#link did not want to commit

[jula483]

Sundance festival 2025

[starflungwaddledee]

a masterpost following starstruck's interactive adventure at the 2024 @kirbyoctournament, for however long she makes it through! told mostly in response to asks, hence the 'interactive' component. can also be followed in the oc (2024): starstruck dee tag!

✧･ﾟ✧‧͙⁺༓જ⁀•｡ﾟ⟡ ｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ *☾༓⁺‧͙✧･ﾟ✧

(full page comics are noted in bold, and the most important updates are designated with ‧͙⁺༓ )

stage 1: cookie country 🏡🏰

✧ are you ready, starstruck? (intro comic, entry + ref) ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ start the adventure ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ what kind of pie? ✧ a cupcake for the road ✧ happy early birthday ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ what's up? ✧ a selection of gifts ✧ the beating Sun ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ fountain's busted ✧ precautionary incense ✧ it doesn't mean anything ‧͙⁺༓

stage 2: rambling rainforest 🌲🌳

✧ into the woods (intro comic) ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ that red butterfly ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ friends with a little liar ✧ weapon select ✧ do you love the stars? [poll] ✧ night owls ✧ worth the climb ✧ where you fit in ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ distracted ✧ a little shut eye ‧͙⁺༓ [poll]

stage 3: yawning yonder 💤🌈

✧ should have stayed up (intro comic and [poll]) ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ helicopter type sfx ✧ a better past ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ be brave ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ look behind you ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ fear of the greatest ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ heroes, supposedly ‧͙⁺༓ ✧ the inevitable ‧͙⁺༓

[dailyblueberror]

PLUSHIE UPDATE

(block the tag “#plushie updates” if you dont want to see the rest of these, i dont mind :3 i wont tag the finished plush, so you’ll still see that)

i found a good pattern for the body and head that i have ready to cut and sew. Currently sketching designs for the face

I still need to figure out how to alter the body pattern to make clothes? If i even need to?? I could just sew his shoulder armor directly onto his torso but that might not work as well with his sleeves..

And his arm is making me nervous 💔 idk if i should cut the arm pattern in half to make the double colors or if i should find a way to just directly color the fabric. Splitting the pattern will probably look best, but im still thinking about it.

[jichanxo]

playing LJ and idk what’s in the japanese water but Yagami is INSUFFERABLE!!!

He’s so fucking annoying his only argument is “muhhh sawa sensei” when Kuwana, Reiko or Ehara say the horrible things their kids endured like SHUT UP!!!! Reiko and Ehara’s children killed themselves bc they were bullied, I understand and support them fully for getting revenge, especially since the justice system is shitty when it comes to such cases

Did you feel the same or am I tripping?

putting this under the cut

sorry i know you sent this days ago and maybe your opinion has changed since then but i'll answer the best i can? (also i hope i don't accidentally spoil anything ahahah)

this take is not uncommon (and i felt the same at some point, though i've since changed my mind) so no, you're not tripping lmao. despite changing my mind, the fact that people say this pretty regularly probably means the writers didn't execute the idea as well as they could have. i would say that it feels clumsy and almost like a joke (cue sawa-sensei counter) to the point that it detracts from the point they're trying to make. i think some people will disagree with me on this -- rather than the writers, it's the players who aren't fully understanding what's being said to them in the text -- but regardless of whose "fault" that is, yes it's a Known Thing

(funnily enough, during my first playthrough, my sister mentioned seeing a meme about "sawa sensei" getting repeated a lot, and by the time the 2nd/3rd time hit we were like OH MY GOD THE MEME WAS REAL. which is a funny memory to me. lmao)

i think the thing that's getting lost here is that the "sawa sensei" argument is not meant to discredit how kuwana, reiko and ehara feel about the injustice. this part is not in question. yagami's stance on doing illegal shit is also not relevant to this conversation (and i'm not sure i could provide a compelling argument on this front anyway, aside from that he's very anti-murder, lol. clearly he does illegal shit himself so he's not against doing illegal shit based on principle alone. depends on circumstances probably)

sawa gets brought up because she clearly did not deserve to die. almost everyone agrees that sawa was a good person. kuwana puts her on a pedestal for confronting him about kusumoto being bullied, idealises her and muses that she would've understood him for what he's doing (killing people. and this is clearly a stretch). reiko says that sawa was the only person who visited kusumoto in hospital without an ulterior motive, which is one of the best testaments of character that she could give, really, imo. ehara probably holds a negative opinion of sawa for her false testimony about there being no evidence of bullying -- but this was clearly done under pressure of the people around her, and ehara's opinion is the exception to the rule.

so, sawa is a good person. so what? who cares? what's the point of bringing her up?

the point of what kuwana is doing is that he sees it as a way of righting the wrongs that the justice system leaves unaddressed. he needs to believe that what he is doing is right, because it gives him purpose and distracts him from his guilt.

sawa's death contradicts this. even if he and reiko didn't kill her themselves, it's proof that their extreme actions have negative consequences. they can say that the system is wrong, look what this monster did to my son, etc etc. but what they are doing also harms innocent people. the justice/revenge/whatever they pursue is at the cost of other innocent people. sawa herself represents the unforeseen cost of kuwana's self-imposed mission to kill bullies. they can justify themselves all they want, but sawa's death is a reality they can't talk around. they acknowledge she was a good person, but she died because of their actions. is this a worthwhile cost? yagami doesn't think so.

and the thing is, kuwana and reiko can be persuaded.

at least, that's kuwana's opinion about reiko

and later he says this about himself.

these screenshots are pulled from a youtube video w/ english dub so take it with a grain of salt, but you get what i'm trying to say here.

i think the repetition is the point. they agree sawa was a good person. they can be persuaded away from their current stance (that murder is an acceptable response). by repeating himself, yagami is using the argument that's most personal to them, mostly likely to convince them. repetition is not a bug, it's a feature. whether or not this was conveyed well by the writers is another argument altogether, but yagami's point itself is sound.

truthfully, i think LJ could have benefitted by leaning into what makes this case personally compelling to yagami. if you're not paying attention, the "but sawa sensei" argument can feel pretty flat, but putting emphasis on yagami's experiences would help it feel more rich and justified aside from "innocent people dying is bad" (even though that is a sound argument on its own). he does mention emi, i believe it's only once, so it's not like they don't do it at all, but i would like more. the impact of emi and of JE specifically is that yagami doesn't like to leave things unaddressed when he can do more, and that's clearly a motivating factor here. he won't leave kuwana alone for as long as there is 1. something yagami can do about it and 2. kuwana still intends to keep killing

think about the fact that yagami's parents were killed by someone seeing vigilante revenge, both a deeply personal tragedy, and a life defining event that set him on the path he walks now. leaning more into that would have helped, or at least been interesting, in my opinion. obviously it's not 100% the same since yagami's father was the lawyer and not the accused, but the key parts (vigilante justice + collateral damage) is there. of course yagami is trying to change kuwana's mind. not only does yagami understand kuwana's pain wrt the pain of inaction (yagami's regrets about emi) but he's experienced the aftermath of collateral damage, himself.

of course, yagami's personal experiences are only relevant to us, as viewers. sawa is still the best argument to convince kuwana and reiko (and i can easily imagine reiko brushing yagami off if he talked about his backstory LMAO), so that's what we get. sawa is what matters to them, so sawa is what he will keep reminding them of. that's why the sawa argument is what it is.

we can get into discussions about the inevitable failure of the legal system and what that means for "real justice", but we would never come to a consensus. instead, i think it's better to look at how kuwana and reiko are impacted on a personal level by their actions: neither of them have moved on, even after seeking their justice. they remain stuck in the past. their actions grant them no closure, and robs them of a future (reiko as a politician and mother, kuwana as a humble handyman: but as far as we know, a pretty damn good one considering how well he was able to leverage his connections to avoid being caught this whole time... at least in my opinion)

when kuwana argues, he asks how they should seek justice if legal avenues don't grant it to them. he asks, "what about the reiko kusumotos and akihiko eharas of the world?" he is right to point this out.

when yagami argues, he asks how revenge can be justified if innocents will suffer (and die) for it, even unintentionally. he asks, "what about the yoko sawas of the world?" he is also right to point this out.

there is no easy solution. they both have a point. that's what the story is ultimately about. kaito says it straight up at the end of the game:

well, that's my take. admittedly i'm not as well versed on LJ as some people are, so i could be remembering and paraphrasing some things wrong. i've seen people who really like LJ's writing, and others who straight up hate it LMAO, so yknow, your mileage may vary. hopefully this will at least help you understand the other perspective

if you want to hear another take on the sawa sensei argument, i'll put this here. i drew on it quite a bit while writing this, so yknow, credit where credit is due.

[cerealforkart]

Me: Lacking time let alone energy

Me to Me: “Play all of Twilight Princess so you can make an AU with Sparrow as Link which you’ll draw maybe twice before forgetting about it forever”

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Masquerade

historical fiction set in 15th century West Africa

follows a young woman from Timbuktu, recently conquered by the the warrior king of Yorùbáland

her guild of blacksmiths were already shunned as witches, and their conditions worsen under Yorùbá rule - so when she’s kidnapped by the king to be his wife, she decides to accept that it’ll be a better life for her, as long as she can get her mother’s blessing

but as months go by without her mother being found, and political tensions rise, she must decide what she wants

[ethanscrocs]

Here are some additional sources supporting the points made above:

(warning for antiblack racism)

Trigger Warning: Usage of the N Word.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/history/2023/02/05/sesame-street-ban-mississippi/

A quick note: Their future isn't as at risk as the original post may imply. Sesame Street is produced by a nonprofit and it will continue to have a home at PBS. However, being removed from HBOMax makes the show extremely inaccessible and the future of the show is unclear.

babe. I know we’re all going thru a lot rn but I just wanna give u the heads up that sesame streets future is in jeopardy. hbo has chosen not to renew it for new episodes (a series that has been going since 1969) and the residents of 123 Sesame Street no longer have a home :(

[inkskinned]

it's easier to apply for jobs than ever! so what if you lost your insurance, anyone can get a job these days, even without meds. everyone is hiring! there's a "good employee" shortage!

well you just need to revamp your resume, here's a paid app subscription that can read it for you. rewrite the cover letter they won't read. google jobs in my area and then scrawl through Monster/Indeed/worbly. did you want to save the search? this was posted 98 days ago. over 1 billion applicants! this position is trending.

jobs i actively like doing and get paid for. your search returned no results. easy-apply with HireSpin! easy apply with SparkFire! easy apply with PenisFlash! with a few short clicks, get your information stolen.

watch out! the first 98 links on google are actually scams! they're false postings. oopsie. that business isn't even hiring. that other one is closed permanently. find one that looks halfway legit, google the company and the word "careers". go to their page. scroll past brightly-lit diversity stock photo JOIN US white sans serif. we are a unique, fresh, client-focused stock value capitalism. we are committed to excellence and selling your soul on ebay. we are DRIVEN with POWER to INNOVATE our greed. yippee! our company has big values of divisive decision making, sucking our dicks, and hating work-life balances. our values are to piss in your mouth. sign here and tell us if you have gender issues so we can get ahead of the sexual harassment claim. are you hispanic although let's be real we threw out the resume when we saw your last name.

sign up to LinkHub to access updates from this company. make a HirePlus account to apply. download the PoundLink app. your account has been created, click the link we sent you in 15 minutes. upload that resume. we didn't read the resume, manually fill in the lines now. what is your expected pay grade. oh actually we want hungry people, not people driven by a salary. cut a zero off that number, buddy, this is about opportunity, and we need to be thrifty. highest level of education. autofill is glitching. here is an AI generated set of questions. what is your favorite part of our sexy, sexy company. how do you resolve conflict. will you get our company logo tattooed on your person. warning: while our CEO is guilty of wage theft, we will absolutely refuse to hire a nonviolent felon.

thank you for your interest at WEEBLIX. we actually already filled this position internally. we actually never had that posting. we actually needed you to have 9 years of experience and since you have 10 years we think it might be too many? we'll be texting you. we'll email you. we'll keep your resume. definitely absolutely we won't just completely ignore you. look at your phone, there's already a spam text from Bethany@stealyouridentity. they're hiring!

wait, did you get an interview? well that's special, aren't you lucky. out of 910 jobs you applied to, one answered, finally. and funny story! actually the position isn't exactly as advertised, we are looking for someone curious and dedicated. it's sort of more managerial. no, the pay doesn't change - you won't have any leadership title. now take this 90 minute assessment. in order to be a dog groomer, we need you to explain cell biology. in order to be a copyeditor, write a tiny dissertation about the dwindling supply of helium on the planet. answer our riddles three. great job! we just need to push this up to Tracy in HR who will send it to Rodney who is actually in charge. and then of course it's jay's decision and then greg will need to see you naked and if you survive you'll be given a drug test and a full anal examination.

and of course you'll be hungry this whole time, aren't you, months and months of the same shit. months of no insurance, no meds, no funding, barely able to afford the internet and the phone and the rent - all things you need in order to even apply for our thing. but do it again! do it again and again and again, until you flip inside out and turn into a being of pure dread!

you're not hired yet because you're lazy. there's over one million AI-generated hallucinated jobs in your area. don't worry. with zipruiter, hiring and firing is easier than ever. sign up. stay on-call.

in the meantime, little peon - why don't you just fucking suffer.

[aeyumicore]

between the blades of grass

when sylus, the strongest warrior of the grasslands, chooses you as his mate, you're forced to consummate your union in front of the entire clan.

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.4k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, public sex, voyeurism, outdoor sex, people watching you have sex, missionary, cumming inside, medieval bedding ceremony vibes, NOT continuation off grassland romance (though inspired by it), NOT based off any real world clan, completely made up clan & traditions, implied virgin mc, implied first time sex, use of y/n, dom!sylus, dirty talking sylus, talks of marriage, mating, and some political play.

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3 | twitter inspo 1 | twitter inspo 2

━ ✧.˖ A/N: hello! short fic since i was so heavily inspired by the new sylus memory. this is NOT a continuation of ‘grassland romance’ though it is heavily inspired by the overall theme of the memory. i began furiously writing this when they released the trailer oof i was so hooked. inspired by @/yuchanpaws_ quote tweet linked above!

please note that the clan and traditions mentioned in this fic are completely fictional. however the tradition is based loosely off of the “bedding ceremony” that medieval europe used to partake in!

i will NOT be writing fics for the new xavier or raf memories! i may write for zayne but that is up in the air. i only wrote for this one because i was super inspired by the memory and the fan discourse about it on twitter and tumblr <3

this was actually so fun to write. i might find myself writing more bite sized fics like this, that inspire me rather than feel like me forcing myself to finish them :’) unfortunately that probably means less xavier and raf from now on and only zayne & sylus…

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

“Don’t look at them. Look at me.”

You can hardly hear Sylus through the deafening chants and cheers of the people around you. Never in a million years did you think you’d be caught in this situation. The Mating Rite.

Actually, it was customary for the most esteemed members of your clan to partake in the Mating Rite, those of the Elder Tribunal, the high ranking commanders of the various military societies, really any of the most respected members of the community had to participate in the Rite. To prove their bond with their chosen to the rest of the clan, committing themselves not only to each other, but to the clan. 

But you didn’t fall into any of those criteria. While you were under the strict and often suffocating protection of the clan’s most skilled warriors, for reasons they’d refused to share with you, you weren’t someone of the necessary stature needed to be required to partake in the Rite. 

But Sylus was.

The youngest warrior to be sworn into the clan’s most elite and ruthless military society. The youngest to be considered for a commanding position in the militia, a position he turned down many times. He was the most formidable and respected gladiator of your entire clan, and even that of the opposing clans of the Grasslands. 

There wasn’t a soul in all the Grasslands that didn’t know his name. You either envied him, feared him, or wanted to share a bed with him. Maybe all of the above.

You knew the day would come when Sylus would have to choose a suitable partner, and the thought of it inexplicably sent painful pangs down your very soul. The fear of losing him, when you didn’t even have him, was so utterly heartbreaking, you didn’t know how you’d bear it when the time came.

And yet…Sylus wanted you. He chose you.

You’d never forget the way he sought you out after returning from a mission he told you little of, under the massive acacia you’d often lain under, with the silver haired man in question holding you dearly. How you’d flown into his arms upon seeing his distinct form approaching you, his strong hands gripping your waist as he spun you around, whispering into your ear about how he’d missed you in his time away. 

Or when he threw you over his shoulder, his fingers gripping the underside of your rear, a clear mission in his mind as he traversed the Grasslands to the Elder Tribunal’s square. 

“I need to show them I already have a lover.”

The Elder Tribunal had been pushing Sylus’s hand for years now, wanting to see their most esteemed warrior mated, securing his future progeny to that of the clan. He’d been able to hold them off for as long as possible, his responsibility as a warrior and as your key protector keeping him far too busy to find a suitable mate. 

You weren’t exactly sure what changed, what exactly had caused Sylus’s hand to be forced. What had caused him to finally give in, choosing a partner to share the rest of his life with. 

In any case, you found yourself under Sylus’s very naked body, his thick erection nestled firmly inside your quivering walls. He was naked from the waist down, but still wore the traditional garb of the warrior ensemble’s chest harness, the bone embellishments rattling against the coarse leather. There were countless eyes around you, watching the way Sylus slid in and out of you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Sylus did his best to use his much larger body to shield yours from the hungry stares surrounding you, wanting to take away even the tiniest bit of your obvious discomfort. You were entirely naked, as was required of women partaking in the Rite, bare and vulnerable before the many spectators. And while the thought of showing off your magnificent naked body off to others excited Sylus, as he knew that it was a sight others could behold but never have like he could, he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible. 

The warm air breezed against your naked body, only a canvas ceiling protecting you from the elements. It was a tent of sorts, without any walls, to give the crowd the best view of the Mating Rite. Of you and Sylus. 

Even though the air is warm, the, almost muggy, Grassland breeze against your bare skin makes you shiver.

“I’m sorry,” he grits, his jaw slack as you sucked him in so tightly, trying to focus on comforting you and not the way you nearly choked the orgasm out of him, “I’m sorry. I never wanted our first time…to be like this.”

His words make your mind sober up, your eyes focusing on his and not those around you. He used his thick thumb to rub the tears out of the corner of your eyes.

“It’s’okay Sylus,” you gasp, the pain of his thick cock making it difficult to speak, “I-I’m’okay.”

Sylus grimaces, hearing the choke of discomfort in your soft voice. The way your cunt felt around him was so completely and wholly blissful, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make you feel as good as you made him feel.

“Just focus on me, alright my dove?” he murmurs, his voice gruff with desire. As he continues to rock into you, unbearably gently and loving, he leans down until his lips are a mere inch from yours. 

“Let me take the pain away, hm?”

He presses his lips to yours, inhaling your gasp as he kisses you for the first time. You’d daydreamed about the way his lips would feel on yours, when you watched him train with his fellow warriors, when you’d wash fresh fruit in the brook by the clearing, when he’d watch over you, protecting you from a danger that everyone refused to tell you the truth of.

But your silly little daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing. Nothing could have prepared you for how warm and commanding his lips would be when they took yours. How his tongue, gentle yet insistent as they traced the opening of your mouth, would slip into your mouth, exploring you like he owned you. 

You never could have imagined the way he’d literally take your breath away, kissing you like he’d been waiting just as long to taste you, to have you.

It’s so wonderfully dizzying that you don’t even notice the pain of his member inside you ebbing into a burning pleasure. You don’t notice the way people holler when Sylus kisses you, the way they cheer at the scene unfolding before them. 

You squeak, a mix of a moan and a squeal when Sylus pushes so deeply into you that you briefly see warm white stars clouding your vision. Sylus groans, ripping his lips from yours to breathe out a throaty moan of pained pleasure.

“Not so tight,” he all but seethes at you. You wince at his harsh tone, doing your best to relax your squirming muscles and obey his words. Sylus instantly softens at your reaction, his hand coming up to caress your cheek.

“You’re so tight down here, sweetheart,” he grits, fingers coming down to press on your bare tummy, “It’s making it difficult for me to…control myself.”

“I-Is that…” you whimper, confused by the way he’s making your body burn with an unfamiliar pleasure, “Ngh – bad?”

Sylus chuckles, despite the tortured plea that shines in his carmine eyes, “Bad? Far from it…You feel unbelievable.”

Your heart clenches at his praises, cheeks heating at the sounds his body makes against yours. Flushed at the way people are watching Sylus claim every inch of you, your virtue. 

He continues, stroking your cheek gently, pleadingly, “But it would be embarrassing if you made me…end the Rite so quickly. In front of all these people.”

The implications of his words dawn on you and your eyes widen in a mix of surprise and disbelief. He doesn’t stop his movements even as he explains himself to you, your nails digging into his thick biceps that cage you, blocking your modesty from the spectators.

“I have an image to uphold, after all,” he smirks only half-joking, a well deserved arrogant confidence playing behind his beautiful features, “Only you would make it so difficult for me, little bird.”

“M’not trying to Sy –” you choke out, looking down and trying to focus on the way his impossible girth splits you open, and not the jeering of the crowd. You’re briefly hypnotized by the shiny ring of something filthy that encircles his base, the way his abdomen clenches with every movement he makes. 

You’re snapped out of your trance at the distinct and familiar voices, some distance behind your head. You’re acutely reminded of just how exposed you are, your thighs trying to clench shut on instinct. But Sylus’s body holds them open, his fingers gripping your chin to bring your face back to his.

“Don’t worry about them.”

“I-I just –” you whine, not even knowing what you want to say, unable to stop your eyes from darting around. You squirm when you make eye contact with the hungry eyes around you, recoiling into yourself.

“I can tell you exactly what each and every one of them are thinking,” Sylus purrs into your ear as he leans down to press his weight deliciously onto you, which only earns more hooping and hollering from the crowd, “They’re thinking about what it would be like…to be in my place.”

Sylus smirks when you shiver at his lewd words, his filthy whisperings making you inexplicably and embarrassingly excited. His voice is impossibly heated, a dangerous ferality behind them, “Thinking about what it would be like to be the one inside of you right now.”

You whine at his words, hitting his shoulder weakly, “Sylus d-don’t say that. I only want to think about you.”

Sylus groans, a beautifully deep and erotic moan of satisfaction, “Damn right. You are mine.”

He continues on, so lost in the feeling of your tight wet walls that he begins to ramble uncharacteristically, “I’m sorry, my love. I will make it up to you.”

Before you can even ask for what, Sylus is driving right back into your deepest parts, making your toes curl as you squeal unabashedly, not even registering how people cheer at the way you he fucks you.

He whispers, not paying any mind to the way people applaud the way Sylus makes your body keen, encouraging him to take you harder, “After this, little bird, I’ll show you just how good I can make you feel. Just you and me. I promise.”

As inexperienced as you were, you knew the way Sylus fucked you was otherwordly. His thrusts, both dominating and tender, his hands gentle as they squeeze your breasts, his lips as they caress yours. The way he so quickly blurred the pain to a blinding pleasure, you knew Sylus knew exactly how to use his body. 

Beyond that, you knew Sylus was well acquainted with the female body. The way he fucked you was unreal, quite literally making magic with your joined bodies. The pain had faded away, replaced with an ecstasy that nearly blocked everything else out.

Nearly.

As the whooping gets louder, Sylus only fucks you harder, trying to distract you from the crowd around you, “It’s just you and me, sweeheart.”

Despite Sylus’s comforting words, he himself was still profoundly aware of the eyes on your joined bodies. But it only served to excite him, make him harder. The way all eyes were on you, the beautiful woman he’d chosen for himself, his mate. Something they could stare at but never indulge in. It drove him insane. 

You nod, losing yourself as Sylus’s rhythmic pounding makes your nerves burn with pleasure, in a way that makes you confused and alarmed. You felt lightheaded, the pressure in your stomach overwhelming. It felt like you were losing control of your body, like you might have an accident all over him. 

“Sy-Sylus, I think something’s – nghn – happening!” you wail, “I think maybe we should – ahngh – stop.”

Sylus groans, acutely aware, even if you aren’t, that you’re nearing your very first orgasm. You squeeze him so tightly that he can’t help but meet you at the peak of that blinding pleasure.

“Let it happen, Y/N,” he soothes, trying to mask the fact that he’s about to lose his own mind from how perfectly you’re clamping down on his cock, “You’re close aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen at the realization of what this sensation is, having heard stories from the other women in the clan, almost scared of how explosive you know it’s going to be. Your fingers furiously grapple at the thick ropes of muscles on his back, scratching deep red welts into him. 

“Cum for me in front of all these people, my dove,” he coos, almost condescendingly, “Let’s show them exactly who you belong to now, hm?”

His words drip with absolute filth and it only makes the tension grow tauter, almost like a balloon being stretched to its limits before it pops. You don’t even notice when Sylus’s large hands find  the area where your bodies meet. 

Your eyes, screwed shut at the new sensations of mind and bodily bliss, fly open when he touches your most sensitive parts, rubbing furiously at the crest of your lips. The feeling is so overwhelming your back arches off the thick mat of straw and blankets that you rest on, chasing the sharp pleasure that his fingers bring onto your intimate regions.

“So responsive,” Sylus murmurs gruffly, “Just like that, my heart. Let yourself feel it, hm? For me.”

You’re honestly at a loss at how Sylus can speak to you coherently right now, if he feels even a fraction of the ecstasy he’s bestowing upon your body. 

As your eyes roll back, your mouth parted in a symphony of the most beautiful moans and whimpers, Sylus feels himself being pushed to release. The sharp claps of applause are muted as his ears ring with the overwhelming pressure of how badly his cock wants to release inside you.

For the first time, Sylus stutters, “I-I need to cum inside you. I’m sorry, my love.”

The Mating Rite required the participating parties to unify in the most intimate ways possible, and that included the sharing of essences. And the idea of that…as new as you were to the pleasures of skinship, drove you to madness.

The thought of him filling you so deeply with him, all of him. You couldn’t explain it but you wanted it more than anything you’d ever wished for.

You can’t stop yourself from begging pathetically, “I-I want it. I want you Sy. Please.”

Your voice is practically drowned out by the intensifying cheers of the crowd, but Sylus hears your pleas loud and clear. In fact it’s the only thing he can hear, his brain drowning out anything that wasn’t you.

“Do you?” Sylus smirks, trying to maintain control despite how royally fucked your words rendered him, “So filthy for such an innocent little bird.”

“Then you’d better take it all, my love.”

With frenzied fingers, Sylus sends you careening down the unfamiliar ledge of orgasmic bliss. His thrusts grow increasingly frantic, your cunt convulsing so violently that Sylus nearly wants to black out. You were so unbearably tight that his climax was forced out of him, the warm splash of milky hot seed coating every centimeter of your perfect little hole. 

As he spews into you, he feverishly takes your lips into his, desperate to taste you as his body gave you every ounce of himself. His tongue furiously finds yours, a fierce gnashing of teeth, flesh, and raw unadulterated passion. Your entire body vibrates as he moans into you, his body rocking both of you through a transcendent euphoria that will undoubtedly change your life forever. 

Neither of you can even hear the screams or the toast of applause that erupts all around you, clan members quite literally celebrating at the union of their most prized warrior. 

Sylus doesn’t still, biting the inside of his mouth as he ruts himself into a painful overstimulation. Yet, he can’t get enough of you, not wanting to pull out and be without your warmth, without you.

“The rite has been completed!”

As your body begins to come down from its dizzying heights, your senses start to return, your consciousness becoming vaguely aware of people crowding closer. 

One of the clan elders saunters over, wanting to congratulate Sylus, parade him around like a prize the clan had secured for themselves. Sylus’s body blocks his as he approaches, his head snapping back forcefully when he feels an unwanted presence encroaching on your space, intruding on his brief moment of bliss with you. 

“Sy?” you murmur wearily, your body drained of every last drop of energy, replacing your body with a heavy contentment that weighed you down. 

Sylus doesn’t respond, snapping something at the clan elder, and the other important clan members that had begun to slowly approach. Though you couldn’t hear what he said, you can make out his snarky and forceful tone, a tone you’d never heard him take, especially not with you. It was filled with an authority that would normally never be taken with those of the Elder Tribunal. 

But of course, he was Sylus.

Just like that, everyone is clearing out of the small meadow in which the Rite had taken place, heading back to the central square of the Grassland. The serenity left behind blankets you and Sylus, as he returns his attention back to you.

His manhood is still snug inside you, thick and throbbing again despite the copious amounts of slick dripping from where he still plugs you. Your legs are lazily clung to his sides, his thick body slotted between your shaking thighs. 

“Hey…” he murmurs, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. 

Your eyes flutter open, twinkling when they catch the way Sylus drinks you in. His lips are quirked in a smirk, a classic display of Sylus-esque arrogance, but his crimson eyes are so tender, the sharp lines of his face softened. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your clammy forehead, wrapping his arms behind your back and cradling you in his arms. He hoists you onto his lap, your legs coming to wrap around his waist, his erection still nestled into your sore walls. 

“For what?” you whisper, resting your head on his chest, trying to control the shivers that rack your body involuntarily.

“For doing this. For me.”

You glance up at him, unsure of what to say. You hardly felt like you did him a favor, between the indescribable pleasure he’d just given you and the feelings for him you’d buried deep down. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” you whisper, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever, even though the two of you finally had some privacy. 

Sylus doesn’t speak, holding you dearly as he gazes off into the flat plains of the Grassland, a few large acacia trees littered in the open fields. 

“It was…incredible,” you admit, “You’re incredible.”

Sylus looks down at you, the usual cockiness and arrogance faded, letting you really see into the soft and warm soul of the Grassland’s most revered warrior.

He bends down to kiss you, his lips impossibly soft and patient as opposed to the violent way he’d kissed you earlier. Every touch is a caress, every second precious and fleeting. 

Sylus bites back his groan as he feels himself stirring back to life inside you. He tries to focus instead on how it feels to hold you, to have you. 

He fully intended to make good on his earlier promise, showing you just how thoroughly he could love you. But for now, he just wanted to feel your lips on his, your skin against his. The way he’d always wanted. The way he’d always intended. 

A warm gust of wind sweeps through the meadow, making the foliage dance lazily. For over two decades, you’d lived between these very same blades of grass. Yet as you kissed Sylus, the Grassland had never felt quite so alive.

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Full picture found here from S2 episode 4's storyboards: https://x.com/CloverWorks/status/1356769582783082497

i think abt this ray w longer hair in s2 concept art all the time. never forget what they took from you

[k6tzie]

COD P☆RN LINKS

ghost: your clingy boyfriend just wants to be closer to you, he wants to be inside you. literallysuch a sweet boy with mommy issues, just wanting to be taken care of :( doesn't wanna commit yet and go the full way... stop being so clingy! he was trying to do some paperwork :/ so incredibly jealous ghost coded surprising you when he comes back home but you have a meal for him prepared :) soap: don't even need to take your panties off fully, just push them aside!< pretty red tights are getting ripped off tonight 😊 whilst soap fucks u hard and merciless, ghosts fat cock is throbbing in ur mouth :( he can't stay away from ur pretty lips gaz: he likes recording your puffy pussy when you cum like your own paparazzi! don't worry, he'll lick it up afterwards his pretty cowgirl riding that dick like she owns it 😵 late night after the whole teams' at the bar, you 2 sneak back to his car... staying in a tent for a mission...this close...is never a good idea price: price stuffing his thick dick in you after you 'joked' about breaking up :(he's gonna be deployed for awhile, why not make the most of it? he DID promise good aftercare, don't blame him halloween mission gone wrong! :( your weight is no match for him alejandro: average alejandro camera roll smh he loves seeing u wet all over, and a mark on how much he's done titty man :) sleepover at ale's barrack after dinner rudy: he missed feeling you, so soft and plushy - better than a pillow <3he was too shy to say anything so thank god you removed it typa shit rudy's on pussy so soft and healthy eating that puffy pussy like it's the last supper

[the-halloween-jack]

DC ✢ When he admitted he loved you

Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Clark. This is a companion piece to another headcanon called 'When he realised he loved you' linked here. Though, you can still read it independently.

B R U C E⠀W A Y N E

Bruce did not say it in a quiet moment — for such moments were rare. Though, when they did find him, he spent them with you in silence. Not with words but simply by being near, by existing in your presence.

No. It came during an argument. One of those arguments that shakes the very foundations of a relationship — not because of what was said, but because of what had never been, what was expected.

You had asked him — raw, wounded — what you meant to him. What all this was. Why he kept forming barriers between you, when all you had ever wanted to do was break through.

His answer had been frigid. Precise. Calculated and sharpened. A blade forged from old habits, Bruce wielded it with an unconscious mastery, a last-ditch defence mechanism perfected over decades.

You left. Not in fury, but in heartbreak, disappointment — the kind that does not cry, does not scream, but simply broods into silence. Your absence rang louder than a slammed door, louder than any yell you could have mustered.

Alfred did not speak. Just passed Bruce in the hallway with the kind of look that had once made him sit straighter as a boy. And now, it made him feel small once more, as though he were still a child.

Time passed and still, silence.

He found you in the garden, beneath a sky now thick with stars, the sun had still been gleaming when you had hurried away. You had not been crying. You were still. And in that stillness, he saw the damage he had inflicted upon you.

‘I can’t seem to protect what I love,’ he said, words fractured, conflicted. ‘Not my parents. Not Jason… Not you —’ 

You turned. Not startled by the confession, but by the break in his voice. You had never seen him like this before, never so fragile. 

‘But I do. I love you. I want… I need you to know that.’

It was not cinematic. No kiss. No arms thrown around shoulders. Just him, standing before you, hollowed by an atypical honesty, praying you would believe him — even if he was undeserving of that trust.

And you did. You believed him. Bruce could see it in the ease of your countenance, in the smile that now warmed your face. But even so, he apologised as though he had committed a most heinous crime.

You pulled yourself to your feet, still wordless. And enveloped him in your arms.

‘I love you too, Bruce.’

D I C K⠀G R A Y S O N

Dick meant to say it casually — with that charming nonchalance that usually came so naturally to him. He had rehearsed it, even. Smiled in the mirror once or twice. But it never felt right, never felt adequate. It was too simple a word to describe what he felt for you. 

But love, he discovered, should not wait for perfect timing.

It came unexpectedly late one evening, while a movie played in the background — some low-budget film neither of you had been truly watching. Your head was on his shoulder. His thumb was tracing invisible shapes into your side.

And then — suddenly breathless, it had grown too large to contain, he could not hold it any longer,

‘You know I love you, right?’

You blinked like someone newly roused from a dream, and looked at him as though he had spoken in a foreign language. Dick was not confident he had not. 

When you remained quiet, he chuckled, uneasy. And brought his hand to the back of his neck, in a nervous, boyish manner. 

‘I mean — I have. For a while. I just didn’t want to ruin it by...’ He trailed off, not quite sure what he was saying. 

You remained quiet for a few moments more, contemplating. The juncture of silence stretched taut, he held his breath. And then you smiled. 

As soft as the moonlight now shining through the curtains, you whispered, ‘I love you, too.’

He kissed you gently, as though he were trying to make up for all the times he had not said it sooner. In that moment, he was not Dick Grayson, he was not Nightwing or the Boy Wonder — he was simply someone lucky enough to be loved by you.

To this day, he cannot for the life of him remember the movie that had been playing. All he could remember was that smile — the way it had already lit up your eyes by the time it reached your mouth and the enthralling, glowing warmth that had flooded his system.

J A S O N⠀T O D D

You were stitching him up again — hands steady, breath shallow, a routine so familiar it hurt. Nothing fatal. Nothing new. His form was half-draped in shadow, skin cold under your touch. You sat cross-legged before him. 

‘You’ve got to stop doing this,’ you murmured, not for the first time and certainly not the last. 

He did not answer. Because what would he tell you? Not the truth, you would not want to hear it. Every stitched-up wound felt like proof that you cared; he could not resist the temptation. He did not believe you could love a man like him, but when he felt your gentle fingers work over his skin, he let himself consider it; he let himself yearn. 

‘I’d die for you, you know?’ he muttered. Off-handed. As though it were the most obvious thing, as though it were as easy as breathing.

A frown turned your face. ‘That’s not comforting, Jason.’

And then — something unspooled. A thread that had been pulled too tight for too long. Jason sighed.

‘What I was trying to say… What I meant was… I love you —’ He looked into your eyes, gaze piercing, willing you to see the truth of it. 

The words had flooded out like a barrage breaking open. ‘That’s all I’m trying to say. I’d die for you because… I can’t picture a world without you in it. I wouldn’t want to.’ He shivered at this, at the concept of a sphere you did not grace, the very notion made him ill. 

You stilled. Hands held suspended above him, pausing their work.

He was not looking for a response — only a release; he had needed this off his chest. But you gave him one anyway.

‘I love you, too.’ You had uttered it so softly, had Jason not already been watching your lips, he may have missed it. His breath caught — not in fear, but in awe — as though his lungs had momentarily forgotten their most natural function.

Your words felt like electricity brimming beneath his skin — like every nerve had been awoken at once. A new fullness bloomed within his chest, as though the ribs could no longer host his heart; as if it had suddenly grown too large to contain.

He spoke up again, softer this time,  ‘I’ll try to live for you too. That part’s harder. But believe me when I say I want it. More than anything.’ He gave you one of his rare smiles, and your heart jolted.

You silently placed the first aid materials to the side and leaned in, placing your head against his shoulder. After a short while you shifted, leaving scattered kisses across his fading scars, lingering on each for a moment, he felt that same electricity once more. 

Your hands ghosted over him like he were something precious, as though the ruin of him was worth loving, and that was the message you were trying to convey, what you were trying to have him understand.

Jason did not sleep that night. Not out of pain or panic, but because he was afraid it had been a dream. That peace, for someone like him, was more fragile, more fleeting than any reverie; and he could not stand the idea of waking up.

T I M⠀D R A K E

You both had been working late, each focused on your own tasks, yet relishing in the silent company of one another; the peace of it. Tim sat at his desk, while you lay across his bed, legs swinging behind you with a pen in hand.

Tim had asked you to stay at the manor for the night, but you had gently refused, reminding him you had work in the morning. You got up and walked over, placing both hands on either shoulder. You then pressed a kiss to his temple and whispered in his ear.

‘I better head off now.’ He leaned his head back into you, and his eyes met yours, smiling.

And then — too casually, too instinctively — he said, ‘Okay, love you.’

The words had flowed out like a torrent. A sudden, unexpected failure in his system.

Then a silence dropped like a stone in deep water — sudden, heavy, and irreversible; absolute.

He froze. His eyes were wide, as though the phrase had been spoken by an imposter, by someone else within his skin. He had known this fact for a long time, it had only been a matter of time.

‘I didn’t — I mean — that wasn’t—well, it was, but —’ He stopped. His words crashed over each other, panicked and sputtered.

You tilted your head. Shock the dominant expression on your face.

‘You love me?’

He nodded, slowly, it would be silly to deny it; to lie. Shame crept into the corners of his expression. What if he had said it too soon? What if the word drew you away?  Then suddenly you smiled, as though you had been waiting for this exact failure, this exact slip-up.

‘Well… that’s good,’ your whisper was tender. ‘Because I love you too.’

And just like that, his spiralling mind halted. His thoughts — so often a storm of what-ifs and whys — were suddenly still.

And in that stillness, something shifted.

The tension in his shoulders eased and melted away. He let out a breath he had not realised he had been holding — shaky, but smiling. It was not his usual tight-lipped smirk, nor the polite upward curve he would give strangers — this one was real. Quiet, disbelieving and full.

You leaned downward and rested your forehead against his, your hand moving to cradle his cheek. Tim leaned into it like he had been starved of its softness. You spoke through a grin.

‘Maybe I should stick around. Was that your plan all along?’

D A M I A N⠀W A Y N E⠀(Aged up as Batman)

Damian did not like the word love. Not at first. The word felt paltry. Trite. A flippant syllable never built to hold the sheer weight of what he carried for you.

You had just bested him in sparring. You always did, but only because he allowed it — Damian would sooner impale himself on his training blade than admit it, but it was not as though you were unaware. You had thought it cute, an adjective you would never dare utter to his face. 

Damian had no shortage of self-pride. The fact he was willing to sacrifice it, simply to please you, always left you breathless. 

You extended your hand to guide him up, but he simply stared at it from his place on the mat, his gaze shifting upward. You were standing over him, a barely contained smirk donning your features. 

‘You do not understand what you mean to me,’ he said, voice low and filled with a thousand ulterior meanings, though they bled through, his tone turning earnest.

You did not speak. You simply waited.

‘This feeling,’ he tried again, ‘it disrupts everything. My training. My thoughts. My plans. Everything. It… it…’ He trailed off, not sure how to finish what he was saying, not confident that the words capable of conveying these feelings were extant across any vernacular, it seemed too implausible. 

You smiled, faintly. ‘You mean love?’

He flinched like you had cursed. But then — after a moment — he nodded.

‘Yes. That.’ It was not enough, but he figured he would concede. ‘I feel it. Unwillingly. But truthfully.’

You laughed, it was warm and bell-like. It struck something tender in him, something still learning to hope.

‘I love you too, Damian.’

How was it, that word he had held with such contempt, such scrutiny and scepticism, was suddenly so weighted, so gorgeous uttered from your lips? How was it so impactful now it was directed towards him? 

He looked away, not from shame, but from overwhelm. He had fought assassins, atrocious criminals, and the weight of his father’s legacy — but never had he felt something as all-consuming as being wanted, as overwhelming as the thought of your love.

C L A R K⠀K E N T

He had told you on a rooftop. Not because it was histrionic, but because it was distant — far above the world’s inescapable noise, yet still beneath its stars. 

You were talking about something entirely ordinary. Rent, perhaps. The cost of your water bill.

But he was not listening, not truly. He watched as your lips moved and thought only of how he yearned to kiss them, to wake up to them each and every morning. 

And then he looked at you. Really looked. And the words came like wind through the ether — soft, inevitable.

‘I love you.’ He had cut you off, but it needed to be said. He could not have lived another moment without these words held suspended between you. 

You smiled, easy. ‘I know.’

But he shook his head. Shifting closer. There was an ache in his voice, a gravity to it.

‘No. I love you. Not in the way people say when they’re hanging up the phone. Or when they leave for work in the morning. I love you like… like…’ He paused, eyebrows furrowed, ‘I’m not sure I can put it into words —’ He places his hands on either side of your cheeks. 

You stopped breathing.

‘You’ve given me something no one else has,’ he said, his voice near breaking. ‘Not because you wanted a hero. But because you saw me — as nothing more than a man. The farmboy. The one who still forgets to fold his laundry, after you’ve already asked him five times…’

You let out a sudden laugh, but it was not for his joke, your joy at his admission could not be contained; it surged out. You kissed him.

‘I love you, too.’ You murmured, Clark could hear the smile within your voice. Then he thought of the stars glimmering upon them, they shone bright, yet still somehow paled in your comparison. 

I was thinking of expanding upon the Jason Todd section and turning it into its own one-shot, would anyone be interested in that? Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

[ameliathornromance]

The Other Woman - Part 2

A/N: I'm blown away by the support you guys have given me with this part. I want to thank everyone who commented on the first post and gave me feedback! I'm always happy to recieve constructive critisim to make my work better for you all. This part 2 is a little different from how I usually handle part twos, so I hope you guys enjoy!

Link to PT 1

Your eyes itched as you dragged them open the next morning. The tears you shed last night had completely exhausted you by the time you got back to your room in the Palace, you had just flopped into bed without changing, skirts covered in melted icing.

A part of you was glad for it, as you had something to distract yourself from the soreness of heart break in your chest. You had no idea what you were going to do when you headed to court. The King’s personal guard would be there, and as far as you were aware, he hadn’t seen you the previous night.

Which means to him, nothing had gone wrong between the two of you.

You weren’t sure what to do knowing that. You could: A) Pretend nothing is wrong, carry on with this affair like you’d never seen what you had, or B) End things with the Orc and live with the guilt of what you did for the rest of your life.

Option A was just too difficult for you to do. You couldn’t bare the thought of doing something so heartless to that lovely Orc lady who worked in the kitchens. She was too kind to you, and always willing to lend a shoulder when you needed it… She would be a great mother.

So, it looks like option B is the only way to go.

As you finished remaking your bed, a shaky sigh escaped you as you leaned against your mattress, trying to steady yourself to face the day.

Leaving your quarters, you walked through the halls with your head in the clouds, thinking about how exactly you were supposed to end this affair. Would the King’s guard be angry? Upset?

After stewing on it, a wave of indignity washed over you. Really, none of this is your fault, it’s not like you were aware of his marriage. So, why should you be the one to break it off?

Of course, the last thing you wanted was to stay with the Orc, but if anything, he should be the one ending things with you! He was the one who chose to lie to you and hurt you in that way.

But how would you send that message to him? It’s not like you could just tell him what you saw. He might try to convince you to stay with him and you would not be persuaded into doing such a thing.

… Maybe, if you ignored him, he’d get the message and just leave you alone? Then that way, he’d know that you were angry with him and then, he would have no choice but to apologise to you. He’s not a stupid Orc, he should realise sooner or later what you were upset with him about.

But then, how do you regain your dignity as a Lady?

You chewed your lip as you greeted the Queen, apologised for your lateness and then followed her, alongside the other ladies in waiting to the throne room.

Thinking about this anymore would have to wait. You had a job to do as the Queens lady in waiting.

Their excited whispers brought you back down to Earth.

“Do you think that he’s handsome?”

“I don’t know, have you ever seen a forest dweller before?”

“Well no, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not good looking!”

“(Y/N) what do you think?”

“Hm?” You looked over your shoulder at the others. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve really been all over the place this week haven’t you?” One of the ladies said, “you know we’ve been preparing for the Forest Fae? Well, the Lord of the Forest Fae, is apparently, devilishly handsome. And, he’s not married or in any other kind of commitment with a woman or man!”

Another one of the ladies giggled, “do you think he’s come here looking for someone to marry?”

“Unlikely.” The third lady said, dismissively. “Men of any species love to flounder, even when they’re married. Why make their promiscuity more complicated than it has to be? You agree with me, don’t you (Y/N)?”

You didn’t answer. Due to recent experience, you had no interest in trying to romance a Fae Lord, there was no point in trying to if he was so easily led astray. “All men seemed to be like that.” You said, callously. “Even if he is loyal to those he sleeps with, I’m not looking to marry a Fae Lord.”

“Oh come on (Y/N), don’t pretend you’re not even slightly interested!”

“Ladies,” The Queen shushed and all the other women fell silent. “Gossip is unbecoming of all of you. If any of you wish to become involved with the Lord, I’ve heard he’s not one for those who spread rumours.”

Upon reaching the throne room, all the chattering of the ladies had fallen silent.

The doors to the impressive room opened, the Queen, you and the other ladies in waiting taking their respective places next to their mistress as they waited for the Fae Lord to make his entrance.

Sunlight caught the Queen’s glittering necklace, making you look around in surprise. And infuriatingly, you caught the King’s Guard’s eye. He smiled at you, eyes kind and wide like he was expecting you to return it.

Instead, you whipped your head away from him and locked on the throne room door. Other courtiers bustled around the room, discussing whatever was on the nobles minds at that moment in time.

For now, you would just have to stick to your plan of ignoring him. What else could you do until you could think of something more suitable for vengeance?

Soon, the doors to the throne room opened and the whole room fell silent.

The first few Fae glided in like they were sliding on ice, their ethereal beauty suffocating and snuffing out any other attractive person in the room. There were eight of them, four entering from opposite sides of the doors, who twirled in what looked to be spider web like dresses, their skirts sparkling in the light as they came to a stop, their long blonde hair falling down their backs with an eery gracefulness.

One of the ladies next to you mumbled something about how the Fae were so lucky, but you were so focused on not looking around at the Orc standing beside the King, that you couldn’t hear what the rest of her sentence was about.

After the graceful – and attention stealing – dance, a Fae man, taller than the others you’d seen so far, graced the courts prescence.

His hair was so white you might have thought that he was an old man, if not for his smooth skin untouched by aging. His eyes were deep pools of black that threatened to suck you in and never let you go, while his smile was kind and serene.

The Fae Lord came to a stop a few feet away from the thrones, and bowed his head. “Your Majestys, it is so wonderful to see you all again. I’m so pleased that I could finally make this trip like my father before me.”

“And we are pleased to have you, my Lord.” The King returned. “As it’s your first time staying here at the Palace, we’ve prepared a little celebration in honour of your new position…”

As the King droned on about how he hopes that this will be the new beginning of a fruitful alliance between humans and Fae, yada-ya, a chill went down your spine.

While the King’s announcement had been going in one ear and out the other, you brought yourself back into the room and carefully searched for the source of your discomfort… only to find the Fae Lord, looking directly at you.

You stood a little taller, returning his gaze in an attempt to be polite. When you gave him a polite inclination of the head, his smile widened as the King finished his speech.

“And so, we will have this little ball to welcome you and hope that your stay will be as comfortable as possible.”

“Yes,” the Fae Lord said, airily. “I’m sure it will be.” He turned to look back at the King and inclined his head once again. “I appreciate that the ball isn’t until tonight, and since this is your court, I’d like to ask if I can be a little forward, your Majesty?”

The King frowned, but nodded his head.

“You see, I couldn’t help but notice that lovely lady standing over there,” the Fae Lord pointed at you, “and was wondering if it would be too much for me to ask her for her first dance tonight?”

Your eyes widened.

The other ladies beside you, nudged you in the ribs. “So it was you he was looking at! I was wondering why his eyes were wandering, I thought he was just bored!”

Face burning, your eyes darted to the Queen and in the process, caught sight of the Orcs face.

His nose was scrunched up as he snarled, “awfully cocky, aren’t you?”

The Fae Lord ignored the Orc as he looked at you once again, hands behind his back.

When you looked at the Queen, she smiled at you and jerked her head to the Fae. “Well? You don’t have to ask me for permission, Lady (Y/N).”

All eyes on you, you bit your lip and sucked in a deep breath. Most of all, you could feel the Orc’s eyes baring into the side of your skull, like he was trying to make you face him, daring you to accept the Lord’s offer.

But the image you saw the previous night, flashed through your mind.

Spite leading you, you answered the Fae Lord. “I’ll have my first dance with you, my Lord.” You said, firmly.

The Fae bowed his head to you, “I look forward to it, my Lady.” And with that, he said his goodbyes to the King and Queen before the entire court was dismissed.

The rest of the day went by with a bubbly air, all the ladies sneaking glances and smiles at you as you went about your day.

You, yourself, could hardly believe that you had accepted the dance. It was true, you weren’t interested in romancing this Fae Lord in the slightest… but if it meant that you could piss off the King’s Guard, then you would gladly accept anything else that the Fae Lord had to offer.

After all, it’s not like the Orc could jump in and say that you couldn’t do something, people would get suspicious then.

As soon as the Queen had sent the ladies in waiting to go and prepare for the ball later in the afternoon, they all pounced on you.

“I can’t believe it!” One of them said as they took you by the wrist. “He really asked you, in front of the whole court!”

“It’s just a dance,” you told them all as you made your way back to your apartments. And that was all it would probably be, you told yourself. “It was just formality that I accept him. It would have been an awful start to his stay if I had told him no.”

“But even so, to ask you in front of the entire court!” Another one of the ladies squawked. “He must really like you.”

“We haven’t even formally met.” You said.

“Oh can’t you just be romantic for one minute?!” The first Lady huffed. “I’m imagining a star-crossed lovers romance, where he dramatically proposes to you just before he’s about to leave, flying through the corridors, abandoning his carriage in search of you-”

“Alright.” You said, firmly. “I get it. Well you can have your fantasies all you like.” Once you reached your apartments, you yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind you, locking the other ladies outside.

Sliding to the floor, you pulled your knees to your chest and squeezed. When you’d first started seeing the Orc, all you did was fantasize like that. Dream of running away with him and sharing all sorts of romantic ventures together.

But any kind of desire for that experience had left the moment you saw his wife.

You didn’t want to colour all men with the same brush, but a betrayal like the Orcs, isn’t something that you can just shake off.

And although it gave you the slightest bit of pleasure to know that the Orc was angry with the Fae, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to get caught up in the romance of it all. He may be the exact same as the King’s Guard for all you knew.

And… you didn’t want to end up hurt again.

Once evening finally did come around and you joined with the other ladies in waiting – who were all too eager to have you be the leader of the group – the ballroom was full of chatter, people drinking and watching couples dance in the centre of the room.

“Oh, he’s not here yet?” Frowned a lady beside you, “don’t worry, he’ll turn up soon I’m sure, most of the other Fae are here. You should sit by the entrance that way, he’ll see you as soon as he enters.”

The suggestion made you want to roll your eyes. While you were going to dance with this Fae, you didn’t want to be seen as desperate for company. Taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter, you decided to hover to the side of the room.

As you sipped on the delicate glass, your eyes scanned the room where you spied the Queen dancing with the King, the other ladies mingling and chatting animatedly with other guests.

You caught yourself glancing at the entrance to the doors a lot. Keeping an eye out for the Fae Lord. You had to keep internally slapping yourself. This was just a means of getting back at the King’s guard.

And perhaps it was because the King’s guard was standing opposite the room, within perfect line of sight of keeping an eye on you that you were eager for the Fae Lord to arrive.

The Orc’s eyes glazed over the room, mostly following the King, but occasionally, he found you.

Anger boiled in your veins as you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the doors to the ballroom.

Even now, the Orc was good at keeping his affection for you a secret.

A part of you wanted to throw the wine glass in your hand at him, just to keep him on edge.

But, before you could put your thoughts into practice, gasps echoed around the room, drawing your attention to the ballroom doors.

The crowd parted as the Fae Lord’s eyes searched the room and found you. His eyes lit up at the sight of you and he passed through the crowd of people, and held a hand out to you. “There you are,” he said, smiling. “What are you doing hiding in the shadows over here? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be hidden away like this.”

You shook your head as he took a wine glass from a waiter and sipped from it, “do you mind if I have a drink before we dance?”

“No, not at all my Lord.” You replied.

Over his shoulder, you chanced a glance at the Orc, whose eyes were now locked onto you and the Lord.

The Fae spoke, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your name first before asking for your dance, my Lady…?”

“(Y/N).” You answered smiling. “Thank you, for asking me for this dance.” You held your hand out to him, which he took and pressed a kiss onto your knuckles. A pleasant chill ran up your arm.

The Fae Lord bowed his head as he took another sip from his glass. “It’s an honour that you accepted. I should be thanking you for not humiliating me in front of all those courtiers.”

You chuckled at that. “I wouldn’t have done that to you, that would’ve been cruel, even if you were being very forward.”

“I just don’t have a care for all of these silly procedures,” the Fae said, waving his free hand around the ballroom. “There’s no point in any of it, I’d have preferred that the King and I just talk about what I’m here for and then to just leave, you know. But, a simple ball isn’t so bad.”

“So, you’d say you’re a simple man?” You asked.

“Completely.” The Fae finished his drink and you rushed to do the same too.

“My Lady, please, don’t do that on my account, we have the whole evening to dance, you can take your time.” He pulled the glass by the stem away from your lips.

You frowned, holding your free hand up to cover your mouth. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting, it would be rude of me to do that.”

With a sly wink, the Fae Lord said in a low whisper, “if I didn’t want to be kept waiting by you, I wouldn’t have asked for your first dance.”

You gave him a suspicious look, to which the Lord replied, “I want to get to know you, (Y/N).”

“Why?” You asked, shortly. “We’ve never even met before.”

The Fae Lord didn’t flinch at your tone. Instead, he searched your eyes. “Because, it seemed as though you were in need of some cheering up.” He said, simply. “And I don’t like seeing people upset.”

With a gentle smile, he patted your shoulder. “Don’t feel like you have to tell me what’s going on right now, after all, we did just meet each other. But whenever you’re ready, I’m here if you want to talk.”

You stared at him. Was he being serious? As you looked into his eyes you could sense no malice, no playfulness or manipulation in his face… Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to give this Fae a chance?

Once you’d finished your drink the pair of you took to the dance floor.

And for the next few days, he always made a point of talking to you. At first, it was mundane things, how did you sleep? Did you eat breakfast yet? Before it became more involved questions, like what your family did for business, asked about your other ladies in waiting and if they were doing well.

And gradually, you started to look forward to your little chats and began to ask about him and his life. It turned out he was an only child and took the Lordship after his father had died of some kind of tree associated illness.

He was funny, had a quick wit and was fond of lymerics. He liked the smell of morning dew on grass and the way the forest smelt after a rain storm. Oh, and he enjoyed rum cake.

Your stomach bubbled with excitement every morning now at the prospect of seeing him around the Palace and speaking to him in the evening, the Orc barely even crossed your mind anymore.

Except for when you were on your way to your apartments one time, and the Orc ambushed you from a dark corner of the halls.

“What is with you?” He snarled at you. “You’re completely ignoring me in favour of that pretty Fae man.”

You didn’t spare the Orc a glance and kept walking. “He’s nice to me.” You shrugged, “I can’t talk to other men?”

“It’s not just talking to other men!” The Orc hissed. “You’ve been ignoring me and the gifts I leave you, along with letters as well! Whenever I enter your rooms to give you something else, the other gift is always left unopened!”

He grabbed you by the wrist, forcing you to stop in your tracks. He tightened his grip, “did I do something wrong?” He asked you. “Tell me if I have, I will do what I have to do make up for it.”

Anger flared like a fire stoked with gunpowder. You wanted to yell at him, to shout at him that he should go back to his wife, confess that he was an adulterer and that he should be begging for her forgiveness.

But for some reason, you couldn’t let that anger escape. It refused to climb up and out of your throat. You shook your hand free of his grip. “You really want to fix it?” you hissed. “You can leave me alone. Pretend that this never happened. Take your hush gifts and give them to the person who really deserves them!”

And with that, you stormed off to your apartments.

Once you were inside the drawing room, you let out a groan of frustration. Of course, going off with the Fae Lord was definitely one way of getting revenge… but it didn’t feel like it was enough.

You still felt awful for the Orc lady, who was pregnant with that adulterers baby. There had to be something else you could do… some other way of getting back at him and really sticking it to the King’s guard.

And then, an idea came to you. It was a risk to ask, sure… but, the Fae Lord really seemed genuinely interested in you. And he did say himself that he would be open to listening to you if you had any problems. Who knows? Maybe he would be up for your revenge too.

So, that night you arranged a private dinner for the two of you, away from court to tell him what was really going on.

He was perplexed by your request to meet him in a place away from the public eye, but never the less accepted and arrived to dinner with that same pleasant smile he always gave you.

“What’s all this about?” He had asked as you finished setting the table.

You intertwined your fingers together and clasped them in front of you, as if you were about to start praying.

“… Do you remember when you told me that you could sense a sadness within me?” You asked. And over dinner, you told him everything. The secretive meetings, the presents. As you told your sombre tale, you realised how badly it all truly sounded.

Of course, the affair was awful enough on it’s own… but the fact that the Fae Lord had been unwittingly helping you in your payback, would come across as you using him.

And as you finished with the climax of your story, the Fae Lord’s fists clenched tighter around his cutlery. His jaw tightened.

You bit your lip, wanting to explain yourself. “I have to say that your asking me to dance in front of the whole court was what inspired me to continue on with this plan of revenge. I have truly enjoyed spending time with you and didn’t mean to use you my Lord…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” The Fae spat. “It’s an awful thing for him to do to you, it’s no wonder he was so against us dancing and being seen together in the first place. I had half a mind to complain to the King about his behaviour.”

He knocked the butt of his fork on the table as the Lord looked around your drawing room, like there would be some kind of explanation somewhere. “How dare he use someone like that to get his own rocks off!” The Fae Lord hissed. “And especially you. You should have told me sooner, this isn’t something that you should have to deal with alone!

“No, do you know what?” The Fae pointed at you, “don’t do anything else until I say so, alright? We’re going to get this bastard man-whore… or should it be Orc-whore?” He gave you smug smile as you laughed. “For this plan to work,” he continued, “I’ll need to ask permission from someone before I go through with it.”

You frowned. “Ask permission for what?”

The Fae Lord gave another sly grin, “It’s a surprise.” His smile faded as he reached out across the table with a free hand and took yours in his, “I’ve grown very fond of you, (Y/N) and I hope that you have of me too, so with that in mind, please trust me, okay?”

He was right, you had grown fond of him and his presence. It would be strange for him to not be around in court any more. Your heart sunk in your chest at the realisation that he wouldn’t be around for much longer.

You nodded. Lowering your head, you stared at your empty plate and sighed. “… I feel really silly for thinking that he could have actually liked me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Fae Lord asked, frowning. “I like you.”

You sighed. “I mean honestly liked me. Not just used me as a means to have an affair… I thought that we would get married one day and…” You gripped your skirts.

For a moment, the Fae stayed silent. “You don’t deserve to be loved by trash like him.” He said, firmly. He gave another squeeze of your hand. “And we’ll make sure he knows it. So don’t put yourself down, alright? It’s not you who’s in the wrong, it’s him.”

And once again, he was right. You sniffed. It made you feel a lot better to hear someone say it out loud, and to talk to someone about this affair. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest.

Weeks went by and everything continued on as it had been before. The Fae Lord acted no differently than before your dinner together and the King’s guard grew more and more furious each time he saw you and the Fae together.

He had stopped bothering you since you’d told him to leave you alone… but there was still that foreboding feeling that the Orc was still looking for ways to win back your approval, proved by his scathing looks of the Fae Lord when you and he were together.

And with that feeling hovering in the air at court, you began to realise how stupid you must have been, to believe that you were only worthy of such a deceitful kind of love. You deserved so much more, wanted so much more.

The strangest part about knowing that, was that you felt it might come true very soon. You didn’t know how you could tell, you just knew it.

You began to worry as the final days of the Fae Lord’s stay drew near. There still had been no update on the Lord’s revenge plan and when you asked him about it, he’d always reassured you and given your hands a reassuring squeeze. “I’m just making the final preparations, alright? Don’t worry about a thing, I’ve got this.”

It was all too soon that the final week of his stay around. Everyone in the Palace was suddenly mournful that the Fae Lord and his company would be departing.

The Monday of the week the Lord was going to leave, you awoke to find a gift box. It was carved of wood, the bark of the tree still on it’s exterior and top, with a mossy bow tying it shut.

And as you opened it up, you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight you saw. In a bed of moss, was a necklace made of spider web, droplets of water beads strewn around it delicately. Underneath it, was a note:

I would like to give you a surprise gift every day leading up to the final day before I leave. I hope that if you appreciate this gift, you’ll wear it today and the others that are to come.

Others to come? Was this part of the revenge plan that the Lord had cooked up?

Without a second thought, you put on the gift and when you entered the Queen’s apartments that morning, all the of other ladies practically screamed with excitement for you.

Even the Queen – who never normally allowed herself to be emotional – got involved with her ladies delighted chattering.

The next morning, it was a bracelet made of hardened tree sap – the note detailed that if you licked it, it would make for a good snack – the morning after that, a broach made of butterfly wings.

And every day you wore them, eventually looking more and more like a forest Fae than a human noblewoman.

When the day finally came of the Fae Lord’s departure, you found that there was no gift that morning. Although strange, it didn’t surprise you.

He was leaving today after all, perhaps he just didn’t have time to leave one final gift.

With a heavy heart, you made your bed, adorned yourself with all the gifts you had received that week, and set off to go to court to wish the Fae Lord a good journey home.

Following the Queen to the throne room, the rest of the ladies in waiting seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet. When you gave them strange looks, they all pursed their lips or looked away from you, as if they were trying to hide something from you.

Even the Queen refused to look at you. Although you were sure that you caught a small smile on her lips whenever you all turned a corner.

When you entered the throne room, it was packed with courtiers, all chattering as usual. But there was something different in the air. You weren’t sure what it was, but there was certainly something going on without your knowing.

Once you had taken your place beside the Queen, the doors to the throne room opened and in stepped the Fae Lord with his company.

You had hoped that he would make time for a private goodbye, or at least tell you how his plans for revenge had been progressing.

The whole time you had seen him in court or in other places in the Palace, it seemed as though he was doing nothing to try and help you with your revenge plan.

A part of you wanted to be angry with him for being so slacked about it.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to be. At the end of the day, you’d been able to get back at the Orc in some way; throughout the whole week of you wearing the gifts that the Fae Lord had been giving you, the King’s guard said nothing to you, apart from giving you foul glares from across the room whenever he saw you.

“Your Majesty's, I must thank you for your hospitality these past weeks, it has been nothing but delightful.” The Fae Lord announced.

As soon as the sentence had left his lips, the whole court went silent, hanging onto his every word.

“But, if you do not mind, your Majesty,” he looked at the Queen, “I would like to steal one of your ladies in waiting.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him as the Queen smiled at him. “But of course, it’s been difficult to ignore that you certainly have a favourite among my girls.” She looked at you and tilted her head. “Go on, (Y/N).”

Your head darted between the two. Again, you caught the Orcs eye, who gave you a warning look of carefully concealed fury.

At that, you straightened your back and headed over to the Fae Lord. Once you had come before him, he held his hand out to you.

You took it. Sandwiching your hand between his, he looked you in the eye. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks,” he said, “but they’ve been some of the best weeks of my life. You’re funny and smart,” he lowered his voice. “Vengeful.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, he continued, “but most of all, you make me happy. So, I ask that you come back to the forest with me and be my wife?”

Your jaw dropped and you clasped your hands to your mouth. “You… you can’t be serious…”

The Fae Lord let an abashed smile come over him. “I am… so, if you’ll have me as a husband…” He pulled a ring, made of wood from his pocket, a white, misted crystal adorned the top of the ring. “This is the final gift… I’m sorry that there wasn’t one for you to wake up to this morning, but I felt you may appreciate it more if I gave it to you in front of everyone.” He gave you a knowing look.

You allowed a devious grin to broaden your lips.

An aww escaped the crowd, followed by a few claps. But before you could give your reply, a shout rang out.

“No!” You and the Fae Lord whipped around to find the King’s guard, abandoning his post. “No, this is completely inappropriate!”

The Fae Lord pushed you behind him, as the Orc towered over the pair of you. He jabbed a thick green finger at the Fae, “what makes you think you can just wander in here and take one of the ladies in waiting?!”

“Actually,” the Fae returned, plainly. “Her father gave me permission. I asked him last night before coming here… Unlike some people here, I’m actually upfront with future family.”

Your eyes widened as the court gasped and muttering began to rise from the onlookers.

You gripped the Fae’s arm and squeezed it. “No, please don’t. You’ve done enough.”

He looked at you, then back at the Orc. “Well, it’s all down to (Y/N)s decision anyway.” The Fae Lord raised an eyebrow and smirked. “After all, it’s not like you have any interest in her, is it?”

The King’s guard scowled at the Fae. But he said nothing.

“Come back here, now!” The King snapped from his throne. “Don’t ruin this moment for the Lady (Y/N) any more than you have!”

“But you can’t possibly allow this!” The Orc turned to face the Monarchs.

“I just did.” The King glared at his guard. He looked at you with kind eyes as he went on, “well, what is your answer?”

Looking directly at the Orc, you took the ring from the Fae Lord and slid the ring on your finger as slowly as possible.

The Fae Lord grinned and pulled you into a tight hug as the court let out an applause.

Wishing the court goodbye, you and the Fae Lord turned and left, without even giving a second glance to the Orc, who was left in the centre of the room, stunned.

“Now this, was a great revenge plan.” You whispered as the pair of you walked down the corridors.

You bit your lip, “I… I was worried that this was just going to be some kind of holiday fling for you.”

The Fae Lord stopped in his tracks, taking your hand. “My darling, I could never, do that to you.”

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[junkissed]

goodnight n go

★ | member — fwb!vernon x f reader ★ | genre — smut, angst, non-idol au, happy ending, fwb to lovers ★ | word count — 10.2k

★ | synopsis — you keep coming back for more, but every night ends the same. maybe this time things will be different.

★ | warnings — guitarist!vernon, rock band!hhu, mentions of alcohol, vernon has commitment issues (but he gets over it) ★ | smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, consensual drunk sex, car sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering, piv, making out, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk vernon (he's down baddd), some aftercare ★ | notes — thanks to @onlymingyus for always being the best and to @wonustars for proofreading !! i did not intend for this fic to be this long but i'm actually really proud of how it turned out so i hope you like it!! also i often make playlists for my fics but i never share them, but i've been listening to this one for months while i've been writing this fic so i'll link it so you can listen too. if you enjoy this fic, please reblog and let me know in the tags!! reblogs are super important to tumblr and they help motivate me to keep writing more like this :)

check out the playlist! featuring — goodnight n go - ariana grande ; black eye - vernon ; uh oh - tate mcrae ; sunset - caroline polachek ; romanticise this - james marriott ; entertainer - zayn ; & more

“hey, you wanna get drinks tonight?”

as usual, that’s how it starts.

you probably should have said no. you’d played this game before. you knew exactly what hansol meant when he offered to hang out after band practice, because it was never just “hanging out”.

you don’t even know why you still go to practices anymore. for a long time you’d avoided them; it wasn’t really your style, and you were never interested in being a groupie for their local gigs. your roommate seungcheol always invited you to every practice and every time you declined with the excuse of homework or other plans, but cheol finally convinced you to come just one time.

at first, it had been because he wanted you to hear a new song they were working on and he’d wanted to know how you liked it before they played it at an upcoming show. but then he’d introduced you to the rest of his bandmates, and after that there was no going back.

you couldn’t help the way your eyes always gravitated towards hansol, who insisted that you call him his real name instead of his stage name that everyone else called him. from the very first practice, you were captivated by him: the way his long fingers seem to dance along the neck of his guitar so effortlessly, the way his voice rasps when he sings, the way your breath catches in your throat when he grips the microphone stand and rolls his head back, lips parted in ecstasy.

he’s addictive, and it’s exactly the reason why you find yourself in the backseat of his car over and over again.

every time, it was easy to pretend that things would be different. you’d walk into the bar together and sit at the table in the back, order a few drinks, chat for a while about nothing. did you like the new stuff we played tonight? yeah, i know cheol is really excited to perform it saturday. you been doing any writing lately? mmm, a little. i’ve been feeling inspired. we could go back to my place and i could show you. except he never does.

hansol wasn’t a bad guy. he always paid for your drinks no matter how many times you offered to pick up the tab, he was polite, he listened to what you had to say. he just didn’t want more than that, and that’s where it all fell apart. you’d screw around for a while, then you’d part ways and wouldn’t speak to each other until next week. you never went to see them play shows, he never texted, you never called, never went on a real date besides meeting in the same bar down the street every thursday night after practice.

he seemed fine with that. you weren’t. and yet every time, you ended up back in his arms.

he groans into your mouth, pushing his hips into you and pinning you harder against the faded leather seats of his old honda. his lips are sloppy but eager, messily pressing his mouth into yours as his fingers tangle in the hair at the base of your neck. you can taste the beer and smoke on his breath, but for some reason it doesn’t bother you. maybe you’re used to it, or maybe it’s just because it’s him. you don’t want to know which reason is the truth.

he kisses you until you’re dizzy, and you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or from the thrill of kissing him once again. it’s a high you’re convinced you’ll never get tired of, although you’re not quite sure yet if it’s one that he will.

hansol always lets you set the pace, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. both of your shirts met the floor of his car what seems like hours ago, leaving you in just your bra and pants as he makes out with you as if it’s the first and last time he’ll get that chance. his fingers breeze over your waist the same way they breeze over his guitar strings when he plays: careful yet greedy, each touch intentional yet impulsive as he grips your waist.

he drags his fingers higher and it sends a shiver down your spine, arching your hips up against him and rolling your head back against the seat’s headrest. if there’s only one upside to this relationship, it’s that he’s good at this. really good. if he weren’t, then you wouldn’t have spent so many nights letting him fuck you in the parking lot of your shitty local bar. it does something for your confidence knowing that he must feel the same about you, or else he wouldn’t keep inviting you out. at the very least, this arrangement is mutual, even if you wish it wasn’t.

his hips rock against your crotch again, and even through both of your clothes you can feel how hard he is. your mind is clouded, everything’s a haze, and all you can think about is how badly you want him. the warmth of his skin, the gentle scratch of his nails on the back of your neck, his long eyelashes that flutter against your cheek as he kisses you.

you feel your hands slide haphazardly down his bare chest, fumbling over his hips as you tug on the waistband of his jeans. none of it feels graceful, not like the way he handles his music. it’s sloppy, desperate, clumsy, and it’s everything you need right now.

he manages to lean back from you enough to undo his pants and push them down to his knees, but his mouth is back on yours in an instant. somehow you end up on your back across the seats, gazing up at him with slack lips as his thin silver chain dangles over your face. you might not remember a lot of what happens on these nights when you’re with him, but you’ll always remember this moment. him hovering above you with heavily lidded eyes, biting his lip and cursing as he pushes into you, is etched into your mind in a way you simultaneously love and hate. love because it feels so good, hate because it never lasts.

the last half of those nights never stands out in your memory. you remember feeling good, you remember trembling in his arms and gasping and moaning and crying in pleasure, but the images are too fuzzy to make out. you don’t really need to reflect on them anyway; you know he’ll just bring you out next week and do it all over again.

hansol kisses you once more after you’re both finally spent, but the kisses afterwards are always different. more… hesitant, more uncertain. none of the passion and desperation that you’ve come to crave from him. not what you really want.

“i can drive you home,” he offers once he’s finished cleaning you up. for once you think he might genuinely mean it, but you can never be sure enough to take that chance. you want him to drive you home. god, you want him to so bad. to have him come over with you and stay the night, stay another night and another until your apartment isn’t just yours anymore, that’s what you’ve wanted all this time. and it’s what you’ll never have.

“i’ll call an uber,” you answer.

“i’ll wait with you, then.”

the silence that settles over his car is heavy as you climb back into the front passenger seat. you want to tell him to get in the uber with you, stay more than just a couple hours with you in the furthest back corner of the bar parking lot that’s too far to be illuminated by streetlights. you want to argue that he’s too drunk even to drive himself, that he needs to come home with you and sleep it off together in the comfort of your bed, but you know it’s not true and it won’t work. this is a conversation you’ve had many times before. every night you’ve spent with him blurs into the next, always the same. 

sometimes you want to laugh at how naive you are, for thinking he’d eventually come to his senses and realize there’s more to you than a good lay before a gig. sometimes you want to grab him and shake him by the shoulders and tell him to grow the fuck up, give him an ultimatum and make him tell you what he wants from you or else put an end to it all. sometimes you just want to cry, to mourn your wasted time when you’re fully aware it’s never going to lead to something more, no matter how badly you want it and how hard you try.

no matter how many times you get your hopes up, no matter how many times you pray and beg and plead with god and the universe and every other higher power to get him to realize this can’t keep going on the way it is forever, nothing ever changes. you’re never going to stop running to him when he calls, and he’s never going to stop calling.

finally another car pulls into the lot, and you manage to pull yourself out of his car. you hear your name behind you and you stumble, swaying on your feet as he rolls down his window.

maybe this time will be different.

he says his usual goodbyes and goodnights, flashing you a loose grin and a wave as his engine sputters to life, and he asks if you’re planning on coming to practice next week. 

and you find yourself nodding.

you’re left standing there, your head and your heart pounding, watching his headlights fade as he drives away, until you’ve stood there for so long that your ride starts honking and calling for you to get in the car so you can leave.

maybe next time will be different.

this is going to be the last time, you swear.

you exhale as you stand inside the lobby of the venue, repeating the words to yourself. there’s a chill in the air tonight. the wind blows smoke in your direction from the couple standing by the door, abandoned cigarettes clutched between their fingers as they make out sloppily.

you grimace and turn away, studying the faded graffiti and half-ripped posters and advertisements that litter the walls around you. you mean it this time, seriously. the only reason you came tonight was because it’s the last time. a goodbye, of sorts.

you have to admit, you were a little shocked when hansol texted you after your weekly meet-up after practice. not only did he want to make sure you got home safe after you left, but he’d asked if you’d come to their next performance.

you stare down at your phone in your hand, rereading the texts for what feels like the thousandth time in the past few days just to make sure you haven’t imagined them. but no, there they are, bright pixels staring right back up at you from the screen.

hansol: hey just wanted to make sure you made it back home

hansol: btw we’re playing at the phoenix on saturday and i was wondering if you had plans? i wanna see you

hansol: maybe we could get dinner after or somethin if youre down idk

hansol: hoping youll be there

you’d been tempted to refuse him, out of bitterness or resentment or something else, but you can’t say you weren’t shocked by his offer. he’d suggested every once in a while that you should come see them play sometime, but it was always clear to both of you that it was out of small talk rather than genuine interest in you being there. but this time he’d said he wanted you there.

it was nice to feel wanted, for once. maybe you hadn’t been going crazy. maybe things really were different this time.

you glance at your phone once more to check the time before you slip it into your pocket, taking a deep breath as you walk through the second set of doors into the main room. you can hear the deep sound of wonwoo’s drums warming up, but the stage is obscured behind a ratty set of faded red curtains.

there’s still a few minutes before their set, but the room is already crowded with people so you push your way to the side wall near the back. you don’t really want anyone to see you here, anyway. you don’t want anyone to see that your resolve is paper-thin when it comes to hansol.

you hadn’t told him that you were coming tonight, just sending him a vague response and telling him you’d have to see if your schedule is free. even that felt too generous, after the anguish he’s put you through the past few weeks. he doesn’t need to know that you’re here, just like he doesn’t need to know the real reason you’ve been avoiding ever coming to see him play. and it’s not because you always have other plans.

you’re hoping to just watch the performance quietly from the back, then sneak out without ever having to talk to him, and text him later that you’d enjoyed it. you already knew you were going to enjoy it. you’d heard every original song, cover, and riff they’d ever played together, and at this point you could probably recite their setlist by heart. anyone could see that they were talented together, so it isn’t surprising that the venue is packed tonight. honestly, it’d be for the better if you got lost in the crowd and never saw him face to face.

the house lights suddenly fade into darkness and the crowd starts to quiet, the curtains finally pulling back to reveal the band. seungcheol stands in front of a microphone in the center of the stage, with wonwoo in the back at his drum set and mingyu to his left holding a bass guitar. and then, of course, there’s hansol.

you hate the way your gaze immediately lands on him, standing in the same position he always does, with his guitar slung around his neck by a thick red strap. the crowd starts cheering, and distantly you recognize seungcheol’s voice introducing the group, but you can’t make out any of his words.

your mind flashes back to all the nights you’ve spent sitting on a folding chair in mingyu’s garage, watching them laugh and bicker and fool around. it’s different seeing them actually on a stage for once, the metal of their instruments glinting under the harsh, colorful stage lights.

it’s not a large stage by any means, just a few feet higher than the ground and barely wide enough for all four of them to fit. but their presence is captivating, and it makes the dingy local theater seem more special than it really is. but then again, hansol makes everything seem more special than it really is.

seungcheol finishes speaking and the crowd around you lets out whoops and cheers, but you stay silent. your eyes are still stuck on hansol, watching him scan the crowd as he twists the tuning pegs on his guitar.

even from the back of the room, you can tell he’s nervous. his fingers shake just a little, in a way you know they never do because you’ve watched him tune his guitar a thousand times under the dim interior lights in his car. you watch his eyes dart around the room, squinting to see into the crowd before turning his attention back to the fretboard in his hands.

he’s not the most outgoing guy in the world, but at the same time you know he’s not the kind of person to get stage fright. something is different this time. or, maybe it’s not. you’ve never actually seen him play in front of an audience. you don’t know him as well as you think you do, you have to constantly remind yourself every time your mind starts to wander and you let yourself daydream. after all, he doesn’t know anything about you, and he doesn’t seem to care enough to learn. neither should you.

the band opens with a song you’ve heard a thousand times, then another and another, pausing after every few songs to talk to the crowd. time seems to fly by around you, but everything moves in slow motion when you're looking at hansol. you study the way his hair falls in soft brown waves around his face, his head bobbing to the rhythm as he strums his guitar. it's one thing you've always enjoyed about watching him play; he always gets so lost in the music, and it's fascinating to watch. it's clearly on the list of things he's passionate about, and even if you aren't one of those things, at least you get to see him doing something he loves. 

you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. you can't let yourself think like that. you're here to end things, not to reminisce. you shouldn't care if he likes music or not, that's not your problem anymore. he's not your problem anymore.

you zone out for a while, trying hard not to think about him but he's the only thing you can focus on. your eyes wander every once in a while, when you hear cheol's raspy voice in the mic or a particularly cool guitar riff from mingyu, but they always end up back at hansol.

they finish playing what you know is their last song, but the crowd is still bursting with electricity. it’s not long before everyone starts to chant, begging for one more song.

“encore?” seungcheol laughs into the mic, and flashes one of his signature dazzling smiles that sends the group of girls standing in front of you into hysterics. he glances over at hansol and nods. “mmm, yeah. i think we can do one more.”

you fold your arms over your chest. now is probably your best chance to leave. it’s not a very big venue, but from the amount of people here it’s obvious that there’ll be chaos once things are over as people start to file out. though most of them will probably be trying to fight their way to the front instead, giving wonwoo their phone numbers written on stained cocktail napkins and asking mingyu to sign their tits. but just as you’re about to start pushing your way back towards the exit, cheol’s deep voice makes you pause.

“we’re gonna play something real special tonight,” he says, making eye contact with hansol again. “something brand new, that we’ve never performed before. you guys wanna be the first to hear it?”

the room erupts into cheers again, and cheol grins. “yeah, i figured. so, i’m gonna let vernon explain this one. take it away, man.”

you stand still, arms crossed and curiosity piqued. maybe you can wait until after the last song. if this is going to be your last hurrah, then you might as well see it through til the end. just this once, and never again.

hansol clears his throat and looks out into the darkened theater. “this song is about a girl i’m in love with,” he starts. that gets a light laugh out of the crowd, a couple whistles and cheers, and he chuckles into the microphone before continuing. the words that have been brewing in your head for weeks seem to instantly melt on your tongue as his voice rings in your ears, echoing through your mind. that’s not you. that’s definitely not you.

“i hope she’s here tonight, but i wouldn’t blame her if she wasn’t. because i think i kind of fucked everything up.” he swallows, his eyes darting back and forth as he scans across the crowd, searching for something. searching for you? “so if she’s out there, i’m sorry. and i know this won’t make up for it, but i hope you like it anyway.”

the crowd cheers again, louder than they have all night, but the noise quickly dies down once hansol begins to play. the lights go dim, and the room fills with a soft melody from his guitar. the sound is unfamiliar, a song you haven’t heard before, and you realize he must’ve been working on it outside of the band’s usual practices. 

even if he isn’t talking about you, the song is beautiful. his guitar seems to sing every note that plays, and you can practically see the air around him shimmering with energy. the rest of the room seems to fade away, the audience that separates you suddenly disappearing. it’s like you’re the only two people around, sitting beside him as he plays just for you. 

he’s done that a few times, played you little snippets on his guitar. you can almost picture it now: it’s always right after he parks outside the bar, before you head inside together. he’ll unzip the case and pull his guitar from the backseat, positioning it on his lap. he comes up with a different reason every time; sometimes he’ll ask if the chords he’s been working on sound good together, sometimes he’ll tell you to listen to see if it needs tuning, sometimes he’ll say he just needs to practice this section a couple more times before giving up for the night and getting shitfaced with you off too many shots.

but you always see right through his flimsy excuses; obviously he’s doing it to show off, to impress you or something. but for the life of you, you’ve never been able to figure out why. why should he care about impressing you, if he doesn’t want to go any further with you?

and suddenly, as you stand in the back of the theater, watching his eyes sparkle under the lights and his fingers breeze over his guitar, looking more focused and frustrated and angry and sad and sorry than you’ve ever seen him look, now you finally have your answer.

you don’t want him to be talking about you. he shouldn’t be talking about you. you almost wish he would just be an asshole to you, give you a good reason to yell at him and cuss him out and tell him to fuck off, but he never does. sure, he’s a little dense to the not-so-subtle hints you’ve been trying to drop, but he’s always been good to you, even if it’s breaking your heart in the process. maybe you’ve been the dense one all along.

the show ends in a blur, and the lights come back on as people start to file out. there's cheers and more shouts for another encore, but it's clear the night is over. this is the part you've been dreading; even after days of convincing yourself, you're still not sure what you're going to do.

when the crowd finally clears out enough for you to move towards the stage, you can already see the group that’s formed around the members. cheol is off to one side, giving out autographs to whoever waves their napkins closest to him. mingyu’s helping wonwoo pack up his drum kit, smiling shyly at the girls calling his name and promising he’ll come back out to the lobby to meet them once he’s finished.

and then there’s hansol, looking flustered as people crowd around him, a deep blush in his cheeks as he waves his hands to try and get them to leave. you’re just far enough from his line of sight that you almost hesitate. it’s not too late to turn around. it’s not too late to leave before he can see you, to disappear from his life forever, but your heart won’t let you. 

you walk a little closer to the stage, hanging back behind the crowd of people, but he sees. his face lights up with relief, and even from a few feet away you can still see his eyes soften. he tells the people to move, more firmly with his words this time, and he hops down off the stage as they part to make room for him. when it’s clear his attention is no longer on them, they grumble and walk away, talking to their friends about the show and how hot all the members are and how they’re definitely planning on coming back the next time they perform.

hansol reaches you in a couple of strides, stopping just in front of you. he stays silent for a second, his eyes roaming over you almost gratefully.

“hi,” he says finally, offering you a lopsided smile. he wipes his palms on his jeans nervously. “you came.”

you bite your lip for a second before you nod. “i did.”

“so you’re— did you— were you here for the end of the show?” he asks, trying to hide the stutter in his words. it’s cute how shy he is all of a sudden. it’s not like him to be shy like this. but then again, the only times you’ve seen him are when he’s playing with the guys or fucking your brains out while he's drunk, so it’s not like you’ve really gotten to know him. maybe he’s always been this shy and you were just too caught up in him to notice.

you know what he’s trying to say without outright saying it. obviously you were there the whole time, a fact you aren’t the proudest of, but you aren’t about to let him know that. “i heard your song,” you finally settle on, cutting straight to the point.

his face goes through about a hundred emotions in the span of a second, from surprised to happy then right back to shy again. “yeah?”

even though most of the room has cleared out by now, he starts walking as he talks, pulling you through the side door into the quieter backstage area. you follow him around the corner until you reach a private room, a wrinkled sheet of paper taped to the door with his name written in sharpie. his guitar case that you've seen so many times lies open on the floor, his backpack slumped against one wall.

“i liked it.”

he exhales in relief as he turns back around to face you, and you can almost see his whole body relax. “i'm so fucking sorry,” he says, nearly stumbling over his words with how fast he tries to get them out. “i've been really, really stupid. the way i left you the other night… i shouldn't have let you go like that. i regretted it the second you left.”

you purse your lips as you listen. you can tell he really means it, and it's getting harder and harder to stay mad at him. but you can't let him off that easy, not after how long you've been going through this.

“i just don't understand what it is you want, hansol. you treat me like— i don't know, like nothing.” you pause and chew on the inside of your cheek for a second, letting your words sink in. “and then out of the blue you beg me to come to your show, and you play this really sweet, heartfelt song, so how the hell am i supposed to take that?”

he winces, but the wounded look on his face doesn't feel as satisfying as you'd hoped it would. “i know. i'm just… i'm bad with words. i'm better at music.” he sighs. “but that's not an excuse. i didn't ever wanna make you feel like that, not on purpose. i just got scared. but i shouldn't have.”

you stand silently, waiting. clearly, there's more on his mind. he stuffs his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, shifting from one foot to the other. 

“i love the way you laugh. i love the way you watch me when i'm playing and it makes me feel like the only person in the whole world. i love the way you smile when you're drunk and the way you kiss me. and it was stupid of me to ever think i didn't want that all the time.” he lifts his gaze to meet your eyes, the fear in his expression more obvious than anything you've ever seen before.

you let out a breath, your voice dropping almost to a whisper. “you should've just said that.”

“i should've,” he agrees.

you offer him a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep yourself together. this is not how you thought tonight would go. you didn't even think you'd talk to him, and if you did, you thought it would be a shouting match, screaming and cursing before angrily storming out of the venue, finally feeling vindicated after all this time. yet here you are, standing quietly in front of him and trying not to cry.

he waits for a second, trying to gauge your reaction before he continues. “you're, like, my best friend,” he says, adding a nervous little chuckle to lighten the mood. “i think about you every time i play or whenever i try to write something. it's always about you. you don't know how much i look forward to thursday practices and getting to see you.”

now it's your turn to laugh. “you literally could've just texted me and i probably would've dropped everything to be there, anytime.”

he grins, his smile a little wider this time. “yeah, i know. i tried, the other day when i invited you. that was scary as shit.”

he looks up at you again, his soft brown eyes and long eyelashes shining even under the dim flickering bulb overhead. “i'm really glad you came tonight, though. i wasn't expecting you to, but i really hoped you would.” he offers you another nervous smile. “will you let me try again?”

you don't answer right away, and the look of nervousness starts to seep back into his features. “i promise i—”

but you cut him off, pulling him in by his shoulders and pressing your lips against his. he falters for just a second but his arms immediately wrap around your waist, tilting his head to lean into the kiss, and somehow that one little action feels more natural than anything you've ever done together.

you slide your tongue against his lips, and he lets out a groan into your mouth before he pulls back to breathe. “is that a yes?”

you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes and laugh, but instead you just nod. “yes.”

you definitely didn't come here tonight expecting to get laid. in fact, the last thing you ever thought you'd do is sleep with hansol again. but all of that feels like a distant memory as you head out of the community theater together, his guitar case over his shoulder, walking hand in hand towards his car.

the routine is familiar, but nothing is the same. you're not drunk, you're not in the parking lot of a cheap bar, and you don't feel lonely anymore. 

he unlocks the doors and you start to climb into the backseat, but he lets out a little noise and shakes his head, and you look up at him in confusion. 

“we're going back to my place. or yours, if you want.” he reaches down to offer his hand and help you out of the car. “i said i was gonna do it right this time, didn't i?”

by the time you get back to your apartment, your stomach is in knots in the very best way. your hands shake as you fumble with your keys, and if you weren’t so on edge it would have almost made you laugh, the way hansol looks away and pretends not to notice. you're more alike than you thought, and suddenly you're overcome with a feeling of excitement. now you get to discover all these little things about him: things you didn't allow yourself to see before, things he wants to show you and tell you and share with you. 

you try not to let the awkwardness seep back in, but you pause outside your bedroom door, almost as if you're waiting for hansol to tell you what to do. in just one night he's turned your life on its head, and now you're at a loss.

so he takes it as a sign and kisses you, his hands finding your waist and slowly trailing up your body until he's cupping your chin. it's different from all the other times he's kissed you. it's not just the fiery passion you're used to when you can tell he's worked up, but there's a hint of uncertainty in it, more similar to the kisses he gives you afterwards when you're trying to figure out whether to ask for a ride home or not. and then, the pieces finally settle into place and you realize he wasn't kissing you like that because he didn't want you; he was kissing you like that because he did.

you pull away and he freezes a little, and you can tell from the worried look in his eyes that he thinks he's gone too far. “relax,” you laugh softly, your forearms still resting on his shoulders. 

he complies, but his eyes still dart across your face in nervousness. despite how badly he wants you, how badly he needs to prove himself to you, there's clearly still so much that needs to be discussed before you can move forward, things that've been left unsaid for far too long.

you inhale and look up into his eyes, trying to find what emotion is hidden there. “what do you want, hansol?”  

“want you to be my girlfriend,” he breathes out without hesitating. if it were any other time and place you might've thought he was joking, but you can tell he's dead serious.

“i—” whatever words you had ready instantly die in your throat, not expecting such a genuine answer. “yes. but i meant, like, right now. what do you want, right now.”

his expression shifts in understanding and he grins, though it's still shy. “oh. well…” he pauses again to think. “what do you want me to do?”

you watch his eyes carefully for a moment before you reply. you've wanted him to do a lot of things. you wanted him to be better, you wanted him to be worse. you wanted him to do anything besides being stuck in this weird limbo of friend-zoned friends with benefits. but now that the choice is up to you… you don't want any of that.

“i want you to be honest,” you start softly, almost shy to say it, but you know it needs to be said. “i want you to tell me how you feel. because i can't lie, you really fucked up. i shouldn't have given you so many chances.” he winces at that, but you brush your thumb along his cheek and pull his attention back to you. “but i did. so you need to earn my trust again. and i just want you to not be so afraid anymore.”

he stays silent for a long moment before he nods, as if he's seriously considering your words. “i know,” he says finally. his voice is quieter now, barely above a whisper. “i'm sorry. you're gonna get so fucking sick of hearing me say how sorry i am, but i'm not gonna stop saying it.”

you want to laugh, but his tone is so serious that you know you shouldn't, so you keep a straight face and ask him again. “so… what do you want?”

he lets out a sigh, still holding you face in his hands. “shit, everything. but, first— i really wanna taste you. can… can i?”

you take a step backwards into the bedroom and he follows, tearing off clothes one by one in a hurry until you're both left with just underwear. with the limited space in his car you've never actually been fully naked together before, and the thought of him seeing you is both terrifying and exhilarating. 

he leans you down onto the bed and you pull him down with you. he falls beside you, pausing to kiss you once more before rolling off the bed and onto his knees, holding your legs in front of him as he stares up at you.

it's the kind of image that could drive a woman mad. you didn't think he was capable of being this patient, but it seems he's full of surprises tonight. “yes,” you breathe out and finally give him an answer. your eyes are locked onto his, a silent conversation happening between you in the span of a second.

he clears his throat and slowly pries your legs apart, pulling his gaze away from your face to stare between your thighs instead.

“god, this pussy…” he groans in delight as he settles your legs over his shoulders, his gaze transfixed on the wet spot at the seat of your panties.

he slides his palms up your thighs, and for his sake you pretend not to notice the way his fingers are shaking just a little. you lift your hips to encourage him, and he slips his long fingers beneath the hem of your panties before pulling them down, taking his time to slide them off and toss them on the floor behind him.

his hands immediately come back up to your thighs, using his thumbs to press your legs apart to give him a better view.

“so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles to no one but himself. it's like he's in a trance, admiring the dripping mess between your legs like it's about to be his last meal. if he hadn't been so enthusiastic, you might've been embarrassed at the electric shiver that runs through you from his praise. but when there's a man this hot in front of you, kneeling and staring up at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life, it's hard to feel embarrassed for long.

he leans in and presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the feeling. he's never been incredibly rough with you before, but he’s never been this gentle, either. he's touching you so delicately, like a statue at a museum that he's not sure yet if he's allowed to touch or not.

your reaction spurs him on, and he leans in further to flatten his tongue against your entrance and gives a long, slow lick. your hips lift automatically, trying to push him closer and add more pressure.

he curls his tongue through your folds before pulling away, his hands coming up to rest on your hip bones and hold you down. “even better than i imagined,” he groans, looking up at you from his spot on the floor, and the image of him down there makes you so dizzy that you have to lay back down against the bed again.

“more,” you whimper desperately. in the back of your mind there's a distant feeling of shyness at how demanding you're being, but you don't think twice about it. after everything he put you through, he still needs to prove himself to you, that he's not going to break your heart again. but he's doing a damn good job so far. “vernon— ah, fuck!”

“mm, anything.” he presses a kiss against the soft skin on inside of your thigh. “anything you want, baby.”

you don't even have time to process the nickname before he's diving back in, his lips wrapped around your clit as he sucks at you. you let out a strangled noise of surprise, your hand instantly flying down to hold his head.

your fingers tangle in his hair, his tongue so deep in your pussy that you're already gasping and writhing under his touch. you can't tell which one of you has been more stupid for not letting this happen sooner, because it almost seems like he's enjoying this more than you are.

the coil in your stomach already feels like it's about to burst, pent up with white-hot energy that feels hotter than the sun. it hardly takes a few more pointed laps of his tongue before you fall apart into his mouth, whimpering and groaning and begging shamelessly for him. 

“you called me vernon,” he says when you finally manage to push his head away, shivering with overwhelming sensitivity. he lifts one hand to wipe at his chin, way too nonchalant after everything he just did.

you're still fighting through the haze of your orgasm but his words bring you back down to earth, and your face fills with heat. “huh? sorry, i—”

“everybody calls me vernon,” he says as he shakes his head, quickly cutting you off. he stands up and moves onto the bed, flopping down beside you. “i liked that you always called me hansol. made it feel special.”

your eyes follow his movements, still laying on your back as you catch your breath. “but…?”

he grins, and you swear there's a hint of blush in his cheeks. “but that was really sexy when you called me vernon. it sounds way cooler when it's coming from you.”

all you can do is laugh, letting your eyes close as you rest your hands on your stomach. “noted,” you giggle. “so should i do it more, then?”

he hums in thought, rolling over onto his side so that he's closer to you. “you can do whatever you want, baby.”

that nickname again. he's already started leaning in to kiss you again, but you grab his shoulders and pull him down to meet him halfway. there's a bitterness on his tongue that you'd almost forgotten about, but you're quickly reminded once you feel his hand sliding across your stomach and down back between your legs. you let out a surprised but happy moan into his mouth, one of your hands moving to the back of his head to kiss him harder.

your legs part, accepting the warmth of his palm as he gently presses it against your sensitive clit. he holds his hand there for just a moment, pausing his movements as he kisses you, eagerly swallowing the whimpers and sounds you give him in return.

after a minute he shifts his hand, carefully pressing his index and middle finger into you. you're right up at the edge again already, clenching down hard around his fingers as he sets a slow pace, pulling them out halfway before thrusting them in deeper than before. you're seeing stars, releasing a constant stream of muffled moans into his lips as he curls his fingers inside you. he follows the rhythm of your hips as you rut against his palm, letting the movement force his fingers even deeper.

his fingers are dripping with your juices, down his knuckles and pooling in his palm, but it only makes him want to fuck you even more. it's not like this is the first time he's fingered you. the guys at the auto shop down the street know him all too well, from the amount of times he's had to take his car in to get the seats cleaned. he always claims that it's because he's a messy eater, and while that's true in some ways, he knows those guys don't buy it for a fucking second.

his fingers are completely buried inside you but he never stops kissing you, breathing almost as heavily as you are. he stops thrusting his fingers and adjusts his hand once more, pressing his thumb against your clit to rub lazy circles over it. 

“ver—vern— fuck, hansol!” you finally manage to pull away from his lips, nearly gasping for air as another orgasm rips through you. his other hand slides down your body and it feels like the first time you've ever been touched, his palm so warm and tender against your skin that it somehow makes your high even better. you're shaking in his arms, lips parted in a soundless moan as you clench wildly around his fingers, but he just holds you tighter against his body and keeps pressing kisses along your jaw.

his lips are wet with both spit and slick as he watches you, his eyes filled with stars. usually when you're together, in the dark backseat of his car illuminated only by the moonlight and nearby streetlamps, it's hard to make out the details. it's dark, and everything is fuzzy from both the alcohol and the late hour. but now, he's realizing how stupid he was for never letting this happen sooner. he could've ended up going his whole life without ever seeing you like this, laying completely fucked out under the soft light in your bedroom, your pupils wide and eyes watery and so, so beautiful.

he waits until you've calmed down again, leaning away to give you a little space, but your hand shoots out to grab his wrist and keep him close to you and he can't help but smile. when you open your eyes you're expecting to find a cocky smirk, to see how proud of himself he is for having you in the palm of his hand so easily, but it's not there. just that soft smile.

“now. what do you want?” he says. “i should be asking you that way more often.”

“want you inside,” you pant out. “now. please? i— i missed you.” you shouldn't have said the last part out loud, but at this point you don't care anymore. all your cards are out on the table.

his eyes widen a little at your boldness, but he bites his lip and nods. he can't lie and say he wasn't secretly hoping you'd say that, but he'd be just as happy to sit here on the floor and eat you out over and over and over again. he'd do anything you want at this point, and not just because he feels like he owes you. he does, but it's deeper than that. it's a different kind of feeling, one that makes him want to do cheesy shit like lay his jacket over puddles for you and buy an airplane to write your name in the sky.

as he starts to position himself between your legs on the bed, you watch his face. his expression is outwardly neutral, but little by little you've started to recognize the signs of his happiness. it looks good on him.

but your brain isn't content with that, not just yet. you swallow as a thought crosses your mind, and you can't push it down any longer.

“wait,” you say quietly, forcing the word out before you can reconsider. he stops immediately, his eyes searching your face for anything he can find, any sign that you've changed your mind about this.

“yeah?” he replies, his voice just as quiet, as if he's afraid to speak too loudly and break the tension of this moment.

you clear your throat as best you can manage, though it's kind of starting to get sore from how much and how loudly you've been moaning all night. “just curious,” you start, nervousness suddenly starting to creep in. but tonight is for being honest, and you can handle the truth. probably.

“before, while we were together— well, it doesn't really count as being ‘together’ but you know what i mean.” you pause again, chewing your lip. “did you ever… y'know. was there ever anybody else?”

hansol exhales, still hovering over you. “no. unless you count lotion and my hand, ‘cause there was a lot of that.” your eyes soften and you visibly relax at his words, and he mentally kicks himself for ever making you even think that was the case. that there would ever be anyone else for him but you. “i know i was stupid, but i'm not that stupid.”

“okay.” you pause again, trying to figure out how to get back on track. “sorry, i just wanted to know. i don't care.”

he scoffs, but his tone is more melancholy than angry. he shifts on top of you so he can rest on his elbows, getting closer and brushing his hand over your hair. “you should care. if i had, i would've given you full permission to lay into me, cuss me out, whatever. i would've deserved it. you don't deserve that.”

“i wanted to, trust me.” you sigh. “but you're too nice to me. i thought…” you chew on your lip, eyes searching his as you try to figure out what to say. “…i don't know what i was thinking.”

“i don't think i'm anywhere near ‘too nice’,” hansol laughs. the sincerity in his expression almost makes you feel better. “i'm the luckiest dude on the planet that you didn't decide to, like, slash the tires on my car and egg my house or something instead. i really wouldn't have blamed you if you did.”

“maybe i should then, next time,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face.

he shakes his head. “there won't be a next time.”

the room goes quiet and you stare at each other for a second, letting his words sink in. you can tell he's being lighthearted, but he's not even trying to hide the sincerity behind his words.

“you can… continue now,” you say after a tense moment, breaking the silence. the tension in the room is thick but it's not uncomfortable, slowly but surely melting into a lust that's deeper than any of the times you've been drunk and horny in his car.

he nods, and he reaches down to brush your hair back behind your ear before his hands slide down your body. he seems so hesitant to let go of you, but finally he lifts one hand to grip his cock and position himself at your entrance. he braces his other hand against your hip, shivering as he brushes the tip of his cock up through your folds. fuck, he's not gonna last. 

after steeling his nerves as best he can and trying to convince himself not to bust the second he's inside you, he angles himself between your legs and starts to push in.

by some miracle he manages not to cum immediately, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to think about literally anything else but how fucking beautiful you are lying beneath him, but what actually happens instead might be worse.

hansol groans once he's fully inside, slowly splitting you open bit by bit until he bottoms out with his hips flush against yours. there are so many words on his tongue begging to spill out, but he can't think straight. holy shit, he can't even think about anything right now. why did he never say anything sooner? why did he waste so much time content with putting in the least amount of effort when he could've been having you like this all along?

“i love you,” he blurts out, and for a split second you think maybe this is all a dream and somehow you passed out at the show and hit your head so hard you started hallucinating this. but then his eyes widen and he winces in that way you've started to recognize, and you almost laugh because now you know it's real.

“shit, i don't know why i said that. i'm sorry. fuck, i'm sorry,” he groans and hangs his head, but despite his embarrassment you can still feel every inch of his dick twitching inside you and it feels way too good to ignore. “you don't have to say it back. i know it's way too soon—”

“did you mean it?”

“what?”

“did you mean it?” you repeat. his attention pulls back to you, a confused yet hopeful look in his eyes that makes your heart warm.

he clears his throat, obviously trying to hide the pink spreading across his cheeks. “yeah. i think i did. and not just because you have the best pussy ever.”

“are you sure? because that's what it sounds like to me,” you tease and try to roll your eyes, but his words make you clench involuntarily around him and he curses under his breath.

“fuck— yes, i’m very sure, i meant it and i'll keep saying it forever if you'll let me.” he lets out a groan, both hands now firmly planted on your waist. “but, god, please let me fuck you now. i'm trying so goddamn hard to hold back and i'll gladly go for another round later but i'm trying to make it up to you right now and it's gonna completely ruin it if i cum in, like, five seconds.”

you can't help your laughter in that moment so all you can do is nod, lifting your hips a little to try and get him going. and he takes the hint, pulling halfway out of you before slamming back in, a loud, deep string of groans leaving his lips.

his pace starts out frantic but he quickly calms himself down, stabilizing himself through his grip on your waist and pulling you to meet his thrusts. he snaps his hips into you at a smooth pace, his cock dragging against your walls with each stroke in a way that has you clawing at his wrists for support as he holds onto you.

hansol may be bad at relationships, but he's never been bad at sex. even on a good day it really doesn't take much to have you seeing stars, but this is different. this is desperate, determined, thankful, and hopeful all wrapped into one movement, sliding in and out of you with a passion you've only ever seen when he's playing guitar. 

“ha— ngh— hansol!” despite your efforts to keep it steady, your voice still comes out broken, his name escaping your lips as easily as breathing. you roll your head back against the pillow, and you're suddenly even more grateful that you're at home in your bed instead of alone in a parking lot. this is so much better, better than you could've dreamed.

“fuck, you always take my cock so good,” hansol groans as he leans forward and buries his face in your chest. “i should’ve been telling you that every single time, how good you are. so fucking good.”

the way he fucks you is strangely tender, in a way you're not sure you've ever felt before. it's rough, but somehow in a gentle way. he's taking you apart piece by piece and putting you back together with his hands, his kisses, his touch. none of the times before have ever come close to this. 

maybe it's the feeling of a mattress beneath your back instead of a hard plastic seat, or maybe it's the promises hanging in the air between you that makes this time feel brand new. maybe you're just too caught up in the moment to think straight, but for the first time it finally feels like a fresh start. this time is different.

“baby, please, one more for me,” he moans into your skin as his hips begin to grow weary, his breath hot against your chest. “‘m not gonna last much longer— fuck, cum for me one more time, baby. god, you're so perfect. please, let me make you cum.”

at this point he's rambling, almost as far gone as you are, but it's like he doesn't even need to ask. as soon as the words leave his mouth you feel the familiar sensation starting to build again, burning hotter and quicker than before. you almost start to panic because you can't even tell if you have another one left in you, but you look up and meet his eyes one last time and suddenly a wave of calm washes over you at the sight of his soft brown eyes filled with way more love than you're expecting to find there.

you don't even have time to tell him when it hits you one more time, you just grab him and hang on tight as your high tears through you. you struggle to lift your legs and wrap them around his back, pulling him in even closer to you as your walls flutter uncontrollably around him. he invades your senses and you can feel him everywhere, and you can only hope he feels the way you do.

but it's obvious that he does, because “ah, shit—” is the last thing you hear before he pulls out, barely managing to get back in time before he spills all over your stomach, your thighs, your pussy, the sheets. it's everywhere, and neither of you care. his hands are still on you gripping your waist tightly like he can't bear to let go, his cock pulsing limply as it rests against your stomach. rope after rope of thick white floods over your skin, and yet it's like he barely even notices because he's so busy repeating your name, praising you again and again in between swears and shaky moans.

you're panting, your hands shaking as you reach for him, but he's already right there. he's breathing heavily himself as he drops down on the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

his weight half leaning against you is grounding, and eventually you feel your heart starting to return to normal as you become aware of the sticky puddle of sweat and cum that you're both laying in. but you just close your eyes and rest, focusing on his body warmth and his palm holding your side and the tickle of air coming from his nose as he breathes against you, and you realize nothing, no feeling in the world, has ever felt better than this.

when he reluctantly pulls himself away from your body to go look for a towel, you already know there's no question about whether or not he's staying over tonight.

once he's done cleaning you off he lifts you up into his arms, laughing and nuzzling his nose into your neck as he sets you down at your desk chair to start stripping the mess of sheets off your bed, and in that moment you can't help but think how lucky you are. he keeps saying that he's the lucky one for letting him have a second chance, but you're lucky in a lot of ways, too. lucky that it turned out he wasn't as much of an idiot as you’d thought. lucky that your heart wouldn't let you give up on him, no matter how hard you tried. lucky that after everything, hope still works sometimes.

after stumbling around your room, tossing blankets and sheets around and looking the happiest you've ever seen him, you're finally settled down together and you're back where you've always belonged, laying in his arms. it's so late that the sun is probably coming up soon and you're exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of a night, but you couldn't care less about what happens next because everything finally feels right.

hansol sighs, his arm curled a little awkwardly around your shoulders as he twirls a lock of your hair between his fingers. “can… we not do this anymore?” he asks finally. 

his voice is quiet; not shy or uncertain, just quiet. it's different than what you're used to with him. usually when you're around him everything is loud, it's fast and messy and jumbled, a whirlwind of a night followed by heartache and a pounding headache in the morning. but now he's just… quiet. all the thoughts that normally rush through your head are gone, leaving nothing but silence.

you swallow, confused. although you've already talked out all your worries, you can't help the uncertain feeling that starts to return. “what do you mean? like, right now?”

he exhales like he's thinking, and his fingers pause in your hair. “like… i don't know. i want things to be good between us. whatever we were doing before— anything but that. no more not talking about stuff. no more tension. y'know? i promise.”

“mmm.” you hum, letting his words sink in for a while. you drum your fingers absently against his chest, almost trying to make sure he's still there. “yeah. i think… i think things are good between us now.” you giggle, leaning your head against his chest. “as long as you don't pull that shit again.”

he laughs, reaching up to grab your hand off his chest and hold it there. “oh, yeah, i know. you're way too good to me for even giving me another chance. i'm so sorry i almost fucked it all up.”

“you don't have to say that anymore.”

“well like i said, babe, i'm going to—”

“you can just keep saying ‘i love you’ instead.” you interrupt, squeezing his hand in yours.

he stops short in the middle of his sentence, caught in surprise, but as soon as your words register a grin slowly begins to make its way across his face. “cool. then… i love you.”

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[heyimkana]

Pillow Talk (2/4)

Read Part 1 | AO3 Link

Sequel to Come Home to Me but can be read separately.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo X Female Reader

Genre: Marriage AU, fluff, smut, slight hurt/comfort

Summary: Although the two of you yearn for each other's touch so badly, you start the night slow. Cuddling with your husband in bed, you ask him questions you've never had the bravery to ask before. And as he comforts you, he can't help but tease and play with you a little.

Content Warnings: constant flirting, endless banter and teasing, some nipple play (you'll sit on his face in the next part tho 👀)

Word Count: 10K

The bed sheets wrinkle underneath your fingers, your heart thumping in excitement as the word ‘reward’ rings through your ears. You watch him hover above you, your body caged by his own. “I can ask for... anything?”

With a chuckle so soft yet titillating, Jinwoo prods his nose against the pulsating vein on your neck, savoring your sweet, intoxicating scent. “Anything.”

You swallow thickly, a thousand different wishes bursting into your head at once. “T-then… I want you to…” 

Kiss me. Touch me. Make love to me. 

These words echo vehemently in your head, a plea that almost physically pains you to ignore. “K-ki…” You can’t say it. You stop yourself from saying it. You don’t want to let him win, not like this, not without effort. Your husband is already a fucking tease even without you giving him a reason to be. If you surrender now, he’ll flaunt his cheeky, cocky grin all day tomorrow, and while he’ll look unbearably sexy when he does that, you’re not sure if your pride can take it. 

A mischievous glint coats his eyes simply from noticing the changes in your behavior. Jinwoo drags his face closer to yours, his sentence coming out in a low, seductive purr, “Getting shy now, Sweetheart? How cute.”

See? Even when you haven’t said anything yet, he’s already annoying. 

Though flustered, you keep yourself composed. A little teasing like this isn’t something you can’t quickly recover from. Determined to step up your game, you bite your bottom lip, both to restrain yourself from begging for him to touch you as well as to entice him so he’ll make the first move. You know he wants this just as much as you do. If anything, with the way he’s trapping you underneath him right now, his hips eager to seek friction, he’s already craving something more than a kiss. It’s a shame that he’s just as stubborn as you are, but then again, that’s what makes it more interesting for you. 

Your eyes travel down to his lips, lingering there for a moment to ensure he receives your message. When they traverse back to his cobalt blues, your lips parting in the shape of his name, his gaze darkens, permeated by nothing but the carnal desire he’s trying to rein in. Unfortunately for you, Jinwoo has played similar games in the past, and he’s committed to winning each time. This one, especially, is the one thing he’ll never allow himself to lose, keeping himself strong and unswayed no matter how much he longs to kiss your pout away. His victory over you would grant him the most satisfaction of all. He’s certain of it.

Jinwoo cups your cheek, his thumb playing with the edge of your mouth. He mimics what you did before, letting his gaze cascade to your lips, the soft breath of his whisper ghosting over them. Seduction colors every line of his face, every letter of the words he speaks. “Does my sweet wife want a kiss?”

‘A kiss? No, I don’t want a kiss. I want you to stick your tongue in my mouth’ is a thought you promptly dismiss the moment his smirk arises on his lips. “I don’t know. Does my annoying husband want one?” It surprises you that you can still muster something witty when he’s looking down at you like that, and seeing how he laughs slightly in response, it appears he feels the same way, too. 

“Maybe he does,” his mouth shadows your lobe, nipping lightly at the shell of your ear to remind you how thrilling it was to have his teeth grating against your skin, leaving marks that would set your heart on fire every time you caught your reflection in the mirror. “Maybe,” he continues as he wedges his leg between your own, pushing the end of your nightgown to your thighs, his knee pressed dangerously against the thin fabric of your lingerie. “He wants to have more than a kiss.”

Your breath hitches in your throat; the urge to just grind on his thigh threatens to consume you. Another layer of haughtiness paints his smile. He knows exactly the effects he has on you, and he wants you to act on it, to give in to your desire so he can finally do what he’s been craving to do all day. 

You won’t let that happen, not yet. “Mm, yeah, thought so.” You play high and mighty to put a cloak over your soaring heart, which only entertains him further. “So, what is he going to do about it?”

“Hmm… Why don’t you close your eyes and see?” He’s testing the water, checking to see if you’ll be an obedient pet for him, but this thought doesn’t spring to your mind, at least not immediately. 

Though you know you should fight it, your body yearns terribly for him. Just a kiss is fine, right? Everything else, you won’t make it so easy. Sinking into a moment of weakness, you shut your lids as requested, waiting. And as you do, you fail to see how pleased he looks, how your little act of submission adds another layer of desire to his gaze.

You can feel Jinwoo leaning down, closing the already imperceptible distance between you. His lips hover right above yours, the sweet caress of his breath skimming across your mouth and chin. You wait in anticipation, but the kiss never comes, not in the way you wanted it to be.

Instead of locking your lips together, your husband places a tiny, tiny kiss on the point of your nose, a peck similar to what your daughter often gives you. You snap your eyes open, squinting at him almost menacingly as you grumble, “You’re such a tease.”

“Am I?” Another chuckle breaks free from his throat, a spark of glee underneath the huskiness of his voice. “I asked what you wanted me to do for you, but you didn’t answer my question. I’m not a mind-reader, you know. If you want something, Sweetheart,” he pauses just to glide his thumb over your lips, his tongue peeking out slightly to wet his own pair as he gazes down at your inviting mouth. “You need to be a good girl and ask for it.”

Although your stomach flips in response, your mind refuses to accept defeat. You know what? Fine. You decide inwardly as you try to keep yourself collected. If he wants to do this, to toy with you as he pleases, then you’ll play with him all night long. “You’re right. A peck on the nose was exactly what I wanted,” you utter almost through gritted teeth. “You know me so well, Husband.”

His body vibrates slightly with mirth. “Well then, I’ll give you one more.” His grin presses against your skin as he presents you with another one, still the same stupid little peck on your nose. “And a little bit of this,” he nuzzles the tip of your noses together, acting cute. “To chase the pout away.” 

God, I hate him so much, you think, as your heart flutters for him, falling in love all over again. “I’m not pouting.”

“Sure, you aren’t, love,” he simpers as he plants a playful kiss on your head. Then, as if he wasn’t affected by the smothering sexual tension between you, Jinwoo falls back to the bed, settling himself right next to you. “Let’s chat for a bit before we go to sleep. I wanna hear you talk about your day.”

Before we go to sleep? You almost scoff. Oh, he’s completely messing with me. The worst thing is, you don’t hate it. You’re frustrated, sure, but you don’t hate it. He looks so incredibly young and boyish this way, the kind of juvenility that only you are allowed to see, judging from how stoic and composed he carries himself in public. 

Like him, you roll over to lie on your side, facing him with your sulk slowly fading. “My day is hardly any interesting compared to yours.” 

“Maybe not, but you are.” His wolfish grin has altered back into the usual smile he displays, charming and tender, brimming with affection. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Jinwoo draws you closer and lets you rest your head on his chest. “I want to know everything about you, Sweetheart. I want to see if there’s something I can help. How are you feeling? Did you get to eat much today?”

“Not really,” you answer, followed shortly by an enervated exhale. You nuzzle your face further into his chest, basking in his wonderful, comforting scent and the warmth that rivals your velvety duvet. His bare chest and the toned muscles beneath his flawless skin should’ve been distracting—they are, still, to some extent—but right now, the need to be cared for and spoiled by your husband surpasses the craving your body thirsts for. “Everything still makes me nauseous. I kept forcing myself to eat just to get something inside, but I ended up vomiting every time. I’ll keep trying, but… I just hope the supplements are enough to keep our baby healthy for now.”

He runs his palm up and down your spine, his face sketched with sympathy. “I wish I could find a way to stop it. I can only imagine how hard it is for you.”

“It’s fine.” You feel soothed, your muscles unwinding under his touch. “As long as our baby is okay, I’ll deal with anything. I’m scared, yes, but… I enjoy it, too. It’s part of being a mother.”

His gaze softens, shimmering with the gratefulness he feels for having someone like you as his wife. “You’ve done so well, Sweetheart.” He rewards you with a kiss, his smile plastered directly on the little spot between your brows. “I’m so proud of you,” he strokes the back of your head, an act of consolation you didn’t think you needed this badly.

Your spirit brightens, your body feels so much lighter as you embrace him close. Those words he spoke… They might have been simple, but you truly needed to hear them today. It feels amazing to have someone you can lean on, to listen to you without judging, to be proud of the sacrifices you make for your family. Jinwoo could’ve easily acted stoic and unsympathetic after witnessing the horrifying things he’d encountered in the dungeons, but with you, he never did. He understands your struggles, and he admires you for getting through them each time.

As you enjoy this moment of comforting silence, he whispers, “I’m sorry…”

“Hmm?” You lean your head back to capture his gaze, your hair brushing against his chin in the process. “For what?” 

“‘Cause I made you go through all of this again,” he gently brushes his knuckles against your cheekbone, gazing down at you with remorse. 

“You’re sorry ‘cause you got me pregnant?”

“Well… Yeah.”

Your hushed giggle fills the air. “You’re not sorry. You love getting me pregnant.”

If there was a blush blooming on his cheeks, he tried his best to conceal it. “I mean, yes, I do, but seeing you like this… I can’t help but feel bad about it.”

You snort. “You should apologize for almost breaking my back during our last session, not this.”

You can feel the vibration of his laughter directly from his chest, one that doesn’t last long.  “I’m sorry for that, too—though it will most definitely happen again.” Jinwoo returns a small distance between you, tilting your face up by the chin. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” There’s sincerity in his question, replacing the previous devilment in his eyes with concern.

“Thanks for the thought, honey.” You curl your fingers around his wrist as a feeble smile crawls back to your lips. “But no, I’ll be fine. It will pass, don’t worry.” You intertwine your fingers together, every space filled perfectly as if you were a set. “But if you want to make me feel better, why don’t you tell me what actually happened in the gate today? Not knowing the full story makes me anxious, and I don’t think that's good for our baby.” 

His soft titters ruffle your strands. “I’m sorry I made you worry, but really, everything is fine. All you have to know is that I’m safe, and I always will be.” Bringing your joined hands closer to his face, Jinwoo adorns the back of your hand with a reverent kiss. “I have you waiting for me to come home, don’t I? I’ve promised you once that I would return to you no matter what, and I’m a man of my word. Nothing can keep me away from you, Sweetheart.”

His tender tone pacifies you, but it’s never enough to completely excise your past traumatic memories of nearly losing him. “It wasn’t like the last time, was it? The beast that put those wounds on your chest?” 

“No, nothing like that,” he answers with haste, not wanting you to fret even further (it’s just a stupid game he plays to get your attention, after all). “It was just Beru.”

As if being summoned, the shadow soldier materializes out of thin air, still in the shape of a small, floating head. “M-My liege,” Beru greets, the pitch black, smoggy cloak around him quivers just as much as his voice. He hovers close to his summoner’s face, beseeching him for forgiveness. “I can no more bear this guilt within mine own chest. To make amends for mine sins, I shall taketh mine own life. Though I shall be reborn through thy mystic powers, the anguish must needs be worth the price of thy fair skin I have besmirched with these abominable hands. I shall end mine existence a hundredfold, nay, a thousandfold—”

“Can you not waste my mana, please?” Your husband sighs, breaking away from you with a frown. All the romantic tension he’s been building before to sweep you off your feet? Gone. “And what did I tell you about not snooping into my private moments?”

“Mine most humble apologies, my liege!” Beru panics, flying back and forth like a little ball of black flame in the soft, golden glow of your bedroom. “I hath but come hither to bid thee good night! Naught did I desire to intrude upon thy sacred, amorous moment with thy lady wife, most especially when thou hast longed for her gentle caress all the livelong day—”

Jinwoo slaps a hand over the ant’s mouth, his large palm nearly covering his entire face, grasping it hard enough for Beru to start mewling under his hold. His smile is nothing but menacing, a warning for the shadow to for the love of God, shut. the fuck. up. “Yes, yes, good night, Beru. Would that be all, or is there something else you wish to tell me?” Despite his sweet offer, Jinwoo tightens his clutch over his face. Shaking like a leaf and unable to speak, Beru shakes his head fervently, wanting nothing more than to flee the scene. “Good. Then, I suggest you take your leave. Now.” The necromancer then raises his voice a tad louder, sounding just as firm as he speaks his command. “Not just you. All of you.”

More floating heads emerge before you at once, cowering as they have been caught red-handed. You recognize them as the nameless, lower-ranked knights and mages whose enthusiasm for their master’s love life vies with Beru’s obsession. They hide themselves behind the Ant King, their faces painted with both guilt and horror. 

“Hie thee hence, ye peasants!” Beru shouts at his underlings the second his master releases him from his, quite literally, death grip. “Ye heard what our lord and savior hast spoken! Flee now! Pronto!”

They vanish as suddenly as they appeared, returning the two of you to silence’s embrace once more. Jinwoo throws his head back to the pillow, releasing what must have been his most exhausted sigh yet. “Sorry you had to see that,” he mutters as he massages the bridge of his nose. Not even an S-rank gate could make him feel as worn out as the antics his little shadows had pulled just now.

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. It’s heartwarming to see how close he is with his soldiers. Every single being in his army doesn’t just respect and fear him as their lord; they adore him as a family figure who cares for and protects them. Their curiosity for his love life was born out of fondness. They pray in their own way for their master to always be surrounded by joy as it delights their hearts just the same. Sure, they can be a little immature sometimes, but it’s part of the reason why they’ve become so endearing to you. “You know, I’m starting to think that they’re not your soldiers anymore. They’re your sons.”

“Honestly, that sounds about right.”

“Except Igris.”

“Except Igris, thank god.”

The way he looks so utterly grateful for it amuses you, but not as much as the fact that—if what Beru had said was true—your husband has been so blatantly yearning for your touch that even an ant could see it. “So,” you nestle close to him, using his arm as a pillow. “You’ve been thinking about me all day, huh?” A flirty twinkle veneers your eyes as your fingers absentmindedly draw circles on his chest, feeling him grow tense under your touch. “Did you get that cut because you were distracted during the raid, or did you get hurt on purpose to get my attention? Which one is it?”

A part of him was ready to drive Beru’s head into the ground for exposing him like that, but then again, as a lover, a friend, and a person he can call home, you're the only one who always sees right through him. It’s only a matter of time before you start figuring things out on your own, the way you always do. 

Does he feel embarrassed that you see right through his plans? Yeah, maybe a bit. Does he feel guilty about it? Sort of, yeah. But showcasing those feelings would be accepting defeat, and that’s not an option he can take. So, instead of coming clean, Jinwoo quickly replaces his shame with mischief, showcasing the naughtiest smirk on his lips. “And what if I was?” Jinwoo questions seductively, twining his fingers around your wrist. “Would you be flattered that I thought about you all day?”

Your reaction, however, is far from what he’s expected.

“Would I be flattered?” You flick him on his nose, earning a surprised flinch out of him. “You shouldn’t have gotten distracted during the fight—it could’ve been dangerous! Thank goodness it was just a cut, but what if it was worse? What if it was life-threatening? Also, why do you still have that in the first place? Can’t you just heal it with potion?”

He enjoys this. There’s nothing cuter to him than the way you look when you’re upset. It just makes him want to tease you even more. “Maybe I want my wife to kiss it better,” he replies, an elfin grin blooming on his lips, one that you scrape off almost immediately by grabbing his face, your thumb and index finger digging into his cheeks.

“Do not try to flirt your way out of this, Sung Jinwoo. I’m very angry at you right now.” No, you’re not, not really. After all, there was no harm done. But still, you need to get your point across because otherwise, his dumbass would keep doing it.

Now that you’ve refused to give him a kiss, his plan backfires. Sighing in defeat after you release him, he reveals the truth with a slight jut of his bottom lip. “Fine. The truth is, no, I wasn’t distracted during the fight because I was never in one to begin with. I just stood there on the sideline, waiting for my shadows to clear the gate for me.”

“And what were you doing exactly? You can’t just simply be standing there, Jin. You’re an S-rank hunter.”

“Uhh…” He begins to sweat, one finger scratching his cheek as he tries to come up with an excuse. “I was busy, umm… thinking.”

“Not about me naked, surely.”

He blushes. He actually blushes. “Of course not. I was trying to come up with a plan. Another raid is coming soon. I want to find a strategy to do my next mission more efficiently.”

“Mm, sounds like bullshit, but okay. So, how did you get the cut?”

He racks his brain as best as he can. Nothing comes up. He does it a second time. Still, nothing comes up. The truth, it is, then. “Well, like you said, I wanted to get your attention, so—”

“I swear to God, Jinwoo, if you said you did that to yourself…” You don’t even bother to finish the sentence. He knows what you mean, and he knows exactly what you’re capable of in terms of disciplining him. No weapons and hunters could harm him in this world, but being deprived of your touch? Of your kiss? Now, that’s torture.

“Not… exactly like that,” he answers, his eyes straying away from your own.

Then, it clicks. “You asked Beru to hit you, didn’t you?”

Bullseye. He’s completely avoiding your gaze now. Only silence answers you, but that, itself, is the evidence you need.

“Unbelievable. That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” And yet, you find yourself giggling even before you can finish your sentence, the sound airy and pretty, a perfect symphony to his ears. The whole image of Beru, who was most likely crying as he obeyed his master's command, punching him in the face just because your husband wanted your attention is just downright ridiculous to you.

Jinwoo's eyes droop in fondness, his chest overflowing with the affection he holds for you. You seem so carefree and light at this moment, your face relaxed as if you hadn’t been weighed down by the stress that’s consumed you all day. He keeps himself quiet as he watches you laugh, his heart missing a beat.

“There it is. My favorite sound in the world,” he smiles so endearingly at you, so breathtakingly gorgeous, it causes your stomach to twist and churn at the sight of God’s most perfect masterpiece. “I was worried that I wasn’t going to hear it today since all you’d been doing was scolding me.”

“And whose fault do you think that is?” you reply with a light poke to his abdomen, his soft chuckles intermingling with yours in the close space between your mouths. “I can’t believe you went through all that for me.”

He captures your hand, bestowing a soft kiss on the ridges of your knuckles. “It’s worth the price.” He looks so dreamy like this, picture-perfect, a handsome prince with a devilish grin. 

“I’m gonna have to apologize to Beru on your behalf.” You watch how pretty the rosy shade of his lips looks upon your skin, entranced. That, too, is picture-perfect. “You can’t keep torturing him like that, Jin. Just how many times has it been already? He’s just a kid.”

“Do that later.” He places your hand on his cheek, his stare so soft, it’s almost imploring. “Spoil me first.” Your lover sinks his face in the dip of your palm, nuzzling against it with his eyes closed. “I may have been a bit naughty today, yes, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t work hard during the raid.”

“You just said you were doing nothing but standing there while picturing me naked.”

“But I’ve missed you." He resorts to his ultimate weapon, winning your heart with his raspy voice and his pleading eyes. “I miss you so much, baby… Don’t you miss me?” 

The longing sigh, the soft blush plating his cheeks, the glimmering blue eyes—he’s cute, so cute, which is such a weird thing to say as you never thought that he and the word cute could belong in the same sentence. Who cares if he's gaslighting you now, right? He’s pretty.

“God, what am I going to do with you?” You mutter, followed by a playful roll of your eyes. With a doting smile coating your lips, you spread your arms for him. “Come here.”

Jinwoo wastes no time, burying his face in your chest and holding you so tightly that he almost steals all the air in your lungs. You laugh, the sweet, hushed sound reserved only for his ears to hear. “Big baby,” you croon, cradling his head close. He pays no heed to anything anymore. You can call him whatever he wants; he no longer cares. No, the Gods can burn down the world to ashes right now, and he’d still refuse to leave your embrace. He’s finally home, where he belongs, and he just wants to submerge himself in this moment and memorize every detail—the sound of your breathing, the beats that your heart sings, this sweet serenity you bring him, the warmth and the softness of your skin, the scent that intoxicates him with both love and desire—everything.

He wishes that you’d let him stay like this for a while, while you beg the heavens to let you have this moment forever. It makes you feel worthy, special, needed, to be the only one in this universe who can offer him this sense of solace. 

You card your fingers through his hair, his raven strands smoother than silk. And when you brush a tender kiss on his forehead, he lets out a soft sigh, relieved and contented, as if a single kiss from you managed to wash away all the burden the world had bestowed upon his shoulders. 

Jinwoo closes his lids, letting you stroke his hair like a child. He relishes the intimacy as your scent fills him, grateful for the comfort you offer him simply by just being here in his embrace. 

Seconds pass by, a company to his steady breathing. Guided by the quietude of your bedroom, your thoughts begin to wander. “Jinwoo…”

“Hmm?”

“These foster kids of yours,” you begin with a joke. “What do they think of me?”

His eyes slowly flutter open as a smile ornaments his lips. “Let's see... The knights think of you as their queen,” he says, his voice slightly muffled by the skin that covers your heart. “The mages think of you as a goddess that needs to be worshipped, which is honestly true,” he flirts, as smoothly as always. “The ants see you as their mother, and Kaisel loves you like a pet loves its owner. You can tell by how much he wags his tail when he’s around you, right?”

“Right,” you reply fondly, recalling the way the wyvern always bows his head low before you, his tail swaying back and forth as he waits for your gentle hands to pet his scales. “What about Iron?”

“Iron thinks you’re a great cook. He loves the cookies you baked for him before. He did not like the ones our daughter made him.” You exchange soft laughter with your husband. The memory of your daughter stuffing a dozen burnt cookies into the warrior’s mouth never failed to tickle your stomach. 

“Beru…” Jinwoo continues, humming lowly as he mulls about it. “Well, Beru admires you for being the only person who can put me in my place. And he thinks of you as, and I quote, the worthy bearer of my king’s seeds, so he—”

“Yes, I’ve heard about that already, thanks,” you mutter. Hearing that title the second time doesn’t make it any less mortifying. “And Igris? Does he ever talk about me?”

For a moment, Jinwoo turns hushed, uncertain if he should reveal the truth. “Igris… thinks of you as my biggest weakness,” he murmurs, causing you to stiffen in response. He runs a hand down your backside, reassuring you before he elaborates further. “He thinks you’re the one thing that I can’t live without. He worries about your safety constantly, knowing that I would be as good as dead if you weren't there with me. He cares about you as much as I do. He’s even sworn to protect you with his life.” 

With how quiet and tender these words flow past his lips, you can tell that he doesn’t simply reiterate Igris’ words. They come from the bottom of his heart, too. You tighten your hold around him, burying your nose in his hair. “I’ll always be safe, I promise.”

“I’ll make sure you are,” he vows, shutting his lids and sinking into your embrace once more, thankful for this moment.

“Tell Igris I said thank you, okay?”

“No need, baby. He already knows.”

He does? Oh… Right. “He’s always with you, huh? Every one of your soldiers.”

“Since they’re connected to my shadow, yeah. They’re part of me now.”

“And they… can see and hear everything that’s going on between us?”

Jinwoo blinks before a peal of his deep laughter reverberates to your skin, tickling the dip of your cleavage. You can tell he already knows where you’re going with this. “Mm-hmm, they have their eyes and ears everywhere.” 

“Always?”

“Always.” He pulls away just enough to take a good look at you, a little smile playing on his lips. “What is it? Are you worried they might be watching us right now?”

“A little bit,” you answer reluctantly, feeling rather childish for even bringing this topic out in the open. You’ve been with the Shadow Monarch for years. Surely, his shadows must have seen everything by now, and yet… You can’t help but long for a moment of privacy. Tonight, especially. “I know you just told them to disappear, but they can still hear us, can’t they? They can close their eyes when you tell them to, but it’s not like they can control their hearing, right?”

“That’s right.” He’s not bothered by it in the slightest. If anything, it amuses him. “They can still hear us, yes, but there’s nothing to worry about. They’re very loyal to me, and they respect my privacy more than anything. They know better than to listen in on our private moments.” 

“Beru and his gang literally popped out a minute ago.” 

“Yeah, but that’s Beru.” He speaks of him as if the Ant King were this stubborn child that he’d given up to control a long time ago. “They’re gone now.” Seeing how your focus is still somewhere else, he gently grabs your face, trapping your gaze and holding it still. “You’re thinking about them when you should’ve been focusing on me—your husband who’s been craving for your attention all day. You’re breaking my heart, Princess.”

“I want to focus on you, darling; that’s why I’m asking you this. There’s something I want to do with you, and knowing that they can hear us, I… can’t help but feel a bit…” Your voice shrinks to a murmur as fire licks your cheeks. “…embarrassed.”

Jinwoo examines you for a moment, taking in the way you turned flushed so adorably as you spoke your words. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any cuter,” he comments, adoring you. “I could ask them to go on another patrol if that could make you feel better. You just want us to be alone, right?”

You answer with a nod. He can sense the guilt that radiates off you for asking something so selfish. “All right,” he assures you with a light kiss on the top of your head. “Give me a second.” 

They begin to gleam, his irises, switching from sapphires into brilliant amethyst as his magic power exudes. He then closes his eyes, spending a brief moment to spread a mental command to his soldiers. By the time his lids flicker open, they’ve returned to the gentle cobalts that you’ve grown to cherish more than anything. “There. They’re gone now.”

“All of them?”

“All of them. I asked Igris to keep them in check, just in case.”

“Thank you,” you breathe out in relief, tension leaving your body. “Sorry for asking you this. I didn’t mean to be so selfish, but…”

“It’s no problem, baby.” Your husband runs his hand gently down your naked arm, enjoying the soft feel of your skin under his fingertips. “I know how important privacy is to you. And don’t worry, they’ll be gone until I summon them back. We have this moment all to ourselves now. That being said…” Like a snake shedding its skin, his previous soft smile morphs into a naughty smirk. “What is it that you’re planning to do to me that you don’t want my shadow soldiers to know?”

“Nothing.” And yet, you can’t seem to look at him in the eyes. “I, umm… I just wanted to ask you some questions.” 

His fingers have now slid down to your thigh, gliding against the satin of your nightgown. “Dirty questions?”

“J-just questions.”

“Hmm,” he purrs in dissatisfaction. The sound so sultry, it elevates your heart rate by tenfold. “Can’t say I’m not a little bit disappointed by that, Sweetheart. Will I, at least, get a reward if I agree?”

“I mean, you can ask me anything you want, too. I’ll answer them honestly.”

“Anything?”

You’re already regretting it, even now. You didn’t think it would be a big deal for him, but knowing Jinwoo… Of course, he’ll take every opportunity he can get to rile you up in the best way possible. “Anything… I guess…”

He snickers at your uncertainty. “Well, I’d be a fool to refuse that.” A little glimpse of his fangs grace your eyes as he grins, already looking so pleased and confident to play your game. “You better live up to your words, Sweetheart. Or, don’t, it’s up to you. I’ll be enjoying this in one way or another because if you run away, I’ll have a reason to punish you.”

It feels like you’re already losing before you even begin. God, this whole thing is a mistake, isn't it? “I-I’ll go first. If you could only keep one shadow soldier for the rest of your life, and another one for me, who would you choose?”

His whole expression changes. Saying that he looks utterly dissatisfied by it would be an understatement. “That’s your question? Really?”

Okay, that might have been a little boring, but— “I’m curious about who your favorite shadow is, sue me. And don’t look at me like that, Jinwoo, I already said I wouldn’t ask you anything dirty. And you better not, too!”

“Can’t promise you that, my love,” he tosses another smirk toward your direction. “Well, let’s see…” To your surprise, he takes a moment to ponder to himself. You realize as you examine his expression that he holds every soldier in his army dearly, caring for them just the same. Asking him this question carries the same weight as asking a parent who their favorite child is. “I think I’d take Igris,” Jinwoo answers after a while. “Not only is he strong, he was the first high-rank shadow I obtained, so he’s special to me in a way. He’s also the most loyal, most responsible out of everyone else. I trust him with my life if it comes down to it.”

“I thought you’d say it would be a tie between him and Beru.”

He smiles, happy to see how you could predict his answer perfectly. “That’s true, and that’s why I’m choosing him, too. For you.”

“You’d give me Beru? Even though he praises you non-stop, worships you like a God?”

“That’s exactly why I’m assigning him to you,” he grimaces at the thought. “Igris is more serious and mature. Personality-wise, he suits me better. I like the fact that he doesn’t talk much, and yet he knows me better than anyone else. I would enjoy the comforting silence between us, the way I always have. Beru, on the other hand, is much more… enthusiastic. He’s got a lot of personality and can be a little high-maintenance. I have no doubt you two would get along and be trouble together. You both drive me crazy.”

You find hilarity in his words. “Beru would cry if he heard about this.”

“He won’t. He loves you just the same. He has a statue of you in the shadow realm���I’ve told you about that, right?”

“You have.” And you would’ve chuckled at that had a grim thought never occurred in your mind, but it did, and now it’s all you can think about. You try to refrain yourself from asking, but your curiosity swells faster than you can control your tongue. “Jinwoo, when I die… Will you turn me into your shadow soldier? Or would you just let me go and bury me?”

Your husband freezes at the question, the humor gone from his face. The abrupt change of topic leaves him with his tongue tied, but the second your question sinks in, his answer is immediate. “You’re not going to die.” 

He states it like a fact, indisputable, and it pains you a little to press him further on this, but you must know. “Everyone will die eventually—”

“Not you.” The firmness in his tone stuns you, silencing you at once. “I won’t let you die. I'll do everything in my power to save you. You’re mine. Nothing will ever change that. You will always be with me, right here in my arms, just like this.” His hold is possessive, perhaps even selfish, but beneath all that, his heart races when you place your palm over his chest as if merely the thought of losing you scares him to death. 

You alleviate your voice, pacifying him with a gentle caress to his cheek. “It’s just a hypothetical question, darling… I’m just curious, that’s all.”

His mood has changed completely, the same way the tension between you turns palpable after your question rings in the air. “It’s not something I want to think about.”

Regret starts to feast on your heart, causing you to feel remorseful for bringing this topic to the table. “I’m sorry…” You kiss his lips once, hoping it will ease whatever storm rages in his chest, if only for a little. “I’ll rephrase the question, okay? Have you ever wondered about having me as your shadow? Even if it was only a fleeting thought, did that possibility ever occur to you?”

His jaw remains clenched tight. Altering the words doesn’t change the fact that you still die in this scenario, and he won’t allow himself to walk down that path, even if it is only an imaginary situation. “I would never turn you into a shadow.” Jinwoo doesn’t answer whether he has thought about it or not. All he informs you is the decision he had made many, many years ago. “You’re not a possession. You're a person—my person. And as much as I love the idea of having you by my side forever, it would be the worst thing. Losing your humanity and free will… I could never do that to you.“

You nibble on your bottom lip. His sincerity, the way his voice quivers a little when he utters his words, they bring joy to you, spreading warmth to your every nerve. But even so, you cannot deny that there’s a part of you that turns crestfallen from his answer. The same side of you that thinks: 

So… he’d rather let me go forever than have a part of me with him..? 

“You’re so kind, aren’t you?” You say in a voice barely above a whisper, your heart weighing you down like an anchor. “If I were you… If I had the power to make you stay when God takes you away from me… I would’ve turned you into my shadow without a second thought. That’s just how much I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I know it’s selfish, I know it’s cruel, and I know you won’t be the same person as you are now, but… I just can’t imagine a life without you.”

His expression softens as he takes in your words, his joy unfolding like a flower at the thought of you ready to defy the Gods just to be with him. But you don’t own this power. You don’t know how terrifying it could be, the consequences it brings, the darkness that surrounds him, the sins that gnaw at his humanity. 

“Sweetheart, listen…” Jinwoo brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers gently stroking your cheek. “The truth is… I have thought about it. I think I’ve mentioned it before—how scared I am of losing you. I dread every second that passes by when you’re not standing next to me, so, yes, of course, I’d considered that possibility before, more times than I’d like to admit. It’s the only way I know to keep you with me, as of now. But each time the thought popped into my head, the more I came to realize that… I could never do that to you. I won’t take away your freedom, your personality, your desire… If you became my shadow, you wouldn’t be able to talk to me, and you’d be bound to obey my command no matter what.”

“But Beru can talk to you. That means I can do it too one day, right?”

“Beru can talk because he’s a high-rank soldier. If you were turned into one, you wouldn’t be, and you wouldn’t get any chance to increase your rank because I would never allow you to go to battle. I wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of you getting hurt. And then you’d start feeling that you lost your purpose, not being able to serve me the way my other soldiers could. And I’d be constantly worried to death, not knowing what you were thinking. I’d start wondering if you truly felt happy that I resurrected you, or if you felt trapped with me, that you wished to move on.”

It only dawns on you, then, just how much your husband has thought about this through. You might have asked him out of curiosity, but Jinwoo already thinks about it as a possibility, one that he chooses to decline no matter what. The pain of losing you would strike deeper than a javelin through the chest, but he’d rather carry that wound for eternity than be shackled by the guilt of turning his beloved into anything but human.  

He draws you toward him, eliminating every inch of space between you. “I love you,” he whispers near your ear, his face twisted in agony. His arms ensnare you by the shoulders, embracing you so closely as if you’d vanish into thin air if he weren’t holding onto you tightly enough. “I love you so much, Sweetheart. I would do anything to keep you safe. I’d die a thousand deaths just to protect you, so please… Don’t talk about leaving me.”

You feel tears filling your sockets before you know it, and you can blame your pregnancy hormones for it, but you know you wouldn’t have felt this way if it wasn’t for the heartbreak in his voice. “I’m sorry…” You wrap your arms around him, your voice a quivering murmur as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry I brought this up…”

“It’s all right.” He kisses your temple, his hand skating up and down your spine. “I know you were just curious.”

You're grateful that you can keep your tears from breaking. You pull away, doleful. “I completely ruined the mood, huh?”

He chuckles softly. “No, you didn’t. Come here.” Guiding you toward him, your husband raises himself to sit on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard as he gathers you in his lap.  “You okay?”

You answer with a weak nod. 

You’re not okay, not really, he can tell. Jinwoo tucks a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear, his smile soft with a hint of melancholy. He hopes a little chaff would lighten the tension. “So, Miss Necromancer. You’d turn me into your shadow in a heartbeat, huh?”

“Well, no, not anymore,” you pout a little. “I understand how you feel now. I wouldn’t want something like that to happen to you, too.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. I was wishing you’d stay selfish.” He settles his hands on the curve of your hips, eliciting fire upon your skin even with your nightgown staying in between. “I’m strong, you know. If you turned me into your shadow, I would be able to talk to you just like this. I could protect you. I could always be with you, hidden in your shadow. And we could do so, so many things together. Fun things.”—his words skate over the shell of your ear—“Dirty things.”—his lips moving lower to brush a featherlight kiss to the spot below your lobe—“Wherever we want.”—down to your jawline—“Anytime we want.”—to your neck—“However we want.” He ends his journey with a wet kiss on your bare shoulder, his tongue pressing flat against your skin, his teeth scraping deep enough to make you squirm but far from bruising you.

You giggle amidst your tattered breaths. “You sound so happy about it.”

“Of course I do, baby.” His smirk grows. “You want me to be with you for eternity. I’ve never felt so wanted.” He leans close, his lips a mere inch away from yours. “Do you still have depressing questions to ask, or can I entertain you with the things I’d do to you if I became your shadow?” Unlike him, who can easily put a veil on his troubled emotions for the sake of your happiness, your worry still shows no matter how much you try to conceal it. Noticing that, he cups your cheek. “What is it?”

You shake your head, forcing out a smile. “Nothing.”

He can see right through it, knowing that you’re holding back for his sake. Kissing you briefly on the lips, he says, “Go ahead and ask, love. It’s all right.”

Your hesitation halts you for another second before you choose to come clean. “Since you said you wouldn’t turn me into your shadow… If I di—if something happened to me,” you quickly correct yourself. “And I could no longer be with you… Would you ever consider… remarrying someone else?”

He stops. “What?”

“B-because, you know—our daughter will need a mother figure and I… I don’t want you to feel lonely and…” You start to panic, cursing yourself internally for being such a fucking idiot. Yes, you were curious about it, but still—what the hell was that question?! Perhaps it was born out of your desperation to be consoled. You understand clearly how your husband chooses to honor your death instead of keeping your soul trapped with him, and yet, loneliness shrouds you, still. This is you seeking some form of reassurance. This is you trying to heal the thought of being separated, of being… left behind. It’s pathetic, you know that, and now that the words have flown past your mouth, you feel a hundred times worse. “N-never mind. I was being stupid, I’m sorry.”

As you twist restlessly on his lap, your face burning with shame, Jinwoo watches you with nothing but solemnity written in his eyes. He doesn’t laugh at you, nor does he find this situation amusing in the slightest. If you think he’d move on with his life after your death—if you think there’s even a tiny part of him that could forget you, the center of his universe, you’re awfully mistaken.

He holds your face with one hand, his touch possessive, his eyes intense, filled with promise. “I would never marry anyone else.” The resolution in his voice stops your heart. “No one could ever replace you, Sweetheart, you know that. And our daughter…” He pauses. He knows that a mother’s role in a family is crucial, and he doubts he could fill your shoes no matter how hard he tries, but he just can’t accept having someone else in his heart, in his home, when she doesn’t own your face,  your personality, your sweet kiss, your gentle touch, your everything. “I would do anything for her. I would give her all my love, everything I could offer. But I promise you, I would never remarry. You’re the only one for me. You always have, and you’ll always be, even if you were—” He chokes on the word, his voice turning quieter when he continues, “…no longer here with me.”

The same quiver that runs through your fingertips now dances on your lips. “You’re the only one for me, too…”

His mouth is on yours in an instant, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to remind himself that none of this scenario is true, nor will it happen anytime soon. No, he’ll never allow it to happen. He’ll find a way to save you, even if it means sacrificing his own life for it. 

The kiss ends, but none of you finds the will to break free from each other’s embrace, his voice low and cracking with emotion when he speaks. “You're the only one who’s been in my heart and mind. You're everything to me. Nothing could ever change that, Sweetheart. Nothing.”

“I know,” you plant a chaste kiss on his lips once more. “I feel the same way. And I figured you’d say that, but… I just wanted to hear it in person.”

He mirrors your smile, just as tender, understanding that some feelings are meant to be spoken as a promise to chase away all fears and doubts in your chest. “And did I answer it well?”

“You answered it perfectly.” You tilt your head slightly to the side, brushing your lips against the dip of his palm. “Thank you, Jin. No more depressing questions, I promise.”

He feels lighter, his face much more relaxed. “No more depressing questions,” he echoes with a playful smile. “What’s up with all the negative thoughts? You were being all playful before.”

“I’m sorry,” you heave a heavy sigh. “It’s just the pregnancy hormones talking, I guess. You know how it is. I can feel like I wanna bawl my eyes out one second, then beat someone to a pulp the next.”

“If those are the only two options available, let's go with crying. You look pretty when you cry.”

Grabbing him by his jaws, you narrow your eyes playfully at him. "I don’t know, Husband, option two sounds really good right now.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckles in relief, seeing you return to the person you were before. He takes your hand away, intertwining it together with his own. “Is it my turn to ask questions now?”

“Hmm, not yet. One more question, and then you can go.”

“So demanding,” he scrunches his nose cutely. “All right, ask me.” 

It only takes a second for you to ponder. “What is the one thing I do that you like the most?”

“One thing you do?” He pretends to ruminate just to tease, elevating the suspense. With one corner of his lips tilting higher than the other, he plays with the thin strap of your nightgown, twisting it around his finger before he moves closer. “You want me to be completely honest with you, baby girl?”

Shivers run through you as his hot breath skims over your collarbone, the tip of his nose brushing against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “O-of course.”

“Hmm…” You can almost feel his mouth on your neck as he purrs, but he doesn’t kiss you there just yet, maintaining the infinitesimal space between his lips and your skin to drive you crazy. “I think I love it when…” He kneads the supple flesh of your thigh. “You’re so needy for me.”

You nearly flinch when he, without warning, clasps his mouth firmly against the side of your throat. The way his deep, husky voice vibrates on your skin, the lightest touch of his tongue against your pulsating vein—it’s starting to be a bit too much. “N-Needy? I don’t think I’ve ever acted that way before.”

“Oh, really?” Your husband pulls away with one of his eyebrows raised, a little amused that you’re denying it. His hand slithers around your waist, his nails raking against the fabric, so eager to tear it apart. “You've never been needy, Sweetheart? Never once asked me to pay attention to you, touch you, hold you, make you feel good?”

You gulp, face aflame. “No…” Seeing how your answer doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest, you divert the topic. “Why do you even like it when I’m being needy anyway?”

He reciprocates with a sly smirk, his eyes traversing down from your neck, your collarbone, to your cleavage before he flicks them back to your face. Still with his smirk intact, his voice turns low and dark, dripping with desire. “Because I love knowing that you want me. I love having that power over you. The knowledge that you need me, crave my touch, that I can give you pleasure and take care of you. It drives me mad.”

His gaze locks onto your face, taking a moment to appreciate your beauty, the changes in your expression, and the anticipation in your eyes. “Besides…” Two of his lean fingers trace your jawline before they rest on your chin, lifting it up to take a more thorough look at your features. You appear so innocent under the soft, golden glow of your night light, so adorable and pretty, almost doll-like, and it awakens something primal within him. Something that he’s afraid he won’t be able to tame should you continue staring at him like this. “Do you know how cute you look when you want me to touch you? When you’re whining and begging for me to give you what you want?”

You can’t form a word, hypnotized under his gaze, controlled even before he begins pulling on your strings. He traps your chin, tugging it low enough for you to part your lips for him. “And this face you’re making right now…” He breathes out heavily as lust starts to coat his irises. “I want to ruin you so badly.” He’s already thinking about it, to run his tongue across the seam of your lips before he pushes it inside, tasting you, devouring you. “I want to make a mess out of you, to mark you as mine in places that everyone can see.” 

A certain glow in his eyes causes the soft hairs on your nape to rise. Every nerve of your body pleads for his touch, but he won’t grant your wish just yet. “But I have to be patient, don’t I, Sweetheart?” Jinwoo continues with a glimpse of cockiness written on his lips, knowing he already has you dancing in the palm of his hand. “After all, the game just started. Although…” He leans close, his lips barely touching your ear as he speaks hushedly. “I doubt I could resist it if my sweet girl starts acting all needy for me now.”

You force out a scoff even when your body is eager to have his taste in your mouth. “You wish.”

He simpers at your reaction, entertained by your desperate attempt to mask embarrassment. “Don’t try to deny it, love. I can see right through you. The way you’re clenching your legs together” —his hand grips your thigh, fingers pressing deep into your skin— “the way you bite your lip,” he kisses you, catching your lower lip between his own. He keeps it brief, just the lightest of bites and the purest of kisses, but the soft, sultry moan he makes on purpose is anything but innocent. “You’re already getting needy, aren’t you?”

Your stomach somersaults at how his smirk breaks so naturally, so seductively on his lips. Afraid you’ll succumb to your desire, you push a hand to his face, returning the safe space between you. “Your turn to ask me now.”

Jinwoo lets out a small laugh at your childish act, gently prying your hand away from him. “Someone’s avoiding the question,” he says, amused. “All right, my turn. I’m going to make sure you answer mine, okay, Sweetheart?”

The subtle threat only excites you. “Okay. Just don’t ask anything weird. Or perverted.”

Your husband chuckles, diving his head back to the dip of your neck again. He tugs on your strap with his teeth, his hand now brazenly glides over your chest, feeling the way your sensitive bud hardens under the satin but leaving it ignored—for now. “But you’d like the perverted ones, wouldn’t you?” His grin blooms on your skin before he places a warm, open-mouthed kiss on your clavicle. Your fingers clench into fists, doing everything you can to suppress your moan. When he breaks away, he carries himself nonchalantly as if he didn’t just grind his teeth against your skin a second ago. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll behave,” he finishes with a coquettish grin. “For your sake.”

“J-Just give me the damn question.”

“Patience is a virtue, my love. Let me think for a second. I don’t want to come up with something… boring.” His gaze turns playful when it meets yours, referring to your earlier question.

“Are you making fun of me again?”

“Me? Make fun of you? Never,” he coos as his smirk proves otherwise. “If you could change one part of my body, what would it be? But, of course, if you think everything is perfect, you can say that, too.”

You send him a flat stare. “Your dick. Would’ve liked it better if it was bigger.”

He laughs out loud at your answer, his seductive smirk morphing into a perfect view of his marbled teeth. He appears so young like this, refreshing and sweet. “Oh, baby, you know I don’t lack in that area, don’t you? If you were saying something about my face, I would’ve believed you, but that…” He snorts in amusement. “Come on now.”

“Oh, you’re so annoying.” You throw a playful jab at his stomach. Well, it is true that he’s packing more than necessary down there, but… You’re not going to give him that satisfaction, are you? “Where does this confidence even come from?”

He chuckles, catching your hand. “Of course, I’m confident. After all…” His fingers slide past your elbow, up to your shoulder, traveling over soft skin until they cup the side of your neck. His thumb rubs over your lips, his eyes misted with desire when he says, “You look too satisfied most of the time. If not, always.”

You can feel his digit applying pressure on your lips, wanting you to take his finger inside and give him a preview of what you can do with your mouth later when he makes you drop to your knees. You curl your hand around his wrist, a quick reminder for him to behave. “Maybe it’s just because you’re good at using it, not because of the size itself.”

Jinwoo smiles almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming in the dimness of your bedroom. “Careful now. I’m gonna get cocky.”

“I’m not complimenting you, dummy. I’m trying to make an argument!”

Your attitude only amuses him further. “Oh, no, Sweetheart, I can tell you’re complimenting me. Don’t worry, I know I’m the best. And I know you know that, too.”

You roll your eyes despite your heart thrashing against your ribcages in response. “Next question.”

“Is my dick really your final answer?”

“Next!”

He chortles, as deep and as soft as he speaks. He can honestly play with you like this for hours. Watching you turn flustered, all fidgety and cute, solely because of him… That’s the kind of satisfaction he seeks after a long day. “You know there's a consequence you need to pay for not answering that one honestly, right? I’m starting to think maybe you want to be punished.” 

Yes. Yes. Yes. God, yes. “Of course not,” you scoff. “I just don’t feel like answering ‘cause you’re being annoying.”

“Changing the rules as you please, huh? That does sound like you. Always not playing fair.” But he likes it. Oh, he loves it when you’re not playing fair. It gives him more reasons to teach you a lesson afterward. “Fine, if you’re so stubborn about it, then I’ll ask you this: if you had to choose one of my features to keep, what would it be?”

A question like this again? Is he fishing for compliments? That’s a bit cute, you can’t lie, seeing how he’s so needy for your praise. Unfortunately, you have a role to play and a facade to maintain. “That’s hardly any different.” You exaggerate your complaint with a snort. “Why can’t you just ask me what I want to have for my birthday or something?”

“Because I already know what you want,” he replies with a cock of his head. Arrogance has never looked this good on a man before. 

“You do?” You don't think you’ve ever given any clues about what you want for your present this year.

“Mm-hmm. And I can’t wait to show it to you.” Lifting you by the waist, he shifts your weight until you stand on your knees before him, his face now on the same level as your chest. He tugs on your strap, watching it slide off your shoulder until it pools around your elbow. Hungry eyes feast on your exposed skin, one side of your chest caressed by the cold air before the heat takes over in the shape of his hand. 

Jinwoo kneads your supple mound in his large palm, his fingers squeezing, teasing, itching to do more as desire mists his gaze. He encloses his mouth firmly around your breast, groaning softly at the taste of your skin on his tongue. The vibration runs straight south to your core, almost making you writhe when he combines it with a gentle nip of his teeth.

“In fact, I’ll give it to you all day, baby,” he suckles on your chest, tongue flicking against your protruding tip. “All night.” He moves to plant a wet, lingering kiss on the underside, breaking goosebumps along your skin. “I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world, you’ll see.”

Your breathing quickens under his ministration, your fingers grasping tightly against the roots of his hair as he maps his way to your other breast. You feel so much more sensitive today, your toes curling even from the lightest suck of your bud. Is it because he hasn’t touched you in a while? Or perhaps your pregnancy? You honestly can’t care less. “My birthday present—ah—It’s not s-sex, is it?”

He chuckles a moment before he unclasps his mouth. A smear of red rose blooms upon your skin, ready to turn purple by the morning. “No, honey, it’s not sex,” he looks up with his head tilted slightly to the side, staring at you with stray hairs falling over his pretty eyes, his gaze as titillating as his sultry smile. “Could be, if you want to.”

You chew on your lip. You can play hard to get as always, but you know nothing drives him faster to the edge than you acting so docile and submissive for him. This game of push-and-pull has been going on for a while. It should be about time you have a little fun of your own, right? “I think I’d like that, too… To have you as my present.”

It stuns him for a second, your confession. His eyes darken, turning as pitch-black as the sky that’s been deprived of its jewels. 

Jinwoo draws a shaky breath, his grip on your waist growing alarmingly tight. He wants to describe it, all the filthy things he wants to do to you, but he knows if he just lets one slip out—when he’s already in the state of losing his sanity—he’ll end up demonstrating each one of them right here, right now. And you’re trying to keep this game innocent, aren't you? Is there a reason why? 

He can see the desire in your eyes, the need to be with him, but just how far are you willing to go? Just how far can he touch you, be rough with you? He needs you to start it first, to give him more than just a sign. He wants to make sure that you’re ready. Until then, until he can hear you say what it is that you desire, he’ll respect this boundary between you, no matter how thin it is. He won’t cross it till you beg him for it.

But… A filthy thought resurfaces, tugging on the corner of his lips. A little poke can’t hurt.

***

Read Part 3 here