#she knows what sex is and u might even say she thoroughly enjoys it!
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if i knew how to write smut.... it'd be over for everyone who's w honeybee
#im also not brave enough yet but we can blame that on my fear of cosmic embarrassment rather than ignorance </3#nah but seriously. i dont want anyone to baby or woobify honeybee#she knows what sex is and u might even say she thoroughly enjoys it!#she's up for anything and she'll try whatever at least once bc it's a journey for her !#although she's fine w casual sex... she much prefers it being with someone she's already romantically intimate with#sex feels good but i think she's really infatuated with the idea of making love .#love is rly important to her and truly incorporating that into sex. bc ur giving urself completely to another person... so important for he#*HER#at the same time sex isn't super serious for her... she's giggly bc ofc she is. shes adorable.#you'll have to forgive me for the expression lol but i'm just saying. honeybee will have her partner seeing stars. goodnight KJDFHDF#ANYWAY.... teehee hows it going#OOC.#/ nsft#(in tags)
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happy cheolhub day sar!!! 🎉🫶🏽the banner for your bday post is so cuteee i love the colors! i might be too late for the bday bash, but if i’m not can i ask for “as much as i'd love to have you choking on me, i'm impatient and there's something else i want more” + joshua, please? 💗
7:15 p.m. — joshua hong
prompt. “as much as i'd love to have you choking on me, i'm impatient and there's something else i want more.”
wc. ~1.9k
warnings. slight exhibitionism, lots of teasing, bathroom sex (bathroom belongs to cheol oops), mirror sex, needy joshua <3, reader is a menace, dirty talk, pet names [baby], unprotected sex, creampie [MINORS DNI 18+]
note. hi cherry!! thank you lots <333 i kinda… pulled this out of my ass so forgive me if you hate it lol >< as always, this was not proofread so if any of u see a mistake, pls ignore it
event closed
there are many things you love and appreciate about joshua hong. he’s caring, for one, willing to bend over backwards just to see you smile. he also just so happens to be one of the funniest men you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and while he is a menace 99.9% of the time, you can’t imagine not having him by your side.
and, well, you can be a bit of a menace yourself.
if there’s one particular thing you love the most about joshua, though, it’s his ability to be completely and utterly patient in almost every situation. he’s always cool, calm, collected– for the most part– and he knows how to wait for the things he wants till the right time comes. (read: things he wants being you)
and you wish you could say the same about yourself, but you’re not even the slightest bit patient. to you, waiting is pointless and essentially time-consuming. screw “good things come to those who wait.”
nonetheless, you love this trait of his because you thoroughly enjoy testing him and watching his patient resolve crumble with your every action. especially in public. especially at your weekly movie nights in seungcheol’s house.
“stop,” he hisses, swatting your hand away from his thigh. “i already told you, you can have whatever you want when we get home.”
a faux pout etches into your lips, you quietly whine out, “but josh… i want it now.”
“no.” he says sternly, turning back to the movie. technicolor flashes over his face as something happens on the screen. he wish he knew what the plot of this flashy movie was, but all he can think about is how you’re silently begging for his dick right next to him even though a handful of his best friends sit on the floor in front of the two of you.
you scoot closer to him, lightly ghosting your lips against the underside of his jaw, trailing up to his ear. “please, baby… i miss your cock.” you whisper. “wanna taste. i can’t wait, been needing it all night.”
your hand presses down onto his covered cock, palming him through his shorts. you pant, breath fanning against his ear causing a shiver to run down his spine.
you nearly salivate as you feel him harden under you, your mouth craving the weight of his cock on your tongue. it’s obvious his patience is wearing thin because his protests have stopped and he’s become much more compliant.
“josh,” you bring your voice just above a whisper. “please, i’ll do anything to have you in my mouth right now.”
his hand wraps around your wrist, roughly pulling you away from his aching hard on. he leans in close to you, whispering, “go wait for me in the bathroom upstairs.”
you don’t think you’ve ever moved faster, nodding your head before detaching yourself from his side. you quietly step around the boys on the floor with hushed, “sorry’s” and “excuse me’s” in reply to their grumbles.
“where’s Y/N going?” seungcheol asks, turning back to look at joshua with a raised brow.
the lie slips out of his mouth so easily, “ah, she had to call her boss. something about a file she forgot to turn in. i’ll go check on her if she’s not back in a bit.” when seungcheol nods, turning his head back to the television screen where the other eyes are, he lets out a silent breath of relief.
a few minutes pass with joshua twiddling his thumb, cock throbbing in his pants knowing you’re waiting for him just a few steps away. he finally stands, stepping away whispering a ‘be right back’ to which seungcheol and jeonghan mumble in response, too engrossed in the stupid movie to care about what the two of you are doing anymore.
he walks up the steep flight of stairs and into the guest bathroom where you’re sitting on the wide expanse of seungcheol’s countertop, gnawing on your bottom lip and swinging your legs back and forth. your head snaps up to see your boyfriend with a stony expression striding over to you.
“you’re such a fucking tease,” he murmurs, hands immediately finding purchase on your waist. “putting your hands all over me in someone else’s home, are you that desperate? couldn’t wait an hour till we got home?”
you nod your head, lips spreading into a cheeky grin, “i’m always desperate for you, joshie.”
your words come across as taunting, but you are beyond desperate for him. the heat pooling in the pit of your tummy and the puddle forming in your panties tells you so.
“menace.” he scoffs, squeezing the clothed skin beneath his large hands.
“you’re one to talk.” you flash a toothy grin at him, hoping off the counter and onto your feet. “now, let me suck you off before they realize we’re both missing.”
joshua hooks a hand under your arm, halting your attempt to drop to your knees. he leans in, voice low as his breath fans against your face. “as much as i'd love to have you choking on me, i'm impatient and there's something else i want more.”
your own breath gets caught in your throat, “josh–” you try, but you don’t get to say what you want before joshua spins you around and bends you over the counter, your heated cheek flush against the contrastingly cool quartz.
a whine bubbles in your chest when his hands pull your shorts and panties down in a single go. the chilly air hitting your pulsing heat has another sound slipping your lips, louder and clearly audible.
“shhh, you don’t want them to come up here and find you taking my cock, do you?” he mumbles, pulling his length out of his shorts and dragging the tip through your drenched folds. you gasp at the contact and he chuckles, “actually, that might be exactly what you want, huh?”
“josh…” you pant exasperated, wiggling your ass before him. “please, just fuck me.”
joshua feels his length pulse in his hand at the breathless version of his name, brain short circuiting at how pretty it sounds on your lips. every remaining ounce of patience withers away to nothing and he’s aligning himself with your drooling hole, pushing himself inside of you. he grunts softly, lodging his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent the likes of a needy moan from exiting his mouth.
your eyes screw shut and your mouth cracks open to let out the quietest mewl. joshua has always had a knack for gently fucking and stretching you open, but when he’s like this? at his wits end, worked up beyond belief, and undeniably needy for release? he’s near animalistic– forcing his cock into you in one go and gripping at your supple skin so tight that it leaves evidence of the action. an absolute force to be reckoned with.
but despite joshua’s rough gestures at this very moment, he’s very glad you decided to test his patience tonight because he honestly didn’t realize how badly he needed this till he bottomed out in your slick, tight pussy. nothing beats the feeling of your cunt struggling to the shape of his cock even though he’s fucked you a thousand times.
he throws his head back as he pulls out completely before shoving himself back into you, his tip nestling at your hilt for a few seconds.
“baby, you’re gonna be the death of me.” he says breathlessly, actively trying not to make a sound. when you clamp tightly around him, he delivers a sharp thrust into the spot that has your eyes rolling. “you’re fucking evil.” he grunts, his bruising grip on your waist unrelenting.
your palms lay flat against the counter and you use the remainder of your strength to push yourself up to look at him in the mirror’s reflection. “you love it,” you manage to respond, albeit in a strangled voice.
a lazy grin forms on his face, “you’re right. i fucking love it.” he agrees. he slams into you with more vigor, cock pistoning in and out of you. “i love it when you fucking test me.” he mindlessly admits.
you bring one hand to clamp over your hand, leaving the other pressed against the counter to keep you up. you muffle the moans that grow louder with every thrust, but some of them inevitably spill out anyway.
it’s music to joshua’s ears. he’s reveling in the way you moan, uncaring of how his four friends can probably hear you just downstairs. if anything, it spurs him on. he’s savoring the way your throbbing heat wraps around him, squeezing him so tight that he might bust prematurely. he’s loving every second of this and he can’t believe he almost turned the offer enticing offer down.
tears spring to your eyes as the fiery knot in your belly tightens. joshua groans when your pussy involuntarily flutters and he gives you a knowing look through the mirror.
“you’re close, aren’t you, baby? gonna cum all over me, yeah?” he asks hotly, words breathy and laced with slight desperation. his pride won’t let him cum before you.
you sob into your hand, nodding your head. “joshua.” the muffled version of his name has his cock twitching and he can’t stop the guttural groan from bubbling in his chest.
one of his hands snakes around your body till the calloused pads of his fingers find your sensitive clit. he rubs quick, yet consistent, circles into the hardened bud till your body goes taut under his.
“that’s it. cum for me.” he coaxes gruffly. he prays that the walls aren’t paper thin because your mewls– even while the sounds are muffled by your hand– mixed with the sound of his balls slapping against your heat are positively loud.
you soak his cock in arousal, specks of white flashing in your vision before you nearly collapse. your body goes limp as joshua continues to fervently thrust into you.
watching you cum has him twitching wildly between your spasming walls and letting out quiet, yet keen moans and groans of pleasure.
“gonna cum inside you and you’re gonna go back out there with all of it inside of you.” he grunts, thrusts growing more and more brutal. “gonna act like nothing happened with my cum inside your insatiable little cunt, got that?”
you nod, weakly clenching around him again and giving him a pathetic whimper.
his thrusts grow sloppy and inconsistent before he buries himself inside of you and spills his seed with a breathy moan. he pants, keeping his cock nestled in your ruined cunt till his labored breathing returns to normal.
after a minute or so, he pulls out of you and quickly pulls your shorts and panties back up to keep his earlier promise. he tucks himself back into his shorts and smiles at your fucked out face through the mirror.
“hope that satiated you,” he says gravelly. “next time you decide to test my patience, i won’t be so nice.”
you offer a throaty laugh, a lazy smile tugging up your lips, “i’ll be looking forward to it.”
© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.
#[ ⭐️: mutuals ! ]#[ 🍒: cherry ! ]#[ birthday bash ! ]#joshua smut#joshua hong smut#hong jisoo smut#seventeen smut#svt smut
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Ask and ye shall receive, so my take on this is that this is like 19-21 year old Anakin— possessive, jealous, emotional, horny horny horny, break the Jedi code to get my dick wet, falls in love hard, fast, and deeply—Skywalker, who went and caught feelings for his fwb. They were always firmly in agreement that it was "just sex," but it's never just sex with Anakin, he feels too much, so now that she's broken things off to get into a real relationship, he has to channel his all of his feelings into sex. It's not love, he just needs to fuck her one more time right? It's not jealously, he just thinks it's funny that he was fucking her on the side while she was dating this other guy. It's not possesiveness, he just knows he fucks her better than anyone else, even the man she fell in love with. One more time, just one more time, he'll make it so good, he'll channel every morsel of heartache into it, because if he can't have her he might as well make sure she can't forget him.
here's the version with subtle phone effects on the voice
https://soundgasm.net/u/AugustInTheWinter/M4F-Your-Ex-FWB-Leaves-You-a-Jealous-Voicemail
And here's the version without
https://soundgasm.net/u/AugustInTheWinter/M4F-Your-Ex-FWB-Leaves-You-a-Jealous-Voicemail-No-Phone-FX
Also disclaimer he doesn't sound exactly like Anakin, and the audio itself doesn't take place in the SW universe, but I get the feeling we're the same level of delusional and can fill in the gaps mentally. Anyway I hope you enjoy it, I'd love to hear your thoughts 💖
-👑
link 1
link 2
spoilers to the audio under the cut cos omfg these lines got me lookin like :o
☥ “… do you remember what happened next? .. i bet you do.”
☥ “does he know?” talking about fucking you after your dates with your now bf when you were unexclusive at the time that is my CRACK
☥ “fuck one more out of your system. you guy’s just started dating, it’s not even cheating. yea, baby, cmere,”
☥ “wonder if he thought about you during the week. overanalyzing every interaction. ‘oh, am i texting too much?’. maybe you weren’t texting back bcos you were begging for my cum.”
☥ WHEN HE SAID COCKSLAVE WOOOOOOOOOO
☥ “i cant believe i’m never gonna have that pussy again.” sounded so much like anakin’s voice i
☥ “but if you guys break up. you know where to find me.”
👑, i casually ate 5 pieces of pizza listening to this bcos ur right hot damn he does sound like anakin and i couldn’t pay attention to anything else. i was seeing the whole damn thing. usually i’m not into these, but i think bcos it was a “voicemail” and there was no awkward waiting parts where he was expecting u, the listener, to answer— i enjoyed it thoroughly. you know what i mean about those awkward silent parts?
your take?? golden much like your crown, bcos my usual premise for his one shots is that you’re his fwb, and it’s easier this way to keep things separate. but yes, those underlying confusing feelings he pushes away are always ones of “it’s just sex. i don’t love her. that’s crazy.” or “i’m not jealous i’m just aggravated i can’t be jealous when she’s not really mine…”
yet here he is. fisting his cock to the memory of you. the suns gone down where he’s staying, and no doubt you’re asleep. but he had to try to call you anyway, some time when you wouldn’t be around your new boyfriend. it’s just his voice that sends through, too dark to record a hologram for you. talking that filthy shit to you in hopes you’ll remember all the good you two had. come back for more.
i love what u had to say so much i want it tattooed on my forehead bcos it’s so frustratingly anakin to twist his own words and confuse himself in order to avoid the truth. also to fuck someone and then go ahead and fall the hell in love??? so on brand.
“yea i can keep my feelings separate….
no, actually i lied about that entirely. here are my feelings, they’re your problem now.”
specially bcos i imagine in this fwb relationship you took his virginity—
this was all over the place but i fuckig loveeeee the jealous ex fwb knowing he has no business talking to you like this when you’ve got a bf, but trying it anyway. bcos the chance of filling you up one last time is greater than the possibility of you refusing to talk to him because both you and him know the silent treatment won’t last.
literally ur invited into my inbox anytime love. i love ur mind
edit: i should say i do not condone cheating i just have an infidelity fantasy
#👑 anon#thanks for the msg!!#indy shoots the shit#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker audio#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker smut#anakin#star wars#hayden christensen#the clone wars#tcw#sw#x y/n#x f!reader#x fem!reader#x female!reader#infidelity kink#fwb#anakin skywalker imagine#donnie
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I KNEW IT!! ALL OF U GUYS WHO SWITCHED TO TEAM STEVE ARE FAKE HOES (affectionate❤️) ARI CAN DO NO WRONG😤😍😍ok that’s kind of a lie bc he was such a dick but still I think reader finally putting on a strong suit and telling him what she really thought knocked some sense into him🥳🥳 but I have many thoughts, see at first I thought that maybe Steve and Ari were half brothers? They shared the same mum and grew up really rich and they’re both so competitive but I don’t think that’s the case so next case scenario we meet Kira. And we know that she was bullied by a particular someone and I hate to think this but maybe Ari was that tormentor and he might have ignored her after having sex with her? Steve is upset with Ari for that and goes after reader and maybe he might have actually liked reader at first but then he remembered that his mission is to fuck Ari over and reader gets hurt in the process. If that were the case tho i think that might just give me the ick 🥴😭😭 and I KNOWWW that that’s what Ari did to reader but reader’s supposed to be special 😔😔ykwim?? Also Steve really scared me bc he has such bad anger issues my goodness 😒😒🤨 like even if they did end up together I see no way of it working out bc he’s actually fucking psychotic and men who take out their anger on walls or by yelling or violence or just without even trying to talk it out are a bad deal. Ari and reader are definitely endgame. I don’t think he lied about the break up bc let’s be real, there’s no way Ari would just show up with pretty pink flowers sitting on her bed if he didn’t mean it. And Wanda disappointed me, like plss what happened to sisters before misters. Also i love how in every universe Jake gets bullied by Steve 🤓🤓🤓Lmaoo 😭💀💀
Much love girlie!! Thank you so much for this chapter, I hope your phone charger works at every angle🙏🙏 this was soo worth the wait and I thoroughly enjoyed it,
Your biggest fan Xxx💋💋💋
-🦕
Omg dinosaur anon, your ask before i posted the fic was the last one before the fic was posted! The one where you firmly said you were in daddy Ari’s corner! Others flip flopped but there are indeed receipts of you sticking to your man! 🥹🥹
ALTHOUGHHH I’m really surprised people have done a total 180 and gone into Ari’s corner! I mean, I’d say Steve and Ari are kinda on the same level of terrible-ness right now! And it’s not like Ari didn’t force himself on reader right at the beginning of the chapter! And he didn’t stop whereas Steve did 😅😅😅 so I genuinely wasn’t expecting Team Steve people to move over to Team Ari! But you were always Team Ari bestie hehehe 🩷🩷
And mwahahaha yep!!! Many many people thought Steve and Ari were half brothers after the last chapter and I’ll admit i kept dropping hints about that (same eye colour, how they look alike) hehehe but maybe those were red herrings??? Bc if THAT is true then the Kira/Ari theory can’t be true🤔🤔🤔 so i wonder what is the truth…
And ahhhh Ari showing up with the pretty pink flowers at the end 🥹🥹🥹 that part was sooo cute i have to say!!! Hehehe AND I LOVED WRITING JAKE GETTING BULLIED BC IT LOWKEY REMINDED ME OF POYT BAHAHAHA
Bestie thank you sososso much for reading!!! ily🩷🩷🩷🩷
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the duke and i | m ; f
“The Duke of Hastings can show you much more than what you write of.”
oneshot | bridgerton! au | f2l! au | 32.3k words
s u m m a r y >> wishing to be a successful writer in the regency period seemed next to impossible for the sole daughter of a dead earl. with arising pressures from your mother to tie the knot, you turn to your dearest friend, hwang hyunjin, duke of hastings and the most eligible, scandalous bachelor of the season, for assistance. when he suggests the insane of idea of marrying each other to help each other, you agree to the proposal, unaware of how much the duke can teach you of the wonders of matrimony.
w a r n i n g s >> noble! reader, duke! hyunjin, hyunjin is a fucking rake, reader is a fucking nerd, also really really innocent, hyunjin is sosososo hot, a lot of teasing, foul language too, endearments, sexual tension, kissing, making out, corruption kink!!!!! corruption! fucking! kink! oral (f. receiving) fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe hoemies!!) orgasming on multiple occasions, there is fluff i promise, yes there is angst, also seungmin cameo of him being a drunk fool, and slight references to regency poets and writers here and there
p l a y l i s t >> here!
t a g l i s t >> @fivefootfuryanon @h0eforhyunjin16 @seoulicitae @linoscult @aliceu @hwangi @shipsaremything98 @babyyynatty @kabira @danyxthirstae01 @sunseokkies @lunefilm @severetimetravelnerd @minaamhh @starry--koo @ninjaleeknow @hyunjeonnies @inlovewithasa @titleisyettobemade @maedesculpaeusoubi @fleeingreality @healinghyunjin
a u t h o r ’ s n o t e >> help i am back from the dead to finally give you bridgerton! hyunjin!! big apologies for taking so long, and i hope you enjoy this whopper :’) thank you for the constant support, and hope you won’t miss me too much while i’m gone ;)
back to masterlist
YOU TURNED THE PAGE OF YOUR BOOK AS YOUR MOTHER REPEATED THE RULES FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME THAT EVENING.
“And remember,” she droned on, voice barely audible from the din of the carriage ricketing across the cobblestone. “You must dance with as many dukes you can get your hands on. Especially those worth over 10,000 a year!”
“As you say, Mama,” you got out, not particularly focusing on her orders, but the characters in your novel, bickering sweetly with each other. You smiled at the heated conversation, marvelling at how the two people did not realise their undying love for each other.
Unfortunately, your mother caught the slight happiness on your face, and simply had to stample it. “Are you even listening to me, child?”
You hummed out a cryptic answer, but that was not enough. “Stop reading that rubbish, ____!” she ordered, trying to seize it from your hands, but you were too quick, keeping it out of her range. “You have a bigger issue at hand here!”
“Leave me be,” you murmured, hugging the novel to your chest, unable to feel its leather due to your long gloves enveloping your fingers.
Of course you knew of the ‘bigger issue’ she would not ever stop speaking of. It was another matter entirely that you did not care for it.
“____, listen to me.”
Groaning, you directed your gaze towards your mother, who looked regal in a light golden gown, shawl enveloping her shoulders. “I know you would much rather have your nose stuck in those silly little novels of yours all day, God knows why.” She brought a hand out, planting it on the silk of your lap. “But that may have been excusable before.”
You understood where she was going with this conversation.
Your father is dead now.
Pursing your lips, you looked out to the tiny window, exposing the other carriages closing up to the huge pathway of the Buckingham estate. The clattering of horseshoes upon the gravel entered your ears, but still could not blank out the information that lingered.
There is no hope for single women in search of a career. Especially if they have no fathers or brothers.
As your own vehicle came to a rest, behind the dozens of others, you held onto your book, a footman opening the door and holding his hand out to your mother. She taking it, you followed suit, dusting away at the dress and tilting your head upwards at the destination.
The Duke of Buckinghamshire could rival the queen herself with his estate — the faded, grey-red brick was alight, orchestral music tuning outside and seducing the guests to enter. Hundreds of windows plastered on the towering walls gave a glimpse of the chaos residing inside, a few couples leaning a little too close behind fans on the sill and men screaming over card game losses. A flourish of men and women adorned in their finest attire rushed to the entrance, the gigantic double doors of the manor welcomed every guest, and you stayed close with your mother as the two of you made your way up the steps, and into the estate.
The interior was even more marvellous — golden chandeliers dangled from the vast, painted ceiling, like glittering diamonds as it shed light on the hallway, servants ready to take any apparel and lead the way to the ballroom. Marble floors glistened as your eyes skimmed over the crowd, looking for a specific person among the riches.
Your mother, finding the host of this ball, patted your shoulder as she began to hurry into the main hall. “Come, my child,” she said as she tugged you along, “I shall reacquaint you with Her Grace.”
Before you could object, the woman rushed into the ballroom, the music louder as the orchestra resided right at the end of the hall, playing its sultry tune to the dancers emerging in the centre. You wished to study the place further, but were turned to face a large duchess of overwhelming dress, red skirts flowing and feathers of the same colour jutting out from her updo.
“Ah, Lady ____!” the Duchess of Buckingham greeted with a shark’s smile. “Lovely to see you back in society. So soon, might I add.”
You had a right mind to say that it was against your wishes, but your mother chipped in, “You know how it is, Your Grace. When one has an unmarried daughter one can only stay in society until that is undone.”
“Rightly so.” the Duchess brought her fan to her chin, studying you thoroughly. “My sweet, you are a pretty girl.” Her eyes landed on the book you held. “But bringing a novel into a ballroom? Do you not wish to socialise at all?”
“Perhaps not tonight,” you said with as much disappointment as you could muster. “The Dashwood sisters will entertain me well enough.”
The Duchess could not respond as you bowed lightly and left your mother’s side, rushing past the other men and women of titles before they could converse with you. Your eyes skimmed the crowd, in search of a particular man, but the amount of guests made it incredibly difficult.
The dancing continued on, laughter ringing throughout the hall as you secluded yourself in a corner, next to the refreshments. The wondrous scent of cakes, pastries and other deserts seduced your senses, but you restrained your temptations as you sat upon an ornate chair placed beside the tables of food.
An unfamiliar lord, as if waiting for you to be at peace, walked over to your side, and you had to contain your disdain as you instantly deduced the motivations behind his coming over.
Reaching out his gloved hand to you, he asked the most irritable question.
“May I have the first dance with you, my lady?”
Brilliant. You looked up at him, plastering a tight smile upon your face. “I deeply apologise, sir,” you began, opening your book. “I am afraid my firsts are promised to another.”
Confused, he tried again. “How about the next dance, then?”
Why was he being so persistent? “I shall see,” you replied, not outright rejecting him, but hoping that he understood the implications behind your lack of acceptance.
Beyond puzzled, he hesitantly dipped his head in adieu, wondering at his rejection as he thankfully left you alone.
It was not like you were lying to him — your firsts for everything had been promised to another man. You were just fortunate enough to use that to your advantage.
Glancing over the crowd one last time in search of that particular man, you dove into the novel, hoping he stayed lost in the crowd for the night.
A sad smile exposed itself on your face.
The thought of Jane Austen gaining little acclaim for the writings in your hands crushed you. Maybe that contributed to her publishing anonymously, but still — everyone knew she was the lady behind your favourite works.
In general, there was simply no other form of joy for you other than reading the works of women. The soul of your gender had only ever been captured by the writings created by ladies of your age and mentality. It almost felt like you possessed a personal connection with them when you read these novels; It felt like that Austen understood you on an emotional level, a degree not many people could comprehend.
You dearly wished you could write such flawless books yourself.
A slight frown enveloped your lips.
As if your mother would let you. Or any man she marries you off to.
Progressing further into the novel, you became so engrossed that you did not notice another man walking to where you were isolated, the soft leather boots near silent on the marble floor. You wished you had perked up at his presence, but you did not realise him there until he got hold of your book.
And snatched it right out of your hands.
A gasp escaped you, features twisting into anger as your eyes followed the origins of such fingers, closing your novel with a snap!
“Of course I see you engrossed in a book rather than in another man’s arms.”
The roll of your eyes was inevitable.
Because before you was the Duke of Hastings, smiling like a pirate finding long-lost treasure.
Your answering grin was more a flash of teeth. “No man is ever as interesting as a good book.”
Clicking his tongue, he plucked a flute of champagne from the table next to you. In truth, Hwang Hyunjin, unfortunately, was one of the most fascinating men you had ever encountered. The greatest giveaway was his appearance — the lean, delicate figure, elevated by his gorgeous features. His eyes, the colour of bitter coffee, shone with mischief as the glass settled on his plush lips, tilting his head back so his lustrous golden curls fell from his shoulders.
His hair alone sent a shockwave through the city. The gentlemen in society spent their time in the barbers’ salons after his new appearance at Lord Lee’s spring ball, and although they aspired, they simply could not compete.
Your best friend was a sacred image no being could ever attempt to replicate.
Releasing a dreamy sigh, he propped the empty flute back on the table, dusting away at his cream-coloured tailcoat. The trousers of the same colour hugged his legs perfectly, tightening at his thighs. “Now, ____,” he began, holding out his free hand before you. “It is time for a human being to entertain you.”
You raised your chin in challenge. “And what if I were to say no?”
The scoff that escaped his lips dared you to try.
“You cannot escape me, angel. Alas, you have promised your firsts to me.”
Grimacing at the truth, you eyed the object he had seized from you, crossing your arms. “What about my novel?” you asked. “I cannot let you discard it in any old place.”
“How about this?” He took a step closer to you. “I will keep hold of it as we dance.”
“And how will you do that, blondie?”
The man narrowed his gaze at the term — a nickname you had established the moment he had revealed his golden locks to you, to his utter dismay. “Well, darling,” he mused, the hand hovering closer, “You are going to have to accept me first.”
First. Always him as your first.
Of course, you were never the one to refuse the Rake of London.
So, making sure you exaggerated as much disdain as you could, you grabbed onto his hand, feeling the determined tug of his hold as he led you to the dance floor. Finding a fairly empty spot among the dozens of other couples, he fully interlocked your fingers with his, snaking the book-held hand around your waist. Feeling the hard leather on your back, you let out a hum of approval as you propped your free hand on his shoulder.
“If you dare drop the book, Hyunjin,” you warned, digging your gloves further into the fabric. “I will tread on your boots.”
His answer was patting your prized possession behind your book. “You worry as if you don’t tread on them anyway.”
As the orchestra began, so did his feet, commencing the dance.
You saw his eyes wander, pausing at a particular image which made him smirk knowingly at you. “I think you should be worrying more about your mother.”
Fearful, you followed his line of sight. There she was, talking to the other countesses with smiles and frivolous laughter as she pointed to your general direction. Their sons pursued her finger, and as they caught sight of you, you gulped. A small chuckle huffed out of your partner. “I think I might see you engaged at the end of the evening.”
“Do not even utter such words!” you exclaimed. “I will either die a successful writer or die a spinster.”
“You do know you can be an author while you are married,” Hyunjin pointed out, turning you about the room.
Shaking your head at his statement, you countered, “That could not be further from the truth! Do you remember Lady Andrews?” An absent-minded shrug was his answer. “Well, she lives up north now, but she once confided to me that she wished to be a painter. Guess what happened to her?”
“I assume this is the part where you attack marriage.”
“Yes! Because her life was ruined after she was wedded to some wretched old viscount!” You shuddered depicting the details. “In the last letters she wrote to me, she spoke of her easels and paints being taken away from her. God, it enraged me when she begged the heavens for any kind of assistance to be rid of the man, but after she became with child, there was no escape.”
Sensing your fingers clenching onto him tighter, the duke instinctively patted the small of your back with your book. “I cannot risk such chains, Hyunjin,” you guttered. “I may not have much freedom now, but it is still better than none.”
Allowing yourself to be twirled by your friend, he brought you back into his arms. His silence, although heavy, was temporary, as his eyes settled on you. “Not every man wants to imprison their wife, ____.”
You did not bother remarking on the statement. “What about your own marital status?” you asked, changing the subject slightly. “Have you not found yourself a nice girl from the many you speak to?”
Hyunjin scoffed. “Speak to,” he parroted softly, as if in disbelief. “The ladies that I...merely speak to...their families are a nightmare.” The repetition confused you, but you persisted until he pressed his lips in an unamused line. “I just...do not want to marry these women. I do not feel any sort of affection for them.”
After a moment of quiet, you let out a huff of laughter. “Look at us, blondie.” You gestured to the crowds around the two of you, the chaos of it all. “Both of us are plagued by pressures of matrimony.”
The music began its path to the crescendo, instruments sounding louder with every second your feet moved in tune to your friend’s. “It seems the value our freedoms too much to sacrifice it forever.”
He did not respond, eyes lost beyond you and the entire ball. His fingers upon yours tightened slightly, feeling the drum of his hands reverberating upon the book latched on your back. You cocked your head slightly, studying his faraway expression, wondering what matter had gained his interest so deeply. It was not an easy feat to gain Hyunjin’s attention.
As the violins sang out higher, the man’s grip on you loosened, almost as he became transported in his mind, losing all grasp on the reality he shared with you. Only when you smacked him lightly on the shoulder did he blink back, staring at you with mild irritation. “Hello?” you said, waving your gloved hand over his face. “Earth to Hyunjin?”
“Ah, um...sorry, angel,” he muttered, looking away as he picked up the pace of the dance once more. “I was just thinking.”
“Of what?” you asked, and when you caught the hesitancy in his gaze you groaned at him. “Oh, do not tell me you are thinking of some poor lady once again!”
“No!” he began, but then he frowned, shaking his head. “Well, yes, I...I suppose I was thinking of a certain lady.”
You grinned. “God help her, then.”
There was another moment of quiet among the buzz of the ball when he spoke again. “____.”
Your stare remained on his face. “Yes?”
As you kept watching him, you witnessed a slight blush arise on his cheeks. “So, um...as you said, correctly, that we both highly value our freedom…”
Not quite understanding, you drawed, “Yes?”
“And of course, you know how we are the best of friends,” he carried on, eyes boring into you, as if you were some child who needed extra explanation. “You know, how everything I would ask of you would be in our best interests.”
A raised brow was your response to his rambling. “Hyunjin…what is the matter?”
He stopped, realising he could not meander any further. Sharp sigh escaping, he proposed a plan which had been haunting his mind since the dance.
“I think you should marry me, angel.”
The words caused you to still completely. Not a very wise decision, considering the dance was still in motion, resulting in Hyunjin stumbling forward into you. His tugging hands had you continuing, albeit with much more shock.
“What…” your insides threatened to retch out of your mouth. “What did you just say?”
“No, no, listen to me for a moment!” He clamped his lips together, searching for the right words to argue his point with. “Now I know marriage is something you have disliked—”
“Dislike?” A scoff. “I think you mean absolutely detest!” You saw him almost flinch at your snarl. “How dare you even suggest such a thing to me?!”
“I know, damn it!” he exclaimed, discomfort clear in his voice. “But if you would hear me out!”
“And what is this plan you speak of, Hyunjin?” you seethed, suddenly tempted to ram your heeled slipper into his boot.
The man looked much in need of escape from this situation, but he merely twirled you about once more, the climax of the music about to begin. “I am very aware of your hatred against matrimony, and believe me when I say that I share in your disdain. Have I not complained of the very ceremony when mothers from every corner of London came to insist for their daughters’ hands?
Grumbling, you nodded. “Exactly, so obviously I must have a good reason why I spoke of this matter.”
“Well, spit it out, then!” you snapped. “It already sounds outrageous.”
With the instruments chanting louder, he commenced. “We both have a dilemma with marriage, especially concerning the burden. Your biggest problem is the freedom being taken from you. Mine is having to live with a woman I have no feelings towards.”
He continued, feet moving quicker and quicker to the melody of the music. “But see, if we wed each other, then those problems would be solved instantly!”
You looked at him as if he was insane. “You do realise that I would still be married. My scrap of independence would be snatched from me anyway.”
“That would be true if you were marrying some silly old lord, who had no interest in you other than your titles.”
His hand on your back pulled you a little closer. “But you see, angel, you would be marrying me.”
Around and around, the two of you whirled, never stopping for a second to the music. “And you have known me long enough to know that I would never stop you from pursuing your passions.”
Higher the melody climbed, lost to your ears as your eyes widened.
His words rang through you with every note that escaped the instruments, sailing through the crescendo that washed over the ball. “You...you would let me write?”
Hyunjin furrowed your brows. “Did you think any different?” he asked, quite offended by your surprise. “Did you really expect that kind of behaviour from me?”
You did not hide your fears. “You may be my dearest friend, but you are still a man.”
That had him twisting his mouth into a scowl. His hands on you clenched harder. “You know me better than that, darling.”
You did, in fairness. The Duke of Hastings, leading you along this dramatic waltz, had been a constant in the entirety of your life. It was in these very balls that he had happened to stumble upon you, a child barely touching your second decade with a children’s book buried in your face. He, the exact same age but with much more excitement, snatched that book from your hands and made you leave your seat, chasing the boy around the ballroom till you burst into tears. After that rather unfortunate event, you vowed never to be in the same room as him, but you somehow ended up being his best friend instead.
Maybe it was because both of you had overbearing parents, driven by pressures of society and personal expectations. Or maybe it was the simple notion that after a while, you began to enjoy his eccentric behaviour and rather addictive smiles.
Perhaps it was better that way, too. For you could not imagine life without Hwang Hyunjin.
Your gaze was apologetic. “I do, blondie,” you supposed, but you steeled yourself once more. “But I have a condition!”
“And what condition would that be?” he asked, swirling you around and around, waiting for the climax to strike any second. The ladies around you were breathless, ecstatic, the gentlemen smug, but you and the duke had only business in your minds.
“Promise me that we remain the same,” you said, never leaving his sight when the music boomed across the ballroom, raw melodies dancing along with everyone within the four golden walls. His grip on you was firm, unflinching as he spun you across the marble floor one last time, dark boots never missing a single note as he nearly swept you away from the chaos of society. “Promise me that you and I will not change.”
And as the music drifted to an end, he finally slowed down. There was a moment of silence, heavier still under his stare.
“I cannot promise you that.”
His next words sent the strangest sensation down your spine.
“For we would not be friends anymore. We would be husband and wife.”
The ballroom erupted into applause.
You blinked back at the new noise, head darting at the couples beginning to clap at the ended dance. Although the others began to depart, the two of you lingered on the floor, hands still clasped.
His stare never faltered. “I cannot promise you that,” he repeated, slowly shaking his head. “Nor can I guarantee you continuity.
“What I can promise, though, is that I will not take away your freedom. You may write as much as you wish.”
It was then his hold on you eased, stepping away as he held out the book — never dropped from his hand, but firm as he brought it before you, a silent offer.
“What do you say, angel?” His gaze was impenetrable. “Will you be my wife?”
Among the lords and ladies, there was only you and him.
You and him against the world.
It was difficult, finding allies in a time you lived in. Reminded of your mother, you had a terrible feeling that only doom would fall upon you if you refused his help.
With good reason, too. No man could match what Hyunjin offered. No man would ever let you pursue your literary passions.
Not a singular male in this society would ever care for your basic freedom, other than he.
Another first, then.
So, in the middle of the ballroom, with your mother watching, you held onto the book, gripping it with a firm promise.
You dared not depart from the Duke of Hastings’ stare.
“Yes, blondie.”
You exposed a smile, a mocking quirk in your brow.
“A thousand times yes.”
THE WEDDING HAPPENED QUITE IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT NIGHT.
You insisted the wedding be small and intimate, for the ceremonies were already boring enough, but both your mother and Hyunjin insisted it be a grand occasion.
The two of you tied the knot at Fulham Palace, a most esteemed estate dating back centuries, adorned in the finest flowers and gifts of nature surrounding its red-bricked walls. You had been there often in your childhood, due to the place being situated at the heart of your friend’s lands outside of the city, but seeing it decorated for your own wedding elevated the speciality of this abbey.
Many of London’s lords and ladies, dukes and duchesses had rushed to your invitation, fawning over the festivities and seated impatiently on the uncomfortable seating to await your arrival. Your friends, some bridesmaids, prepared your hair and fixed your dress, ordering everyone to take their places and sounding the instruments behind the altar to begin playing.
In truth, the ceremony was a blur.
Because this whole occasion was merely a plan, you did not deign to remember the memorable details of each event, the people who came or even the words recited by the priest.
However, the one figure you could not forget was your best friend.
No, you could not forget his face as you walked up to him slowly. It was a sight you had seen him expose only a few times in his life, when he would observe a flower open its petals in the morning, or regard a particular enchanting piece of artwork in an exhibition, which he would refuse to walk away from. You had raised a quizzical brow at him then as you slid the ring upon his finger, but he only offered you a wink, expression fading when the priest addressed you both.
Of course, another little detail you distinctly remembered was the declaration. The words which sealed a woman’s imprisonment.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
Your gaze had darted to Hyunjin at that, finding him staring at you already. Meeting his gaze, you found the comfort you hoped you would receive.
The Duke of Hastings will not throw you into the cages of matrimony.
This very thought had relieved your nerves as you thanked every guest who congratulated you on the wedding, a few friends wiggling their eyebrows and wishing luck for the honeymoon. You waved them off, not really understanding the connotations, but carried on struggling at the reception until the sun had descended, and it was time for everyone to return home.
That very evening, the two of you set off for this particular honeymoon.
You bid your farewells to your mother, she much too emotional for your liking, and because Hyunjin had no parents to bid his farewells to, the wedding carriage was up and running before the moon had taken reins of the night sky.
Conversation never ran dry as you journeyed out of the din of London and into the countryside. Your destination was a couple of hours away, so rest was mostly out of the question as the carriage sped on, eager to get the newlyweds to their new home.
It was well into the night when you arrived at Hemingford Manor, one of the many estates Hyunjin had ownership of ever since his father’s passing. Engulfed within the lush nature of Cambridgeshire, the little estate exuded a comfortable sort of radiance which you would expect from warm fires of winter. The gardens surrounding its walls was a whole maze of trees, bushes and an assortment of flowers, heightening its already ancient regality.
The arrangements were made immediately, a small household welcoming you at the door as they took your luggage, unpacking everything as Hyunjin showed you around. It was extremely intimate, you noticed, every feature of any room possessing an unusual air well before your time, almost telling a story of theirs from centuries ago.
He brought you to the bedroom, the grand bed instantly in sight as it’s curtains were fully drawn around its wooden columns, bedsheets black and red with gold thread stitched in swirls at the hems. Two ornate chairs sat beside the windows, and a huge dresser sat opposite the bed, beside it the door to the en-suite bathroom. Oil paintings littered the red walls of his ancestors, noticing your friend’s portrait made in his youth. The entire room radiated warmth, and you found yourself easing completely in his den.
“Well, I guess I should prepare for sleep,” you began, shrugging off your coat, walking over to the chairs and settling it upon one of the arms.
Hyunjin blinked back, as if his thoughts had been interrupted. “Ah, yes, of course.” He gestured to the bed. “You can have this room. I can stay in the one next door.”
You looked at him as if he was insane. “Do a husband and wife not share the same bedroom?”
“Well—” the man put his hands on his hips. “Yes, but I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?” You stepped towards him, quite offended. “Have you forgotten when we would sleep in the same bed whenever I stayed at yours for the summer?”
He narrowed his eyes at you. ���We were children then, sweetheart. The situation is quite different now.”
“No, it is not,” you countered, matching his stance. “You were my dearest friend before, and you are my dearest friend now. That will always stay the same.”
That certainly quietened his tongue. He studied the stubborn quirk of your lips before sighing, unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Fine,” he quipped. “But I will not hesitate to throw you off the bed if you hog the sheets!”
You only offered him a scoff in response.
As the both of you began to ready yourself for bed, you opened your bag, making sure your papers were still intact. Counting up your drafts, you hummed in satisfaction before tying up the bag once again, setting it beside the dresser. Now, in your white nightgown, you went to the grand bed, slipping into the sheets.
Grabbing hold of Pride and Prejudice, you continued reading from where you left off as you waited for Hyunjin to be suitably dressed for slumber. You hoped he would take longer than usual, but he disappointed you, as the fool always does, by arriving much earlier, frilled-collared shirt all loose and trousers all slack.
The minute he saw you reading, he let out a groan. Leaning over, he snatched the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, trying to take it back, but he stretched his hand away from you, propping it not-so-gently upon his bedside table. “Oh my God, not that harshly, you oaf! The book could tear!”
“I do not care!” He jeered, sliding into the sheets, propping his elbow so his hand supported his head. He swiped his locks away from his face, showing his full irritation. “Having your nose in a book on our wedding night!”
“Mr. Darcy was entertaining me just fine,” you sniped, crossing your arms. “You just had to be a Wickham and ruin the whole experience.”
“If this Wickham is a gift from the Lord Himself, then damn do I accept his name with pride!”
His ignorance made you laugh. Sliding your eyes to him, you matched his position, snuggling further into the pillows. “What does one even do on the wedding night anyway?”
Hyunjin’s amusement faltered at this, plush mouth parting ever so slightly.
The Duke knew exactly what one does on the wedding night.
As he raked his gaze over you, you waiting patiently for his answer, he wondered whether he should answer you truthfully. Tell you that he should be towering over you, kiss those pretty lips until they’re swollen and spit-slick, and take off that nightgown and uncover you before the stars. It was only customary, but the thought had his insides churning.
So he decided completely against it, to his absolute disappointment.
“How would I know? It is my first marriage as well.”
“Yes, but you’re aware of the ladies, and the gossip.” You leaned closer to him, unaware that the man’s heart halted for a second at the mere action. “When the guests were wishing me luck on my honeymoon they kept chuckling like children, as if they were in on a secret I was excluded from.”
“To hell with the guests, angel.” Hyunjin patted on your pillows, urging you to put your head down. “Our joining was very different from theirs. We can make our own rules.”
“Finally, an intelligent word from you!” You declared, but yelped as he pressed his hand on your head, sending you to the cushions. “Too harsh!”
“As I said, own rules,” he reminded you, a smile curling his lips. “Now please sleep! It is well past midnight.”
You shook your head no, resting your head in your arms. “Come on, Hyunjin! We have the whole night to ourselves, and you wish to sleep?”
Yes, he very much did. Because if he kept looking at you, excited and giggly and adorable, the tight leash he kept on himself would snap.
He could not have his hands on you on the very first night. Not when you had no knowledge of what that meant.
“Well then,” he started, using all the strength in him to not curl a stray lock around your ear. “Tell me of your writings.”
His request had you face burning. “Never.”
The man made a face. “What?” He demanded, nudging you with his fingers. “Now you must tell me!”
“No, not now,” you hurried off, hiding your face in the pillows. God, the thought of your friend reading anything of yours made you sick to the stomach. “Argh!”
“But why?” he asked, a beginning of a pout etching onto his lips. “Do you not trust me, even though I have tolerated you for all these years?”
You turned to him again, furrowing your brows. “I do trust you!” You reassured him. “And I will tell you at the right time. Just...not at this moment.”
When you saw a frown develop on his face, you pouted at him, shame coursing through your bones. “To tell you the truth, Hyunjin, I am just embarrassed. It is so rough at the moment, so I want to show you the very best.”
“But I want to see everything,” he muttered. “Your worst and your best.”
“And you will see it!” You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his slender hand. The boy gaped at you at the sudden contact, but you continued. “You will be the first to see my drafts. I give you my word.”
The honest consolation brought the duke to a stillness. Hand enveloped by your fingers, he watched you await his reaction.
Being the first to see your private writings was truly an asset. A special secret he would never share to another.
“I wait patiently for that time, then,” he said, offering you a smile which melted your heart. “Now, I beg, sleep!” he added, bringing the sheets up to your chin. “I can tell you’re exhausted.”
Knowing your whining would be of no use, you looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Fine, you absolute bother.” You closed your eyes. “Goodnight, blondie.”
A small chuckle escaped him, never forgetting the hold you had over his hand. He regarded over your resting figure, curling ever so slightly next to him, and he just could not help himself.
Stretching out his other hand, his fingers tucked away your stray locks from your face, curling them behind your ear. The smile ghosted on his lips, and only then he sank further into the pillows.
“Goodnight, angel.”
MARITAL LIFE WAS NOT AS TERRIBLE AS YOU IMAGINED IT TO BE.
A couple of weeks had passed as this ‘honeymoon’ period progressed in Hemingford, and you were beginning to settle in quite nicely to the peaceful time. The birds never ceased to chirp joyfully around the manor, the nature which engulfed the two of you like another living being surrounding you, silent yet welcoming.
The scenery was perfect for someone like you, who was waiting for an environment like this to bring out the papers and put that inspiration to use. Hours rushed by as you sat under the trees beside the manor, writing away the scenes in your head as the maids brought you food. A few of those hours may have just been wasted on daydreaming, but that was the beauty of this entire situation — you simply had the time to waste in this retreat.
Hyunjin had been more than satisfactory: he always came to dine with you for all meals, never concluding conversation, and made sure to accompany you on walks around the lands. Everytime you would step into new landmarks he would instantly recall the history behind it, explaining the work his forefathers had done on the manor, and lead you along till the sun followed you two down the horizon.
You had initial fears. Just because he was your best friend before, it did not predict what his behaviour would be after marriage. You had heard many marital horror stories during the seasons of London society, and each one was worse than the last. Although you always knew the duke could never hurt you, there was no trusting the opposite sex. Fortunately for you, he rid those doubts from your mind, and maybe you began to have faith in the future.
There was, however, a downside to your new husband.
“Why will you not show me the drafts?!” he whined for the last time, following you into the house. Rolling your eyes for the millionth time, you took off your bonnet, handing it to the maid nearby. “I have waited long enough!”
“I do not have to explain myself to you!” you argued back, grabbing your skirts as you rushed up the stairs, Hyunjin right at your heels.
The man was much too quick, overtaking you instantly and barring you from stepping into the hallway. A groan was your reaction. “Let me through!” you ordered.
“Tell me what your book is about.”
“I am not telling you anything!”
He curved closer to you, blond locks sliding off his shoulders. “Why?” he hissed, and you stayed stubborn as his hand on the bannister snuck closer to yours. “What have you written in there that is so exclusive?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, crossing your arms.
It was not like you had written an anti-Duke of Hastings manifesto. Once again, it was just your humiliation — although you loved to write, there was absolutely no way you could ever willingly show him your work as of this moment.
You could not have your best friend be disappointed by your creations.
So you turned completely on your heel, descending down the stairs.
“Hey!” you heard the man shout as you stepped into the entryway, picking up your book. “Where are you going?”
“To talk to the trees!” You looked over your shoulder, making sure to give him a glare.”Because I know they will not argue back!”
Before he could speak any more, you thundered out of the house, taking Pride and Prejudice with you.
An enraged sigh escaped you, walking rapidly into the maze of hedges as you tried to stroll the anger away. When these silly arguments occurred, you began to wish that you had never told him of your work in progress. You could have just admitted that you liked to write, and feared that any other men would rob you off that hobby.
And on the last day of your honeymoon, too. Maybe you should have told him you were illiterate instead.
Settling yourself upon the white wooden bench, right beside the forest, you opened up your book, gritting your teeth still as you immersed yourself in the world of Elizabeth Bennet. Although progressing, your thoughts drifted to another man who did not reside in the pages, and you found yourself even more aggravated.
Damned the beautiful bastard. Of course you were going to tell him of your writings. Why could he not simply wait?
The thought had you rigid on the bench as you read on, the mere wind and trees your silent company as you read away your rage. The duke did not come searching for you — it was for the better, because if he tried you would have ran away from his stalking figure.
Night ascended from the horizons, and as the sun retreated so did you, back into the manor, book at your side. You nodded to the guards who opened the huge doors for you, letting you inside as you went straight for the stairs, void of the man who refused to let you pass.
Dim lights illuminating the way, you walked right up until your bedroom door greeted you, and when you saw Hyunjin, leaned back in the ornate chair as he looked out of the window, you paused at the entrance.
Although your steps were quiet, he turned his head to you. His features held a veil of unreadable emotions, cemented by the slight down curve of his mouth.
You scowled at him as you stepped inside. “I am not showing you the drafts.”
He closed his eyes, nodding. “As you wish.”
You removed your coat, a brow raising. “I won’t show them to you tomorrow either.”
“As you say.”
Another brow joined its partner. “Nor will I show you them the next week.”
“Of course.”
What was this sudden change? “Hyunjin, are you unwell?”
“I am perfectly adequate, darling.”
The endearment had you frowning further. “Fine,” you muttered, knowing he was hiding something from you. “I will be inside, taking a bath.”
You were about to enter the bathroom when his voice halted you.
“____?”
Looking over your shoulder, you answered, “Yes?”
The man let out a soft sigh, crossing his leg over the other. “I...I wanted to say that I apologise for my persistence.”
Now that was a statement you were not expecting. You opened your mouth, but closed it, thinking it was for the better, and instead leaned at the doorway.
“I…” he clasped his hands. “I realised that as I insisted and shouted, I was becoming the very man you wished to avoid. That is the last thing I want for us. If you are uncomfortable in showing me your writings, that is fine. A husband, most of all a best friend, should respect that decision.”
His eyes lifted to yours, pinning you with a fierce stare. “I will not persist with you anymore.”
You found yourself unable to break this stare as you, too, locked your hands together, biting your bottom lip at this turnout.
The duke had never apologised for anything.
In the many years you had known him, he would always stand by his decisions, even if they turned out to be disastrously against his favour. His stubbornness refused to let him submit to the other, and you had watched him have his boney backside beaten almost every week for it.
Hearing the plea for forgiveness had certainly changed that perception.
You took a few steps toward him, willing your hands at your sides as his gaze followed.
Was the denial really necessary? The poor man only wished to take a glimpse into your mind. Was that too much for him to ask for?
No. You had to stay upright. So what if he apologised? He should have! The man had caused a ringing in your ears from the arguing.
But now, even though the entire time your body repulsed at the thought before, you found yourself reaching for your satchel.
His eyes did not leave your hands as you brought out the papers, dumping your bag beside his feet. You held them out, knowing there is no way out of your actions.
“Here.”
Hyunjin looked at the papers as if they were hemlock. “Why are you showing me your drafts?”
You pursed your lips. “Because I want you to eat them.”
“I have no appetite for paper this evening, I’m afraid.”
The attitude had you warning, “Do you want to read it or not?”
He regarded you with an adorable puzzlement. “Darling,” he started, and the word had you raising it closer to him. “You do not have to show me. I cannot have you forcing to do something which you do not—”
“You’re not.”
He paused. Kept that beguiling stare upon you. You carried on, “Hyunjin, I need you to understand that it was never anything personal. It was me just...not really believing in myself.” Gently putting the small stack of papers in on his lap, you locked your hands behind your back. “But I gave you my word on our wedding night. And the day you proposed, and the day I realised you were a dear friend to me.
“You will be my first for everything. Especially in the goals and dreams I treasure the most.”
The duke’s eyes enlarged, darting to the drafts settled on his thighs and then to you, capturing your lip between your teeth in nervousness. He wished ardently that you would break that habit, for if you kept at it he might just grab your face and continue for you.
My first for everything. The declaration had his stomach turning in on itself. He knew he had been there for many of your firsts, but saying it out loud was something else. Saying it out loud meant you were aware of that fact as well.
So unimaginable, that you did not even realise the impact you had on him. So unbelievably innocent, eyes searching for his answer, desperate for consolation, when he had completely different matters in mind.
By God, if you did not turn around and leave him, he would let the control on him falter.
“I...I need to take a long bath, Hyunjin,” you said, finding his stare unusually penetrating. “By the time I am done you would have finished reading half of it.”
Turning, you stalked back to the bathroom, looking over your shoulder as you took a step inside. “No sweetening the feedback.”
You did not wait for his answer as you went inside, shutting the door.
Both of you, not realising that the other was doing so, let out a quivering sigh.
Something was amiss.
There was this...tension. You did not know the origin, but you knew it was there, underlying and creeping closer. Hyunjin was unusually quiet. Compliant even. A small part of you feared that maybe you should not have given him the most vulnerable possession in your care.
Deciding to fill the hot water in the bath yourself, you got on with your task, filling buckets of water in the copper bathtub till it nearly overflowed. Once done, you got rid of your clothes, and stepped inside. You instantly relaxed as the warmth of the water soaked your skin, calming your nerves, which were running high moments before.
As you progressed with using the soap, you distinctly heard the pages turning in the room next door. Scrubbing yourself, you hoped that the man was enjoying your words, or else you were never leaving this bathtub again.
At one point, you leaned your head back, closing your eyes as the water, now mixed with the scent of roses, lapped lazily against you. Your thoughts, once again, wandered to the man a wall away from you — what was he thinking? You wished you were there beside him, witnessing his reactions to the actions, dialogue, romance you had added in there.
Maybe that was the real problem. The couple you had added in this story had a strong relationship, but because you yourself had never experienced any sort of star-crossed love, you did not particularly know how to portray the raw romance. Still, you made sure they held hands in the ballroom at chapter 49. That was the pace in every other book you read, anyway.
After what seemed like a whole night later, you finally got out of the water, drying yourself with the towel hanging beside the tub. Grabbing your white nightgown, you donned the light dress, keeping it as loose as possible as you tried to dry your hair further, opening the door.
When you looked up, you saw the duke, head down, scanning through the papers with a face so focused it worried you. You made to say his name, but his hand shot up, silencing you. He did not even glance at your figure, bringing the hand back to swipe a finished page.
A little smile appeared on your lips. Is he...invested?
Does he enjoy your writing?
Another ten minutes of observing him, and he put the last paper down.
Slowly, he tilted his head upwards, turning to where you stood. His face expressed something cryptic — unable to decipher the emotion which swirled beneath his dark, glinting eyes.
He then let out a scoff.
“Darling, I need you to sit.” He gestured beside him, on the edge of the bed. “Right here.”
Perplexed, you obliged, settling yourself on the soft sheets, watching him heave off his chair, the last piece of your draft still in hand. He began a pace back and forth across the room, shaking his head as he turned at every end.
The pacing began to concern you. “Hyunjin, is something the matter?” you asked, hands grabbing tufts of your nightgown. “If you really wish to walk then you have all of Cambridgeshire waiting.”
“Tell me, dearest,” he said, still thundering across the room. “Remind me why you did not want to show me your drafts.”
That was an usual first comment. “Umm...because I was embarrassed about my writing?”
Your answer made him stop. Whirl to your direction.
“Ah, yes!”
His features twisted into anger.
“Such poppycock!”
You blinked back. “I-pardon?”
“No, you shall not be pardoned!” he exclaimed, pointing at you with the stash of papers. “Not when you have written something like this!”
“Hyunjin, what do you mean?”
The man nearly ripped his hair out.
“____, you have written a bloody masterpiece!”
Your entire body stilled.
“I...I did what?”
“Wrote a masterpiece!” He swiped through the pages, lighting up at each word that passed his gaze. “A bestseller! An award winning novel!”
A smile worked its way onto your lips. “You...you really think so?”
Sighing out in exasperation, he set the papers upon the desk as he began to lose his initial anger. “How could you be embarrassed about something so beautiful?” He put his hand on the gold chair, leaning onto its head. “Your descriptions were lovely, the characters are perfectly imperfect. You have outdone a lot of the writers in circulation.”
Your shoulders sagged a little — almost as if you had been carrying a heavy burden, and this man had taken it off of you.
You made sure he saw your joy when you said, “Thank you, blondie.”
Seeing the pure contentment upon your face had your friend looking away, eyes narrowing to the plans once again.
“There was, however, one thing which needed improvement.”
The setback had you straightening once again, eager to hear. At least he was not sweetening it fully. “Go on.”
“As I was reading through, right till the end, I noticed a lack of very important details.”
That was quite strange. “A lack of?” you asked, when you were so sure that you had added too much of everything.
“Yes.”
His fingers drummed against the velvet of the chair. His other hand tightened upon his hip.
“I noticed that there was a deep lack of...passion.”
An incredulous look was your reply. “Passion?”
“Yes, passion. Desire.” He jerked his head towards the papers. “I hardly saw any of those emotions in the book.”
This new information was certainly quite worrying for you. “But I do not understand,” you started. “My whole novel is based on this relationship, of the love that blossoms and grows—”
“I understand that, darling, I really do,” he said. “I know what you are going to say.”
The drumming continued. “But where is that residing in the chapters? Where is that physical lust implied in the characters?”
Lust.
You had heard of the word before. Heard of its implications, yet never grasped the weight of its meaning. Was it just another form of longing?
If only your mother had given you an education on this side of love.
“What do you mean...lust?”
Hyunjin raised a groomed brow. “What else could I mean, angel?”
The way he voiced that question, that endearment, had you parting your mouth, unable to say anything. You tried to speak, to say something to ease the tension which came slithering back into the bedroom.
“I...what were you expecting? From the relationship.”
Curling his locks behind his ear, his gaze became obscure. “You spoke of forbidden love, of...of a coupling which should not be occurring but happened through the fate of the universe. Is that right?”
When you nodded, he carried on. “See, I did not sense that from their exchanges. Their emotions are tame, chaste. An innocence which cannot be tainted.
“Now where is the fun in that?”
You dared not break his gaze. “What is that ’fun’?”
His eyes seemed to darken. “That ‘fun’ in the relationship is physicality. Where is that in your novel?”
He took a step towards you. “Where are the unbreaking stares? The curious hands, aching to caress another’s? Where are the trembling breaths, the lust-stained sighs that fan lovers’ lips?”
The duke had you craning your neck back as he looked down at you. “Where are the kisses, my darling?”
You gulped. “K-kisses?”
“Yes, kisses,” he repeated softly. “Lips enveloping lips, tasting your inner workings? Travelling to your neck, your collarbone...places which cannot even be whispered in polite society?”
Each part he mentioned had goosebumps pricking at that certain place.
The bastard still did not stop. “Where is that passion, ____? Where is that forbidden love, which only makes the heart burn wilder?”
And as he descended before you on his knees, delicate hands settling on your lap, you had a feeling swirl up your sides which had never struck you before.
“If I were the man in your book, I would not be tame with you.”
His eyes offered a new, intimidating darkness. “Because if you were my woman, then I do not think I’d control myself. The moment I’d catch the innocence dancing in your eyes, I’d have waltzed it away into my shadows.
“Only God could save you from my hunger, then.”
Silence descended upon the two of you.
One waiting for the other to speak, and the other unable to form the words to do so.
The moon had illuminated your husband, one side of his face glowing like a celestial being, the other side basked in darkness. How strange, when he had compared himself to it just a few moments before.
You seemed unable to look away from him. His gaze, always intense, now had become so penetrating you wondered whether he could glance at your soul, quivering from his feedback.
Improvements which you still did not quite comprehend, despite the implications.
Somehow, he could see it on your face. “I have a feeling you still do not grasp the idea. Is that correct?”
A half nod. “I…” God, speak! “I just...I have never understood it, Hyunjin.”
Your head dipped down, darting at the plains of your hands. “You asked me about lust, and I simply cannot answer because I do not know. I have never experienced such emotion.
“Hell, I have not witnessed a single action that you spoke of. How could you expect me to write of desires I have never even felt?”
This.
This was unchartered territory. This was a terrain you had not explored with him.
Yes, he was your best friend. But one does not talk of such...dangerous conservation when your best friend happens to be a male — a complete rake, at that.
It seemed as if the rake, too, was thinking the same.
His legs, a force which had never let him down, threatened to buckle under him. His mouth opened, only for silence to answer you.
Lord and all His subjects help him. He did not think he could contain it any longer.
And as his eyes exposed you, vulnerable before him, he only knew of one thing — one fact within this ocean of uncertainty you swam in.
He would jump into the waters for you. But not to haul you out to safety.
No, the duke would drag you down further, with him as your sole saviour.
Or even your destroyer. Your fated undoing.
For the Duke of Hastings will absolutely ruin you, body and soul.
“Hyunjin?”
A blink.
A singular action, dragging him back to dark, dark reality, even sweeter than his fantasies as it sat before him, shy and wide-eyed.
An innocent reality all for him to defile.
“Yes, angel?”
You tried not to shudder at his lilting whisper. “How am I to be helped?”
The man did not even think of the possibilities, to your surprise.
If only you knew, how long he had kept them hidden for.
“How about...how about I assist you?”
Confusion washed over your features. “And how would you assist me, Hyunjin? You have never written a novel.”
His answer was a chuckle, revealing slight glimpses of his teeth as he stood.
“That is true, yes.”
Sitting down beside you, he planted his hands behind him on the bed, leaning into the position.
“But what I can provide aid for is the one feature you lack in your writing.”
His voice right behind gave you a fright.
“Pure, raw lust.”
Looking over yourself, you watched him reclined in ease. Your speech was uneven as you said, “And...and how will you help me with that?”
“Simple, my darling.” A pause, looking you over. “I shall provide you with examples. Show you what truly happens between a man and woman when all they yearn for is each other.”
He saw the further questions in your gaze. The questions you dared not voice out loud, perhaps dared not understand.
Smirking, he sat himself up, eyes never leaving yours as his hands encircled your own, bunched up in your dress. As his fingers brushed against your linen he felt his skin go aflame.
“If, of course, you would let me.”
Tilting your head slightly upwards, you sensed a foreign warmth envelop your face, burning at the sight of your friend studying you like an empty canvas, begging to be filled.
Perhaps you were an empty sheet of paper, waiting to be painted with guidance by the master. Maybe that master was beside you all along.
“What will you do to me, Hyunjin?”
There it was. The question which may have been his drug — his purest form of opium.
Because when his hands travelled upwards, sliding to your face and imprisoning you with his stare, he knew he would become addicted.
“Not only show you what real passion looks like.”
A shame he did not care for his well-being when you were so fucking tempting.
“But show you what real passion tastes like.”
The shuddering breath that left you caressed Hyunjin’s lips, and he debated throwing the whole course of patience out of the window, and ravage you this second.
But he would never do that. Not unless you asked him to.
“May I?” He whispered, eyes heavy lidded. The need for an answer was beyond rationality.
You looked at him one last time before you let your heart answer for you.
“Show me, Hyunjin.
Those three words were all it took for the duke to close the distance.
Close the final space which had stayed so irritably prevalent, when he brushed his lips against yours.
The first thought that came to mind was how soft his mouth felt.
Plush lips, moving against yours with the utmost gentleness; as if testing the waters, familiarising their new surroundings. He did not know what to expect, which was a thought that shocked him. Had he not bedded half of London to know the ins and outs of how a man should pleasure a woman?
Still, his vast knowledge could not prepare him for you and your shy acceptance.
His fingers cradling your jaw, satisfied, he delved in a little deeper, the weathered leash beginning to loosen as he found his opium upon your mouth.
You attempted to follow his actions — letting him lead the kiss as if it were the many dances you had partaken with him, treating this as yet another waltz you both had to share. The issue was, dancing never brought you the unnerving thrill that these ministrations did.
Hyunjin’s kisses were quite indescribable.
When he tilted your head with the pressure of his fingers, gaining the fullest possible access to your lips, he thought his heart would burst from his chest. So compliant, you were, trailing after his actions. His pleasure heightened when he felt your heartbeat race beneath his fingertips, which resided just underneath your jaw.
He would have been a happy man if he continued the kiss forever, but he forced himself to break away, remembering that this was your first, that you were not acquainted with the dance of passion. His gaze pried over your features, and a famished smile nearly broke upon his face.
He found you shivering beneath his grasp.
Lips glistening, courtesy of his own, eyes wide and skin warm, there was no other reaction which the duke would have savoured more. A fearful excitement resided upon your beautiful face — almost as if you were scared of yourself, of the feelings he ignited within you.
The man was not far from his prediction. You were positively terrified.
Terrified of the fire-like emotion that threatened to turn your stomach in on itself. It was an extraordinary sensation — as if you were engulfed by some unknown, mysterious fire, and Hyunjin was the one sparking it to life.
You parted your mouth, trying to speak but to no fruition.
And him, whose eyes grew darker at the lack of words, curled his fingers to your jaw, smirking. “I can hear your heartbeat from here, darling.” A singular finger tapped against the spot, where your blood pumped quicker than usual.
Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears too, making you all the more aware of the situation — you may not know what these feelings were, but you needed to find out.
It was not entirely your fault. A writer must do their research, after all.
Painfully swallowing the lump in your throat, you made yourself speak, asking the questions which haunted you. “Is...is this all?” you got out.
Hyunjin slanted his head a little, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You know…” your hands instinctively reached for your lips. “What we just did. Is that all that happens?”
The hesitation had him chuckling, the shaky exhale caressing your mouth. “Do not pretend that you were unaware of kisses,” he mused, and you desperately tried to look away.
The slight grip on your jaw had you unable to do so. “And as for your question…” the smirk remained. “We have barely touched the surface.”
His other hand skirting downwards, it grazed along your collarbone, tumbling to the free space at your side. It settled itself among the bunched linen, holding you steady.
“I can show you more,” he whispered. “If only you wish it.”
Face burning further, you closed your eyes, letting your head dip in acceptance. You could not even think at this point — you were curious. Beyond intrigued, wondering whether these feelings would swell up more, take you into another reality farther from your imagination.
It was a slight inconvenience that Hyunjin shook his head.
“No, my darling,” he said softly, the fingers on your jaw sliding to your chin. “I want you to say it. Say you want more.”
You had not the slightest idea what this ‘more’ was, but you sure wished to discover — judging by the ravenous gleam in your husband’s stare, he wished for you to find out too.
“Fine then, Hyunjin…” one last pause ensued. “I...I want more.”
The said-man let a small groan escape before capturing your lips again.
He knew he was being selfish — almost pouncing on you like a man starved, grip on your side tightening as he quickened his pace, slowly prying your lips open.
When you felt his tongue skim along the seam of your mouth, you found yourself opening up to him, shocked at the sudden enthusiasm. Your hands, unoccupied, fumbled at your lap, unsure of their use until Hyunjin, his own hands leaving you, held onto them.
With precise direction he placed them on his shoulders, all the while slithering his tongue inside. You found yourself gripping onto him harder as he explored you, he himself nearly transcending at your yielding. A groan threatened to escape, but was drowned out by his mouth, closing over yours and kissing you insane.
His tongue worked wonders within you, swirling along with yours, desperation increasing with every time you complied with his actions. He opened your lips a little wider, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, and you could not contain your moans any longer. The whimpered replies had him tugging on your lip, slowly sinking his teeth on the swollen flesh. Your fingers could not grasp harder, the lock around his neck tightening with a growing need.
Is that what it all was? Urgency? What was this need for?
You hoped with all your heart that Hyunjin would know.
He pulled away from your mouth, and with gasped breaths, he got out, “Angel, may I—” His thumb caressed the corners of your lips, trailing down to your neck. “May I kiss you here—?”
The second the ragged yes escaped, the man’s mouth began peppering little kisses along his finger’s trail, leaving your skin burning with every touch. Dipping his head into your neck, he tugged down the neckline of your gown, settling on your collarbone. The hem descended to your shoulders, threatening to fall at your waist.
His kisses did not falter, even when you gasped out his name, a soft cry which only grew when his teeth grazed at your skin. Pain bloomed at the touch, but the feeling did not last long, replacing it with his tongue lapping up the mark. The dull ache remained, yet forgotten as he created a pattern of these stinging sensations.
“____,” he whispered upon your skin, a hypnotic chant which only had you whining in response. His mouth skimmed right up to your ear in frantic. “I...I must show you even more.”
You stilled completely. “E-even more?”
Hyunjin’s eyes did not leave yours as his hands travelled down, holding onto your sides. Slowly, he tugged you forward, your body merely following as he laid you down into the bed. Your heart hammered as he towered over you, the loose shirt revealing a glimpse of his chest, and his locks, drooping down to your face.
Your hands held onto the sheets. The gesture had him melting, so endeared by your little scares. What would you know of what will follow?
His idle fingers began to roam. With every shuddering breath they journeyed further below, until they found the hem of your nightgown. He held onto the fabric, slowly sliding it upwards.
You hissed slightly at the cold that welcomed your bare legs, but it was overshadowed by his warm caresses, every touch causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Or something of the sort. That was what it felt like to you, anyway, with how out of place the reaction was.
You asked him as his fingers paused, right on the edges of your upper thighs. Confusion, mixed with an overwhelming sensation, washed over you with every phantom touch. “What are you—” you paused as his hand tugged your legs open, ever so slightly. “What are you to do with your fingers?”
His answering gaze had you praying for the Lord. “How about I show you instead?” The contact lingered. “I promise it will feel wonderful.”
There was no other answer you could offer him. A hasty nod could only suffice as, with that signal, the duke braced himself for what he had been dreaming to do.
Nothing prepared you for the feeling of his fingers past your thighs.
Your breathing hitched as they teased against your entrance, running slowly along your slit. He collected the arousal which pooled at the apex, mouth agape from your reaction.
How you were drenched for him.
The very sight, and the prolonging idea, had the man exhaling sharply. Even now, he could see in your gaze — you were unaware of your own responses, your body’s hurried joy as it begged for his fingers to delve in further.
Tonight, he would show you a glimpse of his fantasies.
His one finger slipped inside you, and you felt the world turn.
Slowly, so painfully slow it slid between your folds, completely halting your breath as you gaped at him. He held your stare with a dark intensity — no doubt there was hesitation on his part, scared his control would shatter, terrified he would submit to your desire and break you under his hold. Already the thought was so appealing.
Still, he kept his fantasies at bay, holding your face like a fragile artifact as he delved deeper. A soft moan escaped your lips, and he cocked his head, realising it was a whine you tried to contain.
“Angel, please,” he murmured, and when he paused on his journey you looked at him in desperation. “Don’t be shy with me.”
And then, grip on your side tightening, he began to pull his finger out.
This time, it was impossible to restrain.
A heightened gasp shuddered out of you, gripping onto his shirt. How could an action so simple be so electrifying? The idea could not make any sense, but it did not need to when it brought such pleasure. You pulled on the fabric harder, elevating Hyunjin’s joy at seeing you so bothered.
“Yes, just like this,” he cooed, repeating the movement. This time, though, he quickened the pace as he began peppering little kisses upon your face. Each brush of his lips was like fuel to the fire below, growing angrier with every leisured plunge. “Say it all for me.”
You did not need to be told twice.
Your whines grew as he quickened, foreign waves of mysterious origin overtaking your body. You feared his singular finger might be enough to do something drastic, but then his thumb started to wander. When he found your clit, he created a slow pattern of circling the bud, causing you to squirm beneath him.
Seeing him above you was all too much — you needed his lips upon yours, needed to be lost in his tongue or else you would lose your mind. “H-hyunjin,” you stammered out, and the dazed expression had him reeling. “Please...please kiss me.”
He nearly moaned at the request itself. There you were, asking for his touch. His delirium spoke for him, letting his delusion a little astray. “But darling,” he muttered, leaning his face closer to you. “How can I watch you like this if I simply kiss you?”
Releasing his finger till the mere pad remained, he smiled at your panting. “How will I be able to watch you when I do this—” and brought two digits inside you.
He felt your walls pulsate around him, and he revelled in your reactions, the groans that followed with his delving. So, so compliant. So wonderfully welcoming, when all he did was touch the surface.
Your speech was all muddled, broken words and half-prayers as his fingers worked within you. As if that was not enough, he curled them inside, and there, he brushed against a spot which had you seeing stars. You could hardly stay still under his grasp, squeezing your legs together.
“Fuck,” he slipped out, and the curse itself had you fisting your hands in his shirt, damning the turnout if it were to tear. “Sweetheart, it’s okay to let go, keep those legs open.”
Further fastening his labour, you found yourself developing the most intense feeling in your gut — like a dark, swirling ball, aching to be released. You tried to raise your head to kiss him, but he only did the same, you barely missing him.
“Hyunjin!” You gasped out, and the said-man knew that no orchestra could compete with the music you tuned for him. Grabbing clumsily onto his collar, you tried with meak strength to bring him down. “Something...it’s wrong, something is amiss—”
You cut a glance down, where your cunt was more than occupied with his digits. “Wh-what am I feeling?!” In a frenzy you stared at him again, tears pricking your eyes. “Why do I feel—”
The duke only shushed you, a gaze akin to affection being offered to you as he trailed a slender finger upon your cheek. “Oh, sweet angel,” he whispered, voice a little breathless.
“That is me keeping my promise.”
And when he finally swooped your lips in a heart-wrenching kiss, fingers never stopping below, you let the overwhelming feeling take over. The aching was freed, and you broke away with a cry as you released onto him, spilling onto the sheets.
Hyunjin commenced a trail of sweet kisses upon your face, slowing his work inside you. Lethargy washed over you, and you barely sensed him slip his fingers out until the hollowness of your cunt welcomed you in his stead.
Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watched him as he brought the two digits to his parted mouth, sucking softly on the skin. A low noise hummed out of him, and you found yourself growing warmer all over again.
He caught you looking at him, and he slipped his fingers out with a pop!
“Truly divine, you are.”
Skin burning, you quickly shimmied your nightgown down, earning a chuckle from your husband. “That was…” you began, and you did not know why the thought made you so flustered.
“Do not worry your pretty mind, sweetheart,” he reassured you, flicking your nose. “Your release was answer enough.”
That only had you all the more embarrassed. “Hyunjin?”
His eyes rooted to yours. “Yes?”
“Was this…” you paused, trying to find the right words. “Was whatever we did...everything? Was this the end?”
Despite the two of you only finishing now, the duke had his gut turning in on itself all over again. This time, he let patience take over. He had been rewarded more than enough.
He still answered with a hushed tone, offering you another vision. Another promise, which he intended on fulfilling even further.
“Of course not, angel. This was merely the beginning.”
THE NEXT MORNING SAW THE TWO OF YOU IN LONDON.
It was a much more gradual journey than the previous one, with all the time in the world to go back to the duke’s main estate, where he was called to work after weeks of leisure. You, first indignant, were now devastated to leave Hemingford, a place which became a special haven in such a short time.
But of course, one could not neglect their husband. Not when that husband would never let you leave his side.
Hyunjin was all eye-smiles in the carriage, hands refusing to let go of you despite your complaints. You did not particularly mind, but when he resorted to kissing you with the curtains drawn, your levels of embarrassment nearly broke the scale, amusing him to no end.
There was no stopping him, though. After taking the first heated step with you, the vault of restraint in his senses had cracked. All this time he had proceeded with caution, but your heightened whimpers of the night before had undone the cellar of his desires.
Once again, you had experienced another first with him. A first which he wanted to conquer for a long, long time.
Unfortunately, business called, or else he would have stayed a few weeks more. Damn the men begging his presence, when he could have explored every layer of your innocence in that manor, revelled in ruining you of your ignorance.
He thought he had time to show the world of pleasure.
Alas, the fantasy he created in his Manor had to fade.
Reality crashed upon the two of you unfairly quick — there was not a moment’s rest as you arrived at Lansdowne, the official estate of the Hwang family nestled in Mayfair. It was more an enchanting palace than a home, every room, furniture and painting like pieces out of a fairytale. You could never forget the first time you entered, knowing that despite your previous comforts, you were to be spoiled in this abode.
The unfavourable situation which turned out from this was that your husband was not present to spoil you in his royal den.
As the days began there, with banality taking over, the two of you barely had any occasion to spend some time together. Business sunk its claws into the duke, refusing to show mercy. All the days and most nights, he managed tenants on his lands, heard their complaints and attempted to provide solutions.
The problems arose while he was away tending to you in your getaway, his subordinates incapable of handling the work he did so effortlessly. It frustrated Hyunjin to no end, when he had to learn these strategies since his adolescence, yet his employees, far older than him, could not manage to use his funds efficiently.
Although this meant time was sparse together, you did not mind so terribly. Having solitude meant having opportunities to write, and so you threw yourself into your drafts. You revised the more intimate scenes between your couple, and dared write down your first experiences onto the page.
Even documenting the occurrence had your stomach fluttering — when he kissed you delirious, going as far as slipping his fingers inside you. It felt like a delusion in your mind, scared that you merely created such events through your imagination, but you could not not make up such passion.
Hwang Hyunjin had shown you a very tangible fantasy.
It was these memories that kept you company as you penned down your world, a couple thousand words being scrawled on paper everyday. You wished to talk to him about taking matters further with your novel, but whenever the two of you had the occasional dinners you could not bring yourself to address the subject. He was already so occupied, and dumping your own tasks on him would devastate you
So you secluded yourself into your room, and only wrote.
Few weeks into Lansdowne, and you began to miss him.
You did not know how this feeling entered, but the moment it crawled into you it was all you could endure. It was not uncommon for you to miss your dear friend, even before marriage, but now that you lived with him, the situation changed. During the afternoons, when you burned your mind from the constant writing, you longed for his presence; conversation never ran dry when he was around, and the maids who offered refreshment were hardly an alternative.
Your longing, unfortunately, did not stop there.
Ever since that fateful night, you failed in shaking off the ever present tingling. His midnight eyes, akin to the devil, haunted you in isolation, and the sheer image of his full lips quickened your heartbeat. In fact, when you wrote a similar recount into your writing, the incident came into your mind so clearly you had to abandon the task altogether. The familiar wetness pooled at your core, and you cursed the heavens for being weak.
His fingers had an everlasting impression on you.
That was a whole other problem — you and Hyunjin, because of his tightening schedule, hardly had any opportunity to explore further of what happened. Teasing words and stolen kisses were your only alternative, and you dared not ask of him to do more. Your cowardice may have been one of the main reasons, but he was another factor of your silence. The man came home every night, so exhausted that even requesting to have him satisfy you brought you shame. He was much too tired, and you could not be selfish.
So you did not bother him. Let him leave every morning, and imagine what would be if he did not have so many responsibilities.
However, another couple of weeks later, and the need became unbearable.
Your every thought and feeling was replaced with this...this urgency. It was horrifying to you, never having been forced to such extremes, but it preyed on your mind like a beast. Meaningless tasks turned into burdens, sleep was lost, and your very heart threatened to burst from the intuitions. You wished to stop, but once you remembered that phantom touch, it was over. There was simply no alternative.
During those times, you could barely look at Hyunjin, offering you tired smiles as he disappeared into your chambers. You figured he did not notice, or else you knew he would make a comment on your worsening state. Truthfully, you were overjoyed that he was too exhausted to see you like this. If there was any chance he was aware, that alone would kill you off.
But this desire, too, was slowly withering you away.
Even as the sun began to descend, birds singing softly beyond your intricate window, soon to be drawn to a close. The library was bathed in gold from the light, painting your face as you attempted to write the last of the chapter, but to little success.
You figured your creativity had had enough of being stuck in your bedroom, so you opted for a change of scenery, but the parasite was at hand, churning just below your stomach. Even with the thousands of books settled all around you, radiating their knowledge, the ache remained, dull yet present. You scowled, pushing the pencil harder in your hand.
The poor lead broke suddenly, making you flinch. “Argh!” you let out, throwing the object upon the desk. Useless — you were so utterly useless, reduced to a mold of nerves, growing with each image that passed in your head.
Cursing, you put your hands in your lap, looking to the gardens beyond the window.
There is nothing you can do, ____.
The need arising, you slid your palms back, enough so they rested over your core.
A dangerous thought entered your mind.
That’s not true. There is one solution.
Your eyes widened.
Of course, there was always that alternative. Glancing down, you involuntarily pressed your palm to your clothed cunt. Already a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you suppressed any sound with a hand to your mouth.
You cannot. By God, you cannot do such a thing.
Especially in a bloody library.
Turning around, you glanced at the bookshelves guarding your figure, stretching to the painted ceiling. As an aspiring writer yourself, you cursed yourself for suggesting to do such an action in your temple, with the place your church and the books your Bible.
However, when the ache begins to creep over, your morality seemed to fade at first flight.
What a shame your brain was not to be listened to.
Shooting up from your chair, you nearly fell to the plush carpet, leaning against the desk. Gradually, you took a step forward, and another, searching for any secluded area among the lines upon lines of populated shelves.
“Where is it, where is it,” you mumbled to yourself, passing the Greek Literature aisle, moving further into the darker section. When you spotted the end of the library, you turned to a dim lit section of Romantic poets. “Aha!” You exclaimed, finding the place you were searching for.
This particular section has been a favourite little hiding place for Hyunjin. Recalling the memories, you always caught him here whenever the two of you played hide-and-seek, or when to comfort him here after a particularly harsh spat with his father, the late Duke of Hastings. Above all else, he found himself isolating here whenever he wished to read by your insistence, finding solace in the words of Blake and Wordsworth, picked up on the shelves.
You, on the other hand, did not come here to read.
Backing up against the wall, you let yourself fall to the lush carpet. There was barely enough space to stretch your hands apart, feeling the wall on one side, and the bookshelves with the other. It was small trouble, though, as space was not the priority — simply distance.
Thankfully, you had time — dinner would be served in about an hour, and the servants had been told not to disturb you as you ‘write’.
It was now or never.
“Lord forgive me.”
Grabbing onto your skirts, you raised them upwards, along with your petticoats. After undressing your pantalettes, your white stockings came into view, ending right above your knees, tied with baby pink ribbons.
With your underwear gone, you felt the cold caressing your dripping cunt. Immediately your fingers rushed to swipe at the arousal that pooled onto the carpet, a hiss escaping your lips. Then, moving higher, you felt the swell of your clit, and began to rub circles, so, so slowly — just like Hyunjin did, exactly like his fingers did.
The ripples of pleasure crashed over you with every swipe of your fingers. It was the most wonderful feeling, experiencing it after a span of weeks. Yes, somewhere in the back of your rational mind, you knew you looked pathetic, whining softly from your own efforts, but your desperation took over; you had been patient long enough.
Your desire, however, had no such moments to waste with such gradual rubbing, so pent up inside you that it forced you to quicken your pace. You prayed that no one heard you, for the sobs that flew out your mouth increased, playing and teasing your clit till it nearly numbed you.
The real bliss poured out when you plunged two of your fingers into you, going deeper and creating that identical pace, relished before. You closed your eyes, and images came flashing back — the midnight eyes returned, along the malicious grin, and suddenly it was not your fingers that pulled and pushed into your cunt. Your mind dared to conjure up Hyunjin, his dark laughter ringing in your ears as he curled his fingers into you, reaching a spot which had you seeing the seven heavens.
So far along, you did not care if the others heard. With your concoction before you, fingering you delirious, you called out his name. A panted “Hyunjin!” squealed out of you, the word laced with madness. How you begged for release, when it was actually in your control.
And maybe you would have come all over your fingers at that moment. Maybe that was a fantasy that would have been rewarded to you if reality had not been so unkind.
For it was reality that arranged a presence turning to his favourite hiding spot. For it was cruel, cruel reality, bringing at your secret aisle the very man who caused your current frenzy.
Hwang Hyunjin.
Sweet Duke of Hastings, who thought to surprise his wife and return home early, so he could join her at dinner this evening. Curious Duke of Hastings, who found the servants informing of your ‘work’ in the library, and so walking to you himself, expecting the distant sound of sighs and scribbles on paper.
Shocked Duke of Hastings, when he heard his name instead, being moaned at the end of his library.
His pupils dilated, gloved fingers hanging on the edge of the shelf, he grew flushed in his attire as he watched your near undoing. You whimpered his name over and over, as if that was your only comfort among the heavy sensation in your gut, the pleasure which numbed your senses. He trailed down to your sopping fingers, clumsy in their rhythm.
A shuddered breath escaped him.
It was then he let out the most self-satisfactory scoff.
That moment, you opened your eyes. Widened when they settled on your husband, face exposing an aghast expression as he crossed his arms, gaze never leaving the mess between your legs.
He had the audacity to grin wickedly.
“Oh my, sweet angel. What do we have here?”
Your entire body stilled, fingers frozen inside of you. Every ounce of strength, which tried to make you speak, abandoned ship.
Noticing clearly, a splutter of hellish laughter spilled from his lips. “All this time,” he began, feline amusement dripping in his voice. “All these lonely, lonely weeks, I was so guilty.” His boots made a soft thump against the carpets, grey longcoat fluttering after him. “I kept thinking, see, of you, so alone and unentertained. Stuck in her chambers all day and night, burning out her brain with her words. Writing of my examples.”
He unbuttoned his overcoat, pinning you with his gaze. “Little did I know you were impersonating me.”
You almost cried with shame.
“God, I doubt I can call you angel, again,” he drawled, tossing his woolen jacket behind him on a nearby chair, pulling off his gloves.
He uncovered his slender hands, continuing, “Not with your fingers still in your cunt.”
That nearly had you in tears — you yanked your digits out, making to push your skirts down in a hurry but were dutifully stopped by his raised voice.
“Pray, darling,” he inquired, and you could taste the ridicule as he stood before you, crouching down. “What do you think you are doing?”
He did not give you time to answer as he grabbed your hand, half-soiled by your endeavours. “Why have you stopped the show when the intended audience has arrived?”
All these questions messed with your senses, squeezing your thighs together as the high, threatening to undo you before, began to fade. “Hyunjin—” you said, but you were interrupted, as, with his hand, he lifted your trembling figure with ease. Legs unstable, you let him steer you until your back hit the bookshelves.
“Another notion puzzles me too.” His golden locks skirted along as he cocked his head.
“Why did you scream my name when you touched yourself?”
Your mouth parted, remembering your incessant whining. The thought caused your entire body to burn up, your husband taking instant note. “Come on, now, darling,” he taunted, grip on your hand tightening. “We both know you are more than capable of speaking.”
It was surprising how you managed to speak, despite the phantom touches.
“I…” you paused, embarrassed that you tried to tell him the truth. “I do not know...damn it!” you hissed as you saw a phantom smile accompanying his hands. “I had this...this need, Hyunjin. Everytime I recalled that night, I…all I wanted was some sort of...release.”
“Oh?” he got out, and he had to cage you with his hands for his own stability.
The thought of you, withering in pleasure — pleasure you did not realise you yearned for — had his mind transcending any sense. There he was, stirring the cauldron of desire bubbling in your veins, your face twisting in pain from your lack of knowledge.
He had to pray for forgiveness for his mentality, but at this moment in time, he only knew of one religion. You, and your wishes, whispered in panted breaths.
“If that was what you felt, then why did you not tell me?”
If it was not for his hand gripping yours, you would have covered your face. “How could I?” you whined out. “You were so busy! I could never be selfish enough to put myself before you.”
His heart nearly burst from his chest. “My darling,” he hummed, stroking away the flyaways upon your face. “Do you not realise that I put you before myself?”
Your confusion had him continuing. “If you had told me that you had such...needs, then I would have damned the work to hell.”
Suddenly, you wished you were the most selfish person in the world.
“Every wish, your every want…” his eyes promised the world. “It is mine to bring it to you.
“So tell me, angel.” His fingers lingered on your face. “What do you want?”
Alas, that fated question.
What you wanted was to tell him without doubt that you wished for his fingers inside you again. What you wanted was your husband fulfilling his promises, showing you more, more, more until you forgot your name from the sheer force.
You hated how your speech could never voice it out loud with confidence.
The man noticed your face warming beneath his touch as you stammered, “I-I want—” pausing from his fingers on your cheek, “Hyunjin, I want you to…”
Your pathetic attempts had him chuckling. “So innocent to me still?” He asked softly. “Even when I caught you moaning my name like a whore in the night?”
Whore. Sane you would have slapped him for saying such a thing, but the arousal that pooled at the term meant completely different. He was aware of your reaction, causing him to be compliant.
One day, he would voice it out of you. One day, you would say from your own mouth that you wished for ruination.
“How about this, ____?” he started. He brushed a small kiss upon your forehead, heart fluttering at the chaste action. “When you want me to stop, voice that out instead.” The next kiss was upon the tip of your nose.
You thought up a worrying confession, but when you saw his expression change, you realised you blurted it out.
“I don’t think I would want you to stop, Hyunjin.”
The molten lust in his eyes nearly undid you then and there. He offered you a low, satisfied growl, wondering how in God he could ever resist you.
“I don’t think I would be able to, angel.”
He did not say any more, swooping down and enveloping your lips with his.
You instantly accepted him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer, closing your eyes and letting him paint an artwork of desire upon your mouth. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but your confession cracked the glasshouse of desire he had tended for so long.
His tongue was inside your mouth at once, and you relished its desperation, letting it explore all of you as his hands wandered down, your own sliding into his locks. Softer than all the silks in the land, you already felt the moans bubble within your throat, partially escaping with every parting. His heavy breathing in your ears only wished for all distance to fade.
There was so much of him, all at once — you had shared kisses with him after that fated night, but you knew those kisses were the sole form of affection he could offer in those lonely weeks. The way he bit your bottom lip, soft and then a little harder, had you losing all sense.
It was such things that made you realise how much you missed his presence.
Tearing away from your lips, he gave fevered attention to your neck, trailing his kisses down your skin, open and wet and restless. “Hyunjin—” you began, but then you gritted your teeth at the pain of his suction upon your throat. His hands pushed you further into the shelves, and a few books began to fall at the force.
“H-Hyunjin!” you exclaimed, eyes darting frantically to the classic editions that scattered on the floor. “W-wait, not here!”
The man blinked in his haze of desire, looking at you. “Huh?” he got out, spit-slick lips parted, his whole body raising from his breaths. “Why not?”
“The-the books, they...!” you tried to explain, but with the stare he offered, you quietened within moments. “...Hyunjin?”
His answer was his hand taking your wrist and turning from the secluded corner. He steered you out of the hiding place, pace hurried with each step he took. Head whirling to every aisle, he cursed under his breath, finding the spaces between the shelves filled only with books.
“What are you...searching for?!” you demanded in bated breaths, but then he let out a satisfied noise as he found an open aisle, the first line of shelves in the library.
In front of those shelves sat a large, wooden step ladder — no doubt there to grab onto the higher sectioned novels. A knowing smirk enveloped his features as he led you to where it stood, backing you against it.
A small yelp escaped you as the man hoisted you upon the steps, you holding onto his shoulders as he slithered his arms around your waist. “There,” he said, tilting his head slightly upwards. “Now you shan’t worry about your novels falling.”
“Easy for you to say!” you crowed, already feeling unstable, despite sitting on the sixth step. “This time it might be me falling!”
“Well then,” he began, tugging your legs apart till he fit snug between them, “You just have to hold on tight, don’t you?”
Oh, you were going to kill him.
Leaning forward, he halted your breath, brushing his lips across your neck. “I can stop if you wish,” he whispered on your skin. His hand rested over your chest, where it rose unevenly under his palm. When you did not answer he looked up, climbing so he levelled with your face.
You felt his heavy breathing fan your lips. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”
His eyes saw right through you — with the way a malicious smile began playing at his lips, he knew his answer long before you registered it yourself.
Head shaking hurriedly, you murmured out your response as you grabbed onto the lapels of his longcoat.
“Never.”
You pulled him down, desire taking control of your senses as he undid you with his lips. His hands, sliding down, hitching your skirts higher than before, bunching it at your waist. Never giving himself a break on your mouth, he peeled off his coat, tossing it beside the ladder. Only when you broke away to take a panted breath did he begin his descent — kisses on your neck dragged down further, along your clothed abdomen until he parted, shuffling the fabric from between your thighs.
An uneasy fuck flew from his mouth — your glistening cunt welcomed him again, the recollections of the last honeymoon night crashing back.
In truth, the events had not left his mind. The memories of his fingers playing with you, inciting those sinful sounds were the few things which brought him a high in the dark days of work. You, drenched by his efforts, dripping for him, and only him, to take care of you.
Seeing the sight before had Hyunjin restraining his cock. Fuck, he thought, leaning closer till his face was a mere inch from the center. He did not comprehend the consequences of this; what if he went crazy? A part of him was distinctly aware that if you were heavenly around his fingers, then you with his tongue would transcend reality.
Hands holding the back of your knees, he slung your legs over his shoulders, securing his fingers upon your thighs. With one last inhale, he closed the distance.
Nothing compared to his tongue running along your slit.
A hiss left you at the contact, tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as he explored the edges of your cunt. He was teasing, being too leisured for your liking — he could not help himself, fearing he would rush the process and end it too quickly.
He wanted to be inside you the entire night.
Your incessant whining had him lapping up the wetness, gripping onto your legs a little harder as he delved in further, tasting your arousal and letting out a satisfied noise. Leaning your head back against the higher steps, your hands carded through his hair, his locks a comfort for the slow torment below.
When his tongue dove upwards, circling your clit, an obscenely loud moan tumbled out of you. He was so exceptional, so good at what he did to you, licking away at the bud as if he had not been served for days. Your whining was more encouragement for his antics, increasing his strokes with a slight curve to his lips.
What reduced you to choked gasps was an old prospect from the first night — his digits, leaving one of their spots on your leg and slipping one inside your folds. As if his tongue was not enough, that singular finger created a rhythmic pattern of plunging in and out of you.
You thrashed under his grip, hips rolling giddily along with his work. Even the ladder began to shudder, jutting slightly back and forth from your desperation. Although the squeeze on your thigh was an indication to calm down, you ignored it, too intoxicated by the thrusts of his tongue to realise his signal.
He made you realise as he paused his ministrations entirely. You nearly shrieked at the lack of his presence, but then you looked down, and found his lust-hazed eyes staring at you.
“H-Hyunjin?” You mumbled, voice raspy from your previous moaning.
The slick glazed on his lips brought you another level of high. “I need you to stay still, darling,” he voiced, slender hand gripping onto your thigh. “You even have the poor ladder shaking.”
You willingly nodded your head, knowing you were lying through your teeth. If he continued with his tongue prodding at your clit, then you would start trembling from the thrill.
“I don’t think I believe you,” he mused, blowing on your drenched cunt. Seeing you shiver had him chuckling. ”I need you to be still if you want true pleasure, sweetheart.”
An ironically chaste kiss upon the edges of your thigh gave you more reason to grip him harder. “I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.”
As much as I am.
Good, sweet Lord.
Maybe you will never move an inch again.
“K-keep going,” you whispered, near frantic as you played with his locks. “Please.”
The please at the end was exactly what he needed before he pounced into you again.
His tongue was relentless — a second finger joined in the venture, and the fullness of him was back again, with an intensity that only promised satisfaction. You knew it was coming, with the heaviness in your lower abdomen.
You needed that release. Whatever it took, it was the only image in your mind, taunting you of the relief that came with it. With the hard grip of his locks, your husband sensed it straight away, quickening his pace with both his tongue and digits.
Damn Hwang Hyunjin to Hell, for he was so unfairly good to you — licking your clit to a frenzy, touching a certain spot inside you, over and over again. He never missed, never faltered his labour as the burden inside you intensified. You sang his praise in your stained mind, hoping he could see the joy on your face.
“Hyunjin—!” You whined out, stealing a glance at his head, moving back and forth slightly between your legs. “It’s—the feeling, the one before—!”
You did not have to say anything else; his free hand, wrapping fully around your slung over leg, made you realise of his awareness. The feeling was at its peak then — one more of his stripe along your cunt, and it was over.
Fortunately for you, the Duke of Hastings kept his promises.
One little nibble of your bud, plunging in his two fingers at the same time, and it was useless. Your release came rushing through, cries escaping your lips as you undid yourself onto his mouth. All sense of surroundings abandoned you: you were drifting away, like a kite losing its roots, further and further as his fingers slowed. You feared that you would lose all sense until his tongue lapped up the release. His hums of satisfaction anchored you back into the library, hands at your hips as he heaved upwards, watching over your dazed expression.
You saw his every move, licking the remnants of your release off on his face. He then hovered closer, locks more sweat slick as they caressed your skin.
“God, angel,” he rasped out, holding your chin with his stained fingers. “You…I can’t...I can’t get enough of you.”
He stole a kiss upon your mouth, but your shy whines caused him to go deeper, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. “Shit,” he whispered as he parted from your lips. “You must stop me, ____. I cannot take you all at once, I…no matter how much I wish, I cannot...fuck, I cannot taint you.”
And maybe it was your husband, admiring you like a poet would his muse. Maybe it was something more than the dull ache inside you, the flutter moving to your heart which had you saying the next words.
“But I...” you paused, every panted breath heavy. “I never…never asked you to stop.”
Hyunjin stilled completely before you.
His eyes were too much, but you did not stop the confession pouring out. “If...if there is something more, I…” his thumb on your chin hardened.
“I want to know. I want to see it all...even if it may taint me.”
There it was.
The thoughts which haunted you for the past few weeks. You wanted more, even if that meant that this more would one day be satiated. You wanted to see the end, the final stage, because you knew deep down, your best friend was still holding back from you.
You saw it in his eyes. You saw his unadulterated desires, dark and fearful, yet you wanted to be surrounded by his darkness.
You wanted Hwang Hyunjin to break you like he wished.
Sure enough, he saw it all over your face too. His jaw turned slack, and he debated slamming his head against the shelves to make sure he was not dreaming.
He did not think his wife would let him have a moment’s peace.
“God help you, sweet angel,” he murmured, glancing at your dress — more specifically, how to get you out of it. “I don’t think I can leave you innocent any longer.”
You parted your mouth to speak — Hyunjin was about to interrupt you, perhaps take you to the final stage of your passions.
Everything was about to descend when you heard the shrill knock on the door.
Your heart jumped out of your dress, the man above you catching onto your shock. With an unexpected burst of anger, he turned his head towards the large doors and screamed, “Who the fuck is it?!”
The servant at the opposite side flinched at the tone of voice. “Um, there is a guest in the living room, Your Grace!”
That did not help his case. “Then tell them to piss off!” The Duke demanded, holding onto you a little harder.
“But Your Grace, he urgently requests your presence!” The boy insisted. “We tried telling him of your...distractions, but he would not listen!”
Hyunjin looked like he was about to tear the manor down with his orders, and you widened your eyes, holding onto him. “It’s alright,” you reassured him, and possibly reassuring yourself too.
He glanced at you, and the frenzied stare he pinned you with shut you right up. “Fuck,” he cursed, running an angered hand through his hair, the other not leaving your side — as if you would fade from his grasp.
You feared it too, in truth, that he would disappear. The thought plagued your senses, much more than you would have liked.
“To hell with that bloody guest,” he growled, leaning into you again. He pressed his forehead against yours, cupping your face with his hands. “To hell with everyone.”
“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, relishing the contact. “Hyunjin, it’s okay…” you held his agitated stare, wondering why you were convincing him to go when you wanted him to stay. “I will be here, you know...when you come back.”
He searched your gaze for confirmation, needing to affirm your words. When he found the suppressed desire within, he could not help himself.
He planted his mouth upon yours, finding solace along the lines of your lips — he loved how your every kiss was a comfort, a sweet little sin all for him to enjoy. In honesty, he could spend an eternity basked in your warmth, but alas, reality was a villain in his tale.
Forcing himself to pull away, he ran a tender thumb along your cheek. “I shan’t take long, angel.”
You nodded tiredly, in time to the man holding your waist as he settled you back onto the carpet. Lingering for a few moments, he made himself leave your side, grabbing his coat and donning the heavy fabric. He satiated his desires with a glance towards you, dazed off with your hands clinging the ladder railing still.
A small smile catching onto his lips, he turned on his heel, promising murder to whoever disturbed the moment he dreamed of. Opening the door, he looked back, catching your stare.
The smile upon his face grew wider. A smile so sincere, so loving, with all the world’s miracles nestled upon his pretty mouth. It was a smile that you had never seen before, with all your years beside him — seeing it now had you wishing you could bottle the image and carry it with you forever.
It was a smile which had you so in love with him.
Love.
It was then your heart dropped.
Hyunjin, unaware, closed the door behind him, leaving you to your revelation.
Instantly, you clutched at your chest, heartbeat racing.
In love.
You were in...in love with Hwang Hyunjin.
“No,” you slipped out, mind rushing a mile a minute. “No, no, no, no—”
You gripped the railing harder as the hand on your heart trailed down, shivering from the phantom touches of your husband.
Hell, of the husband that you had fallen for.
One would think love was an entity writers would idolise — your own inspirations searched and indulged in all kinds of love, but you always accepted that an emotion so intense was not for women like you. Love was a rarity. Love was unconditional, strong and vivid and all-consuming.
Love, undoubtedly, was a weakness.
Your breathing turned ragged, hands reaching to clasp your head in panic.
I will be here...when you come back.
Your promise to him, before he left you to your hysteria.
Why would you ever say such a thing to him?
“Oh, no,” you kept chanting, turning over to your side, away from the door and towards the window, where night was small comfort to your nerves.
You could not let yourself succumb to a man. No matter how dear he was to you.
And if that meant staying away from your husband, then so be it.
IT WAS UTTER AGONY AVOIDING YOUR BEST FRIEND IN EVERY PASSING MOMENT.
Perhaps you should have given reasonable explanation to why you decided to distance yourself, but of course, reasonable explanation was never your forte.
Hyunjin, damn him, tried to make more effort in returning home earlier, despite his business demanding his presence with every passing day. You were almost powerless under his tender gaze, but you knew that you could not be swayed.
As if you had not fallen under his spell already.
Your only distraction was your novel, so you did just that — even with your husband in the manor, you closed yourself from everyone, writing furiously on your desk as if committing to anything else would cost your life. The flushed skin did not shy away as you wrote of your second experience, changing the events slightly so they fit your story. The memories tried to torture your mind, but you refused to submit. You could not fall for Hyunjin.
You could not fall for a man.
The duke did not realise of your avoidances, simply thinking that you evading his more heated kisses, his dangerous touches, was a result of your fatigue. He understood, knowing you worked your brain as hard as he. He was upset, obviously, when he craved your touch every waking second. For you, though, he would do anything. If that meant waiting, he would do that too.
However, your recoiling could only last so long. Your best friend knew you like the back of his hand.
He figured something was amiss when he decided to grace you with his presence one evening, expecting another show of your moans behind the door, only to have the distant scribbling of ink against paper. Entering inside, he awaited your surprise, your unadulterated joy, bracing himself to have his arms engulfed with your hug.
In reality, he received a mumble of blessing, and the continuing scribbling.
He was not trying to coax you into giving him affection. He was well aware of how hard you worked on your novel, but that day, he dearly wished you would abandon your project for just a night. Just one, single night, so he could show you how much he missed you every single moment.
Poor, unfortunate man. How was he to know that your affection was the one thing you could not give him?
Another few days into the silence, and Hyunjin had had enough.
He called to you one dinner, ushering the servants away with the flick of his hand. The dining room became all the more huge, like a lush vault, perfect for a sweet interrogation as the velvet curtains drew to a close, and the eyes of a hundred paintings focused on you. You swirled the soup with your spoon, refusing to look at him.
“Darling?”
Damn him and his endearments. “Hmm?”
The man, too, seemed to be unsure of how to talk of the subject. “Is…” he put his cutlery on the table. “Is everything...alright as of late?”
Your gaze remained rooted to your food. “Of course,” you said. “Why would I not be?”
There was a heavy silence in the room, new and uncertain between the two of you. Your friendship with the duke had never been filled with such quiet — why were you creating such awkwardness around him?
You already knew the answer.
“Do counter me if I speak incorrectly,” he began, grabbing the stem of the wine glass. “But I have noticed you to be quite...secluded.”
“I am busy, Hyunjin,” you said curtly. “I have a whole novel to edit.”
His lips twitched downwards before opening his mouth, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. “I know you do, and you know I am proud of you for it.”
Choosing to not say anything, you tried finishing off your dinner, aware that you were losing your appetite. It seemed your husband did not want to back down tonight. “____, I feel as if you are hiding something from me.”
The spoon in your hand nearly clattered in the bowl. “And why would you think that?”
“Because—!” Hyunjin paused, downing some more wine. “I do not know, but I feel as if you do not want to speak to me.”
He was too smart for his own good. “You are imagining things,” you waved him off, finding your salad fork oh so interesting in the candlelight.
“Look at me.”
His voice stopped you cold.
Your gaze scrambled to meet his, and although his command was rough, his eyes exposed a completely different emotion.
Pure concern washed over his features as he muttered, “Have I done something wrong?”
That question broke your heart.
“No, no, of course not,” you quickly said. You bit your lip in guilt, watching him sigh, almost in relief.
This was the consequences of your actions. A man who had done nothing unjust, yet was being punished. Pure shame coursed through your veins, catching the distress on his face, and you wondered whether you were being cruel. Maybe this time, your feelings were exaggerated.
If you were aware of such truths, then why could you not look your best friend in the eye?
That night, you hurried to bed, leaning on the edge in wait for him. Your thoughts were in disarray; your heart impatiently desired his return, and your brain berated you for daring to.
Truthfully, it was horrifying how you had become so dependent on someone, when your entire life you relied on the fantasies in your head. Although your revelation was every lady’s dream in society, you felt as if another burden had been dumped upon your shoulders. This time, though, this burden would last for the rest of your life.
These thoughts were your singular company, when you lay awake all night. You were acutely aware of Hyunjin slipping between the sheets, but you did not move a muscle. A small part of you knew that if you turned, you would be unable to resist his whimsical gaze and wandering touches.
So you lay rigid, only letting yourself sleep till your best friend submitted himself to oblivion.
He, too, could not bear to live like this.
The Duke of Hastings was not a fool. He had not known you for over a decade to discard you lying through your teeth. It was beyond his understanding the reasoning of your change, but it deeply disturbed his soul.
He turned in the bed, watching your back bathed in moonlight. Why would you not tell him what bothered you? What had he done wrong?
As he watched you stay rooted in one position, his thinking turned to dark corners. A realisation struck him; you started acting this way the day after he nearly took you in the library.
This alarmed him greatly — was that why you were so troubled? Were you...uncomfortable with his touch?
His heart dropped down to his gut.
If you truly detested his affection, then he would not know what to do with himself. Recently, it was all that haunted him — you, you, and a little more you, strolling through his mind as if it were your domain, creating stories underneath his eyes. It only worsened when he discovered your sweet moans, triggered by his kisses and touches. God, the very thought of you, whining his name as you touched yourself, brought him a familiar feeling amplified. So ardently he wished to taint you further.
Even thinking of the images had him clutching his pillow tighter, fingers aching to turn you over.
However, the harsh fact was that you could not bear to look at him, and he had to live with that. Questioning you was of no use.
Hyunjin only prayed that he did not scare you off.
Unfortunately for him, his prayers were not to be answered.
Days passed, and the distance grew. The man dared not say a word to you in fear you would stray further, and you dared not approach him in fear you would fall harder. It was the most abhorrent situation, and you knew you had to get away somehow.
Fate spoiled your plans when Hyunjin revealed some news.
You looked at the invitation in slight horror. “A ball?”
Scratching the back of his neck, he explained further. “When we were...interrupted that day…” he sighed a little. “It was Seungmin who was downstairs.”
“Kim Seungmin? Has he returned from the States?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “And he has decided that the first thing he wishes to do is throw a huge ball in celebration of his return.” A roll of eyes followed. “Forever the dramatist.”
You restrained your laughter. “It has been over 2 years since we met,” you wondered out loud.
“Well, you can meet him at his estate when we attend the ball.”
He felt your eyes on him as he declared his words. Awaiting your outright rejection, settling down on the chair in the living room. You watched his thighs tense under the peach trousers as he folded a leg over the other — damn him for being too attractive to refuse.
“Very well,” you only said, not ignoring the nerves which threatened to take over. They increased a little at seeing the smile on your husband’s face.
You needed to stop leading the man on. Never could you go to the ball with him.
“It is a week from now,” he added, bobbing his foot excitedly. “I shall write back in acceptance as soon as possible!”
Nodding, you returned to your reading, hoping the faux conversations were enough distraction.
A week. Seven days to somehow escape from this event, or else everyone would see you enter the ball as an official couple, and then your fate as another man’s property would be sealed.
Had he ever made you feel as such?
You did not let yourself ponder over this further. Your only objective was getting out of this invitation.
However, you were a duchess. Trying to hide yourself from London society was an unattainable feat.
The reminder had you nearly ripping the page off your book, too stressed to read on.
This became your focus of the next week, pondering over the night of the ball, scouring your mind with the possibilities which may occur at Seungmin’s estate. As the days neared, Hyunjin insisted you go shopping in search of a special ball gown, and you only obliged so you did not have to be in the same house as him. Still, if he was not there physically, his image preyed upon you in the markets, constantly reminded of his opinions and likings in every fabric you ran your hands upon.
There was no escaping him. You were disgustingly obsessed.
Purchasing everything you needed, you requested it to be charged on Hastings’ tab, a privilege awarded to you ever since your joining with the duke. You always argued that you wished to spend your own money, but he would not listen.
“But I adore spoiling you, angel,” he would merely say, and buy up half the boutique, leaving you a flustered mess. The conversations did not leave you as you bought your dresses and accessories, returning home and dreading interaction.
Excusing yourself, you shut yourself in your room once more, and wrote.
Wrote away your soul in the last days, till it was the morning of the fated event. The sun shone magnificently on your home, but failed to radiate its light on your darkened mood. You had no choice on the matter — you were to accompany Hyunjin to Seungmin’s celebrations, and that was final.
You were about to fake typhoid when a letter arrived for you.
It was from your mother; she wrote in question of your wellbeing, and how much she felt your absence in the house. The content was not very interesting, and you debated writing back with a lack of enthusiasm when you read the last section.
She mentioned tonight’s ball — more significantly, how she felt ever so lonely without you with her, “enlivening her spirits”. The praises were nothing further from the truth, but it was her confession which had an idea rushing to your head.
“Lonely without me, huh?” you murmured, as you rang a bell for a maid. Arriving, you requested for a little trunk, asking for your new dress and other adornments to be packed. “For once, Mama, you have been useful.”
The packing did not take much time, the other servants calling for a carriage as you made preparations to leave for a night. Hyunjin, making his presence known, descended down the stairs, a grin upon his face as his hand fished in his inner pockets.
When he saw your endeavours, though, his beaming flickered. “What is going on here?” he asked, refusing to look away from your luggage.
You turned to him, mustering up the bravado to face him with your decision.
“I received a letter from Mama this morning,” you explained to him in faux ease, gesturing for the servants to bring your belongings outside. “She is feeling rather lonesome, so I thought to see her.”
The man was not convinced in the slightest. “Since when did you garner sympathy for your mother?”
Never confide in your best friend again. “Please,” you stressed, holding the letters in your hands. “She still took care of me the best she could. Plus, I would never want to be lonely at that age.”
He was not listening to this explanation though, his hands going into his pockets. “When will you be back, darling?”
The endearment made this all the worse. “The morning after.”
A heavy pause instilled on the both of you before he broke it. “But...but the ball. A-are you to just...abandon the invitation altogether?”
“No!” you began, locking your hands behind your back. “No, I shall meet you at Seungmin’s estate. It is a small setback, but—”
“____, this will be our first social event as husband and wife!” he countered, you grimacing at his minor outburst. “I want you by my side when we walk down the steps!”
“But I will be there, Hyunjin!” you exclaimed. “I do not understand why you suddenly want to follow these silly traditions!”
Gritting his teeth, your friend pinned you with his stare, growing fiery the longer you held it. Traditions never interested him, but this one had been a certainty he had been looking forward to. The image of you, descending the stairs with your hand on his arm, brought him an absurd amount of joy.
But there you were, bursting his bubble of dreams.
“Why is this all coming to light today?” he muttered, taking a step towards you. “Why, on the day of the event, you decide to tell me that you would rather go with your mother, who never truly cared for you, than me?”
Than me, who always did?
You dared not answer his question truthfully — instead, you let your undeserved anger take the reins of your tongue.
“So you are already suspicious!” you snapped. “Why am I not surprised in the slightest?”
His eyes narrowed at the statement. You did not look into it further as you turned on your heel, heading towards the door. “Do not run away from me, ____!” He shouted, following after you. “Tell me what you implied from that horrendous comment!”
“Oh, let me uncover it clearly for you, dearest,” you snarled, standing at the doorway. The words which were to leave your mouth had sure consequences, but in the moment, you did not care. All you wanted then was an escape.
“You accuse me of scheming and demand me things which I do not want to give you.”
Your hand gripped the letter behind you. “You’re becoming the one thing I feared, Hyunjin. You’re turning into a typical male.”
The man froze entirely at your claims.
Did not utter a defense against him as you sighed out, glancing away from his shell-shocked eyes. You did not bid your farewells as you descended down the stairs, reigning in your temptation to look back as you made your way to your transport through the gardens.
As you slipped inside the carriage, clasping your hands in your lap, you wondered whether you had taken a step too far.
You wondered, with rising dread, whether you had broken your best friend’s heart.
MAYBE RUNNING TO YOUR MOTHER HAD NOT BEEN THE BEST OF IDEAS.
Biggest reason being that she was truly a pain in the rear. The moment your carriage had arrived on the rocky entryway of your mother’s manor, she rushed down the steps. After engulfing you with an embrace which might have caused a minor stroke, she hurried you inside, her servants bringing your possessions.
You did not particularly miss your previous abode, although it gave you small relief. You passed the familiar hallways, and settled in the nostalgic parlour room where your mother gushed over your presence.
Still, this manor did not seem like home to you.
Conversation was mostly struck from your opposite, you nearly silent as the woman vented out her frustrations of every family in London, drinking her tea and urging you to take a biscuit or two. Your stomach was void of an appetite, missing other emotions which you abandoned on the other side of the city.
By the time evening arrived, all you wished to do was hide yourself into your old room, but your mother would not accept. Having the maids open your trunk, they brought out the ball gown you had picked for the occasion.
It was a dark, seductive red, swell of its puffs cuffed with black lace — this lace scattered over the fabric, lining not only the neckline but down the chest, rose-like stitches etched onto the bust. The high-waistline also bled further black stitching, almost all over the gown as it fell to the floor, with a midnight ribbon trailing at the back.
You bit back a fevered sigh. Hyunjin would have adored this gown.
The thought had you pursing your lips, requesting the gown be pressed. Then, walking over to the dressing table, you settled yourself onto the seat, using the accessories bought previously to style yourself. With the assistance of a few maids, you managed to accentuate your hair, adding small pearls within the locks.
The ballgown came back in an instant, and you undressed yourself, waving away the girls in your room. Firstly, you slipped on a thin chemise — then, you allowed a maid to enter to help with the corset, who tightened it at the back without mercy to your body. Barely able to breathe, you loosened it slightly after the girl left, focusing your attention on the gown. After adorning the petticoats and white stockings, you adorned your attire, slowly as to not crease its fabric. Hooking the back yourself, you turned to the mirror, holding the black gloves.
There was no doubt about this countenance — it was exactly to your husband’s taste. Clamping your lips together, you donned the gloves, the silk smooth beneath your touch as you filled them to the fingertips. With one final peek at yourself, you slipped into your shoes, and left the bedroom.
You were a fool to think of any other person but your mother welcoming you at the entrance, but wishful thinking had always been your flaw. Her string of compliments had you adorning a ghost of a smile, but you did not say much as you both climbed into the carriage, instructing to journey to Seungmin’s estate.
Without a novel to distract you, you fell into a habit of clasping and unclasping your hands as you sat, waiting for the ride to be over. Your mother was small comfort as she filled the silence for you, but even her voice strained your mood — you wished for other discourse, or other meaningless entertainment.
You ached for laughter.
Whatever. This was your consequence. You must bear with it.
If your mother knew of your troubles, she certainly did not voice them out loud. She did ask of your relationship with Hyunjin, but you waved her off with false reassurances — you could not have her prying into your private life.
“I hope he has burned off your silly writing fancy!” she drawled, catching the lights of the destination flickering closer to our transport. “As a wife you have much more important duties.”
Gazing afar through the window, you spoke your truth. “Actually, Mama, he encourages it.” A small chuckle escaped you. “I think he wants me to be an author more than I do.”
“Oh?” The woman brought a hand to her chin, impressed. “That is a rare occurrence indeed.”
Catching your raised brow, she scoffed. “Do not gawk as if you are not aware of men. I am shocked he has given you freedom.”
You listened to her, watching the estate linger closer. “Child, you have found a man who does not restrict you in your passions. I do not know how you accomplished such a feat, but you must be extremely thankful.” A glance was stolen towards her. “Such husbands only exist in those books you love so much.”
Before you could comment on her statement, the carriage slowed to a stop, reaching the final stop. The footmen opened the doors, and your mother stepped out first before you followed, careful not to ruin your dress on the pathway.
The crowds had you leading inside the estate, luxury which could compete with the Duke of Hastings being exulted in every corner of the interior. Dozens of lords, ladies and other aristocrats wandered in all places of the house, your own mother being swept away by her friends in her social circle. Your presence felt less relevant with each passing second, fearing you would lose yourself in the rush of golden curtains, rose perfume and unwelcome conversation.
You thought that this ball would grant solitude, but then you heard the bright drawl of a familiar lord.
“By God, is that my dear bookworm I see before me?”
Jumping from the voice, you whirled on your heel. A surprised smile caught on your face.
“Seungmin?”
The said-man returned your shock with a mischievous grin. Lord Kim Seungmin changed greatly since the last time you saw him — what was once thinned, pale cheekbones were now full and golden, amplifying his eye-smile, which he did not lose in the Americas. He was adorned in navy blue, contrasting with his off-coloured pants, black hair styled effortlessly away from his forehead.
“My goodness!” he began, strolling over to you with his mahogany cane. “Even after two years you upkeep your radiance.”
“You flatter me,” you said as your smile widened. “You certainly have changed. I adore the tan!”
“I fear you are the sole admirer,” he confided, narrowing his gaze at his incoming guests. “As if I wish to look like a ghost among men!”
“You have earned my approval, at least,” you complimented in earnest. “Not that it would matter much.”
Seungmin scoffed at your comment. “Says one of the most affluent women in the country! When were you going to tell me you were Hyunjin’s bride?”
Your irritation sparked as your heartbeat raced. “It was very recent, I admit. I would have sent word, but it would not have reached you.”
“I daresay I am not surprised.”
You peered at him, then. “No?”
He gave you an incredulous look. “My dear, everyone anticipated the occasion. Only you were clueless to the possibility.”
Gritting your teeth, you jabbed him with your hand, causing him to chuckle. “Ow! I was hoping you would mature by this time! No doubt your duke encourages this!”
Preferring to stay silent on the matter, Seungmin continued on the subject, making it difficult. “Where is he, by the way? Gossip tells me it is your first ball as a couple.”
“Is he not here?” A shake of his head had your nerves creeping back. “Oh, um, my mother was alone, so I thought to accompany her instead.”
You nearly grimaced at his callous features. “How bizarre,” he murmured. He then offered you his arm. “If so, then allow me to accompany you in his absence.”
Accepting his arm, he helped you navigate your ways through the huge foyer, the grand stairs welcoming you two as dozens upon dozens of aristocrats came into view — the host nodded his head in greeting at every passerby, leading you down each step, until your feet landed on the floor of the ballroom.
Examining the area, you marvelled at the pastels colouring each wall, corner and crevice of the vast space in the room. Sweet music filled the air, and murmurs of many ladies and gentlemen resonated everywhere around you, growing louder as their eyes rested on you, your sensual attire, and the lack of husband on your arm.
“How about a dance, Duchess?” Seungmin asked you as he brought you closer to the center.
Instantly you shook your head, stopping in your tracks. “No,” you refused, tugging on his arm. “I have no wish for dancing this evening.”
“As if you ever have,” he mused, earning your glare. “I presume you await for your beau? Everyone knows you dance first with him.”
A sharp breath exhaled from your nose. “Nevermind that, just take me where the cakes are.”
Laughter spilled from his lips, stirring you to the refreshments. “As you wish, ____.”
Making your way through the guests, you finally ended up where the food resided, tables lined from one corner of the room to the other, flanked in every type of nourishment. Your gaze found stands of cakes, and you left your hand on your friend’s arm, raised towards the deserts. As soon as a servant handed you a plate, the chocolate cake was in your hold.
“Honestly,” the host started, as you cut a piece with a fork, digging straight in. “And they call you the pinnacle of grace!”
“Who in heaven said that?” you asked, baffled as you ate another small piece. Seungmin, snapping his fingers, brought a tray of champagne over to you. Picking up two flutes, you began, “For me?”
Downing the first, he offered you a grin. “What made you think that?” he replied, already sipping the second. “My party, my alcohol.”
This time you giggled at his demeanour, he handing you a drink as you finished your cake. The bubbly goodness was welcomed, warming you up and calming your senses.
After the third glass, the champagne-induced man let out a huge sigh. “Right!” he exclaimed, propping the glasses on the table beside you. “I must find myself a pretty lady to dance with.”
“Do try to stay on your feet, Seungmin,” you said, raising your flute in toast.
“No promises!” he merely countered, disappearing into the crowd.
Your smile faded at the isolation which hit.
There you were — hundreds of people surrounding you, many potential partners to dance with, yet there you were, hand not in another hand but wrapped around your alcohol.
You could not blame a single soul. This was all your doing.
That had you consuming the champagne to the last drop.
At least there was some form of relief in this ball, as you watched Seungmin and about a dozen couples form a circle at the center of the room. With the first opening of the music the host led his partner, all the others following suit.
Watching the waltz had you remembering the last dance, the fateful night where this union came into fruition. Your friend’s smile, his hand on another’s waist, all these images reflected the very same you experienced many weeks before.
You bit the inside of your cheek, reminiscing deeper and deeper. You hated how every fibre of your body ached for his presence. The worst part was that it was not mere lust, or the carnal desire which erupted at his thought.
You longed for him — his banter, his mischievous eyes, and his rather heart-wrenching smile.
The music heightened, the climax of the dance falling on the ball room as Seungmin whirled and whirled his partner, a string of giggles faintly heard from the crowd. When he twirled her one last time, he caught her instantly, at perfect harmony with the ending of the sweet melody.
Applause scattered across the hall as the couples bowed to each other.
A curse escaped you then.
There was simply no doubt of your feelings — avoiding him could never be the solution.
This revelation may have arrived at the perfect time.
Because, as the music played once more, a figure emerged at the entrance.
The murmurs, one by one like a slow wave, died down as they caught sight of him, gazes shocked.
Sipping your champagne, quite puzzled, you turned to the origins for this change of atmosphere.
Every atom in your body stilled.
Froze completely at the sight which stood at the foot of the steps.
You were unable to suppress his name.
“Hyunjin.”
It was as if, by a miracle, he heard your shivered whisper — his eyes skimmed the crowd, frantic beneath the calm.
They found you in the chaos.
Your very breath disappeared from your lungs.
Hwang Hyunjin looked like the devil’s greatest fantasy; as if he stole the night and imprisoned it in his attire. He was adorned in lustrous black, waistcoat patterned with red swirls of velvet. His collar was slightly ruffled, cravat of midnight as it barely brushed against his chin. His tailcoat somewhat glistened in the chandelier light, dark leather boots still as he stood before the hall.
His greatest change was his hair. Once golden like the lights of heaven, it was now as black as the underworld. Half of the locks were swept up in a ponytail, the rest curling at his shoulders.
The flute nearly dropped from your hands.
Seungmin, finding his friend on the steps, burst into a smile. “Hastings!” he broke through the silence with enthusiasm. With his voice the crowd fell into frenzied discourse, the host making his way through his guests, strolling towards the new arrival. “By God, it has been too long!”
Hyunjin hummed, not particularly interested in what he had to say. His gaze from you did not stray for a heartbeat. Seungmin, catching on, wrapped a hand around his friend’s shoulder. “I see you only came for one person,” he said, leading him to where you stood.
Champagne was not the only substance which heated you further, cheeks growing warmer the closer he walked over to you. Every move he emitted exuded sensuality, as if his bones were made of silk.
You let yourself to a third serving when he stopped before you, Seungmin clapping his hands together in excitement. “Look at the two of you!” he proclaimed. “Your clothes match so perfectly!”
Sure enough, both of you adorned the same hues of dark reds and raven blacks. You felt his eyes rake over you, and you restrained to not do the same, lest you let more than your stare wander. “I always knew you two were right for each other,” your friend continued, grabbing his fourth flute, drinking away in glee. “I am overjoyed to see that you both see it.”
Something cold swirled in your husband’s stare, and you ran a finger along the empty glass, embarrassed to hear such genuinity. “Hyunjin, the second waltz is about to start.” He gestured his flute towards you. “I know you always dance with each other first.”
The duke’s eyes flickered to the host for a mere second before pinning on you again. “I have no desire for dancing tonight.”
You had trouble downing your drink. “How strange...” Seungmin noted, darting between the couple. “Your wife here said the same thing not an hour ago.”
“Did she now?”
The silence that followed was quite unbearable. Even your friend was unimpressed, offering Hyunjin a drink from the waiters nearby. “Oh, you both are such bores! Maybe marriage is not the solution after all.”
You dared not look at him then, fiddling with your black ribbon. “I need to get drunk!” the host declared, tutting his head at the tension created. “I will come again when you two stop being so bloody shy.”
Shy would not be the most accurate term, but Seungmin was too intoxicated to care. He strolled to compliment a gathering of ladies within your radius, which left you with the one man you feared to be alone with.
Hwang Hyunjin.
Hwang Hyunjin, in his changed, midnight glory, watching you with an indecipherable intensity. Creating the wildest butterflies ever felt inside your body.
You did not know where to start.
The man did not understand where to begin either, tongue at loss for words. There were too many words to spill, too many feelings left constricted.
He wished to say something, but his senses had failed him. So, much like you, he stayed silent, wondering if the two of you would ever break this barrier.
Even then, he could not help but linger closer, leaning against the lush walls of the room, right beside you. His presence was a blessing and a curse at the same time.
Tailcoat brushing against your skirts, he examined the ballroom along with you, itching to reach for your hand. He would never really, but in that moment, you were beyond tempting.
You see, he had no idea what you would wear tonight, and after the spat at Lansdowne, he yearned for change — hence the raven hair and darkened clothing, so unlike his usual pastel attire. He did not even think that you would attend the ball in fear of his presence, but seeing you before him, engulfed in his favourite colours…
He would have damned society and taken you in this very hall.
Daringly, he let himself wonder whether you felt the same — he heard your shocked murmur when he arrived, and the further shocked stare which made him ever so smug. If only you would let him do something about it.
If only you would let him ease this tension before it spiralled out of control.
His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Seungmin came stumbling back, alcohol, swishing back and forth in his new glass as he giggled at his guests. “Dear friends!” he broke out, hands raised, some of the drink accidentally slipping out. “Oh, forgive me, gentlemen!”
You heard Hyunjin sigh beside you as he held his own hands out to steady his friend. “Steady now, man!” he warned. The drunkard only chortled, foot stepping onto your dress.
“You should not have drank so much!” you scolded, raising your skirts. Glimpses of your stockings came into display, and Seungmin shrieked.
“Careful duchesh!” he slurred excitedly, leaning right into you and wiggling the glass as if it were a finger. Unfortunately, he had little control over how hard he shook his alcohol, and it all spilled over.
Right onto your white stockings.
Yelping, you saw the middle part stain in pinkish-red, murking the material with every drop landing. “Seungmin!” you yelled in agitation.
“Oh bollocksh!” he cursed, causing a few gasps around the hearing radius. “I apologishe, dear, so very very much—”
Hyunjin, witnessing the scene, stopped a nearby servant. “Please tend to your master, here,” he ordered, pointing towards Seungmin begging for your forgiveness. Nodding, the boy took the host away, the latter hiccuping as he asked for more wine. “And do not give him any more to drink!” the duke added.
Focusing on you, he rushed over, assessing the mess made. “Damn fool has spilled quite a bit.” Whirling his head to any exits, he spotted a dark hallway, remembering the route of the estate. “Come with me.”
You glanced at him, frantic. “Where to?”
He did not answer fully as he wrapped a hand around your waist, almost making you forget that you had wine spilled over you. “Seungmin has many spare rooms,” he explained, leading you out of the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd was too occupied in preparing for the second waltz to care for the distressed couple.
Keeping your skirts raised, you managed to keep your gown safe from spillage as Hyunjin led you down the less crowded hallways, depictions of the Kim family painted on the walls. “Ah!” He got out, reaching to a familiar room as he opened it, ushering you inside. “This is where I usually reside whenever I stay at the estate.”
The room was basked in dark, velvety colours, perfect for the man next to you. Lush carpet underneath, the huge bed, nestled at the wall at your right had its curtains drawn, revealing glistening indigo sheets, matching the framing of the bedroom. Dressing tables, wardrobes and the like were furnished at each corner, your focus drifting back to the dweller.
There was barely any light, save for the oil lamp sparked to life by his match. Setting it to the side of the bed, it brought much more life to the room, previously engulfed in mystery.
Without the upheaval, the space was basked in silence. You realised the hand on your back was sorely missed, and Hyunjin, standing a few feet away, clenched and unclenched that very hand, yearning for his fingers upon you once more.
But the two of you kept playing that little game of keeping quiet. Sooner or later, one of you will have enough of this sickening ploy.
Groaning, you walked over to the edge of the bed, kicking your heels off as you saw your stockings, fully stained. “Damn it,” you muttered, promising Seungmin murder.
Another few minutes of your grumbling, and he had had enough.
“Maybe I can be of assistance.”
Perking up, you found Hyunjin, walking slowly to you, hands fumbling in his coat pockets. After a few seconds of rummaging, he brought out a package, tied with red string.
You raised a brow. “What is this?”
“Open it,” he merely said, taking a step closer as he held it before you.
Hesitantly accepting, you tugged on the end of the bow, unraveling the tie. You did not forget the stare which rested on you the entire time you opened the wrappings.
When the paper unfurled, you examined the contents.
Before you were a folded pair of black stockings.
A soft exhale escaped as you beheld the present, the midnight silk soft to the touch, already aware of its rich feel. You delved in further, and uncovered white ribbons at the top, for tightening their grip.
“How…” you trailed off, dumbfounded at the coincidence. “How did you…?”
“No, no, this was…” he locked his hands behind his back. “Something I was supposed to give you this morning.”
“Oh.” This morning. When you two had that particularly nasty fight. “I see.”
You glanced down at the present again. Hyunjin had proven, once again, how refined his taste was. “I have never seen such exceptional detail on stockings before.” Discarding the paper at your feet, you ran your thumb across the material. “I doubt this suits me at all.”
There was a pause at that.
You knew there was something he wanted to say. The way his jaw ticked, the boot lightly tapping on the floor — he was bursting to add a comment which may be a risk, considering the circumstance of your relations.
Allowing yourself to be the first to dare, you peered up at him. The curiosity, explicit in your eyes, had him clearing his throat.
His hesitancy faded. “Show me, then.”
Catching the ferocity in his stare, you swallowed, hand at your skirts. “If…if you wish.”
And that was all he needed to begin.
You watched as the man descended on his knees, lingering upon you until he looked down, revealing your white-clad legs the further you raised your gown. You stopped before the ends, holding onto your skirts and petticoats as if your life depended on it.
Hyunjin’s gaze did not waver as his hand raised forward, finding themselves upon the bow at the top of the stockings as the other gently held your ankle. Untying the ribbon, he hooked his fingers under the tight fabric, your skin brushing against his knuckles. Slowly, he pulled down the stocking, uncovering your skin before him under the dim lamp light. When it bunched up, his hand at your ankle stretched the ends of fabric, sliding the stocking right off.
Discarding it behind him, he repeated the unveiling on the other leg. He noticed your skin heating underneath his touch, and he dared not expose his growing delight.
Once the other half slid off, joining its partner, a hand raised in front of you. You stared at him in dazed confusion, and his fingers curled, save for the pointer directed at your present.
“The stockings, darling.”
The endearment had you falling short — his caresses on your shin brought you back to consciousness, your hand beyond your control as it handed the gift to him. Taking it, he put one of them beside him, bunching the other with his hands till he directed the entrance to your foot on his lap.
Slipping them on, he worked his way upon your heel; his hands were slow, fingers softer than the silk beginning to cover your leg. Every fleeting touch had small shockwaves coursing up your body, as if it was the first time he laid his hands on you. How were you so unaccustomed to his caresses still?
Maybe because he knew how to agonise you.
When reaching above your knee, he brought the ends of the stocking to your thigh. His fingers fell to the ribbon dangling from the underside and, with the utmost care, began to tie the two pieces together, forming a pretty red bow.
As he closed the pattern, he tightened the bow, securing the fabric — snuffing out any possibility for the fabric to fall.
He then continued on the other leg, gaze flickering from your legs to your face. He caught every laboured breath you released, every flutter of your eyes slipping you in and out of a daze. His fingers were slower still, as if he never wanted this to stop. The stockings were like a second skin, adding a lustre to your legs the more he covered you with it.
Sliding over your knee for the last time, he held onto the blood-coloured ribbons. Fingers skimming against silk-stained skin, he tied another perfect bow, tightening it at the ends.
All done.
His gaze lingered on the bows, the sliver of skin past your thighs. His hands too, refused to leave your legs.
It was then his eyes flicked upward — right into yours.
You caught every swirl of desire residing inside.
Every little detail etched on his face was stained with lustful anguish, suppressed hunger of things you dared not imagine. You held onto your skirts with more force, afraid you would lose strength in your hands.
Hyunjin’s hands, however, had no such troubles.
For they began to carry out his wishes — they slid upwards, past the stockings and upon your upper thighs, spreading them enough to slip himself between your legs. This alone had you near crumbling for him, but his eyes asked for more. Even with the dim light, you had never seen a man so beautiful in agony.
You wondered whether he was going to say anything. Silence was a giver of many answers, but the questions you held could only be answered by his lulling whispers. Despite protest, you willed your hands beside you, clutching the sheets, waiting for him to tear your soul in pieces.
Finally, the Duke of Hastings parted his mouth.
“One word, angel.”
He squeezed your thighs softly.
“One word, and I will never torment you with my presence again.”
A bated breath escaped you.
It was much too late for that. Hyunjin had already tormented you, had done so ever since your fateful realisation, and you knew he would do so for the rest of your life. It would hardly matter whether he was oceans apart or a hair’s breadth close — him, and everything he represented, was complete and utter affliction.
Such a shame that he was a torment you would sacrifice everything to be around every day. Such a horrible, horrible shame that Hwang Hyunjin was a presence you loved more than you could let on.
Hence was the reason you did not answer him with words. What you wished to say was much too vulnerable.
No, you answered him in actions — replied with your hands raising to clasp his face, leaning down to envelope your lips with his.
You were surprised to hear a pained moan leave his mouth, and you realised that was the sound of pure, heart-breaking relief. Instantly his hands travelled further as he kissed you back with twice the fervour, hands sliding to grip your waist. Pulling you to him, he erased any distance between you, delving deeper into your mouth. He shuddered at how he went so long without your tongue swirling along with his, like parting from a lost companion.
Fingers sliding to his neck, you welcomed his enthusiasm, his desperation which heightened with every searing touch, every soft bite of his teeth against your lips. He broke away, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eliciting the sweetest whining from you.
“...missed you,” he murmured on your skin, sending chills down your body as he kissed the edges of your dress's neckline. “I...missed you so much.”
“Hyunjin—” you began, wanting to say that you yearned for him, but the words on your tongue faded when his fingers bunched up the skirts of your gown, hitching it higher until the midnight stockings were back in view — he did not stop there, pushing the fabric further till it bunched at your waist, along with the petticoats. His hurried hands pulled down your underthings, sliding them right off your legs, discarding them behind them.
Seeing your cunt glistening in the lamplight nearly broke him.
“I—God,” he breathed out, hands spreading your legs apart. An aching whine escaped you at the action, the cool night air caressing your inner thighs. “Angel, tell me...we do not have to do this.” He glanced up at you, and the madness residing in his eyes infected your soul.
Maybe madness was the only reason you damned the consequences.
“Don’t you dare stop.”
Hyunjin licked his lips before blessing you with his closure.
The first stripe across your slit set you on fire.
A soft groan through your mouth at the familiar sensation, the overbearing feeling of being ascended far away from this obscure bedroom. He had always worked wonders, but this time, the languor had faded, desire hardening his tongue against your folds. He pulled on your legs, sending his face further into your cunt, and you yelped at the ferocity of his actions.
There was no denying it — the man had grown frantic without you.
Swiping in the arousal coating along your slit, a satisfied hum escaped him as he travelled upwards, your seething more encouragement. He struck gold as he found your clit, circling his tongue along the bud, rendering you helpless as you moaned without shame. You cared little if the guests heard you beyond the door, your husband making it too hard to contain yourself.
Perhaps you would have survived his treatment if he did not leave one of his hands upon your leg, trailing up your thigh. He slipped in not one, but two fingers straight inside, and your voice raised an octave — the gradual rhythm of his digits had that overflowing feeling creeping over you all over again. Your grip on his half-ponytail tightened, pleading for him to give you mercy, but the man was relentless, never opting for a break in his devouring.
“Damn it, please—” you grated out, instinctively rolling your hips against his face. The edge of the bed seemed more like the edge of the world. “Wh-whatever you do—”
You did not finish as Hyunjin squeezed your thigh, and you knew then in your dazed mind — a certainty that he understood.
Within moments his pace quickened, fuelling the spark of nerves which swirled in your gut, threatening to overtake you. Teething your clit softly, then swirling his tongue along, you knew that if he carried on, he would break you on this bed. Something within you felt as if that was his was his very purpose.
Why the thought thrilled you, you would never know.
His rapid fingers and sensual tongue working harmoniously finally got through to you, as, with a whimpering cry, you came all over him, closing your eyes as spots of white stained your mind. You felt his ministrations slow, a small kiss gifted upon your sensitive clit before his lips pulled away. Other hand brushing across your leg, he soothed you from the high you experienced, whispers of his lilting voice perking you from your stupor.
“Hyunjin?” you quietly called, gazing at his lust-struck face. He did not look away as he brought the finger to his lips, sucking away at your residue.
You did not think you could ever get used to this image.
“Yes, angel?” he rasped out, straightening on his knees so his head nearly levelled with yours.
Catching the implications within your eyes, his own widened slightly.
“More?” he let himself wonder, and when you nodded much too desperately, he realised he had done it.
All he needed was for you to voice it.
“Oh, my sweet little darling,” he whispered, taking one of your gloved hands. Slowly, he slid off the long gloves, repeating the same for the other. “This time, I cannot let you off.
His hands then clasped yours. “This time...I need you to say what you want for me.”
The declaration would have had you closing your legs in embarrassment if your husband was not between them. Not even embarrassment for what he said but...the idea of you wanting to completely oblige it.
Look at you — a few months ago, you possessed not a single inclination of what he suggested; what he asked for, what he so direly wanted you to say. The woman before this one would have rather buried herself under the earth than admit such desire for a man.
The Duke of Hastings, though, brought her out from her underground retreat, and revealed to her all that she was capable of. He showed her what everyone was so afraid to even talk about, and made you addicted to what was forbidden.
A dire shame you wanted Hyunjin to keep you intoxicated for the rest of your life.
You faced him once and for all. Asked him for the one thing which you never thought imaginable.
“Show me...all of it.”
Your hands travelled to his shoulders, keeping him close.
“Show me everything.”
If there was a way to bottle this moment and hang it on the walls of his heart, Hyunjin would have jumped at the chance.
Had he defiled you, after so long? Had he slipped his dirty fantasies into your mind, tainted you with his infatuation?
The answers to his questions were found upon your lips. He collided his own against yours as he gathered you up in his arms, standing up and taking you with him.
Your legs would have given way if we’re not for him keeping his grip — a grip which wandered upwards, catching the little metal hooks of your dress. He thrust his tongue inside your mouth, and the harsh frenzy delighted you, welcoming all of it as you opened for him wider. A shuddered breath escaped you at the hooks being undone by his hands, one by one till you felt your gown loosen.
At the last hook, Hyunjin pulled the sleeves off your arms, and the dress fell to the floor, leaving you with your corset and petticoats. You were caught off guard when he swivelled you around, you feeling the tugs of lace being unravelled with each pull of his fingers. The kisses did not cease, being rewarded at the crook of your neck. Each caress of his lips sent shivers down your spine — more so when he eased off the corset from your body, tugging off your petticoats along with it.
All that was left was a thin, loose chemise, everything shown clearly beneath the white veil of its fabric. The man turned you to face him again, and his gaze turned molten at the sight that welcomed him. Taking your lips in his, he ripped off his own attire — the long coat, waistcoats, every piece from the waist up being discarded. He had to break away for a moment to take his shirt off, and you caught the sight of his lean figure, turned golden in the light.
You could not help reaching out, running your curious fingers against his skin, soft and warm beneath your touch. He dared not speak, fearing you would take away your hand, but that was the last thing you wanted to do.
Tonight, you did not want distance — and neither did he.
Kissing you again, he pulled the lace in front of your chemise, loosening the attire until, with wandering hands, he dropped the last layer you upheld. Slowly, never leaving your lips, he backed you against the bed, holding you steady as he laid you upon the sheets. You never let go of him, aching to take all of him in your mouth, taste his very soul till it was the only thing that remained on your tongue.
“Fuck—” a curse escaped him as he broke away, catching the swelling of your lips. His gaze trailed downwards, upon your breasts which perked at the sight. “You’re so—so beautiful, I—”
Trails of open-mouthed kisses attacked you after, falling upon your breasts where Hyunjin began swiping his tongue along the nipple. The foreign wave of pleasure had you ripping out the most atrocious moan, caring less if the whole manor were to hear.
While his tongue played with you, his fingers worked at his trousers, unbuckling his belt as he peeled off the clothing, tossing it to the ever growing pile. You craned your head forward, glancing at the bulge near bursting from his underwear. A quivering sigh escaped you, rendering louder by the quickening of his actions.
Getting rid of his underwear, his cock sprung free, and you were surprised you had not passed out from the mere sight, red and angry and too bloody big. You could not stop staring, hard to believe that a man could possess such...such substantial anatomy.
“Like what you see, angel?” Your husband mused, leaving his place upon your nipple. Flustered, you tried to look away, but it was no use, when the man caught your chin with his fingers. “I’m surprised you can be shy even now.”
That did not help with your situation, causing you to heat drastically beneath his touch. Chuckling, he dropped a little kiss upon your nose before resting his forehead against yours.
Grasping his cock, he levelled it against your leaking cunt, the head teasing your folds. Even the small action had you seething, the warm residue sending shockwaves across your body. You held onto his neck, fearing you would lose yourself if you dared not hold onto him.
His midnight eyes turned to yours, noses brushing. “This may hurt for a second, ____,” he confessed, voice barely a murmur. “But I promise I will make that second up to you.”
Nodding slightly, you watched only him as his gaze travelled downwards. Fear threatened to take over, but one look at your husband, and it all faded.
With a final prayer to the heavens, Hyunjin began his descent.
Slowly, ever so slowly, his cock slid into your cunt. A heightened whine bubbled up to your throat, and you let it free with each inch that entered, terrified that this man could break you with what he slipped inside you. Your walls tightened with its entrance, and the more you voiced out the more he tended, peppering sweet kisses upon your cheeks.
You did not know how long it was till he stopped, letting you adjust to him inside you. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets, yet your husband was a huge comfort, circling smooth strokes upon your hip with his thumb, holding your face as he held the universe in his hands.
Breathing deeply, he glanced at you — a nod was your response to his consoling gaze, knowing what he meant.
With that, the duke began to pull out.
He was slow, just as he was when he first entered you. He was gradual, languid, and the terror that haunted you was replaced with a new, different kind of high.
You had never felt something so pleasurable.
You revealed your surprise to Hyunjin, stare glistening at the foreign sensation — your entire body was up in the clouds, relishing the slow withdrawal and the skill he brought in the bedroom. You were so sure that he was terrified too, scared of ruining this, but all you could feel was pure, unadulterated delight.
When the head reached the beginning of your folds once again, you thought that this was it — there was no more to be done, and your contentment was short-lived.
However, your husband surprised you as he slid inside you once again.
This time, there was a slight increase of pace, and it kept getting better, your feelings heightening with each passing second as he dipped further into you. He was so unbelievably good, knowing just how to make you whimper — God, his gaze was enough to undo you, ablaze with all the hellfire from the underworld. The devil worked hard, but Hyunjin worked overtime, bottoming out into you once more.
From that point on, your bodies began to move in sync, you giddily moving your hips along with his, aching to have him inside the whole time. Your hands carded through his velvety locks, taking out the ribbons so his hair fell all about him, curtailing his face as he rocked back and forth upon you. By God, he was so exquisite, something straight out of an artist movement, despite the sweat beading down his forehead, despite the parted mouth, the slight panting.
“H-Hyunjin—” you began, interrupted by another sharp moan from his efforts. “Hyunjin, I think I’m close—”
This time, you were interrupted by his lips upon your neck, teething love bites everywhere upon your skin. He hummed against you at your warning, and thrusted his cock into you. The head reached a certain spot which had you seeing seventh heaven, seeing truth and peace and everything in between, because fuck, he knew where to strike.
You did not know how long it had been till you felt yourself dizzying, the feeling in your lower abdomen warning you of its leash snapping. Hyunjin, aware that you were close, only brought his fingers to your clit, prodding at the bud till tears stung your eyes.
“I...fuck, angel—!” He gasped between thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses upon your lips. “Look at you, all...all messed up from my cock!”
Heightened wailing was your response, broken murmurs being spewed from your lips. Hastily the man shook his head, revelling in your utter ruination.
“Ah—! Come on now!” he cooed in his husky rasp, holding onto your head. “Say it for me, darling.”
A part of you did not think you could manage, but you had to if it meant he would bring you relief. The duke may have been the love of your life, but he was still, undoubtedly, a smug bastard.
Despite that, you could not believe how easily you resorted to begging.
“Please, Hyunjin!” You pleaded in half-pants, the tears spilling when he delved into that one particular spot again. “Make me do—whatever the hell I do, damn it!”
Huffing out a small laugh, the man held onto you a little tighter, retaining his grin. “Oh, ____,” he said, and the next words slipped out in his haze of lust, not realising he had revealed something of terrible importance.
After planting another disheveled kiss, he murmured, “You are so lucky that I love you.”
You did not have time for this declaration to settle before your husband obliged you in the best possible way; his thrusting turned erratic, fast and uneven, and the increased pace of his fingers was too much, all at once.
You had no choice but to let out a cry as you spilled onto him — some escaped from your walls and stained the sheets, whimpering breaths keeping you alive. His ministrations slowed as well, fingers stopping at your clit.
Watching you undo yourself for him was certainly the last straw for him — for the first time he released into you, grunting at the impact. Parts of his orgasm, too, sullied the sheets, but that was the least of his concerns, as he held onto you for dear life, nearly shattering his entire self upon you.
Pulling out of you, he collapsed beside you on the bed, his deep breaths breaking the silence. You, too, panted for a while, gazing up at the dark ceiling.
You expected your first thought to be utter delight at your first time. You had finally done what no one in polite society ever told you about, and it was so wonderful that you doubt anyone would have shared in your fortune.
However, your mind was occupied with another matter entirely.
You are lucky that I love you.
You closed your eyes.
Hyunjin loved you. Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend and husband, loved you when you thought it impossible.
Something within you then wondered if it was too good to be true.
“____?”
Noticing your name, you turned, finding the very man staring at you — in a way which would have your theories proven true. You did not know about yourself, but seeing him before you, black locks disheveled, skin glistening from sweat, you could not deny that anyone would fall for him if they saw him now.
You tried to push your emotions past you, blinking back a bit of fatigue. “Yes?”
“Tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” Turning over, he propped his arm, holding his head in his hand. “Are you alright?”
Perhaps you should have opted for a vague yes, but something in you did not want to beat around the bush anymore. You wished to tell him your truth.
“I was wondering about what you said,” you began, reflecting his position.
“I have said many things, darling,” the man drawled. “What do you specifically mean?”
“Well…” you tried to avoid his gaze, but you knew by now that evading Hyunjin was useless. “Before I...you know…”
“Know what?” He mused, which had you rolling your eyes.
“You know what I mean!” Sighing, you continued, constantly looking at his features. “Well, just before that, you said something to me...is it true?”
Silence fell on the room as your husband pondered at your question. His eyebrows raised, and you realised that he had figured it out.
“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I know exactly what you speak of.”
You waited for his response, suddenly aware of how naked you were in this bedroom. Dread curled at your stomach, and you debated grabbing the sheets and sneaking out of the manor.
That is when Hyunjin gave you his answer. Gave it to you as he took your hand in both of his, pinning you with a stare he reserved only for you.
“They are the truest words I have spoken.”
He leaned into you, and your heart fluttered, much more dramatically now because of what he revealed.
A soul-saving smile adorned his lips. “Despite our circumstances, it was inevitable that I would fall, and I thank the heavens that I did. I love you, ____, even if you cannot return the feeling. I love you as the friend I never had.
“I love you because you are the most inspirational woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.”
When he finished, you wondered whether you had the words to respond to a confession as heart-wrenching as the one your husband blessed you with. Tears pricked the corners of your vision, and you leaned into his hands which cupped your face.
Brushing his lips against yours, you willingly accepted, giving him all the affection you garnered within you for so long. The tears trailed down your cheeks, and you had to pull away, hands curling at his locks.
“I-I…” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hyunjin, I-I love you so much—”
The man’s heart burst from his chest.
His rashness got the better of him, interrupting you with a searing kiss as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip.
Never in his lust-hazed mind did he foresee you reciprocating his affection.
He was ready to spend eternity in a one-sided relationship. He was ready to stomach the melancholy you brought if you were to fall for another, or if you simply never loved at all, blankly living your life without any form of affection to give.
But…to have you fall for him.
What he said to you was wrong.
You were not lucky that he loved you.
He was lucky that you loved him.
So the Duke of Hastings, pulling the clean sheets upwards, showed you how lucky he was, deepening the kiss and you offering all of you again, moving your lips along with his.
And in this night, the two of you made another revelation — that perhaps reality was not the villain in the both of yours tales after all.
THE DAYS AFTER THE BALL WERE NOTHING BUT EUPHORIA.
You wondered whether it was all a dream, with the happiness that followed without any strings attached.
The passionate endeavours between the two of you did not stop at Seungmin’s manor — hands wandered in the carriage back home, and the moment you stepped at Lansdowne, Hyunjin backed you against the wall and ripped your dress right off, never wanting to stop ravishing you. You did not stop him, did not want to stop him, when you waited so long for him to engulf you without any barriers. By the time you both stopped in the shy hours of dawn, you had been drained of all physical strength, but filled with mental joy.
You fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and had the fortune of this love reciprocated.
Sometimes, you wondered if it was all a dream — a twisted, subliminal illusion, tricking you into believing that marital life is what every writer writes of in the end, the solution filled with flowers and sweet kisses. You never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that you could achieve such bliss with another.
Then, you would wake up with your husband’s arms around you, and finally understand. Finally comprehend what it meant, to never stray from a soul connected with yours.
The weeks after also brought the finishing of your novel, your childhood dream all polished in your hands as you took it to the most famous publishers in town. You had fears of the reactions, as what you wrote during certain parts of the novel was borderline scandalous, but the men at the publishing house enjoyed the first few chapters you showed them, and asked for more on the next visit.
You were overjoyed by their reaction, but then doubt entered your mind at once — what if they were only agreeable to your writing because of your position?
The thought soured your happiness. You did not want to be a writer because of your position in society, but because of your skill. There may have been thousands of other women with talents surpassing yours, but would never be able to achieve even the interest of a publisher.
Hyunjin was the first to know of your news, and the worries which accompanied it. He listened to you on your second, third visits, scoffing at your disbelief of your turn of events. It was ridiculous in his mind how ardently you doubted yourself, waving off the publishers’ interests in your novel as sheer luck, or your station as the Duchess of Hastings. He assured you many a time, that your flair in creating stories surpassed no man or woman living in London.
He knew those publishers well — well enough to know that they had never released a novel written by a woman, no matter how influential she may have been. Knowing you had managed to enter consideration for publishing was a feat in itself. The duke had absolutely no doubt that he would see your works in the hands of every person who knew how to read.
What you did not expect, however, was the request from the publishers to have your novel anonymously published. You demanded a reason, and they provided a whole list — women writing was only considered a secondary activity, and if word were to reach the city of a Duchess writing books instead of tending to her family, then it would cause an outrage. You could not believe your ears, despite a small part of you expecting this setback.
You wanted your name on the book.
Confiding in your husband once more, you told him of the condition, angrily pacing back and forth in your home. “It is simply...awful!” you spat, locking your hands behind your back, turning the room once more. Hyunjin watched you with a concerned look passing over his features as he looked up from his book. “Why should I hide my identity? I am proud of what I wrote, damn it!”
The man let out a sigh. “I think you should keep the name anonymous.”
That had you pausing. “I beg your pardon?” you demanded, thundering over to him. “Are you saying I conform to their conditions?”
“I am not suggesting it because of their reasoning. I know they are still too ashamed to try publishing a woman’s creation.”
Closing his book, he set it to the side table. “My love, there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you accomplish your dreams. I want more than anything to boast of your mind, and the writings it invents. However,” he continued, “I fear when the public sees your name printed on the novel, a controversial one at that, and see it that they attack you.”
“But that does not matter to me,” you responded, hands on your hips. “In fact, I welcome their criticism! Let me see what poppycock they want to say of my hard work.”
Hyunjin clamped his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “I am happy you do not care for such people, but it would damage your future writings. It would damage your future.”
When you frowned at him, he held out his hands. You closed the distance, settling upon his lap, sliding your arms around his shoulders, while he did the same around your waist. “Tell me, angel, do you wish to write after this?”
“Of course.”
“Well, see it like this,” he began. “Let us say you publish the novel anonymously. It would be in instant circulation, and everyone would read it, no matter who they are. Why? Because your identity is hidden. There would be no bias against you.”
“So?” you asked, and Hyunjin gave you a look. “Okay, okay, continue!”
“As I was saying,” he carried on, “This would not only help you gain an initial audience, but, if you do wish to reveal yourself after that, then it would be perfect. You would have not only shown the public that a woman had written such a brilliant novel, but anyone who would have had previous biases would either conform to reading your writing, or be furious that they had been tricked into reading a woman’s novel.” He then added, smirking, “Which, in my opinion, would be a very amusing situation to witness.”
You thought over what he said, mind in slight conflict. “In the end, though, it is your choice,” he reassured you. “Whatever you do, you have my undeterred support.”
The little addition had you smiling. “You make valid points,” you admitted, which had the man releasing a chuckle.
“You say that as if I have no intelligence,” he jeered, pulling you closer. “You will be thanking me when all of this goes as I predicted.”
“Don’t push it,” you countered. “We both know you have been proved wrong many times.”
“Hmmm…” he trailed off, leaning in, brushing his lips upon your skin. “At least I know I am right about one thing.”
“Oh?” Your head began to swim as he trailed a few lingering kisses up your neck. “And...and what would that be?”
He did not answer you — only offered an alluring smile before pressing his lips against yours. A soft hum left you as he moved his mouth against yours, slow and languid, teasing his tongue against the seams.
You would have offered yourself right then and there if he had not broken away, drumming his fingers against your waist. The smile darkened as he gave you his reply.
“You cannot resist me, angel.”
That, no matter how much it worked against your favour, was an undoubted fact.
After this though, you made your decision to keep anonymous, letting the publishers know of your change of heart. You knew that what Hyunjin said made sense, and, if your novel does receive recognition, then revealing yourself would create a huge statement in London society, positive or not. With this in mind, brought the final edited drafts of your work, and received information of the commissions and percentages taken by the publishing house.
Because the release of your novel was to take some time, you had some freedom with your everyday activities, which were once taken up by the constant editing. The duke, luckily, had begun to employ much more able men in his authority, and so his work was decreased significantly, to the point where he had days to spend with you alone.
During that waiting period, he suggested the two of you retreat to Hemingford, where you both spent your honeymoon. Your smile never left as you jumped at the idea, the man in turn making arrangements for the earliest carriage out of the city.
Within two days, you were welcomed by the little manor, nestled in the gifts of nature. You found yourself warming to the whole place once more, memories of the past months returning in a flash. Images of the many groves of trees, small network of rivers and a special presence, soothed you in every part you walked through. You nearly forgot how dear Hemingford was to you in the chaos of city life, engulfing its regal, almost mystical atmosphere. A part of you hoped that the book would take forever to be published, so you could never leave the natural retreat Hyunjin’s ancestors had created.
The man himself was glad he opted to take you to the manor — he saw your nerves slowly taking over in London, and knew that the more you stayed in Lansdowne, the more the wait was going to eat you alive. Aware of your attachment towards this place, he made it his personal mission to bring you here, and try to provide you with a little peace. When he caught that certain smile of yours when your eyes fell on the manor and the gardens around it, he felt half his worries melting away in the spring air.
He hated seeing you so unnerved.
After a few days resting in paradise, the situation was changed for the better. You, breathing in the very earth beneath your feet, observing the trees curved over you like a concerned parent, thought that you could stay here forever. Receiving a letter from the publishers’ of the near completion of copies made only brightened your spirits, and you sighed out into nature.
“Is something the matter?”
Perking up, you saw Hyunjin, who walked over from behind you.
“Ah...not much,” you said, watching him settle beside you on the bench you sat upon, folding one dark-clad leg over the other. In his hands possessed a book of deep-shaded red, which he held with great care. “Thinking about the letter today.”
“I see.” His eyes wandered down to his fingers. “Actually, I do have something for you, relating to the subject.”
“Oh?” You followed his trail. “Does this book have something to do with it?”
“However did you figure that out?” He drawled, but then he faced you properly, unfolding his leg. “Here.”
You took the possession, eyes on him. “Whose book is it?”
A knowing smile escaped his lips. “Look at the front, angel.”
Curious, you obliged, checking the title.
You completely stilled.
Written on the front was the name of your novel.
“Oh my God,” you got out, holding it with both hands, opening it to the pages. There it all was, inscripted upon the hundreds of pieces of paper.
Your writing.
Your sleepless nights, your labour, your every ounce of strength, tied together by paper and leather and string.
Rushing, you opened to a random section of the novel, smile widening at the typewriter’s neat, cleaner version of your manic scribbles. The dialogue, the description of each environment — it was there before you, but this time it was not in your head, whirling indefinitely without a place to explain itself.
It was all on paper — in your very hands.
“H-Hyunjin,” you stammered out, not realising your heart was becoming a little too heavy. “Oh my God—where did you get this? Have they—they have begun to sell copies already?”
“Oh Lord,” your husband murmured, hands on your shoulders. “No, no, my love, this was of my own doing.”
When he caught the confused expression upon your aghast face, he explained further. “Before we left for London, I paid a visit to the publishers’, who had started typing up copies of your book. I requested the first copy made be given to me.”
His thumbs began to stroke soothing circles onto your skin. “I know you would have wanted to hold it in your hands before anyone else.”
Heavens above. He truly knew you so well.
You focused back on the book, closing it as you ran your fingers over the leather cover. “I…”
“No need,” he said, giving you an amused grin. “I already know I am the best husband one could ask for.”
He expected his banter to be returned, but you responded to him with a heart-shattering smile.
Holding out the book, you propped it in his hands. “I want you to have it, Hyunjin.”
This time, it was his turn to be confused. “Am I missing the joke here?”
You held his gaze, albeit with much difficulty. “I promised you something once, quite a long time ago. All my firsts are yours.”
Your hand reached out, brushing against his. “This is my first novel. My most prized possession.” A pause, before holding that state with all your might. “I would want nothing more than for you to keep it.”
The duke used his every ounce of strength not to cry upon the bench. “Well then…” he began, taking the book from you. He turned to the front page, which was blank, save for the title name again, and the written anonymously typed onto its surface. “Well, ____, you must sign it for me!”
A laugh escaped you at that. “An autograph?” You jested, spluttering further when the man brought out his fountain pen, opening the cap. “I suppose with this enthusiasm, I shall throw in a little message.”
Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest, brows raising in mock surprise. “By God, you spoil me!”
“Give it here!” You retorted, taking the pen and book once more as you found the landing page.
You pondered for a few minutes on what to write, earning a few hurry ups! and the occasional she does not love me after all, the latter greatly exaggerated. Berating him, you finally thought of the words, arriving straight from the heart.
Finishing off, you gave the novel back. “Let us see what faux sweetening you have made for me,” he chortled, eyes lowering to the text.
His grin began to fade as he read the message in his mind.
TO THE MAN WHO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND, MY FIRST KISS, AND NOW MY FIRST LOVE.
HERE’S TO MANY MORE FIRSTS WITH YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ALL LAST.
I LOVE YOU.
Hyunjin knew that the sting in his eyes was not the spring breeze.
Slowly, he looked up, catching you staring at him with a smile—loving smile upon your face. A shuddered breath left his lips, unable to form the words.
“Oh no,” you began, jesting despite tears welling up in your own eyes. “It seems the duke believes in my faux sweetening after all.”
A coughed laugh left him at that, trying to clamp his lips together from smiling, but his emotions refused him to suppress himself. His eyes crescented, adding to his near teary grin. Propping the book to the side, he offered his familiar stare, laced with every fibre of affection.
“Come here.”
You jumped at the command, leaning closer as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him. He moulded his lips against yours, and you readily accepted him, offering yourself up entirely for him — as if you were not completely his by your own choice.
The slight madness laced upon his mouth had you whining onto him, taking in the entirety of his affection as you opened up to him. Your request was teased upon with his tongue, sliding along your bottom lip, but the man pulled away, panted breaths fanning your mouth.
He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers holding onto your face as if letting go would cause you to stray. “I…” he let out a deep, trembling breath. “I love you, ____. So much.”
Your heart would never tire of the declaration. “I love you too, Hyunjin.”
And as he claimed your lips once more, you wondered whether you had finally achieved what every work of literature praised in the most elevated of languages.
Still, at least you knew this — that once there was a duke who you promised all your firsts to, and had somehow found his way into your heart.
There was once a woman, who refused to believe in love for herself, only for this duke to convince her otherwise, by falling for her completely.
Love stories may be a mere creation of the mind, but at least, at the very least, you knew.
Your love story was real. The first which was not mere fantasy, but real and true and tangible.
You had a feeling that this first, out of all the others you shared with the Duke of Hastings, was going to last.
#stray kids smut#stray kids imagines#hwang hyunjin imagines#hwang hyunjin smut#stray kids oneshot#stray kids#stray kids fluff#hwang hyunjin oneshot#hwang hyunjin fluff#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin smut#hyunjin imagines#hwang hyunjin x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids scenarios#hwang hyunjin scenarios#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin scenarios#stray kids dark hours#hwang hyunjin dark hours#hyunjin dark hours
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NSFW alphabet: Every letter that you haven't answered yet.
This is pretty long so I'm putting it under the cut lol
C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)
The first thing that came to mind was that Lois definitely swallows. And they rarely use condoms. I don't even think they did when they started having sex. By that point, the trust was real and strong and it just wasn't needed, but they keep them around just in case.
D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)
They got off thinking about each other way before they got together.
F= Favorite position
Definitely cowgirl, both of them love Lois being on top. Although, Clark is the first guy Lois has been with where she actually thoroughly enjoys missionary and it's never boring.
G= Goofy (how serious are they)
Like many things, it depends on the mood etc. but they definitely get silly and laugh especially if they're in a hurry or just high off of each other's love.
H= Hair (grooming habits)
Idk if it was a Tom shaving thing but I swear I never saw Clark with chest hair so I'm guessing downstairs is pretty clean, and if it's not he'll shave for Lois even if she says she doesn't care. Lois shaves pretty regularly. And again, for Clark he doesn't have a preference.
I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)
It depends, they do both. If it's angry/make up sex it's rough and dirty. Same if it was in a horny frenzy or after one or both almost died. Most of the times it's romantic, but I think there's always an element of dirty with them. I mean, it is clois.
J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)
Not while the other one is around most of the time (unless it's part of their foreplay/showing each other). And if either of them are away and Clark can't fly on over to see Lois, they 100% each partake in it. And even if they are around, but just haven't been with each other and they're feeling like it... yeah why not. I have a head canon that they've walked in on each other doing it so
K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)
Role play, dress up, tying each other up, edging, almost getting caught at work or in other public places. They like to watch each other get off and have phone sex as well.
L= Location (where they like to get it on)
Where don't they like to get it on is a shorter answer lol honestly, everywhere and anywhere. Pretty sure Clark's gotten her off while flying too. Every room in their Metropolis apartment and the Kent home, the barn, work (elevator, their office, supply room) watch tower, ice fortress- which is canon lol
N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)
This might be a personal thing, but I don't think they'd be into threesomes. For me, it's just them. And nothing involving other bodily fluids that don't come from sex.
O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)
They give and receive like it's Christmas everyday. They're both experts at it. idk how much I can expand on this. I will say Clark has gotten better at asking for it and Lois happily obliges, not just cause she loves it, but she knows he gives as good as he gets. Also, he has a thing for tugging on Lois' hair and for her to sit on his face. I could talk about this subject for a while, I'm afraid. Also: Clark and his super speed tongue. That is all.
Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)
They've mastered the quickie especially with their sexual adventures at work, and Clark having to fly in and out (lol). So it's not so much as a preference, I do think they prefer to take their time, but they're definitely a regular occurrence.
S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)
Clark and his blessed kryptonian genes allow him to go for a long time, but Lois isn't far behind. And she definitely gives him a run for his money. Only she could tire out the man of steel at some point.
U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)
As mentioned before, they do have a thing for edging. And they tease each other endlessly at work. I feel like it's almost a competition for them... see who can last longer in the teasing game. They both enjoy it tho.
V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)
Lois is loud. As in, if they're sharing the apartment or house with anyone else, Clark has had to cover her mouth (which is just another turn on for her). Clark's pretty quiet, and not so vocal, but the longer he's with Lois, the more comfortable he's gotten participating in dirty talk, which she's mastered (and he loves).
X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)
Lois wears thongs, usually with a matching bra. Laced. She noticed Clark enjoyed the pink ones more so she began to wear them more. But when Clark started excessively ripping her underwear, she started going commando. Clark lost his mind over it. And he just wears boxers, usually plaid ones or the funny ones that Lois buys him. He'll scowl at first, but secretly loves them just bc of how it amuses her.
Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)
Through the damn roof. These two are horny little toads. They didn't just get an office together at work so they could write stories in private lol
Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)
Depends, but not usually if it was their first round and they weren't that tired to begin with.
#ask#head canon#heh thanks for this#I'm truly fascinated by their sex life#and sv provided us with a lot to build upon#miss lane. porch swings. ice fortress. costumes.#getting it on at work. having their own office.#lois being a top#it's a lot and it's a blessing
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Broken Love
Hello! My name is Scythe, this is my very first time posting on tumblr, I really don’t know how to lmao. This is a story that I wrote on AO3 a few months ago, but I’ll be posting it here too. Really sorry if the formatting is wonky, I don’t know how to use this lol
TRIGGER WARNING FOR: alcohol abuse, self hate, semi-descriptive mention of sexual assault, and slight sexual content. Please read at your own risk.
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“What, do you think your mother even bothered to think about you while she was worked to death?”
Nesta regretted it the moment those hateful words left her mouth. A part of her wanted to take back the venom she spat out, yet dignity trampled it down, keeping her spine straight and her head held high. She refused to acknowledge the pain that creeped upon her heart, instead curling her hands into fists as that maelstrom in her eyes swirled angrily.
Her eyes were a force to behold; oh, such rage filled those cunning blue-gray eyes, like that of a wrathful thunderstorm.
She watched, not a flicker of emotion showing, as the fire in Cassian’s eyes died out, reduced to ashes.
She wanted, ached for him to spit back at her, to argue and quarrel.
But she knew she went too far with that remark.
Yet pride, insufferable pride, refused to let her apologize.
༺༻
Cassian felt his breath still at the sneering insult she had flung back at him. They bickered endlessly, yet it was an unspoken rule between them to never bring relatives into it.
Never.
Especially when they were dead- have been dead for five hundred years.
Thousands of retorts came to mind, an endless collection of insults he could hurl back, yet they all died on the tip of his tongue.
Cassian could feel nothing, hear nothing, as he closed the door quietly behind him and walked out of Nesta’s apartment in deafening, roaring silence, wings tucked in tight. He did not know where he was going, and he definitely was not in the mood to fly back to the House of Wind. So he let his steps carry him to the ends of the earth.
And he couldn’t help but think back to what Nesta had said.
Do you think your mother even bothered to think about you while she was worked to death?
Somewhere inside him, uncertainty crept along his bones. He knew that his mother cared for him, even as he was abandoned at an Illyrian camp with nothing but himself. But what if he was wrong? Five centuries later, his only recollection of his mother was a hazy, warm face.
Oh, and the screams and body-wracking sobs that she had let out as he was taken away.
His mother had left him with an amulet, a necklace of ruby the same brilliant carmine color as his seven siphons. He chose to give it to Nesta. Yet that was at the bottom of the Sidra, thrown in there after she refused to accept it, telling him that she wanted nothing from him and leaving.
Oh, how he loathed himself.
༺༻
Nesta stood there, fists clenching and unclenching, as she processed what just happened, replaying the events over and over again.
She should have never said that. She had never hurt Cassian so deep before, so thoroughly that he had left, just left. Without firing some stinging retort back at her.
And what killed her the most? He was a good male. In her heart, she knew that he was worth everything in the world. Gods, he had even closed the door quietly, not slamming it like she would’ve undoubtedly done.
She finally shook herself out of her stance, pacing around her messy, drab-gray apartment, dirty clothes flung everywhere, cobwebs on the corners of the walls.
And so, Nesta resorted to the only option at hand.
The only way she knew how to cope.
Oh, how she loathed herself.
༺༻
Cassian’s steps eventually led him to the Sidra, his unkempt hair blowing in the harsh breeze. The biting cold chilled his fingertips, but he paid it no mind as he stared across the river, waves lapping gently at the sand that he stood on.
From besides him, he could feel shadows wreath him, swirling around the secluded beach, twirling in the air.
“Not now, Azriel,” he spoke, responding to the silent shadows. “I want to be alone.”
The shadows seemed to stop, hesitating, as if saying, ‘are you sure, brother?’ before eventually blowing away, returning to their master.
The Illyrian Commander stared out across the Sidra, his gaze unfocused, eyes on the horizon. Though he did not see the point where water met land.
No, the only thing he could see were smoldering eyes of stormy blue.
༺༻
Nesta cringed inwardly at the cheap alcohol that went down her throat, rough and burning. She took another massive gulp.And she kept this up, until only the last dregs remained.
And then she asked for another drink.
And another.
And another.
She drank, and drank, and drank, welcoming the oblivion and the lack of emotion that accompanied this. Nesta kept at it, until her head was fuzzy and dizzy and she could not hear nor see a single thing clearly. Empty bottles lined the table she sat at.
You are worthless, a voice in her head hissed. Worthless. You do not deserve him, you do not deserve Feyre and Elain’s kindness. You should continue to waste away, until you are completely gone.
Nesta wholeheartedly agreed with whatever spoke in her mind.
She hated herself, hated her walls of thorns, hated that she was like a plague, spreading hatred and sadness to everyone around her.
She wished she could change. And when she realized she couldn’t change, wouldn’t change, she wished she was gone.
A male approached her, sitting down next to her. A cruel smile slashed across his face, displaying a handsome face with striking blue eyes and cropped, dirty blond hair. Pointed ears and sharp canines added to his features.
High Fae, then, Nesta thought.
She could practically smell the lust and whiskey on the male.
She welcomed it.
Nesta did not mind as a phantom hand of his grazed her leg, inching up to her thigh. She smirked at him, an invitation and a taunt.
Soon enough, she grabbed his hand harshly, and they were in her bedroom within minutes.
This was the only way she could find freedom, through sex and alcohol. Perhaps she indeed was wasting away, a useless pile of garbage. Once upon a time, she would bristle at such a comparison. Now, she could only agree.
The male entered her, and an image of Tomas Mandray crossed her mind. The foreign touch, the mortal man who had torn her clothes to pieces and pinned her on the wall, until she had screamed her throat raw and clawed her way out of his grip. She still shuddered at the memory, but she shoved it down in her brain, all the way to the back of her mind, where all these other emotions and memories and feelings and happiness were, repressed and behind a gate that Nesta would never open.
She rode him deep into the twilight, though she did not see the male Fae.
No, the only thing she could see were fiery eyes of warm hazel.
༺༻
Cassian stayed by the riverbank until dusk, the rays of twilight sun warming him. Occasionally, he stretched his wings out, extending them and flapping once before he tucked them in tight again. Other than that, he stayed still, letting the waves lull him as he combed through memories and thoughts.
They always seemed to rebel, to go to that one day he didn’t want to think of. The day where his wings were broken, shredded to pieces, wounds dotting his body like stars in the night sky as he laid on that battlefield, with Nesta covering him.
I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world- and we will have that time, I promise.
Those words he had spoken echoed in his mind, and he remembered the way Nesta had shielded his body with her own.
And right before that- as Nesta had shouted, roaring his name, as he had avoided that blast of magic that would have killed him within milliseconds.
Did he deserve that?
Nightmares still plagued his mind during the night, where he watched as his soldiers, men he grew up with, died on the battlegrounds.
Where they had lain their lives for the war.
Where they died, and he didn’t.
Guilt still ate at him, reprimanding and lashing at himself for surviving when he should have died, was supposed to die with those people. He had been grateful for Elain and Nesta, who killed Hybern, yet oftentimes he still went back to that day, wondering why he was still alive when he shouldn’t be.
Cassian’s slumbering siphons flared brightly as thoughts invaded his mind.
He watched as the sun sank into the sky, the last rays of crimson and gold died with the sun, falling below the horizon. For a moment, the atmosphere turned the same, dark shade of vermillion as his siphons.
Gradually, the sky grew dark, as night fell and stars peeked out from behind their blanket of darkness.
Cassian lowered his head.
Purpose sang in his body, purpose to live. If he was granted with life, he would live it to the fullest. He would pull Nesta out of that dark, dark place, no matter how long it would take. No matter how much it would hurt himself, no matter how bleak some days might be. He made a promise to himself, vowing to never admit defeat and stop trying.
Because he loved her. Truly.
And love, unending love, refused to let him give up.
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Yeah that’s it! Leave any comments down below (are they called comments on tumblr? I think they’re like,, notes or smth? Also, prompts r nice, gimme prompts for Nessian if you want :)) love them sm. Hope u enjoyed!! I have other fanfic oneshots, which i’ll post probably after i figure out how Tumblr works
- Scythe
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day 11 & 12
With Festa in full swing last week, I feel like I didn’t have a chance to breathe let alone sit down long enough to articulate a review worthy of Day 11. I shall endeavor to do my very best to make up for that here. And, upon reading the start of Day 12, I am actually kinda glad I waited because I think that it gave me time to put both chapters into perspective.
Day 11 was a very emotional one for Jungkook and I feel like we got to see those emotions coming to a head in this chapter. On the whole, Day 11 was such a fun, lowkey entry that I wasn’t really sure if I would have anything coherent to offer beyond high pitched squealing accompanied by the occasional swoon and cooing. But after seeing the tension and subsequent squabble that transpired at the breakfast table on Day 12, I see that perhaps there was more to ruminate concerning the feelings that Jungkook had experienced in the confessional booth. It’s so interesting from a writers perspective that you chose Jungkook to be the one to reiterate the whole point of the show; he’s younger, thus perhaps conventionally he’s a bit more emotionally immature than the rest of the guys. And yet, from the beginning, none of these guys have ever been portrayed as stereotypical or conventional; you have always expertly reminded the audience that each of the contestants (including our lady!) is more much complex than what meets the eye. It’s one of the things that I love so much about this series; none of the characters are ever “too perfect” and it’s those candid moments of vulnerability or weakness that truly makes this story stand out from a lot of other stories that I read. So to choose Jungkook as the person to make those “bold” comments and to have Namjoon be the one to call him out for being insensitive makes me feel like Jungkook’s response was much more complex than what it seems at glance. Like, it’s pretty obvious that Jungkook likes and respects our lady and perhaps he realized his indiscretion just a little to late but now he’s put on the spot, he’s been called out in front of everyone, and beyond the fact that he probably feels like shit for saying what he said and inadvertently hurting our lady in the process. He’s probably also hella embarrassed. I wonder too if maybe Jungkook is also ashamed that the person who called him out was Namjoon, someone who I want to believe, he respects and perhaps maybe admires a little. And despite the fact that I chuckled a little bit when our lady noticed that Jungkook was “staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames”, I realized that he might also be both angry and disappointed in himself for his behavior. *sigh* Boy, you were so right all those weeks ago when you said “emotions are messy”. Anyway, that’s my roundabout way of saying, I liked the breakfast scene. Haha! Drama is inevitable; I love that you don’t shy away from presenting conflict for them to overcome. It offers opportunities for character growth and character exploration and I really appreciate that!
Speaking of character growth, Namjoon got a chance to really flex those skills he acquired from “Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess”. That scene left me melting! Melting, I say! I’m not sure if you noticed but I make it a point to not reveal who my actual bias is in these reviews because I feel like I want to give all of the guys a chance to win me over for fan favorite. What I will say though is that you kind of hit on a lot of my personal preferences with Namjoon’s scene. Beyond the fact that the scene was really, really hawt, it fulfilled me on an emotionally intimate level, so it made the scene extra special. Bravo!
And I suppose Jimin also deserves a standing ovation for that amazing show he put on. Holy smokes that was so hot. From the light banter and quips at the beginning of that scene to Jimin actually owning that entire lounge! And as amazing as the show (plus subsequent private scene with our lady afterwards) was, my favorite bit might be the exchange between Jimin and Hoseok, another scene that filled with tension and new revelations! It might actually be the most fascinating scene because it gave a glimpse at something rather unexpected; something has transpired between Hoseok and Jimin. I might be reading too much into the exchange but it feels as though something has happened away from the cameras between them. Because it feels like there has been a shift from blatant hostility between these two to something more akin to a genuine understanding that this is now a battle for power and control. I could be reaching but I feel like, at the very least, there have been words exchanged between them! It made the scene all the more intriguing! I loved every moment of it. Oh! Speaking of which, what is up with Jin?! When Yoongi asked Jin to speak to Kookie about what had happened that morning, it seemed he was a bit apprehensive to take up the task. I know that there might not be anything more there than just the fact that Jin might not want to be the one to have to broach the subject with Kookie but I feel like there’s more there than what meets the eye as well… my theory is in it’s fetus stage though, so I feel like I’ll hold back on my thoughts concerning Jin for now. And Yoongi, for that matter! I feel like there is something more there as well. AH! Too many theories to juggle! I will let you know what my thoughts are about it once I have gathered more adequate information.
I still feel guilty for not being able to give you a full length review of Day 11. It really was such a great, light day. Jungkook’s scene left me all hot and bothered to the point where I spent the entirety of the week, searching up Jungkook smut fics to fulfill my Jungkook fix that that chapter evoked in me! Not to mention that the boys getting up to antics for a whiteboard that in the end they didn’t really need just made me all the more baffled by their behavior. It was fun, hilarious and just what I would expect from the guys.
To make up for not having anything for last week, I would like to take the opportunity to tell you about me loving this amazing story so much I nearly force-fed my best friend to read it with me so that I would have someone to fangirl with. Let me tell you a little bit about her. See, she doesn’t consume fanfics with as much verocity as I do. She is a very casual fanfic reader and if she does (which is rare in it of itself) she only ever reads MxM. Period. So when I told her the premises of “The Gentlemen” she was curious enough to read the contestant profiles. But I must say, from Day 1, you had her HOOKED! She would text me screenshots and emoji filled fangirlings in the wee hours of the morning (the only time she had to read at all) every single thing she loved about each chapter and it brings me so much joy that she was really dissecting and appreciating all the little things that I too loved about your story! We would have long, deep discussions about her prompt theories, her favorite members, tiny details that you’ve so expertly woven into the story (like Jimin’s tattoo for example, which is something she is obsessed with, btw) all of her favorite traits that our lady of the house has. It’s been so blissfully fun having this to share with her especially since I have her to thank for getting me into BTS in the first place. So, please know that you have a secret fan of “The Gentlemen” who would like you to know that she has been enjoying herself thoroughly and that she looks forward to your updates just as much as I do now!
Anyhoo, I think I’ve prattled on long enough. Thank you so much for your continued hard work and dedication to this series! This was such an amazing chapter I cannot wait to see how everything unfolds; it feel as though these last 2 chapters have planted some major seeds (no pun intended!!); I look forward to see what it sows in the coming days. 💜 Jan
Oh my gosh! In all of my ramblings, I forgot to say "shout out to Lady Mango! You go get that stake, girly!" Also, YAY Grandma Park!! Heck, that entire exchange in the bathtub made me uwu so hard my heart is just a pile of mush rn! Also, also!! Jin x Tae is lowkey underrated, so thank you for that! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ I lub u so much!! kthnxbye
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i’m not ashamed (okay, maybe a little) to admit that i kinda teared up and did a happy lil dance when i saw the email that you’d sent in a submission fksdjfkds i figured you’d probably been busy with life or with the mountainloads of content bighit is giving us these days so i was content to wait patiently, and it just made it that much more exciting when i saw this come in !
thank you, as always, for being so sweet and articulate and thoughtful in your reviews of the chapters. often you point out things that make so much sense that perhaps i hadn’t even noticed when writing. other times you hit an idea that i’d slipped in right on the nose.
jungkook definitely is having a pretty tumultuous time on the show. for him, i imagine he feels like he’s the only one having a difficult time ironing out his feelings, or that if anyone else is struggling too, that they’re acting like nothing’s up. i also feel like jungkook’s competitive streak comes through in unexpected ways. of course he feels proud of his sexual prowess and kinda wants to showboat a little bit, but i think there’s an aspect too where he needs to be the one that’s always bolder than the others to assert his position. writing the namkook scene i kind of drew on that feeling where you’re fighting with someone you care about or think highly of, and even as you realise you’re wrong, you don’t want them to think badly of you and so you desperately scramble for a way to come out on top or prove you’re in the right. there’s also def a degree of him trying to convince himself the show is just about sex and that the rest doesn’t matter. he certainly doesn’t feel that way inside, but we see him vouching from that position so fiercely in d12.
i’m glad you liked the namjoon scene !! one day i’ll figure out your bias fkdsjfksdjk you do such a good job at analysing and discussing everyone equally that it’s difficult >.<
it’s so fascinating to hear your jihope theory that they’ve spoken before. i must keep my silence on the details BUT there will be a very important scene between them coming up in the next few days of the show that i think will really change things between them and also how the readers see them. i’m super excited to write it !
beyond that, i’m happy you noticed something about jin in this chapter.... yn and jin still haven’t resolved their issues yet, plus here we are having jin not respond that well to being asked to counsel one of the members, something he always stated he was happy to do,,,,, hmmmm 0.0
i love hearing your theories so much !!! i eagerly await getting new content out so i can see how they shift and change from release to release
and also you really don’t need to feel bad ! there’s never any obligation to write out a long review for every chapter, but you do so anyway and that means a lot to me xx if you’re busy one week you don’t have to force yourself to make time for it. we have over 50 chapters, so we’re in for the long haul ! there’s really no rush
ahhhh that’s so cool to hear about your friend! it always warms my heart hearing stories of people that got their friends to begin reading and stuff, honestly even the thought that people think about tgm outside of reading it blows me away, it feels so special that it’s something y’all wanna share and discuss w your loved ones xx
YES LADY MANGOOO i love adding little slips of her in the chapters, i know she doesn’t factor into the main story that much but everyone can rest assured that all of the members of the house (okay, and probably our three on-site producers too) spend a lot of time with her, walking her and cuddling her and playing with her. tae is probably currently trying to teach her some commands, but of course the only one she’s got the hang of is lie down jskfjsd
(finally YES taejin is such an underrated duo i love them)
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matchup (1)
@lawfulschoolgirl requested: “My BNHA is "Shrinking Violet"! She's a DMAB demi girl with severe inability to function socially, a very eccentric way of speaking, and severely autistic traits and tendencies, such as never maintaining eye contact. A bit of a self-insert in that last respect. Her quirk is to manipulate emotional stability into her size and density, allowing her to become an indestructible little hero with intelligence and physical compactness scaling when she shrinks, but the drawback is she shrinks erratically with her mood. Her height is always variable or listed as "?'??" because it scales infrequently. Literally, a kiss can shoot her down enough to be stuck, hanging and dangling from a bottom lip, while she can reach as high as 6'3" if she's experiencing a power trip. She cannot unshrink if there is something physically obscuring or imposing on her from any direction and needs enough space to grow back at all. So nets will literally net her, and a hand can keep her from unshrinking, but her durability and intelligence are still heightened in this form. She's a pale-skinned, purple-sclera long-haired and almost-doll-faced pretty girl. She only smiles on one side of the face and has considerable eye bags and a constellation of pimples she's somewhat self-conscious about -- which helps her quirk considerably, especially probing about inches tall. Matchups with both boy and girl would be appreciated, as with NSFW headcanons out of sordid curiosity!”
Thank you for requesting, love!
I have matched you with 2 pro heroes and 1 villain.
I hope you enjoy it!!
Mount Lady
You two first met while a villain was threatening the city of Hosu and her first impression was somewhere along the lines of, “WHOM?????”
She hadn’t seen you around, but she was so curious?? She would seek you out in attempts to get to know you.
Even though she wanted to get to know you for her own selfish reasons, she became very fond of you and found you adorable especially when you were blushing.
She would tease you... a lot so you might want to get used to that!
Before you knew it she was the closest person to you.
It would take her SO long to realize she had feelings for you, but when it hits her oh my stars- she’d have no clue what to do with herself at first. Her uncertainty would be very short-lived. The moment she accepted her feelings, the tables would do a complete 360-degree turn.
You made it clear early on that you wanted to keep the relationship out of the public eye which she completely respected, but you best believe to her personal friend’s and family she would be showing you off big time.
Her teasing would only escalate as soon as you guys would get further into the relationship.
She a dom. You cannot change my mind.
If you thought she went overboard with the teasing outside the bedroom??? Oh, Honey, she didn’t even scratch the surface...
She only gives you what you want if you beg her to do so because she’s stubborn.
She takes care of you before herself if you understand what I am implying.
Stamina for days. Round 2? More like Round 5.
The sex is fantastic and the aftercare is even better.
c u d d l e s for d a y s
She is always the big spoon.
The morning after she will tell you in detail about everything you two did just to fluster you.
After teasing you thoroughly if she doesn’t go for a morning round she will be making you breakfast just the way you like it
Aizawa
Oh boy, where do I begin??
He nearly stepped on you while restraining a villain in his scarf and let's just say you scared the shit out of him while informing him that he did in fact nearly step on you.
He had no clue how to respond?? Rubbing his eyes, he just stared at you while trying to find the words.
He didn’t find the words because oh my stars??? You’re precious???
He didn’t even apologize because he just wanted to know anything and everything about you immediately.
He talked to you while waiting for the police to arrest the villain he restrained.
After that, you two became inseparable.
He would visit you every week if not every day. He knew he was interested from the start, but would secretly hope you’d make the first move while he waiting for the right time to ask you out.
He didn’t actually wait as long as he originally intended...He was prepared to wait for years, but yeah that didn’t exactly happen.
He bumped into you on the roof of a building while finishing up his underground work and apparently he was feeling really bold this night because FUCK IT!! What were you going to do??? Say no???
He was so confident, but then he just started stumbling on his words and oh my stars could you have really said no???
You two can actually go out in public for dates since you two are kind of underground.
Your first date was at a cat cafe.
Nap dates!!!! Cuddling on his couch and taking naps together becomes a routine thing.
He is the big spoon of course.
very protective. He will protect you at all costs.
He is WHIPPED and forever in denial about it.
He lets you make most of the decisions because he’s whipped. (Plus we all know he doesn’t like to make big decisions. Remember how he couldn’t even pick his own hero name because he couldn’t be bothered to do so????)
He loves to spoil you in any way he can because he’s whipped.
Speaking of spoiling you in any way he can, let’s talk about the bedroom, also a place where he spoils you.
A WHOLE DOM.
Loves to take you in front of a mirror so he can tell you all of the things he loves about you while you watch him take you.
He marks you every time so you’re reminded that you’re his.
Makes sure he’s kissed every inch of you before he’s done.
Likes when you ride him after a long day.
aftercare!! It doesn’t matter how tired he is he will always make sure to take care of you afterward.
Dabi
I know what you’re thinking...
This man hates heroes. How could he possibly end up with you???
Well yes, this is true, this man hates most heroes.
You are not most heroes.
He met you while the league was performing one of their attacks. The attack was one of their more large scale attacks. The league split up to different parts of the city and Dabi happened to be in an area very close to where you were. ‘
You were trying to get as many people evacuated as you possibly could. By the time he found you, you thought you got all of the people off the street... that is until you saw a lost kid in the distance and you RAN to save them before Dabi could start causing damage with his quirk.
After talking to you for a while, he found himself struggling because something about you wasn’t like “the other heroes”.
And after that day, he practically looked for you anytime he was out.
You two had a complicated relationship from the start. He was a villain with a motive to expose false heroes and you were an underground hero who just wanted to make a difference.
He sometimes just wished you were a villain.
You two got along, but you both also argue... a lot.
He argues with you over the most stupid things most of the time, but sometimes the arguments are serious.
Despite being so different he likes you a lot.
And somehow you feel the same??
Who knew you two would end up together??
You don’t get to see each other as much as you want to, but when you do it’s always memorable, even if you both end up arguing.
He’s not good at expressing himself at all and you sometimes wonder how he even managed to ask you out.
You love him despite him being stubborn, aloof, and a tiny bit sadistic.
He rarely opens up to you, but when he does you always listen to him.
He thinks you’re too good for him.
He keeps you a secret from the league.
You two are unexpectedly perfect for each other despite being so different.
He’s unexpectedly clingy.
Especially in the bedroom.
That man is a whole switch, but he is only submissive to you.
He loves when you take control, but he just doesn’t admit that out loud unless you make him of course.
“Make me“
He is such a bratty sub, but you would be lying if you said you didn't expect that of him.
He gets flustered when you compliment him in bed.
Cuddles after, but he prefers being the big spoon.
For anyone wanting to request, you can find the rules here. You can request in the ask box or my messages! Thank you for reading!
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Bulletproof -- Part Eleven
Fandom: Marvel/College AU
Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Gamora, Natasha Romanoff, Thor Odinson, Sam Wilson, Loki Odinson, Peter Quill, OFC Lilah Robbins
Author: @amandaoftherosemire
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 4,450
Format: Series (Complete)
Warnings: 18+ only, Smut, language, binge drinking, sex in public, intoxicated confessions, angst.
Summary: You and Bucky go with Gamora and Nat to a frat party. Shenanigans ensue. Bucky hears some hard truths.
A/N: Look, it had to happen at some point. That’s all I’m saying.
Banner by: @hellzzzbelle
Part Ten here
Part Eleven
You walked to Quill's fraternity house with Gamora and Nat leading the way and Bucky's arm around your shoulders. He'd insisted on walking with the three of you, claiming he needed protection and knew he’d be safe with the three of you.
“Well,” he murmured hotly into your ear, “safe with them. You’re another story, babygirl.”
Your skin went hot and your lips twitched. Snorting, you drilled your finger into the sensitive spot on his stomach. “Shut up.” Your voice was a stern mutter, but your face was a study in smug.
On the sidewalk ahead of you, Gamora and Natasha shared an amused eye roll at the two of you. They were both a little baffled that the two of you seemed to think you were fooling anyone. Still, even Natasha had come around by the time you reached the party, too charmed by the energy of fun and affection between you.
She'd believed Gamora when she'd insisted that Bucky was stupid in love with you, but she didn't necessarily think that meant he wouldn’t hurt you. Seeing you light up under his obvious devotion, however, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. The fact that you were clearly setting the rules and boundaries, with Bucky following your lead, helped her understand why neither Gamora nor Steve had interfered in any way.
That you were oblivious to the reality of the dynamics of your relationship with Bucky had her deeply concerned, though. She worried that you were laboring under misconceptions fueled by assumptions. A student of cause and effect, she knew no good could come of confusion, unless there was an order underlying the chaos. As you didn't know you held the reins, you couldn't be directing the course. Natasha planned to discuss this with Gamora at the first available opportunity.
To that end, about an hour after they'd arrived, she went looking for Gamora and instead found Bucky, in the goddamn laundry room, lip-locked with Lilah fucking Robbins. Her face cold and cruel with the plans of revenge running through her head, Natasha pulled her phone from her pocket and began recording.
Bucky was in full-blown panic mode. Gamora had come and taken you from him, laughingly insisting that she needed you for 'girl talk'. (He shuddered to think what girl talk might entail when the girls were you and your friends. He’d never met more dangerous women.) Bucky had decided to play it safe and stay in the crowd around the beer pong table where Sam was winning against a progressively more intoxicated, and thus sassier, but no less able, Thor Odinson. He was having fun until he saw Lilah Robbins stalking toward him in a tight dress designed to raise the blood pressure. He’d made his first mistake by running; predators cannot resist a chase.
Which is how he found himself once again in another frat house laundry room with a pretty girl he was wishing was you wrapped around him.
This time, however, he'd said no before the wrapping.
Trying to be gentle, but also supremely pissed, Bucky put both hands firmly around Lilah's shoulders and yanked her away from him.
"Goddammit, woman," he spat out, infuriated to find himself in this position and utterly sick to his stomach in fear that he'd be the unluckiest bastard on the planet and you'd come walking in on this farce. "No means no, Lilah, the fuck?"
"Oh, come on, Bucky," she purred and pouted, "You know you didn't mean it."
"I told you," Bucky didn't let go of her shoulders, the look in her eye telling him she'd be crawling all over him if he did, "I’m not interested. Even if I was, I'm involved with someone." With that, he pushed her back gently, but with disgust. "And if I pulled bullshit like this, it'd be sexual assault."
Bucky turned to walk out but paused when Lilah shot back, her voice full of venom, "Who is it? Y/N? The girl next door?"
"Keep your fucking mouth shut about y/n," he growled without turning around, anger coming alive in his voice for the first time.
"Get some standards, Bucky."
Rather than respond with the obvious, Bucky simply scoffed, “Please.” With only that, he walked out, so irritated by the whole thing that the small redhead who'd melted into the shadows behind a stack of boxes near the door easily escaped his notice.
Natasha sent you the video along with a text instructing you to listen to the end before putting the phone back in her pocket and easing into Lilah's view with a smile. She figured Bucky deserved a little assistance since he'd done so well.
"I have to say,” she spoke conversationally as the other woman spun around in surprise, "I don't know why you're wasting your time there." The pretty smile took on a sultry edge. "What you need is some imagination. If you're looking to fuck someone unsuitable--" she shrugged and moved forward, "--there are all sorts of options."
Natasha's smile spread, sultry turning feral, when her meaning struck Lilah and was considered rather than rejected. Hey, the things she did for her friends.
After his narrow escape, Bucky ended up looking through half the house before he found you back in the den. Infuriatingly, he found you in Thor's arms. Granted, you were giggling and shaking your head as Thor bounced up and down and chanted, "Keg stand! Keg stand! Keg stand!"
Gamora was laughing and trying to muffle Quill, who was chanting with Thor and inspiring others to join in.
"What're you doin' with my girl, there, Odinson?" Bucky's voice sailed across the chant and had your head snapping toward him eagerly.
You'd been looking for him when you found Thor, who'd lost thoroughly to Wilson and wanted to share his good fortune. You were careful with alcohol under normal circumstances; a frat party meant one beer in a bottle that you'd fill with water when the beer was gone. You'd long ago found that you had to have a drink in your hand, or you'd spend the night fending off offers to get you more alcohol.
On the other hand, Bucky had just called you his girl in front of a whole crowd of your friends. Tonight was shaping up to be a different kind of frat party. That was proved over again when Thor grinned happily at you and squeezed until you squeaked and boomed, "KEG STAND!"
By this time, Bucky had made his way through the throng to your side. Thor set you down but grabbed your hand to draw you toward the keg in the kitchen. You shot Bucky a look of amused exasperation but didn't resist. "Apparently I'm doing a keg stand," you remarked dryly as you allowed Thor to lead you astray. "You wanna hold my legs, Bug?"
Bucky looked sharply at you, a warning in his face in response to the mischief in yours. "Like I'd let anyone else," he retorted with a smirk as he followed you into the kitchen.
"Gamora!" you called over your shoulder, thinking about the surprise you had for Bucky, "Come make sure I don't show everyone my ass!"
Once you were in the kitchen, Thor pushed the crowd around the tapped keg out of the way. He picked up the tap spout and gestured toward the squat metal cylinder like Vanna White toward your new car. You laughed again, though you were highly uncertain about this particular risky decision. You hadn't done lasting damage to your body by binge drinking, but you didn't like to push your luck, either.
Still, Bucky had that sexy grin on his face, the one that incited you to swing higher, jump farther, go faster. He'd let you down the last time you'd crashed and burned, but these days you were willing to give him a chance to make it up to you. When Gamora gave you a searching look, you smiled fully at her and took a firm hold on the metal rim at the handles. Bucky wrapped his left arm around your legs, careful to smooth his hand over your knee-length dress to preserve your modesty, and lifted them up over his shoulder until you were upside down.
Gamora stepped back to clear a little space around you as Bucky had your ass literally covered but smirked a little when she saw the unimpeded view of your cleavage Thor was currently enjoying.
"Tug my ear when you're done, cutie,” Thor rumbled with his beautiful smile. You gave him a hot look from under your lashes, remembering that Thor loved when you’d played with his ears. You didn’t take the flirting personally, despite the endearment. Thor was a handful; it was part of his appeal. Sometimes you didn’t know how you handled the overabundance of attractiveness around you.
“Quit looking at my tits, Odinson,” you muttered with a smirk before taking the offered spout.
Thor’s grin flashed. “I’m only human, cutie,” he answered before pressing the button and starting the count.
You weren’t paying any further attention, drinking quickly. You planned to hold out for a ten count, long enough to salve your pride but not so long you ended up plastered and puking. At least, that was until you heard Thor’s brother shout, “No push-up?! Then it's not a keg stand!”
Your hands tightened around the handles as Bucky's arms tightened around your legs. The moment he heard the taunt, he knew you'd be rising to the bait. You never could resist a challenge. He wasn't disappointed when you pushed up once, twice, three times to Thor's roar of laughter. When you finished the third push-up, you reached out and grabbed Thor's ear, running your thumb over the lobe and making him laugh harder. He dropped the spout as Bucky carefully lowered your legs to the floor.
You were only just upright when Thor was scooping you up until you were sitting on his shoulder above the crowd as he shouted, "Bow before your Queen, brother!"
From your position on his shoulder, you easily met Loki's eyes with a raised eyebrow and barely restrained glee. With a mocking smile, the wickedly handsome man swept a gallant bow. When he met your eyes again, he nodded an acknowledgement and stated, "Keg stand."
Bucky stood, dumbstruck, smiling up at you as you threw your head back and laughed while Thor set you back down. There were moments when you were so beautiful, when the love rose up into his throat and nearly choked him. He could only stand and grin at you in moments like these, lost in the wonder of it.
Gamora wasn't a romantic; she didn't have that luxury, but even her heart sighed a little at the look of pure, unrelenting adoration all over Bucky as he stood and stared at you. You hadn't noticed; once you were on your feet, Thor was kneeling before you, calling you Keg Queen and you were rolling your eyes and pushing him over. Unable to stand it, and wanting to give Bucky a hand, she decided to intervene through distraction.
"My turn!" she announced gaily and stepped forward. "Thor, hold my legs. Peter, grab the tap."
Thor turned toward her with delight as Peter stepped forward with a grin. Gamora rarely played party games of any sort; both men were excited to corrupt her. As soon as Thor was out of the way, Bucky was grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the room. "I need to talk to you."
"But, Bucky," you could feel the alcohol start to hit you as you tried to keep up and pull your phone out of your pocket at the same time, "I've never seen G do a keg stand!"
To your surprise, amusement, and excitement, Bucky was pulling you into what looked like a linen closet, but it was full of sports equipment. You kicked a muddy cleat out of your way and chuckled, "Bucky, you romantic."
You stuffed the phone back in your skirt pocket, the video Natasha had sent you forgotten. You'd been about to watch whatever she'd sent when Thor had started in about keg stands but being alone with Bucky in a closet had other things taking priority.
Namely, Bucky's mouth as it came down on yours, his arms sliding around you to pull you in close. His lips were soft, but his kiss was hard, almost bruising as his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His metal arm was tight around your waist as you pressed your body against his from thigh to breast, kissing him back with equal fervor.
Your hands came up to tangle in his hair, your fists gripping for leverage as you shuddered in desire. Tearing your mouth from his to suck in a breath, you arched your neck when he buried his face in your throat to take the skin between his teeth.
“Bucky, what the hell?” you gasped, your tone both amused and appreciative as you rocked your hips against his erection.
“I don’t like Thor’s paws on you,” he muttered against your throat, his own paws growing more avid as the hums of pleasure sounding in your throat urged him on.
When Bucky had teased about talking you into a closet to make out, you hadn't expected to be dragged into one to be ravished. You weren't complaining; you were simply surprised. As Bucky's annoyed statement seeped through the fog of lust his mouth and hands had created, you jolted in shock. "Are you jealous?" you asked in a voice rich with surprise.
"Are you kidding me?" His hands had wandered by now down to your ass to grip and lift to press you with his body against the wall. You assisted him by wrapping your arms around his neck and hitching one leg around his hip to open yourself to him. He lifted his head from your throat to glare with desire tinged with green into your eyes. "Of fucking course I'm jealous. I don't want anyone's hands on you but mine."
You shuddered in arousal when Bucky growled the word mine before taking your mouth with a ferocious kind of tenderness. He'd never kissed you like this before, with lightly punishing nips of his teeth and soothing sweeps of his tongue. His kiss, his touch held a wealth of emotion as he worshipped you with hands and lips though both also held frustration and impatience.
You pulled your mouth from his again to turn your head and take his earlobe between your teeth as he skimmed his hand up the back of your thigh and under your skirt. When his hand slowed at the discovery that you weren't wearing anything under the dress, you laughed throatily in his ear and whispered, your words and breath sending chills down his spine and making an already painful erection excruciating, "I don't know why. I would never fuck Thor in a filthy frat house closet."
The bass pumping through the wall was no match for your heart when with almost rough movements, Bucky disentangled himself from you to spin you around. Your hands came up to press against the wall as you bent to push your ass against the hard-on trying to burst from behind his zipper.
He reached behind him to grope for the doorknob, praying for a lock. “Thank god,” you heard him mutter right before his flesh hand cupped a breast while the other slipped up under your skirt to slide between your thighs. You moaned a little as Bucky nuzzled into your neck behind your ear, his breath sending goosebumps over your skin even as your hips rocked fretfully against his hand.
“Babygirl,” he purred, and you whimpered in response, "I'm not going to argue, because I'm not an asshole." As he spoke, he was arranging you just so, stepping back and pulling your hips with him as you kept your hands against the wall to brace yourself. He stayed wrapped around you, his teeth scraping over the nape of your neck. "Or an idiot. But that's not what I meant, and you know it."
The next second, he was straightening to unbutton his jeans and shove his underwear down with his metal hand. The other slipped between your legs from behind, his fingers sliding smoothly into you, wanting to feel you on his skin. Despite the quick, rough foreplay, you were already more than wet enough. It never seemed to take any time at all to get you ready, at least with him.
Bucky couldn't resist taking a moment to enjoy the feel of you, thrusting two long, rough digits gently into you, then ever so slowly pulling them from your soaking pussy. You bucked your hips in irritation when his calloused fingers began to slide slowly back into you like he had all the time in the world and wasn't banging you in a closet during a party.
"Bucky! Go-o!" You used the same childish singsong you'd always used when you were getting impatient, the same moment as Bucky was pushing his cock into you, his laugh rumbling through him and into you.
"Baby," he smirked, his voice almost aching. His fingers dug into your hips, the first thrust making you gasp. "I love when you ask for it."
A while later, Bucky covered your exit from the closet after peeking out to make sure the coast was clear. You ran to the bathroom to clean up, ruing your decision to not wear underwear when you remembered what kind of house you were in. You were closest to the half-bath near the mudroom, which turned out to be to your fortune as its out of the way location left it with plenty of tissue. Once you looked and felt presentable, you went looking for Bucky.
When you found him, he was on a couch in the den arguing with Sam as they watched the pool game/mating dance between Gamora and Quill. The moment you walked into the room, his eyes were on you and he was offering his lap for a seat with a lecherous grin. You accepted with a laughingly affectionate roll of the eyes and a light shove.
Hours later, after your own loss at beer pong to first Sam, then Bucky, you were murmuring sweet nothings in Bucky's ear as he helped you into a piggyback ride to carry you home. His immoderate chuckling in response was only made worse by the sharp look Gamora was giving him as he tried to look innocent. He didn't know if she could hear you, but he wouldn't be surprised.
By the time he was carrying you up the stairs to your apartment, you had spent the entire walk home telling him about how pretty and sexy and sweet you thought he was. Bucky was feeling mighty fine about his mission to show you how he'd changed. As Gamora had made sure he had your key to get in, he didn't even need to ask for your help.
This was undoubtedly for the best as you had made it to sleepy, too honest drunk. If you were in any fit state to be concerned, you'd have been terrified to be alone with Bucky while this particular brand of intoxication was guiding your behavior. As it was, you'd spent the time you weren't babbling sweetly at Bucky nuzzling into the back of his neck and making happy noises. He was on cloud nine.
He carried you back into your bedroom, an inner sanctum he hadn't been welcome in, in any capacity, for years. Crossing the threshold felt like destiny, but by the time he had helped you clamber down, taken off your shoes, and helped you into your bed, his heart was mush. He couldn't help it; you were adorably drunk and affectionate. He sat on the side of your bed, his hand smoothing over your forehead, marveling at the fact that he even found the crescents of your lashes beautiful as they rested against your cheeks.
"Good night, babygirl," he murmured, his hand gentle as his thumb traced the soft line of your jaw. The longing to climb in the bed with you, wrap you close and fall asleep with your breath on his skin, was almost painful. He sat for a minute with the flutter of hope in his throat that someday soon you'd allow it.
You turned your face into his palm, too sleepy, too intoxicated to hide the softness that lived inside you for him. Sighing happily, you rubbed your cheek against his hand, reveling in the sweet, tender touch. "Night, Bucky-bug."
Bucky made himself stand up, the temptation you held too great to resist much longer. As he turned to leave, his eye passed over and caught on a fifth of whiskey with his name on it sitting on your desk. The bottle was covered in sharpie, the label altered so that the O and the N in Jameson were blacked out, the word James all that was left. Under that, a skull and crossbones had been drawn, surrounded by doodles and curlicues. Almost certain he didn’t want to know but unable to stop himself, he picked up the almost empty bottle and turned to ask, “Y/N, what is this bottle?”
You pried one eye open just enough to see which bottle he held. As soon as you saw the skull, you relaxed back into the pillows and answered, thoughtlessly honest, “That's my bottle of poison, the last of the bottle that almost killed me.”
Bucky actually felt his knees buckle and he nearly dropped the bottle. In case, he set it down and braced himself on the back of the chair next to the desk. "Almost killed you?"
Your voice was utterly unconcerned as you answered. You were too drunk and too close to sleep to think about either what you were saying or who you were saying it to. Also, the only part of that night that you hadn't dealt with until recently was the damage done to your relationship with Bucky. The rest of it felt like ancient history and had no power to hurt or frighten you anymore. "When I got upset because I saw you banging some girl and I ended up in a drinking game with some asshole trying to get me drunk enough to rape me."
That took his knees out completely. He sat limply, sideways in the chair to face you. "The hospital stay." It was a statement of fact, not a question, but you answered anyway.
"Uh-huh," you replied, nodding your head on the pillow, eyes still closed, "I made it all the way to the hallway here." Your face twisted with humor and you snorted. "If you'd brought Gina back here, you'd have tripped over my ass."
Perhaps it was because your voice held no blame, no vitriol, nothing but the humor of hindsight, but your words seemed to punch even harder than if you'd been bitter or resentful. His stomach aching in remorse and regret, Bucky braced his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry, babygirl." The words were nothing, nowhere near enough. Bucky didn't know how he could ever make it up to you.
The pain in his gut only increased when you scoffed good-naturedly and moved your hand in a dismissive gesture. "It's okay." You said it cheerfully, with a sweet, happy smile on your face. Your voice softened with affection on the next words. "Steve found me before Brick did." Bucky frowned at the name but couldn’t focus when he was hearing your voice caress Steve's name.
Your face went sly and wicked. "And I have no proof, but if I found out G and Nat didn't have anything to do with that guy going down for some super serious drug charges, I'd be shocked and baffled."
On that, Bucky vaguely remembered an asshole named Brock who'd been arrested and expelled at the beginning of their sophomore year. The only reason he'd noted it at all was because Brock was the last person with whom Steve had started a fight. That wasn't to say Steve hadn't been in fights since then, but it was the last time Bucky had seen him straight start one. It had stuck out because Steve had also refused to explain himself. A lot of things that had made no sense before were falling into place.
"Steve found you." Bucky asked the question in a voice as cold and empty as the grave. He felt like he was dying, like the future he'd allowed to dream for himself was withering in front of him. Your next words had his heart crying out in agony.
"Oh my god," you cried, your face lit like the sun with happiness and devotion as you thought about your best friend, "I love him so much. My Stevie literally saved my life." You turned onto your side and wrapped your arms around your pillow, wishing it was Bucky. You sighed, on your way to sleep and not thinking about anything but the beckoning blackness. "He's always been my knight in shining armor."
Now he knew why Steve had never made a move; you owed him a life debt. Steve was the sort of man who would always consider dynamics. The imbalance that act would have caused would have left you in charge. Steve would never make a move as long as he thought you’d say yes simply because of that imbalance.
A voice in Bucky’s head spoke up to point out that you hadn’t made a move of your own on Steve, regardless of how sweetly you said his name. Bucky knew from experience you were more than capable of making a move, and they were very pretty and effective moves at that. Instead, you’d introduced Steve to someone else, and saved those pretty moves for Bucky.
“Why do you keep the bottle out?” He felt like your answer would be either his salvation or damnation, but he needed it more than he needed his next breath.
His heart was already cracked when your lips twisted in a look of wry and affectionate exasperation he'd seen cross your face a million times, and almost always when looking at him. Your words shattered it. "To remind me that just because something feels good doesn't mean it's good for me."
In the next second, you were asleep, but if you’d opened your eyes instead, you would have seen the first tear fall from his eyes.
Part Twelve here
Taglist:
@learisa @angieptt @mia-at-work @midnightdream83 @wwecrazed2010 @allandoflimbo @emaywhyayy @cheekygeek05 @lovely-geek @diinofayce @suz-123 @hellzzzbelle @olukewarmo @fairchild21 @thefridgeismybestie @fandomsstolemylife00 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @australianhorrorstory @buckybarneshairpullingkink @c-ly-g @wishingforahome @strangersstranger @whiskeyandwashitape @eyesfixedonthesun22 @ingenue-q @joe-mazzello-is-my-dad @irritated-bisexual @fashionworld12 @lbouvet @rishlo @bibliophile1773 @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97
#Bucky Barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#mcu fanfiction#mcu fanfic#college au#bulletproof#pantswrites#angst#smut#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes angst#series
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Qrow comes to Tai's place drunk one night, his mind in the past and thoroughly depressed. He comes to Ruby's room, who he mistakes for Summer in his drunken haze. His mind is hellbent on giving Summer(Ruby) a reason to stay.(sleep sex, rough sex, Ruby slowly waking up, impregnation)
Qrow groaned and entered the house groggy. He had a memory of summer, summer fucking rose again. He appreciated that he lived with Tai and the girls but that memory of his past love just couldn’t stay out of his head. He simply drank and wanted to forget the painful memories until he was a bit depressed. Disoriented and wobbly he walked through the hallways and got into a room. Not caring who was here as he took his shoes off, then his cape, shirt and pants leaving him in his boxers before he took the bedsheets and got under them. He noticed how soft they were and enjoyed the feeling before moving his hands to the pillow before him. Except it wasn’t a pillow.
“Hmm?” Qrow looked and took a few breaths in and smelled something sweet. Something reminiscent of strawberries. Like summer. He shook his head and wrapped his arms around who was in front of him, wether it be a person or a pillow he heard a heartbreat and felt soft skin. Looking down her noticed a head of red tipped hair and a cute sound of snoring. “Summer... your back?” He said quietly as the figure in front of him said nothing. “Look... I’m sorry for what I’ve done.. I’ll.. I’ll do anything to keep you here. Hell I might even stop drinking.” He said silently as that was one of his problems. His hand moved down to rub Summers belly and he heard a mumble before smirking and getting an idea. “Why don’t I convince you?” He said before moving his hand down under summer’s pajama pants and panties and rubbed something nice and soft. “This kind of convincing~?” He said as he heard a shallow moan and that answered his question as he began to run his finger along her slit.
Only it wasn’t summer. It wasn’t even someone his age or near his age at all! It was young teenage Ruby Rose. Who was whimpering in his arms as her virgin Pussy was being rubbed along with her small clit. Once he pulled his hand away she calmed down and kept sleeping like she was.
Qrow heard Summers small whimpers and smiled as he kissed and left small love bites along her neck and collarbone heard smaller whimpers he kissed her worries away which c-calmed her. “That’s it Sum. I’ll give you a good reason to stay.” He pulled down her clothes full leaving her nearly half naked as her panties hung off her small ankle. He moved his boxers down and ran his cock againt her nice plump ass. The ass he’s grown to love since beacon as he really wanted to take it. But convincing first.
Ruby was still sleeping as her pajama pants and her panties were removed. Her leg was slowly raised up and she whimpered at the feeling the love bites being marked on her once flawless soft skin. She felt something run against her Pussy making her squirm a bit. Then as it pushed in Ruby moved more before two strong arms held her still, one at her neck gripping slightly and the other on her leg holding it up as the cock slowly pushed into her pussy, breaking her hymen and claiming her innocence. Ruby would flinch as she was violated by her uncle and that didn’t stop as he turned her head and then slowly kissed the Rose, making out with her as he started to move his hips up and fuck his unconscious niece.
She let out small noises as if they were moans to Qrow. He grinned and kept kissing Summer just how she liked as he gripped her nice plump thigh and rubbed her mark riddled neck and began to Buck his his harder. Wanting her to really feel his cock deep in her. He moved one hand down to rub her abdomen and felt a bulge. He smirked thinking he had gotten bigger only that it was who he was fucking was smaller. Ruby’s lips parted form his as she let out small yelps from he rough treatment she received. His hand on her neck gripped her more as the thrusts were sporadic and uncoordinated making her yelp more in both pain.
Then Ruby was slowly starting to wake up. Her eye fluttered as her pussy was heating up and wet. Her thigh was being gripped and her neck was as well. Her collarbone and neck also had wet spots that she didn’t know what it was as she mumbled a bit and her eyes slowly opened and she heard a word. “Mmmnn... Summer.” Her eyes went wide at the name and as she was going to say something her lips were covered by another pair that was rough and the tongue that entered her mouth tasted strange. Her eyes moved up and realized it was Qrow, her uncle Qrow who was ducking her roughly. “That’s it summer.. keep doing that... god I love how you tighten yourself.” He said as he bit on Ruby’s neck to leave a larger love bite and it made her yelp loudly and turn a bit.
“A-Ah... who.. Qrow.. Wait.. what.. what are you doing... s-Stop...” She said or tried to say as Qrow was too drunk to process her words and just kept fucking her pussy. He even moved under her and held her thighs spread making her bounce on his cock as he held her arms back. Imagining it was summer riding him reverse cowgirl style when it was really ruby rose whimpering as she was being fucked on her uncle’s lap. “Uncle Qrow! Wait!” She said but her words were ignored and she came, she stuck her tongue out and moaned out of the unwanted pleasure she was given and Qrow could feel it.
“Nnngh... you came huh.. well I hope you don’t mind.. znngh if I did the same.” Qrow said before he hilted his cock into Ruby’s tight cunt and the tip of his cock pushed into her womb making her wail out as she gasped feeling something warm fill her depths! She stuck her tongue out as her pussy and womb were filled with a large amount of cum from her uncle. She prayed to the gods that it wouldn’t do anything. But with Qrow’s semblance her ovaries were swarmed by his seed and she was good as pregnant with her uncles children. She soon laid back limp on her uncles chest. Only to feel his strong arms go around her waist and one feeling up her abdoemn. “This.. this is the reason you’ll stay... I’ll take care of it so don’t worry Summer. We can raise it together.” Qrow said nestling against Ruby who merely panted.
“U-Uncle Qrow...” Ruby said softly as she felt his cock slowly leave her fucked snatch. She looked down and saw some cum oozing out while she whimpered more. “I-It’s me ruby...” she said letting him know who it is. Only to be met witn a hand on her cheek and her head being turned to face him.
“Of course that’s what we’ll name her summer.” He said still drunk out of his mind before he kissed his niece and made out with her more. Ruby moved but couldn’t do much as she was kissed and made out with Qrow. It also didn’t help that she felt something hard poke her pussy once more. Making the Rose Yelp as her already fucked raw pussy oozed out more of Qrow’s potent seed. Ruby was going to be bred by the nights end, and to Qrow it would be the reason he’d have summer stay with him.
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i see all the public sex posts and i raise u..... actual exhibitionism? like. sometimes pandemonium will have Theme Nights ok and on these nights its allowed and. alec just. fucking magnus on that couch he was sitting in on the first episode, so visible to everyone, magnus moaning and loving the attention and alec being smug as FUCK because he knows everyone wishes they were him right now. and alec praising him and telling him how pretty everyone thinks he looks. just. isueuehdjdnd
👀👀👀👀👀
look i actually LOVE exhibitionism. i don’t like “getting caught” or like public sex where people stumble in on them, but like. when it’s totally intentional in a safe environment designed for that? such as a sex club? now THAT is good shit.
and SPECIFICALLY on that couch. that couch that magnus lounges on like it’s a goddamn throne, looking powerful and badass, the king of pandemonium’s throne, and now here he is sprawled out on it getting fucked and owned, getting just publically used.
also, i’d like to point out by used i don’t mean like, literally, but. you know in the fun good sexy way ;)
ANYWAY. magnus being fucked on that couch? putting on a show??? like?? he’s got to be loud so people can hear him ;) which is no problem for him because magnus is a screamer.
just. on full display. everyone in the club can pretty much see him from this vantage point, although he isn’t the only show being put on. but it’s a pretty rare sight to the see the owner of the club, the powerful magnus bane, being fucked senseless on his own throne.
after all, he attended these nights, but he rarely participated. mostly he watched and oversaw the shows and made sure everything was running smoothly and everyone was safe. really, security and other staff had it under control, but he liked to make sure everything was okay.
he rarely participated, and even then, usually not much–he might pleasure a sub, or give someone a blowjob or a handjob, he might help with someone else’s aftercare because he’s a fucking sweetheart like that, but he didn’t–magnus bane did not get fucked. not in pandemonium. no one tamed the king.
you know, until now.
and people were shocked his first time doing this–(and magnus was hella nervous, and it showed a little) and there he was with this big shadowhunter, who everyone was kind of wary of. but alec isn’t a dick, he doesn’t shame anyone or even really look at the other shows. he only has eyes for magnus. and people were kind of wary that he wasn’t treating their magnus right, but anyone who goes to pandemonium on those theme nights knows quite well that alec lightwood is in love with magnus, and that he treats him like a prince. or a king. except, you know, the bowing down part. it’s very obvious that no matter how rough or kinky they might get (one night magnus is tied down and spread open and no matter how rough and deep the shadowhunter’s thrusts get he’s always taking care of him, kissing him gently, checking in on him) he’s lowkey making love to magnus the whole time.
and magnus just. really fucking enjoys all the praise and attention (let’s not talk about how starved of positive attention/touch and praise he is right now ahaha) and being at the center of that, being like, vulnerable and exposed but safe in alec’s arms, being completely naked in front of so many people but they’re all ADMIRING him and WANTING him, he’s desirable and attractive and wanted, he’s a good boy, he’s doing a good job…
and he also enjoys the light embarrassment that comes with it, he’s naked and being fucked and everyone can see him and yet it only makes him shiver with arousal, and he knows he’s safe and this isn’t a place of judgement and that alec is here with him and it’s so hard to feel scared or nervous when alec has his arms around him and is looking at him with those warm eyes…
not to mention the power dynamics aspect, the loss of control–this is a place he’s usually completely in charge, and yet here alec is, flipping the script and dominating him and taking away that control and it feels so good, to not be in charge, to be taken care of and dominated and told what to do. (alec ordering magnus to take his clothes off and spread his legs and he DOES it and the crowd is just watching, half of them probably already with a hand in their pants, because HOLY SHIT, magnus bane, most powerful man in the city, is just doing as he says lkfghjfhg)
and like. this is something he would not do for just anyone. he would not do this with any old dom.
i would say he maybe did it with camille, probably a long time ago in some brothel in france or something illicit and black market, and she manipulated him and hurt him and even humiliated him, possibly took money and made him feel used (ACTUALLY used, not the pleasurable safe used that alec makes him feel) and hurt.
and she’d been the only one he’d trusted enough to do that with, so when he eventually decides to do it with alec, it’s a pretty big step. but it’s something he had genuinely wanted and genuinely enjoyed the idea of, even though camille had ruined it for him for a while. but alec makes it so much better and so good because he actually trusts alec and he doesn’t feel humiliated, he doesn’t feel like alec is making a show out of hurting him or embarrassing him. instead, he feels fucking worshiped, like a goddess (i know i should say god but there are somehow different connotations here? which i suppose is just the super heteronormative western society talking but really it does feel different? i don’t know you get the idea) being admired, being adored. and it feels so good. it’s kind of weird but it’s so hot and heady that it’s worth the slight embarrassment, the strange feeling of vulnerability. it’s totally worth it.
and alec? alec is smug. alec is so fucking smug. this is his powerful prince of hell and his alone. only he gets to fuck magnus, only he gets to touch him and make him cum on his cock. only he gets to pin magnus to his own damn throne and slide into him and make him beg.
all those people are jealous as fuck, but what can they do? magnus is taken and off the market–for good, now. the closest they’re gonna get is watching alec fuck him senseless, watching that sexy as fuck body react to being taken so roughly and thoroughly. and maybe if they’re lucky and alec is in a good mood and wants to share and magnus feels like it, a blowjob. maybe. maybe.
(although i could totally talk about malec + sex clubs + involving another person or even a few people fucking magnus as well. but. that’s another post, this one is already long lfgkhfgh)
plus there is something to be said about sex club fics in general. for example, cockwarming. alec just sitting (possibly on magnus’s couch-throne) and casually ordering magnus to kneel between his legs and there’s magnus, kneeling before his usual throne, mouth full of alec’s dick.
an YWAY i love this and i have like three aus involving this shit in my drafts and WOW this post is so long i think i like this more than i thought i did
#malec#magnus bane#alec lightwood#malec smut#shadowhunters#smut#i don't wanna tag n sfw because then tumblr will fuck me up#n/sfw#yea h.
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Fic - Everything in its Place
Author: joelyjo
Rating: Strong R (sex and birth)
Summary: Scully is determined that the new baby will be born at home. Will it be peace and calm and everything in its place? Or will it be drama-filled all over again?
Author’s Notes: Written for the Nursery Files Labour (Sorry, I can’t bring myself to miss out the U) Day challenge, although it’s a bit late because I’m a bit rubbish at deadlines. Any feedback is very welcome. I’m fairly new to the fandom on tumblr, if not to writing, and eager for anything, be it positive or negative! Thanks, all.
Tagging: @marinafrenzy and @today-in-fic
William came into the world like a storm. When Scully thinks back to that night in Democrat Hot Springs, all she remembers is the white-hot pain and the burn of anxiety. She’d never felt more alone in a room full of people. Never been so terrified.
This time, she is adamant. It will be a peaceful birth. It will be at home and she will have Mulder with her through every contraction and every push. She tells her doctor all this and he listens, calmly and patiently.
“It’s lovely that you have such a clearly outlined birth plan, Dana. But you must remember that babies come when they are ready and things rarely go to plan. Be prepared for your plan to get shot all to hell.”
Scully sees Mulder looking from the doctor to her and back again and can read his thoughts like an open book. He does not fancy this doctor’s chances at appealing to Scully’s sense of reason and logic. “Mulder,” she says, pre-empting his interjection. “You know this is what I want.”
“Oh, I know it, Scully.” He glances again at the doctor, their gazes conspiratorial. She knows they will speak when he can get her out of earshot. Well, let them plot, she thinks. She will have this baby at home and everything will be in its place.
Six weeks before her due date, she begins to nest. The house is cleaned from top to bottom. She gets down on her knees and scrubs things that haven’t been scrubbed in decades, turns out cupboards and drawers, vacuums until she breaks the vacuum. Mulder tries to help, but most of the time his efforts end in him failing to meet her exacting standards and giving up before they come to blows over the right way to fold tiny onesies and stack diapers.
Her mood is alternately calm and zen then raging like a hurricane. She can’t sleep properly, can’t get comfortable in any position… and, just when she thinks things are at their nadir, they have a heatwave. July sun pounds down on the house and every room is hotter than hell. She curses Mulder for not fixing the AC and casts him from the house to find an engineer, but every engineer in the state is booked up for weeks. So instead she basks in front of a desk fan, takes to wandering the house in her underwear. Mulder stares and spends the week trying to hide a series of persistent erections. She is almost ready to climb into the refrigerator when the heat breaks in a massive thunderstorm that lasts most of the night.
In the morning, he brings her coffee and rye toast in bed and she feels like a different woman. She realises why when she stands naked before the bedroom mirror and sees that the baby has dropped. Mulder comes from behind her and wraps his arms around her, his big hands cupping the massive watermelon of her abdomen. “I can breathe again, Mulder,” she tells him, almost dizzy with the rush of oxygen. He smiles and kisses her neck.
“Not long now,” he murmurs and she smiles back at him. She is ready.
But nothing happens. Days pass and her due date approaches. Her bad mood returns and Mulder does his best to keep out of her way. Even that is not enough, though, and one day she follows him into work, waddling down to the basement to complain about the mess and try to take over his latest investigation. Skinner finds them arguing an hour later and nothing can hide the expression that passes across his face when his eyes fall on her swollen belly.
“Agent Scully, what are you doing here?” His voice is full of concern, but there’s just enough chastisement to make her blood boil. She rounds on him.
“This is my office. I can be in it if I wish… sir.”
Skinner glances at Mulder and the two men share a beleaguered look. Scully’s fury mounts. She is standing behind the desk, her hands on her hips, and she knows she is more intimidating than an angry bull.
It takes them two hours to convince her to go home.
Two days later, the midwife comes to the house. Her name is Joy and she is a sweet, middle-aged Hispanic lady with amazing hair and a no-nonsense manner. She wastes no time at all in scoping out the house, sizing up where to place the birthing pool, the foetal monitor, the weighing scales, the gas cylinders. Scully is heartened by her professionalism and tells Mulder how pleased she is that they found the extra $500 for a nurse-midwife. “It’s not that I’m expecting anything to go wrong,” she tells Joy. “I’m a medical doctor myself and I’ve done this in somewhere with no electricity and no running water.” She leaves out the bit about being surrounded by alien witnesses. Joy may appear no-nonsense, but that detail is likely to send her packing. “But I am glad you are going to be here.”
“It’s nice that you’re happy and feel secure, Miss Scully,” Joy replies. “But I want you to remember that birth is a funny old game. It happens when it happens and how it happens can be anybody’s guess. Be prepared to find yourself back in the hospital because I won’t allow anything to happen that puts you or your baby at risk.”
Mulder nods in the background.
That evening, they fire up the grill and Mulder cooks steak and spicy vegetable kebabs. Afterwards, they sit together on the porch swing in the gathering darkness and watch the night insects crowding around the lamps. Mulder cradles her belly, rubbing gentle circles over the taut skin and Scully finds herself softening with his touches. “I’m sorry if I’ve not been very easy to live with these last few weeks,” she confesses.
Behind her, Mulder chuffs out a laugh. “I think I preferred being dead.”
She scowls at him and bats his bicep with her hand. “I’m huge, my feet are so swollen I can barely get my shoes on, my whole body aches, I want to pee constantly, I can’t get comfortable, I can’t sleep but I’m so tired. It’s enough to put anyone in a bad mood.”
“Yeah,” says Mulder ruefully. “I guess I never thought about it before. I didn’t really pay attention last time – there were other things on my mind.”
“I know.”
She twists and leans up to kiss him. He is warm and there is the lingering taste of spices on his breath. “I love you,” she says against his mouth. He doesn’t reply, but he takes her face in his hands and kisses her thoroughly and she hears him anyway.
Three days later, she wakes with backache and an odd feeling in her abdomen. It’s not pain, as such, but a kind of tightness. She goes to the calendar and crosses off the previous day, a habit she got into around 30 weeks and mulls the sensation over. Her due date is tomorrow. The day after Labor Day. She can’t remember clearly feeling anything similar before, but then, she muses, everything happened so fast towards the end that, like Mulder, she didn’t notice much of anything with any focus.
She showers and dresses while he goes out for a run, setting some coffee to brew when she thinks he’s been gone about his usual time. Taking her own mug of green tea out onto the porch, she unfolds one of the loungers and is dozing in the sunshine when he bounds up the porch steps, sweaty and breathing hard. He greets her with a kiss and a cheerful, “Enjoying the holiday weekend, Scully?”
She opens one eye and regards him critically. “Ugh. Go shower and then we’ll talk. There’s coffee in the pot.”
He nods, grins and withdraws upstairs. A moment later she hears the water start in the bathroom, then some time later, he returns in chino shorts and a tank, hair wet and with the scent of shower gel on his skin. He hoists himself up and perches on the porch rail with the kind of nimbleness that makes Scully ache with jealousy. Sitting there with his tanned, muscular limbs on show he looks all of twenty-five instead of fifty-something. “It’s Labor Day, the weather’s great,” he says. “What shall we do?”
“Have a baby?” she suggests.
“Well, yeah, there is that,” he agrees with a grin. “But what if baby’s not playing ball?”
Scully sighs. She is done with being pregnant, done to the point that any activity other than giving birth seems an unattractive option.
“I know you’re sick of this, Scully,” he says.
She makes a face. “No kidding, Mulder.”
“Yeah… No kidding. But is it better to be sick of it stuck indoors sniping at each other or sick of it outside in the sunshine with a chance of being distracted?”
Considering his suggestion, she thinks that she could quite easily hunker down here on the lounger for the rest of the day, but she can see the look in his eyes and knows that if she chooses that, he might just go anyway, without her, and that she absolutely does not want. “Okay,” she agrees.
“A walk and an ice-cream at Burke Lake?”
The idea surprises her with how good it sounds. “Yeah… Okay. You’re going to have to help me tie my shoes though.”
The lake is glorious in the early September sunshine and after she manoeuvres herself out of the car, she has to stand a moment, flexing the muscles in her back and admiring the expanse of twinkling water. Scully wonders briefly why he chose here, of all the places he could’ve picked, but can’t put her finger on a reason why. The place is sort of familiar and she figures she must have visited before with her family or maybe with Daniel or Jack – it’s the kind of place you might come with a romantic partner. He comes to stand behind her and looks out at the lake too. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” She nods. “You up for a short walk, then?”
There are other people here, but it is not as busy as she imagined it would be, so they set off on one of the flat, easy trails along the lakeside. She feels huge and ungainly and walks so slowly she is sure Mulder must be frustrated, but he seems content to fall into pace beside her. She reaches for his hand and he takes it, interlocking their fingers and then smiling down at her, his eyes obscured by sunglasses. “Okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
They walk for a mile or so, then she has to stop. Her back is still aching and although she had thought the exercise might have helped it, it doesn’t seem to have had that effect. She perches on a boulder and rolls her shoulders, stretching herself out. Mulder leaves her alone and jogs down to edge of the river to skim stones across the gently lapping surface. “Hey,” she shouts after a few moments. “You promised me ice-cream!”
He turns and grins up at her. “I sure did, Scully. You want to head back?”
“I want ice-cream.”
On the way back to the car, Scully spots a picnic area and a kiosk selling snacks and ice cream and instructs Mulder to make good on his offer. While he goes to fulfil his duty, she wanders vaguely amongst the empty wooden tables then beyond through the parkland. She finds a shady spot beneath a tree and eases herself down onto the grass, feeling a little like a camel trying to get its awkward limbs folded in just the right way. Mulder returns with two enormous cones of ice-cream drizzled in strawberry sauce and drops down beside her. They sit and eat in silence for a while, then Mulder pauses and frowns. “You are sure about this home birth thing, aren’t you?”
She blinks and turns to him. She had guessed this was coming, in fact, she’s surprised he hasn’t said something already. It’s felt like he’s been holding back since Joy visited. “It’s just… If I’d had to place a bet on where you’d want to have this baby, it wouldn’t have been our lounge.”
She is half a breath away from snapping at him, tired and defensive as she is, then stops herself. Instead, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Mulder, when William was born, I was surrounded by aliens, in a place I’d never seen before, with nobody I loved nearby. It was the most frightening experience of my life.” Mulder’s face is still, but his eyes are locked on hers. “I don’t know why I’ve been given this second chance, why we’ve been given this, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that things are as far removed from that first experience as I can make them. So I don’t want a roomful of people, and a strange hospital suite. I want home…” She reaches out to take his hand in hers. “And us.”
“Even if it’s dangerous?”
“There’s no reason to think that it will be dangerous,” she assures. “I’m fit and healthy, all the scans have shown the baby is fit and healthy too. We have Joy. We’re not hundreds of miles from civilisation with an alien threat hanging over us. I’ve done this before.”
He stares at her for a long time, then starts to nod. She smiles as she realises he is acquiescing to her wishes and squeezes his hand. He returns the gesture and then places his hand on her belly, palm flat, and holds it there. Scully watches him, remembering another time when he touched her in the same way, when she lay in a hospital bed and neither of them was sure about anything. “Home,” he says, and his voice is rough with emotion. “Us.” He leans in to kiss her, softly at first, then with a growing passion.
Breaking away, she looks around them. It is quiet but still a public place, and she can hear the distant sounds of children whooping and yelling down by the lake, the hum of a motorboat. The sun glints off faraway car windows. She hunkers closer to him and presses her mouth to his neck. “You know,” she murmurs against his skin, “they say that one of the most reliable ways to bring on labour is to have sex.”
Mulder pulls back and regards her amusedly. “Here?” She arches her brows. “My, my, Dana Scully, what has got into you? I’m not objecting, but…” Her hand closes around his crotch and his breathing hitches. “But… wow. You must really be sick of this.”
“You have no idea, Mulder,” she tells him and kisses him again. Desperation has made her bolder than she’s ever been and right now, she couldn’t care less if her priest spotted her across the parking lot.
“I’ll warn you now, Scully, I’ve had several fantasies about this.”
He bites her lip and watches, looking somewhat punch-drunk, as she straddles him, the fabric of her dress stretching and rucking up so her knees are revealed. “Tell me about them,” she commands, and grinds down on him. Mulder’s answering groan is like fire coursing in her blood. Sex has been the last thing on her mind for months but suddenly she is consumed with aching desire. She wants him and she wants him bad.
Mulder rubs his hands up and down her thighs. “You really want to know?”
“I do,” she replies. She is rocking herself against his leg now, and she can see him through his shorts, hard like a bar. Her hands are on his button. It is crazy that she’s contemplating fucking him right here, in a public park, but her entire body seems to be humming with need for him.
“I’ll be honest, Scully,” he says, breaking her train of thought. “Doing it outside hasn’t been in that many fantasies of mine. But…” He glances around them, listening dog-like a moment. “Making love to you somewhere where we might get caught… Now we’re talking. That one has always been high on my list.”
She’s hot now and can feel herself throbbing with eagerness. She slides his zipper down and reaches in to feel him, stroking hard from root to tip. His eyes flutter closed a moment. “Have we ever been caught?” she asks. “In these fantasies of yours?” He lifts himself and she undresses him so that he’s free. A moment later and her hand is on his cock, skin to skin, and she revels in the way his face changes. She is pretty sure she could ask him to deny that aliens exist in this moment and he’d lurch to his feet and shout it as loud as his lungs could make him.
“I did once imagine that Skinner caught us,” he says, his words made breathless by what she’s doing to him. “But all I could see after that was his face and it kind of ruined it for me. So, no, let’s say not.” He thrusts into her hand. “Is there anybody about?”
“Not a soul,” she tells him with a smile and eases up his body. His hands reach and pull aside her panties so he can push inside her. “Now shut up and fuck me, Mulder.”
And he does.
Later, they lie curled up together in the haze of orgasmic bliss, alternately kissing and dozing. He strokes her belly and teases for more until she has to push him away because her back is driving her mad now. He pouts a little, but relents and uses the rejection to rise to his feet, button himself back up and stretch. “Why here, Mulder?” she asks him as he holds out his hand and pulls her to standing. “It’s lovely, but there were lots of other places we could have gone – fireworks displays, outdoor parties, concerts…”
They start to walk back towards his car.
“You don’t remember, Scully?”
“Remember what?”
“Long time ago… eighteen years ago, actually. I came here on a lead. There’d been a bigfoot sighting in the woods on the other side of the lake – it was a load of bull, but it was something to do on a Saturday afternoon. And you called me and we talked about stuff. We made arrangements to go for dinner that evening.” He looks down at her, his smile years away and drifting on the recollections of memory. “And when we finished up talking, just before you hung up, you told me you loved me.”
She can’t help the grin that breaks on her face. “So I’ve never even been here before?”
“Well, no, I guess not.”
A laugh burbles out of her. Mulder looks wounded.
“It’s not that funny. It’s a special place to me.”
“Oh Mulder,” she giggles, “that is so perfectly you.”
“The hazards of a eidetic memory…” He holds out his hand and she takes it. “Come on, let’s go home. We can pick up a pizza on the way back.”
They take a detour into DC to get her favourite pizza and while they’re waiting for their order, watch as a fireworks display over the Potomac kicks off. He suggests taking the pizza and going to listen to the National Symphony Orchestra on the West Lawn but she’s been before and so has he and all she really wants now is to get home, take off her too-tight sneakers, put on her pyjamas and feast on garlic stuffed crust double pepperoni and mushroom pizza.
So he takes her home and juggles the pizza in one hand as he offers the other to her to help her out of the car. The light is failing now and after he dumps the pizza on the coffee table, he goes around flicking lamps on while she climbs wearily upstairs to dress for bed.
She’s at the top of the stairs in her pyjamas when she feels a popping sensation in her abdomen and seconds later, fluid pours down her legs and onto the floor. Scully starts and takes a step backwards, gasping involuntarily as she observes the puddle she is now standing in. “Mulder!” she shouts.
“Yeah?” he calls back from the kitchen.
“I need some help here.”
He appears at the bottom of the stairs, beer bottle in hand and frowns up at her. “What’s the matter?”
“Um… I need a cloth, I think.” She looks down at the pool on the floor. She feels a bit dislocated, like she’s hovering above her body and watching rather than actually being here.
“Oh,” he says, realising. “Okay, um. Yeah.”
Mulder makes a move to go up the stairs, then seems to remember he has a beer bottle in his hand and goes back down, darts into the kitchen and returns with a roll of kitchen towel. Working with an obvious sense of panic, he mops up the pool of fluid then looks up at her. “Are you okay?”
“Mm… Yeah?” She frowns as her abdomen tightens in a clear and obvious contraction. “Ohhh, I think this is it, Mulder.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course it is. I, er… I’ll call Joy. Can you get downstairs okay?”
She nods and, gripping the bannister, she descends slowly. Another contraction hits as she takes the final step and she balks, groaning. Things are happening faster than before, she thinks. That was just about thirty seconds between contractions. She’s about to open her mouth and explain this to Mulder, when he appears in front of her, pale-faced. “Scully, I’m making my panic face. Joy’s not answering. Her phone is going to answer machine. I’ve, I’ve left a message, but I don’t know what else to do. Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
“No!” she barks and Mulder flinches. She does not want an ambulance, because ambulances take you to only one place, the ER, and there is no way she is having this baby on a gurney in the ER. “No,” she repeats, steadier. “Keep trying Joy. She’s maybe out at some kind of party and can’t hear her phone.” Drawing in a deep breath and feeling her uterus relax, she adds, “We’ve got time. This isn’t happening right away.”
Mulder nods. He looks a little lost, which strikes her as vaguely amusing. A man who has faced mutants and alien bounty hunters and serial killers is overcome by the prospect of the birth of his own child. She reaches out a hand and pats his arm in what she hopes is a comforting gesture. “It’s going to be fine, Mulder. We got this.”
“Hm, yeah, you got this, Scully. Me? I’m not so sure. I’ve never delivered a baby before.”
“You won’t have to. Joy will answer her phone soon.”
Her belly tightens again and this time she has to close her eyes with the strength of it. How long was that apart, she thinks. “Mulder, you’ve got to time the contractions. I need to know how far apart they are.”
“Okay. Okay, I can do that.” He pulls up his sleeve and glances at his watch.
“And we need to fill the pool with water.”
Thirty minutes later and the pool is inflated and filling with water. Mulder, happy to have some distraction to keep him busy, is standing over it in a slightly proprietorial manner, watching the water rising up the sides. “You going straight in, Scully?” he asks, turning to see her in the grip of another contraction. She nods, breathing too hard to reply. She’s been walking about the lounge and kitchen, stopping only when contractions hit. Sweat is pearling on her brow and she reaches up a hand to wipe it away. She’s naked but for one of his t-shirts, her hair scraped back in a scruffy ponytail. It’s undignified, for sure, but right now, she couldn’t care less.
She climbs over the side of the pool and sinks down in the water, the t-shirt darkening. It’s warm and soothing and when the next contraction grips her, it feels a little less like she’s being held by a vice. “Have you tried Joy again?” she asks.
“Still the same.”
Scully closes her eyes and wills calm to embrace her. It’s all right, everything is fine, she can do this. Mulder can do this. She does her best not to see the anxiety behind his eyes. “We need to think of what to do if she doesn’t answer.”
Mulder takes a deep breath. “It’s pretty clear what needs to be done, isn’t it? Either I help you, or we call an ambulance. And since you seem quite against the latter option, I guess it’s you and me, Scully.”
She hums her way through another contraction, shifting position in the pool. “It’s not going to be long, Mulder.”
And it isn’t.
Forty minutes later, the contractions are unrelenting and she’s feeling an intense need to push; Mulder is behind her, hands on her shoulders, his voice in her ear, coaxing, urging, breathing with her.
It’s coming.
She can feel it in her very centre.
She shouts his name, gets up on her knees and holds his arms, vice-like, desperate. He’s still as a rock. She leans forward, presses her forehead to his, breathes his air. “Push, Scully,” he tells her. “Come on, you’re doing this. Push.”
Behind them, the door clicks and in walks Joy, but neither of them notice. With one last, tremendous effort, the baby is born and Scully looks down to see the water blooming pink and twists around. Joy lifts the tiny body from the water and the air is instantly filled with that beautiful sound of a newborn cry. “Here you go, Mama, take your baby.”
Scully brings the squawking, bluish child to her chest and laughs deliriously, her eyes filling with sudden tears. “Oh my God, Mulder, look…”
She looks up at him and the wonder on his face is worth every hardship she’s ever endured. “She’s beautiful,” he whispers. He kisses the top of her head, then with his thumb, strokes the wet, dark hair on the baby’s forehead.
“What you going to call her?” Joy asks from the side-lines.
Their eyes lock. “Ellen,” replies Mulder. “Ellen Margaret.”
“Ellen Margaret Mulder,” Joy repeats. “Born on Labor Day 2018.”
“Kid’s already got a sense of the apt.”
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” explains Joy, reaching into her bag. “I was at the concert on the West Lawn. It was just by chance that I checked my phone and realised I’d put the ringer on silent. What an ass I am!” She stands with hands on hips beside the pool, smiling down at them. “But look at the three of you! What a bit of teamwork! You going to cut the cord, Dad? Then you can hold her if you like, while I sort Mom out.”
Mulder looks at Scully and smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.” She can tell he’s nervous and that he’s thinking back to that time in her apartment all those years ago, when he first held William, only to have to run and leave him mere days later. For his sake, she wants him to hold this child and never have to let go. She wants it too, but for Mulder, even more.
Joy clamps the cord, waits a moment, then instructs him to cut. “There we go,” she says. “Good job, guys. You’re an independent being now, Miss Ellen. You go on to your Daddy now while we get your Mama all cleaned up.”
Leaning down and taking the naked baby, Mulder wraps her in a soft muslin blanket. He cuddles her into his body and Scully thinks that her heart might explode from the look on his face. She’s seen this scene in her head over and over, in a thousand dreams and daytime fantasies. Sometimes the baby is William, other times she’s been unsure whether the baby is even hers. But every time, it’s been the smile on his lips that has remained with her, long after the rest of the vision has gone. And so she watches, and takes it all in… the silence in the room, the tick of the ancient clock in Mulder’s study, the creak of the floors as he waltzes aimlessly about the lounge, the softness of the light and the gentle sounds of a newborn baby, the murmur of his voice as he breathes words of love in her tiny ear, and as she watches, the undimming smile on Mulder’s face.
The End.
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savannah A to Z pls
A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
well in the beginning, since she and caleb were usually putting their clothes on and hurriedly being like ‘ok thanks bye!!!’ which savannah hated, i think now that they are Grown and in a relationship, she takes more advantage of the time they can spend together?? the only exception to this is, if time prevents them from doing aka if they spend 1 more second in bed they’re gonna be suuuper late to work. otherwise she’s all about cuddling, maybe just talking and catching up on each other’s lives since they have really opposite schedules and what not?? probably with a shower thrown in and definitely donuts in bed.
B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
savannah likes her legs because caleb loves them tbh. her favorite body part on him is probably his dimples. also like…..every bit of him that is tattooed which i know is a lot but IDC.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)
sav isn’t grossed out by it as much as some girls can be??? she doesn’t throw a fit you know, if it’s in her hair or on her clothes or anything. and when it comes to swallowing her feelings can be summed up by this gif:
and on that note the rest is gonna be under the cut lmao
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
there was One time when sav had to be treated for an sti and it still haunts her to this day. like she was pressured into not using a condom (and i say that loosely bc she was prob pretty drunk so didn’t need much convincing tbh) and then unfortunately a week or so following the incident she found out what a true piece of shit the guy was. and then slashed all of his tires and broke his car windows in true savannah fashion :)
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
she’s more experienced than she would care to admit. for a long time, sex was just sex to her, so she used it to fill different voids. she didn’t really treat her body like it was something that needed to be earned and gave it out a lot more willingly than she ever would now. so honestly she’s a bit embarrassed by the number, but it’s a good thing it will never get any bigger because she’s only going to be with caleb now forever yay!
F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)
if they are having sex just to fuck around and get off (x) (x) cause they’re probably on the couch or in the car or something but y’know if they’re actually like makin love or whatever def something more like (x) so it’s more personal and they can ‘bond’ and what not lol.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
in life in general i think she’s way less serious than caleb, so she’s probably a bit more playful and goofy when they’re in the moment together. there are probably times when things are a bit more dire like their many, MANY instances of break-up, apology, or angry sex which wouldn’t call for that kind of humor, but for the most part she keeps it pretty light and probably tries to bring it out of caleb too.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
savannah keeps up with shaving pretty regularly. most of the time she’s hair-free, but when life is nuts she might occasionally have a little stubble here and there.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
for not having like A+ role models to demonstrate how to be soft and tender and intimate with someone, sav is pretty good at it. she loves caleb so she’s very into making sure that his needs are met?? which is crazy bc savannah would usually be selfish af and only care about herself. but she’s really attentive at making sure caleb gets the attention that he wants and that he walks away satisfied.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
both she and caleb are good at getting themselves off. once skype sex had to come into the picture because of the long distance thing and it was the only thing they could do, savannah became comfortable with touching herself and also adjusted to having someone else watch her do it. where before it may have been more of a private thing, once caleb moved to boston, all bets were off so sav got pretty into it.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
exhibitionism and agoraphilia are probably the biggest two coming to mind, mostly because of the riskiness that each of them involves. sav will eternally be an adrenaline junkie so anything that gives her a thrill like that will be something she’s into.
L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)
hotels probably!! ever since their first anniversary thing, there’s just something sav loves about spending a weekend in a place with a view, a massive bed, someone to clean the sheets daily, big showers/bath tubs and room service. it just has lots of luxuries that they don’t regularly have when they are at home, so whenever they make a reservation somewhere savannah goes big or goes home.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
honestly a few shots of tequila and a beer or two and she is Ready To Go. but it’s because she’s already suuuper attracted to caleb. like his almost quiet cockiness, lil bit of hard exterior/bad boy look, the tattoos. he really just has to look at her and smile and she’ll melt the big damn sap. but she is 100% about ass grabbing too. that’ll also do the trick.
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
other than like..the real gross bodily fluid nonsense sav probably wouldn’t ever consider a threesome. like maybe she had a stupid meaningless one before and i’m sure she can caleb joked about it in the past (him obvs wanting to have two girls and sav saying she would prefer two guys) but i don’t think it’s something she would ever do with caleb. the thought of him with another girl drives her nuts, let alone seeing it up close and personal and having to go along with it?? no way jose!!
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
usually giving because in her experience a lot of guys don’t know wtf they are doing lmao. so she’d rather just get off a different way or by herself bc nothing is worse than lying there and either waiting for them to figure it out or having the mood killed bc you’re trying to explain to them in detail wtf they are doing wrong. sav’s extra giving when it comes to caleb though and she’s never really been shy about her talent with it either. so lucky him!!
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
depends on how much time she has. she’s proficient when she needs to get the job done quickly and knows what works and what doesn’t in a time crunch. but if there’s time to draw things out (although it’s usually hard for her to move at a slow pace in her life in general) sav has the capability of mellowing out a bit during sex.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
i feel like with their lives, probably a good 70% is probably quickies simply because they just can’t ever get the timing, the place, the circumstances, etc. right. so it’s kinda just something that they are used to. but it’s always so nice when they actually can take their time with things and thoroughly enjoy each other. i imagine they probably make time to have sex 4-5 days out of the week, but more if they can manage it.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
savannah’s entire life is a risk??? so she’d be pretty down for anything.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
for a smoker and someone who is 100% against working out, her stamina is pretty good. she can probably go 2-3 times in a day and she usually lasts about as long as caleb does. they’re pretty in sync with one another!
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
sav probably had to invest in some when they were doing the long distance thing. like before caleb if she wanted sex she could just go out and get it, but when her bf lived hundreds of miles away she had to get a little bit more creative. so she’s probably got a collection of a few things after trying different ones trying to find something that did the most comparable job to caleb haha. probably made darren go with her into the store too and i am literally Dying at the visual.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
i feel like savannah teased caleb a loooot more in the beginning?? because there was that whole cat/mouse chase element to their relationship. but now that she has him, she doesn’t need to lay it on super thick the way that she used to. but she’ll still do it in small ways if she needs to get his attention or something.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
savannah usually doesnt restrict herself in volume when they have sex, which is just one of the trillllion reasons her neighbors hate her lmao. i mean she has a loud mouth outside of the bedroom sooo if that’s any indication. usually it’s just a lot of moaning, panting and probably swearing too knowing her.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
i’d say savannah doesn’t remember probably more than half of her sexual experiences. i feel like since she didn’t take them very seriously, most of them were liquor/drug fueled some probably even borderline consensual since there’s no way she could have had any idea what was going on.
X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)
(x)
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
it’s always kinda been on the higher side and then i think once she got with caleb and saw how good sex could be, especially when it was with someone you care about, it went up tremendously to the point where she can be pretty insatiable at times.
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
it depends.... because usually sav and caleb are running on -138 hours of sleep so if that’s the case, they can fall asleep pretty quickly afterward. if they have more time to kill and more chinese food to finish they’ll probably just take a break and sleep it off later.
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