don’t want everyone in our club to misunderstand and think I’m some creep.”

His best friend straightened up in his seat and placed his hand on Jeno's slumped shoulder, “first of all, you’re a complete idiot for not researching. Secondly, it’s an art form. If you really got yourself a shady, rated R internship, I would’ve told you to drop it instantly.”

His spirits were slightly lifted, but he was still struggling with who he should ask to model for him. As much as he’s already seen of Jaemin, being his roommate, he honestly would rather leave the rest to imagination. Jeno wasn’t purposefully searching the room for a candidate, but he could not stop his eyes from drifting.

He spotted the most attractive side profile that sat two rows below him. He shook his head to make sure he was seeing her correctly. Peering around, he looked for another possible face to shoot. But oh god, how she caught his eye every time she even slightly moved.

You smiled happily with your friends by your side as your club’s executive board members introduced this year’s goals and events to attend. It had to be the smallest amount of alcohol still running in your system that caused you to giggle every time guys tried to turn around and hit on you.

“Why don’t you focus on our club members instead?” You smirked at the smug older boy, who had poorly attempted to grab your attention. “I think this information is important to you. These events could help you develop your social skills to be much better.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but your girl friends scoffed by your side.

He got up in disbelief and quickly walked out of the room. There was a brief pause at the sudden movement, but the announcement carried on per usual.

Jeno impatiently waited for the club meeting to finally be over, so he could talk to you. The longer it dragged, the more his confidence was subsiding. “I’m heading to study, wanna come with?” Jaemin poked at Jeno’s knee.

“Yeah, but you can go ahead first. I need to talk to someone.” His voice was shaky and his throat went so dry. Jeno’s shifty eyes scanned the room, hoping no one saw how nervous he was acting.

Jaemin’s eyebrows lifted suspiciously, “who? I didn’t even know you talked to anyone who came today. Donghyuck and Renjun aren’t here---”

“--her, Jaemin... her. I’m going to ask her to model for me.” Jeno motioned his head. His heart beating faster at seeing a small grin appear on your face from a comment someone made.

Jaemin hummed, “good luck with that, bud. I’ve got two shoulders for you to cry on after.” The extra hint of sarcasm only made Jeno sweat nervously. He was seriously doubting his decision, but it wouldn’t be a challenge if he didn’t do it. He knew he’d regret it more if he didn’t just ask you.

Once the meeting was dismissed, you wanted to get out of the room before the heavy rush into the hallways. Unfortunately, a few frat guys pulled you into their conversation and chatted up a storm. Your friends played into their foolery, but you stopped paying attention when they asked for your numbers.

There was a faint tap on your shoulder and you turned to see who the culprit was. You didn’t seem to know him, because you would’ve remembered such a demeanor. His eyes were glued to the floor behind you and his shaky hands ran through his brown locks. His shyness was quite endearing, yet alarming since you weren’t sure why exactly he had approached you.

“Yes?” You asked curiously.

The moment Jeno heard your delicate cadence, he melted like a popsicle left out in the sun. He peered up, but quickly reverted his eyes to the white tiles when he noticed how beautifully you stared at him.

He counted his breathing to calm his rapid heart beat. He cleared his throat to introduce himself, “I’m Jeno. I’m a third year Arts major, um-- I was just--- I know we don’t know each other. I wanted to ask, uh-” Jeno was horrified at how he stammered over his own words. His cheeks burned with a red glow, and if he couldn’t look you in the eye before, he definitely couldn’t now.

“Hey, see you later.” One of the bulky frat guys called and you waved back weakly.

A guy who had been chasing you endlessly scoffed at the pitiful sight and smirked at you, “see you at my house tonight? Been missing you in my bed lately.”

“Thought you would’ve guessed the reason why I stopped coming around.” Jeno heard the sting in your remarks and the disbelief in the male.

You honestly could have left, Jeno knew that. But you stayed and waited patiently for him to finish. Jeno could tell how strong you were just by your intimidating aura that practically suffocated him by standing in close proximity to you.

You sighed and reached to grab your jacket on the folded seat, “look, Jeno. It’s nice to meet you and all, but I gotta get going.”

Shockingly, the shy boy reached out to stop you by your fingertips. His touch lingered before he dropped your hand quickly. “I’m sorry. Are you free this Monday?”

“Uh, that depends. If you’re asking me on a date, then I’m busy.” Rolling your eyes, you weren’t sure why you still stayed to listen to what this random stranger had to say. If it were anyone else, you would’ve walked away the moment he asked if you were free. However, you acknowledged his timidness and the courage he must have mustered up to approach you.

Jeno shook his head violently, completely in shambles from that type of misunderstanding. “Not a date. I need someone to model for my portfolio photos that my internship assigned. It’s actually very important to me because it’s the first internship that responded back to me when I had applied to so many a whole month ago. Basically, I really need this and you because I think you’d be perfect to take pictures of. Oh-- wow! That sounded very bad --- uh --- what I meant is that your facial proportions are perfect and---”

“I’m free Monday.” You cut off his endless ramble and gestured toward his phone. He handed it to you without any hesitation and you typed in your number. “Text me the time, place and what I should wear.”

“Oh actually, it’s a nude photoshoot.” Your eyes doubled in size, completely offended by that statement.

Jeno felt the sudden shift in the air and brought his hands up to block himself, “to be more clear, it’s a contemporary fine art nude photography studio. The pictures are pieces of art and to be seen as that only. I have no intentions or ulterior motive to sleep with you, see you naked or sell, leak your nudes for the profit of your body. But, I understand if you no longer want to do it because it sounds super strange now that I am explaining it.”

Your shoulders relaxed and the fist that formed unraveled. You exhaled deeply, “I’ll do it. We can talk more about it on Monday and I get to leave on my own accord if I don’t feel comfortable. We work on my conditions.” Picking up Jeno’s chin, he was absolutely petrified at the forced eye contact and your incredible, powerful gaze. He was mesmerized by the fire in your eyes, and if he stared any longer, he could’ve lost himself in them.

“Of course.” With that, you dropped his face and left without another look back. Jeno looked down at his phone and the new contact name, (Y/N). It had slipped his mind to even ask what your name was and he slapped his face in utter stupidity. “Do better, Lee Jeno.” It was a remainder to himself to, hopefully, be better the next time you two speak.

Monday, 3:03 PM.

Jeno paced back and forth in the brightly, lit white room. He was trying to find any blinds or curtains to cover the tall windows of the high rise building. It should not be too much of a problem, the extra lighting was a positive. Jeno was only worried for your comfort of the openness.

There was a soft knock before Jeno practically tripped to open the door. His breath hitched at the sight of your bare face. This time, you were the vulnerable one. Jeno only saw purity, yet impressed at how your tired eyes still managed to bid him a soft smile. He admired your uneven complexion, and the sparse moles that dotted your skin.

“Okay, so you want to see me naked now or later?” Filled with jokes, your voice was light and airy this afternoon. There was a bit of a contrast from the first time you two met. Softer, enchanting, almost ghostly.

Everything in the room was white. The mattress on the floor had a white comforter and white sheets. The backdrop. The walls. The hardwood floor. The only color was the blue sky that the tall windows let in.

“Here’s a robe. You can change in the bathroom.” Jeno scratched the back of his neck and his eyes wandered everywhere, but your’s.

“Would you be okay with me just taking off my clothes in here?” You saw the light tint of pink cover his face, and spread to his ears. You examined more of the shy boy’s embarrassed face, finally getting a really good look at him. Jeno was very attractive, and you could only imagine how beautiful he must look if he fully faced you.

Jeno fiddled with his camera strap, “only if you are okay with that.” Clearing his throat, he stood next to the window to give you some privacy. “I’ll go over what I plan on doing. I’m going to take photos of your face details, parts of your body, full body, and portraits. You can lay down on the bed and I’ll direct you in poses. Have you modeled before?”

He was scanning the bustling city below his feet. Cars zoomed quickly and crowds of tiny people flooded the streets. He brought his camera up to his face, not being able to resist the urge to capture such a thrilling sight.

“If Instagram counts, then yeah. Professional model gig would be a no. Nude photography is a definite no, unless we are talking about being filmed during sex.” Jeno chuckled, while also holding the camera steady and stealing a few moments to keep for himself.

For a strange reason, being naked for a non-sensual reason felt even more vulnerable. Laying on the soft fabric, you felt oddly exposed and slightly more reserved. You’ve had countless strangers see you naked. Men were sexually desiring to see a sexy picture. You were always lusted after, but this feeling of nakedness was special.

“Are you ready?” Jeno gulped, finally setting the camera down.

You hummed cheerfully. Your heart was leaping out of your chest as the boy shifted slowly to face you. As he turned, you noticed he had his eyes sealed shut, which caused a small laugh to erupt. “Jeno, you have my permission to open your eyes and to look at me.”

Holy shit, he was trembling with an inexplicable fear. The camera was slipping from his sweaty hands. His mouth was as dry as the desert. Jeno’s pounding heart was loud in his ears.

Jeno has seen his past girlfriends laying naked in bed, but this situation was too different. When he saw you laying there in absolutely nothing, he was overwhelmed, yet astounded at how graceful you appeared.

There was no exchange of words and no exchange of eye contact. He towered over your lying figure and shakily brought the camera to his eyes. He selfishly wanted to capture your elegance. Through the lens, he saw all of you: the curve in your eyelid, your curled eyelashes, the small mole next to your soft lips, the sharp color of your eyes, the way your hair frames your face.

This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. You were comparable to the arts found in popular museums. Your body lines were enticing and an impressive shape. Your breasts pooled on your chest, the round nude nipple in the centers. Your details had to be sculpted by gods, who took their sweet time making you. You were a true masterpiece.

Confused, Jeno felt a huge mixture of emotions. Was he aroused? Was he infatuated? Did he just fall in love with a complete stranger? He recognized the same thrilled feelings he felt taking landscape photos. With each click, he grew more excited with how beautiful the photos were turning out.

“Sit up and rest your chin on your left hand. Lean your weight on your right leg.” Jeno’s direction was clear and firm. There was no evidence of a smaller tone he usually spoke in. Sitting up, you placed your elbow on your upper thigh to steady your chin. Jeno had already gotten down to floor level to you.

Without the camera that separated you two, it had to be the first time he faced you completely in such close proximity. There was so much to admire about Jeno. He remained concentrated on his craft, but it was actually very sexy to see his dedication. It was almost like he was a whole new person, like all the shyness drifted away.

Jeno couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t simply your beauty that amazed him. Your confidence made everything easy. There was something about your blank stares, when he asked for an emotion, you portrayed it perfectly.

“Can we talk while you shoot?” Your sudden voice startled the photographer. He lowered his camera and his gaze automatically wandered off behind you, which didn’t go unnoticed. He nodded after a short pause and the shutter noises continued.

“Why did you choose me as your model?”

Jeno peeled away from the device, “because you’re you.” He didn’t even know what that statement meant. It wasn’t like he knew you before the first time he asked you to model for him.

The corners of your lips dipped down, drawing an evident frown. Click. Jeno loved that image especially. It was a simple way to get real, authentic facial expressions. He marveled at the photo, but registered the reason behind it. “I wanted to ask you the second I saw you. I just knew that I wanted you.”

“But you don’t know me.”

Jeno looked through the lens once again, welcoming a full view of your stunning attributes. He spoke in a low voice, “then, let me know you.” Click.

It would be the biggest lie to say that you weren’t aroused by Jeno at the moment. He was cool, without trying to be. He really did shine when he had a camera to work with, like a star to a dark night. While he had a distinct demeanor off the bat, you enjoyed unraveling the rest of him. He was, also, the first man you met that didn’t seem sexually driven by a naked woman in his presence.

You had to resist every urge to push the camera away and share the few seconds of his entire gaze before it wandered away. You wanted to rock his world, he was so innocent and beautiful. You wished to wreak havoc on him, have him show you how much he wanted you.

You anticipated an awkward photoshoot, but Jeno made you feel safe and comfortable. He made sure to adjust the temperature when goosebumps rose on your arms and when your nipples became painfully hard. He never touched you or came too much into your personal space. He always asked for your permission.

Nude modeling was a new experience for you, but you were surprised at how much you liked it. or how much you liked Jeno taking your photos. He sat next to you on the bed when you put on your articles of clothing and panned through several shots to satisfy your curiosity.

Leaning close, your head ducked to see the photos. A gasp escaped your lips when you saw just the first few. “Is that really me?” The pictures made you feel an abundance of emotions, you felt what they reflected. Sadness, melancholy, happiness, confidence. You didn’t know images had that much power to make you feel that, especially photos of you.

Jeno nodded, smiling so wide that his eyes turned to moon crescents. He was so in love with the results. He found respect for Taemin’s craft and he was right, he might’ve found a new forte to experiment with. “I can send you the photos digitally too, if you want them.”

“Maybe I’ll print them out, frame them, and gift it to every horrid man who has tried to flirt their way to my body since they want to see it so fucking bad.”

Jeno peered over and saw the tiny glimpse of pain in your orbs, “why would you give horrible people what they want?”

“So they can finally shut up and leave me alone. Plus, this is art and if I tell them it’s actually me, maybe it’ll change their minds to start treating me like it.”

He held his palm up and almost immediately, your fingers filled the spaces between his. “I’m going to need you to start treating yourself as fine art.”

“Keep taking more photos of me and I just might start thinking I’m Mona Lisa.” Your laughters blended nicely into each other. There was mutual mental acknowledgement of the happiness you were both feeling.

Jeno never let go of your hand, and there was a short moment of comforting silence where you two sat in each other’s existence. You were the one to break it, “are you doing anything after this?”

He shook his head. “Well then, you’re mine for the rest of the night. We’re going to pretend we’ve been close friends since first year and eat take-out on my bed because that’s what I need at the moment.”

“I know you respect my body and see this as an art form, but I’m genuinely surprised that you didn’t feel aroused at the slightest.”

Jeno didn’t even realize how much time had already passed being you. You two ate and chatted as if you’ve known each other forever, as if the friendship wasn’t established several hours ago. It felt safe and right, like you two belonged in each other’s existence and nowhere else mattered.

He felt warm inside from your hearty laughter and courage, like he was watching a painting come to life or a photo in movement. You were smitten over how endearing and complex he was. He was more than what meets the eye and that alone drew you towards him.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” Jeno paused to watch your reaction, “in the most respectable way, I was somewhat turned on. But! Before you trail blaze me for being just like every disgusting male in your life, I genuinely didn’t have any sexual thoughts during the photoshoot. That was all professional and it will continue to be like that.”

Getting up from your bed, your mind was working at lightspeed to process his confession. Jeno was fast to pick up someone’s personality, what stood out and what was kept hidden. He knew quicker than anyone else that you were not someone to offend because you were a strong, straight forward woman.

His personality breakdown went like this: you knew what you like, you knew you were going to get what you want, you enjoyed flirty banter (with people of your choice), you weren’t afraid to be blunt, or kick someone’s ass. You carried yourself with confidence that graced your every step, which makes anyone attracted to you instantly. Bold, confident, sexy had to be what came to mind whenever he thought about you.

Nonetheless, he really liked you as a person. He could pat himself on the back all day long for just approaching you, but he knew the real reason as to how this all happened. It was you saying yes to a stranger’s odd photoshoot. You made him the luckiest man in the world.

“Continue? Are you looking for excuses to keep seeing me?” You smirked and Jeno’s voice grew small.

“I--- uh, well,” there goes the nervous stammering, “I know the conditions were a one time thing, so I understand if you don’t want to do it again.” As the night had progressed, Jeno gradually began to hold eye contact and actually looked at you directly without the help of seeing you through a lens. This was the first time he broke it.

“Hey now, I’m messing with you, Jeno.” He had been sitting on your floor, at the end of your bed. You crawled on your elbows to reach him, and to hold his chin to face you again. Deja vu. “I’d love to get naked for you again, and again, and.. as many times as you want me to.”

He stared at you with his mouth hung open in disbelief. His eyes scanned your beautiful face to see your lips pull back into a mischievous smile. Gulping, he swallowed every ounce of courage he had left. “You don’t have to say it like that.” He tried to remove your grip, but it latched onto his hand.

“You’re finally looking me in the eye, sweet thing. I don’t think you realize how much I had been wanting that from you.” You caressed his cheek, rubbing small circles on his texture.

“What else do you want from me?” His implication sounded suggestive, even if his curiosity was innocent.

Your hot breath brushed against Jeno’s lips. “I can show you.”

Jeno, the one and only college guy who has seen your naked body in a non-sexual context. Jeno, the shy, sweet boy who appreciated and recognized you as a form of art. Jeno, the talented and skillful photographer, who consistently made sure you felt comfortable. Jeno, the only person in the world who you’d model nude for. Jeno, the dazzling character behind the camera who you wanted more than anyone else you’ve ever met. Lee Jeno.

He seemed like he was inching closer, already tilting his head to fit your’s. You smiled to yourself, seeing that your words were received well. Diving in, your lips swam together fervently.

The poor boy found himself lost in your enchanting, alluring gaze. He let the trance consume him, selfishly kissing the art he admired so dearly. A small part of him felt the guilt and confusion that began to rise. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly wished to feel your lips on his neck, or run his hands across your hot skin. He swore these thoughts were not present earlier.

A small pop! and Jeno held your shoulder to pull away. “I’m sorry, did I do something?” You asked, honestly concerned that you were taking more than you deserved. The least you desired was to hurt Jeno, who had been nothing but nice and sweet.

“(Y/N),” you could listen to your name roll off his tongue all day, “I feel somewhat guilty. I don’t want things to be misunderstood.”

“Which would be?”

“I don’t want you to think I coerced you into being my model just because I had intentions to sleep with you.” Jeno was already gathering his things, but you hopped off your bed and placed a hand on his chest. “Because that’s what it’s starting to look like at the moment.”

“Was that something you did though? Did you have those intentions?” Your stare bore right through him. The warmth of your hand relaxed his racing heart.

“Never, (Y/N), I would never do that to someone.” Your hand traveled down to grab his belongings and tossed it back onto the ground.

He silently watched as you took off your pants, and stood in front of him in your underwear. “Then, we’re fine. I know your intentions have always been pure. But truthfully, Jeno, seeing you focused while you worked sparked something in me. You don’t understand how aroused I got and how badly I wanted you to fuck me on that bed.” His hand trailed up your exposed thighs, finally touching your softness. “You’re the one guy I wanted first, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that.”

“I-- I don’t know what to say.” His cheeks revealed how embarrassed he was, but his dark, lustful eyes were telling a different story.

A smirk fell upon your face, “then don’t say anything.”

Jeno devoured you, inhaling the light hint of vanilla that still lingered. He hoisted you onto your mattress and kissed you like his life depended on it. His antsy hands roamed your free range, exploring, holding, gripping the parts he marveled over. Small moans from the back of your throat encouraged him to continue.

No one has ever kissed you with the amount of passion Jeno did. It was gentle, with enough vigor to cause your panties to dampen. It wasn’t sloppy, where previous guys had a problem of missing your mouth entirely and slobbered your chin.

His lips worshiped you, highlighting your good sides. Flashes of the photoshoot popped into Jeno’s head as he left purple marks on the places he loved capturing the most. He pushed up your shirt, exposing your chest to him again. His tongue circled around your hard nipple as he made sure to give the same amount of attention to each one.

Jeno knew he was too shy to hold your intense stare, but getting to know you during and after the photoshoot, he could see the softness in your gaze. He was, now, able to see all of you. The sight of you through the camera was addicting enough, so finally taking you all in was more than satisfying.

Your hands ran through his hair as he kissed down your torso. His thumbs hooked the waistband of your underwear, and peeled it off your body. You gasped as the cold air from your apartment grazed against your exposed figure.

Jeno paused to admire your glistening pussy, “would it be okay if you let me make love to you?”

Your heart burned, not out of embarrassment, but at how he still managed to ask you for your permission in the sweetest way. You rested your weight on your elbows, “no one has done that before, would it actually make me want to fall in love with you?”

“It wouldn’t be too bad. I have a lot of love to give and you look like a person who deserves all of it anyways.” Jeno’s finger ran over your wet slit and rubbed your clit slowly.

Your moans filled the room as the electric jolted throughout your veins. The wetness grew, seeping out of you like a waterfall. Jeno dropped down to his knees, and lifted your legs on his broad shoulders.

“Are you usually this wet, baby?”

Chuckling, you smiled at his bold choice in using pet names, “Just for you.”

He hummed, chiming at how he liked your answer. Spreading you open, his tongue met with your swollen bud that begged for his licks.

His tongue darted side to side, up and down and in result, your back arched in pleasure and a darkness clouded your mind. His name and mindless profanities streamlined their way out of you as Jeno ate you out in such a precisely delicious way.

Grabbing a fist full of hair, you pulled him closer, even if there was no more space to fill. Looking down, you two exchanged glances before he thrusted a finger into you. Your hips bucked harder as he eased in another one.

Jeno curled his fingers in search of your sweet spot and found it when a deep moan escaped your throat. His fingertips rubbed and pressed into your plush flesh, causing you to practically scream and squirm in his mouth.

He suckled your clit and fingered you simultaneously and quickly. The pleasure was overflowing and you released his hair to grip your sheets below you. Your legs shook and trembled as he had no caution to stop.

“Please, I’m going to--” you could barely talk due to your face contouring to the splurge of pleasure every single time Jeno rubbed your spot. “--to explode.”

He had to take back what he thought earlier in the day. This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on. The whole scene played like from one of his favorite films. It felt like he was giving his photos life. Your body twisted and turned, accentuating the curves of your lines.

Jeno had become painfully hard against the fabric of his jeans, but seeing you fall apart because of his minimal movements exhilarated him. “P-Please, don’t stop.” A breathy moan followed suit and your thighs tried to press themselves together. Jeno didn’t allow it, his free hand hooked underneath your left thigh to pull one side away from his cheeks.

Your high gradually grew so tall that it all eventually came cascading down. Your legs shook violently and sat up from the euphoria that took over you. Jeno prolonged your buzz and you screamed loudly, having to bite down on your fingers to stop yourself from angering your neighbors.

Jeno drank you up, letting your wetness cover his chin and drip down his knuckles. He pulled away, at last, and you took deep breaths to control your heavy breathing. It was like Jeno knocked the wind completely out of you.

He stood up and you saw the outline of his hard bulge straining itself through his jeans. The next scene was quite animalistic. You, still embodying your high, sat on your knees and unzipped his pants with your needy hands.

“Now, it’s your turn to get nude for me.” You whispered, tauntingly. Jeno groaned when you reached down and gently pulled him out. He stepped out of his clothing, all of it. His shirt was lost in the corner and his bottoms were scattered over your floor. Mirroring his actions, you took off your last piece of cloth.

Jeno was built. Though his biceps did not go unnoticed during the photoshoot, you were surprised at the lines of muscle that sketched his body. It made your mouth water, seeing his extremely hard dick stand against his toned abs. His red tip fell just below his navel. Jeno only kept getting better as the night continued on.

Pulling him closer, his hand found their way to the back of your head as you aligned your mouth to the wetness that spilled from his tip. “I want to make you feel good.” Jeno’s hoarse voice made your knees weak.

Peering up, you batted your eyelashes at him fondly. “Just a little taste?” You begged, having to hold his shaft with both of your hands because of his thickness. Your tongue was already stuck out, your hot breath causing the tiniest bit of sensation for him.

He nodded and his eyes were trained on you. He didn’t want to miss any second of your kitty licks. You flattened your tongue against his warmth, dragging it up to the top. The saltiness hit your palette as you swirled around his redness. “Oh--” Jeno threw his head back and bit his lip, “--lay on the bed now.”

You smiled sweetly and gave his member a quick kiss before reaching for a condom in your drawer. Jeno climbed onto your bed and situated the rubber comfortably. You laid on your back and he was fast to pull your legs around his waist.

He lined himself at your entrance and eased his tip in slowly. Squirming, you craved him to fill you up to the brim. He leaned down to kiss you, letting your tongue lap with his. It’s your hands with the mind of their own when they flew automatically to hold his face whenever you wanted to deepen the kiss. Then, Jeno stretched himself all the way in and he caught your gasp with his lips. He groaned, feeling the mess he created merely minutes ago.

His hips moved so easily with your wetness, but he went slow. Dragging out each pull and then, pushing himself back in roughly. “Jeno!” Your body jolted up the bed each time. His body fell over yours to hold you intimately, letting you bury your face into his neck. Your lips latched themselves onto his sensitive skin, painting a purple sunset.

Jeno’s arms snaked underneath your thighs as he pressed them to your chest, folding you almost into a ball. Your mouth hung open as he fucked you harder, rougher, deeper yet keeping the tempo rhythmically slow. At this point, you could feel his hits in your gut. Your weak hands gripped loosely around his strong wrists that held your legs down. “You’re pussy is so tight and holy shit---, you keep getting more beautiful.”

A familiar burning sensation set in your chest as you saw how concentrated his face had become. You were so fucked out that you could barely speak, “you—” his hips mercilessly slammed into you powerfully, enacting a low moan every time he reached your sweet spot. “—keep surprising me.” His actions came to a halt and he stared deeply into your soul.

You whined, wiggling your hips for any friction. He held them down into the mattress, knowing his grip was strong enough to leave a mark. “I told you, I was going to make love to you tonight.”

“I’ve already fallen for you.” You said breathlessly, tracing the side of his face and pecking his lips softly.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing to me by saying those things.” He whispered and pushed his entire shaft to fill you to your brim.

You yelped his name and gripped his shoulders, but he wasn’t done yet. “Show me how badly you wanted me the first time you saw me.” Jeno blinked at you in slight shock.

As he continued to hold the deep gaze, he kept pushing his dick further and further into you. He was balls deep, almost impossible to keep going. He fucked you without the need to pull out, just burying his cock deeper into your wet pussy. You exclaimed, moaned, cussed at every push. Holding the stare was more than enough to lose yourself all over him again.

Jeno was drunk with the image of your fucked out expression and every time the mixture of pleasure and pressure caused your eyebrows to crease and mouth to open release sensual sound. He had been trying his best not to come undone, to fixate another climax for you.

The feeling of you wrapping tighter and tighter around him drove him insane. “Give it to me, please.” Your muffled plead called for his release, but he could feel that you were close to your second.

Jeno sat up on his knees and pulled you into his arms where your thighs fell over his. You groaned at the empty feeling, though it was quickly replaced with a gratifying moan when he inserted himself again. Your arms dangled around his neck, foreheads touching intimately.

The fucking eye contact again, how could you get enough of it? You giggled, amused at how different Jeno was when he eventually opened up. He wrapped his strong arms around your back and thrusted his hips up into you. The way this man made you squirm, scream, and shake were nothing you’ve experienced before.

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek when he went rampage on your pussy. “Not laughing now, are you?”

You whined in pleasure, brushing your fallen strands of hair out of his face. “Shut up before I make you.”

“Then I’d rather keep going.” Kissing up his jawline, you lead your way to his pout. His kisses intoxicated you with his passion and madness, like the most intense part of a symphony, or when the bass drops after a long build up in a song.

Jeno sped up, ramming up into your slick pussy over and over again. He even brought your hips down to match him, guiding you down as he went up. The headboard was knocked against the wall, your windows steamed up, cries of pleasure from the both of you created the ambiance, the smell of sex filled your lungs. Jeno reached between your bodies to furiously rub your clit to where it felt almost raw. It all sent you into the clouds, the familiar queasiness settled in your lower half.

Your eyes rolled back and your back arched, having to pull away from the desirous kiss with Jeno. “I’m cumming!” You announced before the tension unraveled, causing you to see absolute white. The second wave was much more uncontrollable, Jeno felt you squeezing radically around his dick as he tried to fuck you faster to prolong the feeling.

Your legs shook around his and your upper body went limp with pleasure. You reached the peak of the mountain and it came crumbling down underneath your toes. It was catastrophically enthralling, to the point where you physically felt something leave your body.

“Oh shit..” Jeno stopped his motions at the sight of you squirting over his lap. He pampered your torso with fluttering kisses, hoping to calm your spastic body. “...baby, are you okay?” He asked with a bit of concern of how lack of life you seemed.

This man just gave you the best climax in your whole life and he asked if you were okay? Regaining your senses, you sighed a small yes to reassure him that he didn’t actually murder you. Hopping off, you pulled the condom that restricted him.

He hissed when you cupped his balls in your palm. “Cum, my sweet thing.” You purred and Jeno’s hand pumped his member aggressively. You leaned in to help, sucking the tip and flicking your tongue over his slit.

His other hand gripped your neck, causing you to drip on your sheets. Jeno was panting and with every tug, it became louder. He seemed so desperate to release that it made you smile to be the reason behind it. “Can you lay down,” A grunt followed his question, “please.” He huffed.

“Because you asked nicely.” Smirking, your back hit the sheets and you opened your legs to give Jeno a view. He situated himself above your stomach, as he fucked his tight grip.

“I’m cumming---” He couldn’t look any more amazing. With a final moan, the white streaks streamed out in short sequences. It landed across your abdomen, over your nipple, and pooled around your belly button.

Bringing himself back to reality, Jeno stepped back to marvel you, his masterpiece. The white streaks coated your purple skin and your chest rose fast to catch your reality. Gazing upon your naked body, he was utterly infatuated with all of you. He was so in love with the sight of you that not a single photo could capture the beauty that you were.

Jeno pondered the thought of how merely a day changed a small part of him. You were life changing, addicting, an incomparable character that he felt like he’s known forever, and now, couldn’t live without. It was the taste of your juices on his lips, your sweet melodic music that was your voice, your daring smile that enticed him to never peel away from you. It was simply you.

He leaned down to rub his knuckles against your cheek, planting a lovingly peck on your forehead. “I’ll go start the water for you.”

Jeno anticipated the reaction of his mentor. He found himself at the same scene he was when he was first given the task. Taemin sat across from him, hunched forward to analyze his new set of photos on his laptop. Raw, unedited photos of you, your body, your details.

The hum of the air conditioning droned on, driving him mad. Jeno needed one reaction, but Taemin had been silent and expressionless for the past ten minutes. Whenever he did move, it was to click through to the next picture.

Suddenly, he shut it closed and stood right up. Jeno, panicked, did the same. Taemin stuck his hand out and Jeno hesitantly grabbed it, incredibly unsettled and unable to read the older man.

Taemin received it firmly, giving Jeno a good handshake. “Welcome abroad, Lee Jeno. I expect even more great things from you.”

Jeno registered his delightful mood switch and he was fast to follow up, “my photos, --- you --- like them?”

Taemin nodded generously, patting Jeno on his shoulder. Taemin reached up to tap his own eyelids. “What you can see, is very special, kid. You’re an artist and I’m here to recognize that for you. It seems to me, you can do more than take pictures of sidewalks.”

Jeno smiled happily, his eyes disappearing from joy. He couldn’t wait to tell you about it.

The rest of the week, leading up to Jeno’s appointment, had felt nothing short of blissful moments together. You and Jeno spent almost every waking minute together without the cost of your friends’ time. He walked you to your classes, some even being across the campus from his own. You accompanied him for meals, even sitting in his lectures to just be with him.

There were no words that established what you two had become to each other. Jeno wasn’t looking for that anyways, in fact, he somewhat liked the ambiguity. If only he could tell you how making love to you made him begin to actually fall for you.

You were never one to hold a serious relationship, but you found a small want for that festering in Jeno. It was hard to admit to yourself, but Jeno saw you for all that you were. He truly saw you, whether it had been through a lens or through his own eyes. He captured your rawness and you were able to find vulnerability around him.

He ran to you, where you sat in the lobby waiting for him to finish his meeting. Peering up from your phone, you noticed the beaming smile on the boy’s face. You couldn’t hold back your own grin, seeing him apparent with so much joy. “I’m guessing good things?”

“I got it, (Y/N)!” He jumped into your arms and you laughed at the sudden affection. “He loved my photos.”

“I didn’t doubt it for one second. You’re an artist, Jeno. You create masterpieces that make even someone like me, feel like art.”

Jeno hugged you closer to his chest, giving you a tiny squeeze. Pulling away to face you, his eyes examined your outstanding grace. You knew what he was already going to say, but simply wanted to hear him say it. “That’s because you are art.”

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