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joonsytip · 4 months

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Withering for You || Seungcheol- Part 4

Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au

Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.

Warnings (specific to this part): drama, crying, profanities, everyone is hurt and sad, everything is on rocks, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen to though), mention of alcohol consumption, betrayal, italics represents occurrences in past

Word Count: 6.3k

TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED!

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao <3

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They say betrayal is worse than death if you taste it from someone you trust, someone you love. It's stingy, it's sickening, it's scathing.

You have always believed in soulmates, entitled Seungcheol to that word since you've known him, even wanted to make promises of eternity with him. But you should have seen the signs, should have never crossed the lines. Must not have tried to slip into the loopholes.

But you got blinded by greed, a hopeful stance of getting back together. Was it so wrong to wish a happily ever after with the one you have loved selflessly? Apparently it was.

"Sit.", you tell Seungcheol and the later obeys.

And as he does so his eyes fall on a very familiar document kept on the table. Instantly, he goes numb.

You observe him for a moment and play the recordings Jiah had given you. Midway, a panic stricken Seungcheol runs to you and pauses the recording.

He grabs your arms and says in desperation, "I didn't do all this Y/N. I admit I had planned all this because I wanted revenge but please trust me, it wasn't me."

"Unhand me.", you command him coldly, "Your touch disgusts me."

Seungcheol looks at you alarmingly before freeing your arms. He thinks of ways to convince you because in actuality, like he said he had planned it all but something out of scope happened. He fell in love with you again so long gone were all of those thoughts and schemes.

"What goes around, surely comes around.", you let out a chuckle, "Maybe that's why, I'm going through this. I get that you wanted to trample me upon. It's fair, to think about what you've been through because of me, I could have understood.", you look at him, "You could have handed me the divorce papers on our anniversary. Could have had other women and it would have wounded me. But-"

The tears pooling at the corner of your eyes are streaming down, "But how could you stoop so low? Knowing how much this academy matters to me, knowing what music means to me, you went out to attack my soul."

"No Y/N, I was a fool, please please", Seungcheol is crying as well, choking on his words, "It was wrong of me but I would never--"

"They are calling me a thief. Because of this incident those out there are questioning my whole career. The career, I've pursued after fighting the odds, after struggling for years. The one thing that is entirely mine.", your eyes turn darker as you say, "You could have rather killed me, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol gasps and shakes his head frantically.

"Even if I clear my name today, there will be people who'll still doubt my ability. Some out there would assume that I might be guilty and just because I belong to an influential family, I must have pushed everything under the rug with money.", you are hurting yourself with every word you utter at this point, clutching your chest, "My image is tainted, my career is ruined. They will never look at me the same way."

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Y/N", he gets on his knees and clasps his hands, pleading, "I would do anything to clear your name. I'd do anything to win back your trust just give me one chance--"

You take his hands off you saying, "I have always loved you, Seungcheol. Back then, even now, I have chosen you. But none of that matters now. You have stabbed me in the back but I'll be one to pay the price. I thought you'd be different but these genes run in your family. I can't even blame Jiah. You Choi's are no different from her--", you halt.

"What do you mean?", Seungcheol asks confused.

"As I said none of that matters now. You are so petty that you acted out the whole thing. You don't love me and from today onwards I won't either.", you answer him, taking out the wedding ring from your dress pocket, "Here, I'm giving you what you wanted.", you take his hand and place the ring on his palm, "Congratulations! This marriage didn't get through it's first year. But I have a present for you. I have filed for divorce, the papers will be sent to you as soon as they're ready."

Seungcheol is at loss of words. He's unable to comprehend the situation. He wants to stop you but on what ground? The irreversible damage is already done.

"I have all of my belongings sent over.", you inform him, "And if you're planning to create a fuss about the divorce and what's gonna happen after the conference, head on. I won't be giving up like last time. I'll see through the end of it."

"It's happening again", he tells himself and sounds so broken when he speaks through his wavering voice, "Please don't leave me again."

"I had no choice, I was forced to leave you back then", you mutter under your breath, making it impossible for him to hear, "I was willing to stay this time but I have to leave, this time for my sake."

While you gather the rest of your belongings, Seungcheol stands there helpless. And as you walk out of the house, he watches you take away the life of his adobe with you.

Seungcheol numbly tunes in to watch the press conference. He sees you on the screen, out of his reach, out of his life. He listens to each word you say. How sad you look as you address the matter. Even though your legal team briefs the journalists, his eyes are glued to you. He observes how you don't explicitly mention him or the Choi enterprise but throw sublte hints to catch on.

But you make it obvious at the end of the conference by announcing your divorce to Seungcheol.

"I have filed for divorce against Choi Seungcheol and I would like to refrain you all from associating me with the Choi's in future."

Seungcheol is immediately thrown under the bus. People who were coining you as a thief are now praising you and busy portraying him as the villain.

But mopping won't do him any good. His mind reel backs to every word you have said before leaving. He needs to get answers to some questions. Most importantly, he has to get you back.

The next few days goes by Seungcheol handling the legal charges against him which are minor because he digs out enough evidence to prove that he wasn't involved in the slander and Jiah is the main culprit, adding exceptional charges to the list that would nearly ruin her and damage her company's reputation.

The Choi enterprise faces reputation loss as well which results in their stock plummeting and the board of directors complaining about the situation. But being humungous in business, the impact isn't uncontrollable and since Seungcheol is mentally exhausted his father lets him loose taking matters into his hands for the time being.

Everything is manageable or bearable except for the divorce papers which he has received on your first anniversary, that sits coldly on his office table.

"The house I bought is an hour drive from here and I'm planning to stay there for some time, just to take my mind off of things." you say fishing out your car keys, "I have saved my new contact number to your phones."

"But are you sure you don't want us to be there with you?", your mother asks worriedly.

"At least let us help you shift--"

"Dad, I have lived alone before as well. Plus Chan and my friends are gonna help me with the unpacking.", you move over to hug both of your parents, "Visit me after it's done. Plus I'm planning to throw a cozy house warming house, not soon though."

"We're proud of you.", your mother says patting your head.

"I'm sorry for all the troubles and stress you've been through for the past year.", you mumble, quickly wiping your tears, "I'll be fine, no looking back promise."

"We have always trusted you, just take care of yourself and call us.", your father says kissing your forehead.

Chan waits for you by the car and he doesn't let you drive throughout the time it takes to reach your new house. As your friends help you settle into your new home, you are grateful to them for keeping you distracted and not bringing up Seungcheol.

"I'm sorry, Kwan. The academy had to face such an incident because of me.", you say hanging your head low in shame because you don't want anyone to see your tears, the can of beer in your hand remains unsipped, "I have decided to take some time off, please handle the academy and it's okay if you want me to backout. I'll transfer my shares to you."

Seungkwan blames the atmosphere for the tears in his eyes. He wipes them and sits beside you, "I couldn't have done it alone. The reason the academy exists is because we both had given it our all. So take all the time you want but you'll have to return."

You lean onto him and it's your brother who comes to wipe your tears.

"I'm so sorry Chan.", you speak through the tears, "I should have listened to you. I never thought that Seu--", you go quiet because it pains you to even say his name.

Everyone in room goes silent. It's not haunting rather comforting. But the successive ringing of the phones cause a mild commotion.

"Wonwoo keeps on calling us.", Eunsoo mutters, switching off her phone.

"Just tell him that I'm fine.", you tell her, "I'll give him a call later. I haven't visited Wonseok lately so I need to talk to him anyways."

It's amusing, how the night changes.

Seungcheol is distressed. He realises you are not the only one he has lost, he has lost Ms. Oh's empathy, he has also lost precious friend Wonwoo as well.

Wonwoo is back to his stoic self, the version he was when Seungcheol met him first. Only talks business with him, leaves as soon as he's done with assigned work. No more late night drinks, no more taking shots, none of the banter.

He watches you laugh as Wonwoo tells you something animatedly. He watches how your eyes are dull even though your lips are stretched.

Seungcheol had overheard Wonwoo talking to someone on the phone about his brother so he decides to visit him seperately just to check on him. He didn't expect to see you there, making him question since when you knew about Wonseok.

Your face falls when you're suddenly interrupted by Seungcheol's presence. He stands in front of you wordless, you don't bother to strike any conversation with him either.

"I'll get going, let me know if you need anything else.", you tell Wonwoo and turn around walk away.

"Y/N", Seungcheol says, "Can I please talk to you?"

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, "I don't think we have any business with each other. Do me a favour and just sign the divorce papers."

"I can't.", Seungcheol speaks out without missing a beat, "I need you Y/N, please give me a chance, let me make things right. I promise I won't let you down anymore."

"Enough with this act, don't assume you could fool me twice. I'm done with you.", you move around so now you're facing him again.

"You've changed your number.", he says meekly, "I don't get to see you anymore. That house haunts me, it's not the same without you."

You step in, closing the gap within you two, "You're facing the consequences of your actions. Stop acting like a fucking victim.", you spat out before walking out.

Wonwoo is torn. He doesn't want to take sides, it's even more difficult to see both of his dear friends grieving and suffering but there's nothing he could do.

"Wonseok is going through a series of surgeries because his condition had worsened and Y/N has been paying for them.", Wonwoo informs Seungcheol and before he could ask, Wonwoo adds, "You're already paying me more than I should be so I didn't want to burden you more. She had accidentally found out about Wonseok one day and decided to help me out even though I wasn't ready to accept it. She was determined and I couldn't stop her."

Seungcheol isn't surprised rather he is confused. This version of yours is what he was habituated to when you were dating until you convinced him it wasn't on the day you broke up. Something isn't adding up. Something about your nature and the way you act to what you had said that day are contradicting. You aren't mean-hearted, you are a giver so why did you years ago do something so bizarre, the thought is unsettling.

"She has been taking some time off from the academy, no one knows when she'll be back. She is so affected by the incident that she was ready to give up on the academy. The one she had built from scratch with her blood, sweat and tears." Wonwoo speaks disappointedly, "Do you realise what you have done?"

Seungcheol is ashamed, there's an unhealing pain in his heart thinking about you, about how he should be the one aiding you in your tough time but he can't because he's the reason you're in agony.

"As you know, I had also hated Y/N for what she had done. And now that you see me being friends with her is not because she's paying for Wonseok.", Wonwoo halts and takes a breath, choosing his words carefully, "It goes far beyond that. You have always been heedful, I think it's time for you to be vigilant as well. The truth might be far from what you've believed it to be."

Wonwoo doesn't spare another second on his watch as he walks away ignoring the desperate calls of his name.

Seungcheol's mind is not in place anymore.

Your thoughts are everywhere. Peace and happiness are some of the things you haven't gotten to feel lately. Though you've decided to spend time alone at home, the loneliness is caving you in.

Maybe tonight you're feeling a little more lonely than usual. Maybe you shouldn't miss the person who had pushed you to the edge of the cliff. Maybe you shouldn't be good with dates. Maybe you shouldn't trace your thumb on the calendar reminiscing about the day, you both had made it official years ago.

The damned tears aren't stopping, your heart isn't healing.

The bell rings and you are surprised because no one is supposed to visit you today. Quickly wiping your eyes and cheeks you don't bother to check the monitor and open the door.

At the other side of the threshold stands Seungcheol. Your red eyes gape at him as he looks at you shivering from driving all the way here in the snow.

"What are you doing here?"

You know getting your new address and number wouldn't be a big deal to Seungcheol given his network runs deeper.

"Can you let me in atleast, I'm freezing."

You cross over your arms and step aside. He saunters in and wanders off to have a tour of the house. He stops when he senses the glare you're sending him.

"If you realise that this house too plain for your taste you can always contact me. We're best in the business.", Seungcheol says as his lips purse in a line.

"I wonder from where did you get the audacity to come here?", you ask plainly.

"Just wanted to see you", he admits, "I miss you, Y/N."

You scoff at his words.

"Also, there's something you left behind, I found it while going through the drawers.", Seungcheol fishes out a notebook from his inner coat pocket.

You immediately recognise the object, raising your hand flat for him to handover it to you.

"I instantly got reminded of you always carrying it and scribbled down if anything came to your mind. Seems like you had kept this notebook from prior to university days.", he hands over the notebook and touches your hand gently in the process.

His touch turns to strong grip and he doesn't let go.

"Thanks.", you say trying to free your hand, "You should leave now."

The wedding ring on his finger feels cold on your skin.

"I know you remember what day it is today.", he says pulling you closer so that now you're colliding into him, your faces an inch apart. Your eyes are wide and the notebook falls as you're grabbing onto his shoulder out of reflex.

He has an undeniable look of longing in his eyes. You should just push him away, even kick him out but you find yourself frozen.

"I still remember falling in love with you, every moment of it.", he whispers, his gaze switching between your eyes and lips.

"So I do, Cheol.", his nickname slips out of your mouth so casually, there's a pause before you speak, "Why did you have to ruin it all?"

"I regret it all.", he gently holds your face, "But I realised that I never stopped loving you otherwise why would I despise you if I hadn't been in love in the first place."

"You could have broken my heart but you went after my soul."

"You did the same to me years ago. You took my soul away and I became just a shell.", he isn't complaining, just letting you know how difficult it was for him as well, "I planned everything to get back to you but what wasn't planned was my feelings resurfacing, falling in love with you all over again. I had forgotten all the schemes, had forgotten the reason why I hated you in the first place."

When he rests his forehead against yours, you close your eyes basking in the moment. What he did was definitely beyond any excuse but Seungcheol isn't entirely at fault. The fact that he was ready to start again with you after how you had treated him years ago proves the truth behind his words. The difference is you were forced to act out but he wasn't. He chose to destroy you.

So your eyes snap open and you're pushing him away.

"Leave Seungcheol.", you step away, "And never come back again."

Seungcheol sighs, "What should I do for you take me back? If you want I would never show myself in the vicinity of the academy. I wouldn't even ask you anything remotely related to your works or the academy. I'll stay all out of it, I promise."

"Nothing you do would make me go back to you.", your words taste bitter in your mouth, "We are not meant to be, we're not good for each other."

That is basically you firmly rejecting him, letting him aware that he has axed the mended fence.

Seungcheol smiles sadly, "Only if I could show you my heart and mind."

He then leaves with a heavy heart.

The next few days goes by Seungcheol racking his thoughts to make up his mind. Every time he thinks about you wanting to desperately cut ties with him, he relents. He laments on himself for what he has caused. At nights when he deliberately stays late, he mentally prepares himself to sign those papers because that's the only way to atone for his sins.

But those divorce papers get through every night without getting signed. Because when Seungcheol thinks he's ready that's when the realisation gnaws on him that he's actually not, that he'll never be.

And it gets harder each time he tries.

So one night, he lets his intrusive thoughts get the best of him and he ends up calling you.

"I'm trying but I can't bring myself to sign those papers", he speaks into the phone clutching it hard followed by a shaky breath, "I really want to give you what you want but whenever I think about not having you in my life, my willingness deters."

You stay quiet.

"Sorry to disturb you. Don't know what I was thinking. Please take care of yourself, bye.", he hangs up and collapses back on the chair.

Wonwoo watches through the blinds and he isn't new to this. Years ago Seungcheol had gone into a spiral, had almost given up on living post the breakup and now it hurts Wonwoo to see the history repeating itself.

So this time he promises to intervene for both of your sake, specially Seungcheol.

He has two things on his to-do list and though he isn't sure what the outcome will be, he's going to do them. He gathers everyone and let's them know of his plan.

"Mingyu, Eunsoo, Seungkwan", his gaze sweeps on the three, "You're gonna go and convince Y/N."

"I'll go to uncle and aunt.", Wonwoo says.

Eunsoo looks at him questionably, "We get our part. But are you sure your friend's gonna be okay?"

"Most importantly, I'm not sure how this will end because both of them are unpredictable as fuck.", Mingyu adds.

Seungkwan who was silent the whole time, speaks, "Guys, let's go for it. We will handle the aftermath.", he looks at Wonwoo, "You'll have to take care of Seungcheol because he's gonna hurt the most."

"It's better to be over it, Seungcheol deserves to know."

"What's wrong with you guys?", You ask absolutely astonished. All of your friends have suddenly busted into your house and are now advocating you on something that is supposed to be out of their box.

"Why are you suddenly siding with Seungcheol?", you say with a frown, "I'm feeling betrayed. I'm gonna call Chan now."

Eunsoo and Mingyu break into cold sweat knowing how scary your brother can be. Seungkwan sighs looking at the other two and gets that he has no other way but to sort down to what he's best at. He says, "Y/N, do you think we'd ever think ill of you? Do you think we'd be at your door because suddenly we felt emphatic towards Seungcheol? That's how lowly you think of us?"

The look on Mingyu and Eunsoo's faces are absolute comedic. They didn't expect Seungkwan would pull out his trump card.

Your gaze is unwavering when you say, "This won't work on me you know right?"

Seungkwan smiles, "Of course I know but we also know that you love Seungcheol and won't be happy without him. So we're saying all this just for your sake, not his, not anyone else's."

"You're wr-"

"You had 7 years but you couldn't get over him, even accepted his family just to marry him.", Seungkwan continues, "You had come across so many good men all these years but no one piqued your interest because you only had Seungcheol in your heart."

"Y/N, I did believe him when he said he fell in love again. I had seen the way he looked at you, the way he was protective around you. The way his eyes were always on you, radiating love. It may have started as an act but at some point it became real.", Eunsoo smiles at you, "He loves you."

"But Soo--"

"If you really loathed him, you wouldn't have waited for him to sign those divorce papers, you would have upsurged everything. You have the power to ruin the Chois wholly but you're just buying yourself some time.", Mingyi adds and immediately shifts to hug you, "What Seungcheol did was incredibly wrong, wait he didn't even do it. It was Jiah."

"Are you not getting Jiah did all just to separate you both again?", Seungkwan ask and you look at him wide eyed.

"She had done the exact thing years back and was successful. Please don't let her win again. If she can't have Seungcheol, she has planned all this for you to not have him as well.", Eunsoo voices out her concerns, "Don't let all these heartbreaks, tears and sacrifices go in vain just because of some misunderstandings. Don't do something you'd regret because you didn't mend it when you had a chance."

Your heart sinks at their words.

"Take your time but choose what you think is the best for you.", Eunsoo rubs your back gently, "Rationality shouldn't always take the stance, sometimes hearts should be listened to."

You take a deep breath and say, "Fine guys, I'll think about it."

The smile on their faces are unmatchable.

Seungcheol is worried when he receives a call from his mother asking him to urgently come to their house. Wonwoo is already waiting by the car and though Seungcheol asks if he knows anything he stays tight lipped throughout the ride.

"I'll be waiting for you right here. Call me if you need me.", Wonwoo says with an intone and for some reason it doesn't resonate well with Seungcheol.

He is led into his father's study where he sees both of his parents waiting. They are heartbroken seeing their only son. Seungcheol has lost weight, accumulated bags under red eyes, appearance unkempt.

"Take a seat.", his father says, "I have something to tell you and it's regarding Y/N."

Seungcheol immediately perks up at your mention. An eerie silence falls upon the room. Seungcheol's anxious gaze searches for his parents'.

"Y/N was forced to break up with you years ago. I had made her do so.", his father admits.

Seungcheol freezes. He thinks he's hearing things that are not supposed to make any sense.

"Ever since I had started the business I had been diligent to it. Dedication and honesty does account for success but so also being money minded and cunning. As years went by that consistency and success made me cling to riches, fame and status that came along with it.", his father says as he takes a seat gesturing him to do the same. "You must be remembering that we were facing financial crisis because one of our major investor had withdrawn. It had affected us greatly."

Seungcheol nods, "We were on the verge of facing bankruptcy."

"Since Jiah's father runs a finance company, we had made small sort of deals previously but that time the amount required was large and no one was willing to help us not even her father. But later Jiah came to me and offered me a deal."

"W-What deal?"

"That she would convince her father to provide us support only if", there's an ominous pause before Mr. Choi looks at him and says, "I remove Y/N out of your life."

A tear falls from his eye, as he hears the tale of betrayal from none other but his father.

"I have never liked Y/N, the reason was basic, she didn't belong to our circle. Initially I thought she was just a fling but so I agreed with Jiah."

Seungcheol is numb at this point, he just sorts to listening.

"One day I had brought in Y/N to let her know that she needs to find her way out of your life.", Mr. Choi's gaze falls, "She instantly refused. No matter what I said she wasn't willing to leave you. One meeting turned to two, two turned to three but she was hellbent on not letting you go."

"With Jiah constantly pressurizing me, threatening to nullify the deal if not taken action soon, I became desperate.", he confesses, "So I resorted to one thing I should have never done. I can never forgive myself for that."

You say in utter disbelief, "Why don't you tell your son to breakup with me instead? Stop pestering me, you know we both love each other and Mr. Choi let me make this clear, this is the last time I'm meeting you."

Mr. Choi gives you a sickening smile. He casually says, "Your brother is currently studying in Australia, if I'm not wrong."

You pale instantly, "W-What about him?"

"You're right, this is gonna be our last meeting. If you don't breakup with my son, I'm not sure what I'll do with your brother. What if you don't get to see your dear little brother anymore?"

"Mr. Choi, you can't do this. Please--"

"I'm not here to negotiate. I think you're smart enough to make the right choice. So tell me Y/N, what did you decide?"

You are crying and begging but there's no mercy reserved to spare for you. How are you supposed to choose between your brother and the love of your life? You will have to so you choose what's best for all, you choose both.

"Fine, I'll breakup with Seungcheol. So stay away from my brother."

Mr. Choi smiles in mirth, "You made the right descision. Rest assured."

With job being done, he is walking out of the hall when your call of his name reaches his ears.

He turns with an incredulous look on his face as he waits for you to speak.

"Promise me that you'll never tell Seungcheol about this incident.", comes your strained voice.

"I wasn't planning to anyways.", Mr. Choi says, "Even better for me, I promise to not tell Seungcheol about any of this."

Seungcheol runs to his father with the intention of doing something unspeakable but he stops right in front of him and collapses on the ground.

"How could you do this?", he sobs uncontrollably, "How could you stoop so low?", he balls his hands into fists and channels the anger on the floor, hitting it again and again that's when his mother steps in to stop him.

He looks at her and say, "How could you not tell me? How could you tolerate your husband even after knowing all this?", he then swats her away.

Getting up, he's gasping for air, unable to comprehend with the pain in his chest and head. Restlessness engulfs him but he doesn't let both of his parents to even touch him.

"I'm ashamed to call you both my parents.", he spats out, "I'll never forgive for ruining our lives. I hope all of this was worth it."

Then he's running out of the house ignoring the calls of his name. Wonwoo is immediately grabbing his friend, making him sit and drink water.

"You also knew but didn't tell me?", Seungcheol asks as fresh tears stream down his face.

"I only came to know recently and Cheol even if I had known, it's not my story to tell.", Wonwoo answers.

It takes Seungcheol over an hour to calm down.

"You don't need to attend me, I'm fine.", Seungcheol says stoicly, "You can go, I have somethings to take care of."

Though Wonwoo refutes but Seungcheol is adamant, leaving no choice for him but to obey his boss.

As soon as Wonwoo gets out of the car, Seungcheol drives off.

You are extremely tired, mentally and today for some reasons are you feel thinned out physically as well.

Staring at the cello, ominous thoughts fill in your mind. Because no matter how hard you try, you are unable to produce anything. There are no notes or no tunes, it's all blank.

And you're scared, what if music doesn't choose you anymore? What if you can't produce anything for the rest of your life? All these possibilities scares you enough to spend sleepless nights. It has disturbed your appetite as well.

Tossing and turning, as you've been doing for nights with minimal sleep at dawn hours, you sit up startled when the doorbell rings.

All the exhaustion is now replaced with concern when you see Seungcheol who continuously weeps at the door.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Just a shake of head and he keeps on crying.

It's been about twenty minutes since he arrived crying and you're seriously considering about calling Wonwoo.

The way he's visibly hurting, hurts you too and you resort to hug him, patting his back, "If you're hurting because of me, please don't.", you say softly, tears pricking at your eyes subconsciously.

Seungcheol pulls away, looking at you. His sobs stop and the first thing he does is hold your face and kiss you. You're surprised, his lips graze yours but you don't kiss him back. Your hands push his chest and he's detaching himself mumbling a string of apologies.

"It was all for nothing.", he sounds so heartbroken when he speaks, "All those years spent in pain, hatred and resentment towards you, you didn't deserve any of it."

You have an inkling and it doesn't settle well in your bones, "Whatever you're saying is making no sense. Why are you here?"

Seungcheol looks dead in your eyes, "Because I know now. I know what happened all those years ago."

Your soul leaves your body at his words. You never wanted him to find out because you knew it'd tear him apart.

"W-Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

And your very first instinct is to grab your phone and make a call to his father but Seungcheol doesn't let you. The phone gets snatched from your hands and thrown away somewhere.

"Why did you do it?", he asks and his questions irks you.

You scoff, "Are you seriously asking me why I did it after knowing everything? Seungcheol, I was threatened with my brother's life, what did you expect me to do?"

Seungcheol shakes his head, "No that Y/N. Why did you make dad promise you about not telling me about this?"

"What could I have done Seungcheol?", your voice cracks, "I loved you so much and trust me, I tried everything I could to be with you, to not hurt you but-- it killed me to lie to you. I went through hell and back trying to stop myself from telling you 'no I'm lying, please don't leave, I love you as much as you do'.

"That day I took your heart away.", You exhale sharply, "I didn't want to crush your soul as well, didn't want to make it anymore difficult for you then it already was. I knew how much you looked upto your father, how much you cherished your parents. I didn't want you to fight your family", your heart twinges as you continue, "Though it wasn't possible for me to love again, I prayed that you would move on, meet someone who'd make you forget all the sorrows I gave you. I wished for you to fall in love again and live happily."

You chuckled through your tears, "Won't lie, it would have hurt me but if it assured your happiness I'd have hurt myself all over again, all of the times."

Seungcheol observes you quietly, he absorbs your words to his heart.

"What does that make me, Y/N?", he asks defeated.

"You weren't at fault, Cheol. I chose what it seemed the best for all of us."

"I hated you, married you and plotted revenge. Hurt you and now indirectly lead to something that almost ruined your career.", he speaks as if he's narrating a monologue, "I kept wounding the wounded and siding with the foes."

"Stop blaming yourself. What you did was indeed wrong, you should have never attempted take a blow at my career. But years ago, even after all that you were ready to start again.", you remind him.

Seungcheol completely shuts himself out.

"Till yesterday, I was in a dilemma. They say if you love someone you should let them go. Call me selfish but I couldn't even think of parting ways with you. I wanted to fight for us. I'd have courted you until you got bored of me. I would have waited for a lifetime, even if you'd have moved on.", he avoids eye contact so that his resolution doesn't deter, "But how could I tie you to the people who tried to harm you, harm your family?"

"I won't beg for forgiveness anymore. Honestly, I don't want you to forgive us. If you're having second thoughts about us, discard them. Please just discard me.", he voices out in desperation, "Be selfish and choose yourself this one time."

He takes out a paper from his coat pocket which you recognise very well.

"Till yesterday signing these papers seemed impossible for me but it's surprising, how events turned out to be.", he takes your hand and places the paper saying, "I have signed them. This time I chose what's best for you."

There's a sickening churn in your stomach that makes you realise that there's nothing you can do.

"I love you, Y/N."

The weight of those words fall heavy on you as Seungcheol closes in.

"For one last time, please.", he says holding your face.

You incline towards him and instantly his lips are on yours. One of his hands now settle on your neck firmly as your lips dance on featherly. His other hand is gripping your waist to hold you in place. The saltiness of his tears burn on your tongue, making you suck in a gasp. His kisses you till his heart's content because it's a kiss of goodbye before resting his forehead on yours.

"Don't go", your strained voice whispers, "Please don't go."

Seungcheol whispers back, "I have to. Please don't stop me, I'm not strong enough to refuse you."

The tears stream down your face, "Would nothing I do be enough to stop you?"

"Y/N, please", he pleads, "You were right when you said we're not meant to be because I have only hurt you. I don't deserve you."

"Cheol..."

He steps back and you're suddenly engulfed by coldness.

"The chapter named Choi Seungcheol in your life ends right now.", he balls his hands, grits his teeth, does everything to not let those tears spill, "Since you might not submit the divorce papers, I have already handed over a copy to your attorney."

He turns back, rubbing his chest, the pain is unbearable.

"Cheol, please..."

"It's snowing so don't follow me outside, you'll catch a cold. Goodbye Y/N."

Then he leaves, from your house, apparently from your life.

And you realised not all stories have a happy ending, there's not always a happily ever after.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 days

Text

Questions

Aitana Bonmatí x Codina!Reader

Summary: You vs Carla the social media manager

You see her coming, eyes wide in fear.

Your teammates haven't seen her yet, wrapped up in their own conversations.

You turn to go but Lucy's got an arm thrown over your shoulder, wrapped tightly around you like an iron bar.

You try to wiggle out of it but you can't.

"Girls," Carla says as she approaches, phone already out to capture content," What's your phone lockscreen?"

You breath a sigh of relief that it's a tame question.

You never quite knew what Carla wanted from you so you thought it best to just ignore her sometimes.

"Me and my sisters," You say plainly.

"Can we see it?"

You think for a moment. "No."

You walk off.

"Oh! Come on, y/n!"

You laugh as you go, waving teasingly as Lucy's caught showing her own lockscreen to the camera.

Carla is your frenemy. You're not the happiest on camera. You don't really enjoy being put on camera and asked silly questions. You're never quite sure how to respond or what kind of response she wants from you.

Carla knows this and you both like to make it a game to see how many times she can catch you out each week.

You're winning at the moment, escaping from her nine times out of ten this week including a fairly daring escape where you leapt over the barriers and climbed the fence to get away from her.

She filmed that too and it circulated through the staff and team groupchat. Someone even sent it to Laia in England so she called you just two nights ago to laugh at you.

But, still, she kind of caught you this time and you're not going to be happy about it.

"Carla get you?" Aitana laughs as you enter the locker room with a frown on your face.

You huff. "I don't want to talk about it."

It's a little embarrassing to talk about it with Aitana. You've been crushing on her for years at this point and you know it's mutual too.

Just neither of you has made the first move yet. This dancing around each other is so you and Aitana that you're not too sure why you would change it.

Aitana can be the one to make the first move.

"You know," She says," You can just admit defeat."

You scoff. "It's almost like you don't know me at all. The day Carla gets me to admit defeat is the day that you finally go on a date with me."

Aitana laughs, winking. "Maybe you should hurry up and admit defeat then."

Your mouth falls open. "Wait, are you being serious?"

Aitana grins, a soft kiss being pressed to your cheek as she disappears out of the room. "Am I?"

You don't have much time to dwell on Aitana's words because training starts and by the time you get home, you've all but forgotten about them.

Your life is blissfully Carla free in the coming days and she doesn't resurface again until Thursday, when you're walking in with Aitana talking to you, one hand around your arm as the other is used to gesture about what's got her so excited.

You spot Carla make a beeline for you and you know that you can't do one of your daring escapes again unless you want to shove Aitana away and you never want to do that.

So, you stay with her and admit defeat to Carla for once in your life.

"Which team member would you not let date your daughter?" She asks and you sigh.

"Er..." Aitana says," Maybe Cata."

"And you, y/n?"

You shrug. "Aitana. Because my daughter can't date their other mother."

Carla laughs, lapping up your answers before sending you both on your way.

Aitana's frowning though and you bump her with your hip.

"Something wrong?"

"Did you mean it? About your kid not dating me?"

"Our kid," You correct with a shrug," Besides, I allowed Carla to ask me a question. I think this means you owe me a date."

Aitana rolls her eyes. "Pick me up at seven. I'd like dinner at some place fancy."

You grin. "You got it."

#woso x reader #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months

Note

AITA for coming to dinner with my ex and his new GF uninvited?

This situation is long and messy, so I'll try to include the relevant info only. I (F32) broke up with my long time partner (M33) right before COVID hit. We stayed in the same house during lockdown and continued to live together after lockdown was lifted, because we generally get along and we had a child (F11) to raise together. Over the last 3 years we've been roommates and co-parents and that's it.

One day he was supposed to take our daughter to buy new school clothes, and she came back 10 minutes later in tears. She said they were on their way to the store when his new GF called, and he drove her back home and dropped her off so he could go spend time with her. He even asked our daughter to lie to me for him, but she was tired of covering for him (implying she'd been lying for him for a while now).

When he got home we had a massive argument. I didn't care if he dated other girls, I cared that for some reason he thought he had to sneak around, and it made him act like a jerk to me and our daughter. I told him if he had been a man about this new girl and just introduced me to her then maybe we could have all been friends, but instead he had to act like a horny teenager. It ended with him moving out to live with his parents.

A couple days later he called and apologized. He said he hoped it wasn't too late for him to do things right, and he hopes we can all be friends. I was hopeful that we could finally co-parent in peace for the sake of our child.

This is where I may be TA: I have always been close with my ex's parents, to the point where even after we broke up I would be invited over regularly for dinner. They said even if I wasn't their son's partner I'm still their grandchild's mother, and that makes me family.

So one day when my daughter texts me while at my ex's parent's house and invites me to dinner because they're having my favorite meal, I don't think twice about coming over even though my ex and his GF I've never met now live there. I figured everyone had to be okay with it, since my daughter was inviting me.

I end up having dinner with my ex's parents and daughter, but my ex only comes upstairs to grab two plates of food and goes back downstairs. I ask my ex's mom why and she says his GF doesn't feel well today. Whatever, I think. She's just sick and I'll meet her another day. I have a perfectly pleasant dinner with my ex in-laws, help clean up, and make a promise to bring them a coconut cake (ex father-in-law's favorite) and take my daughter home.

Later my ex blows up my phone with texts and calls, saying it was so weird and rude that I came over for dinner uninvited. That I made his new GF uncomfortable, and like she wasn't welcome there. And that I caused trouble in their relationship because she assumes we must still be in love for me to come over and see his parents out of the blue like that, because "exes don't do that. it's creepy."

I had a talk with my daughter and asked her calmly if she had asked everyone else if it was ok if I come over before she texted me, and she sheepishly said she didn't know she had to ask since it had never been a problem before. (I didn't tell her about her dad's meltdown at me, or tell her dad that she's the one who invited me. She's a child and shouldn't be involved)

Instead I just told him I'm sorry me dropping by made things awkward, but I thought he wanted us all to be friends from now on and I figured this was a good place to start being friends. He said there was no way she'd want to be my friend now that I made her feel uncomfortable in her own home.

It wasn't my intention to make anyone uncomfortable, but I admit I'd be perturbed if he brought this woman into MY home and I had not even been warned first. So AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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gotham-daydreams · 7 months

Note

i just had a thought

you know what would really fuck up the batfam in the "not tonight" series imagine the reader instead of leaving gets kidnnaped and when the batfam saves them reader breaks down into crying in relief because they genuenly believed the batfam would not bother to save them

Imagine the absolute horror the batman would feel

I know its a little farfetched but i live for the angst

No, no! I love that idea!!! And it isn't all that farfetched seeing as the reader is a well known musician on some level, and even if that wasn't the case- they're still the kid of Bruce Wayne. Which, honestly, is enough motivation for someone to kidnap them, I'd say. Especially if the reasoning is for money, revenge/jealousy, or both honestly.

Besides all that, though- oh my god that would be awful! I love it!

Because imagine things from the reader's perspective (which, there is implied violence inflicted on the reader, mentions a blood, and a gun is pointed towards them. So, if it isn't your cup of tea then that's fine!):

Your 'family' that barely acknowledges you enough as it is, and the only guy who ever seems to notice that you're around is the single butler that basically takes care of everyone and everything in the manor. Now, you're kidnapped because of your relation/connection to the family, and have no hope to do anything besides just pray.

Maybe you have tried to escape before a few times at this point, but the punishment for such attempts have now gotten to the point where if you try again and fail, you'd surely die. Maybe you've also been trying so hard to escape yourself because you're just that certain and sure that the Batfam won't save you. Since, up until this point, anything dealing with or connecting back to you in some way has been ignored or dismissed one way or another. Why would something like a kidnapping be any different? Especially when they also haven't noticed other events where you have gotten hurt before.

Right from the gate, you're already thinking that the Batfam won't save you. Not that they can't, but just like with everything else- something will come up and steal away their attention, and you'll be left by yourself, and to defend yourself as always. That's what always seems to happen, and so why would now be different? In your mind, it wouldn't. So that's why when your attempts to escape fail, and the punishments not only get worse, but begin to pile up and reach a point where you think you're going to die- the situation quickly becomes much scarier.

You don't hope that Batman will suddenly show up, and instead pray that your best friend will notice your missing somehow. You don't think that Nightwing, Red Robin, Spoiler, or Orphan will suddenly swoop in and save the day, but instead try and hope that your producer/boss notices that you haven't replied to his calls or texts and contacts someone. You don't even consider that Red Hood or Robin will come barreling in and quickly deal with your kidnappers before rescuing you — instead all of your thoughts are filled with silent whispers and desperate pleas that someone- anyone you know will notice that you're gone, or that something is wrong, and will contact somebody. With that 'somebody' being the police or anyone of help, but not the Batfam.

Maybe a small thought does slip by, but you can only internally laugh at yourself because you either think that you've already lost enough blood to actually try and believe that lie, or your just growing that desperate to have a little hope. To have something to cling onto in this moment, that you chose the one thing that you're so convinced will never be given to you. A thought that only further cements itself in your mind the more time passes. With hours turning into days, and days to weeks.

Perhaps that's why you try to escape again. Deciding that you had better odds of succeeding despite your injuries, than the Batfam ever coming to save you. Let alone even thinking about it, or even realizing that you were gone in the first place. Taking that risk of getting caught again, and potentially getting killed this time, because no matter how hopeless or unlikely it seems for you to escape and make it out- those chances will always be higher than any single person from the Batfam showing up, and even attempting to save you. Even on accident, or on a whim- that possibility is so unlikely in your mind, that it's basically nothing more than a made up scenario or daydream to you. It's not an 'if' or 'when', but a flat out 'won't'.

Maybe that's why when you fail you get so scared, but can't help but feel like this was inevitable somehow. Of course, you don't want to die- but you had tried your best. You fought until the very end, and it almost feels a little too fitting that things ended up this way. With your efforts ending in vain, and you having nothing to show for it. With your attempts futile, and almost seeming idiotic from an outsider's point of view, and maybe it was.

You never stood a chance. You were doomed for failure. Not even all the training and experience you had could save you- and only now could you see how truly worthless all your efforts had been. With a gun pointed to your head, and your own blood providing the only warmth you've felt in days.

There's an odd sense of comfort and familiarity in the chill that shoots down your spine, and the cold gaze that one of your kidnappers give you. They're carelessness and disregard for your health reminding you of something, with their rough attacks and harsh punches bringing back times where you really did need the Batfam, only for no one to show up. Your call dying down as fast as it had risen that day, and one you never even bothered to make again.

So maybe that was why you were so surprised when help arrived, and even more so when you saw who exactly it was.

Before you could even fully register anything, you began to cry. A wide smile full of disbelief grows on your face, and more tears begin to fall as the smallest of laughs escape you. 'Unbelievable' is the first word that comes to mind when describing what you felt, and thought when you saw Batman drop down from the ceiling and deal with the guy who was about to kill you, and heard some commotion just down the hall.

At first, your convinced it's all some silly dream, and that maybe during your final moments- your mind decided to give you something nice to send you off. Almost like a warm parting gift to distract you from the hopelessness, and reality of the situation. Though it's only when pain shoots through your entire body when you move a certain way, that the thought of all of this being some made up hallucination or delusion vanishes, and you can't help but cry harder.

You don't know if it's a good or bad thing that after all this time- the one time they actually notice that you're gone, is when you not only get kidnapped, but can't escape by yourself. That the one time they acknowledge you, you're almost dead, bleeding out, and the most messy and vulnerable you've ever been.

Maybe life really did have some grudge against you to go to such lengths to fuck you over, but right now you're too relieved to be saved to care at the moment.

Yet, to say the Batfam feels awful on a totally new level, is an understatement. They understand feeling relieved, but to this extent? It's like you never expected them to come and save you at all... and that little thought seems to be true when one of them tries to help you out, and you're still laughing weakly as you continue to cry. Asking through a broken, wavering voice if all of this is real, and isn't some fucked up hallucination your having to make passing on easier. That they really showed up, and as a last ditch effort to not make your death anymore painful then it has to be- this isn't just some... dream, to make you feel like you were actually cared for in your final moments.

It breaks their hearts, a lot.

Especially when you repeat questions, as if trying to really make sure that they're there, that they're real, and aren't just some figment of your imagination. That they actually came to save you, and weren't off saving Gotham or the world itself instead. Constantly trying to be sure, as if the moment you weren't- then you'd be convinced that you were slowly dying all alone, with no hope of help coming — not even thinking that the Batfam would come — and just have to sit with that fact as you take your final breaths.

The pain you feel is almost equal to their's, and what really worries and scares most of them is how sure and certain you are that they wouldn't show up. That either the thought would never cross their minds, or that something else would come up and they'd leave you for dead, or that they just wouldn't notice that you were kidnapped at all.

Which, said fright and worry is only amplified when you have to keep asking "Are you really here? Are you sure?" And the like, and they have to keep finding ways to prove to you that yes, they are here. They're helping you, and they're not leaving- they actually managed to save you, and that you're going be okay now. That they aren't going away, and are very, very real.

Each little, broken laugh chips away at the pieces of their hearts, and your own disbelief that they can't seem to get rid of no matter what they do or say, is just a punch to the gut. You didn't just think that they wouldn't show up, but were fully convinced that they wouldn't even bother with it. That own realization just... hurts more than anything.

Had they really been that awful to you? Had they really caused you so much pain and hurt that you'd not only think of such a thing, but fully believe it? They didn't remember doing anything in particular that would cause you to think that way... but maybe that wasn't the problem. It wasn't what they did to you, but rather what they didn't do, and that's when the pieces finally begin to click.

Of course some don't want to believe it, similar to how some of them in "Not Here" express a brief moment of denial and disbelief themself, but they don't get to experience such a luxury anymore. Not with you here- bleeding, hurt, and crying from both relief and disbelief, because you couldn't believe that they actually showed up.

Even when they do quickly take you to a hospital and get you treated, that image of you is still ingrained into their minds. They can't forget it- how you looked at them and spoke, and just how you treated the whole situation because of how convinced you were.

From here they'll try to rebuild what they can, and all definitely be 100% more protective then they've ever been. The moment you're able to come home (which, you ARE coming home. No if's or but's. You don't get a chance this time.), they're doing everything in their power to not only 'fix' everything, but make sure that you are safe at all possible moments of the day.

It's safe to say that the whole experience traumatized the whole family to a certain degree. Not only with you being kidnapped- but you trying to escape multiple times and almost dying, because you were so convinced that no one would show up to help. (Which, while it was also because you can genuinely handle yourself and did believe you could escape on your own, the Batfam doesn't entirely believe that (and you almost dying doesn't help with that) so they chalk it up to you being desperate, because you 'knew' that no one was coming to save you. Which also may or may not make certain people worse in the process.) So they're already leaning pretty heavy on the yandere tendencies. Which most likely develop over the time you're in the hospital, and into your first week or so staying in the Manor.

Which does lead us to your little addition:

Which, you are very correct!!!

Our boy Jason, put in very simple terms, doesn't take the situation well. At all.

Seeing you bloodied, bruised, abused, malnourished, and on the brink of death no less- definitely doesn't help with his reaction at all.

Don't get me wrong! All of them react pretty negatively to the situation, and many of them have very strong reactions- Jason in particular just has the worst and strongest one. :]

The moment he sees you, he's immediately reminded of his death. The urge to comfort you is strong, but he just doesn't know what to do- and so he ends up not doing anything until you're in the hospital. Which, leading up to that point, he's checking your pulse as often as he can.

He knows what it's like to be hopeless, and feel that helpless- but to know that you experienced that? To know that you almost died like he did? It ruins him. It fucks him up more than anything else.

From the way you looked at the Batfam- the way you looked at him, and just how utterly relieved you were, despite drowning in your own disbelief- it haunts him. The state they found you in messed him up enough, but all of your questions, and just how you were even trying to reassure yourself that them showing up and saving you was real, fucked him up big time.

Before he knows it, he's hunting down the people who kidnapped you, and wiping out whatever is left of their bloodlines. Not sparing a single person, as they didn't spare you- with their generations leading to your kidnappers being born.

He's making their final moments just as painful as yours would've been. Their agony almost matching his, as he couldn't forget the night they saved you. He refused to. That moment forever engraved into his mind, reminding him of what also was if they were a second too late, and how it made him realize just how much he's fucked up along with everyone else.

While Jason can't exactly just waltz into the Hospital to visit you, since he is still considered dead and everything, he sneaks into your room instead. Trying to give what comfort he can in his own silent, but close way. Holding your hand with a gentleness even foreign to himself, and saying how he's sorry and that he'll make it up to you. Promising every night that he'll make those that made you suffer pay with their lives, and then some. Saying how he won't leave your side ever again, only to be gone by the morning.

He brings what he can as well. Even if it isn't as showy or extravagant as any of the things that Bruce, Damian, Dick and so on are getting you, or as pretty and lively as the flowers that are placed by your bedside. It's just his own little way of trying to make it up to you.

The small, little gifts he gives you are indeed little, and he doesn't give much since he doesn't think that your forgiveness or love can be bought. But he still tries to give something. So he'll give things that can be as little as hair ties or bracelets, to earrings (that totally aren't matching) and a little music box that reminded him of the melodies you've made thus far. It's all just another way of saying that he cares about you, and not only wants to build your relationship but be connected to you somehow.

The earrings, even if you don't wear them but just have them, make him feel closer to you then he can. He hopes that in some little way, that whenever you wind and let that music box play its tune, that you are reminded of him or think of him in some way. That when you wear or even look at the few ties and bracelets he's given you, he comes to mind in some small way, and manages to bring the smallest of smiles on your face.

Jason doesn't yearn to be remembered or seen fondly, but he would like to and deeply appreciate it. Since when he looks at his earnings, he's reminded of you, and the pair he managed to give you. Leaving him unable to fight back the smile that grows on his face.

For the most part, he just generally tries to be more present, hardly leaving you alone unless he has to, and spending every moment he can by your side. Moments that begin to last longer once he finishes his buisness with your kidnappers, and their families. He doesn't push too hard or is super in your face and constantly invading your personal space. He just exists in your presence, and as long as you're around he's got no complaints.

Though he does get extremely protective and possessive. Especially if your sleeping or something, and someone walks in. God have mercy if they need to wake you up, and dare to try without saying anything to Jason first.

Which- all of this boils down to you getting scary dog privileges every night, which turns into an almost 24/7 type of deal when you get discharged from the hospital.

---

Sorry if this is a little all over the place. I wrote it all in one go for the most part and haven't really looked it over, so there's probably some mistakes I didn't catch and missed 😅

Still, I hope that's alright, and as you can see- i really enjoy this idea :]

#talking daydreams #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #gn reader #platonic yandere #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere jason todd

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lanadelnegan · 9 months

Text

My Girl

S7!Negan x Reader

Requested from anon: hey! loving the blog and every story you post! i was wondering if you’d do a story of a reader’s first time being with S7 Negan who is an asshole at first but then goes soft because he accidentally made her cry??

OOOH I'm gonna have some FUN with this one. And thank you so much <3.

Summary: Rick's oldest daughter, y/n, loses her virginity to Negan.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, virgin first time, vaginal sex, daddy-kink, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 40), Rick walks in on Negan eating you out.. (twice), degrading language, mushy romantic Negan, Negan fucks you in nothing but his leather jacket

A/N: This is my favorite fic I have written by far and I hope you love it as much as I do cuz I am obsessed.

"Carl, take your sisters upstairs and don't come down until I say it's safe." I lift Judith out of her high chair and follow Carl up the stairs.

Our dad has always treated us like Carl's the older one, even though he's two years younger than me, but I don't mind. If anything, it takes some of the pressure off of being big sis all the time.

I hear Negan's voice booming in the distance as my dad opens the door to head back outside. This has become part of our weekly routine at this point. Negan and his men went from monthly visits to weekly visits over the past couple months, but I don't mind that either.

The more I get to see him, the merrier.

I move the bedroom curtains slightly, peeking through my window until my eyes find Negan standing in the street in front of our house. I'm able to make out what they're saying if I listen closely enough.

"Rickyyy, I missed ya. Where's that sweet daughter of yours hiding? .....The older one of course." I can't stop the grin that appears on my face when he asks about me.

"This isn't about her. Get what you need, and leave." My dad stands firmly planted with his hands on his hips and my eyes roll at his attitude. Maybe if my dad would just be civil with Negan all of this could stop. I revert my gaze back to Negan.

"Now, Prick, you know I can't leave without seeing my girl."

His girl... The butterflies in my stomach flutter at the sound of that.

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" Carl asks rudely from across the room while holding Judith and bouncing her so she doesn't cry.

I quickly glare at Carl before turning my gaze back towards the window. When I look back down, Negan is looking up at me, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. I can't look away, and he lets his gaze linger a little too long as well, prompting my dad to look at my window. I quickly drop the curtain and back away.

"Take Judith to her room and put her down for her nap." I instruct Carl. He stares at me suspiciously. "Go! What did I just say?" I snap impatiently. He shakes his head but ultimately leaves.

"You're always so weird when he comes around." He says under his breath. I close my door behind them and go back to the window, peeking again, but this time everyone's gone. I rush to go see what's going on, but as soon as I swing my door open and run out, I crash into a tall, solid figure. My eyes widen as I look up at the man in the leather jacket.

"Hey, doll. Miss me?"

"Uh - I - where's my dad?" I stutter nervously, peaking around him.

"Busy getting supplies for me. He'll be busy for the next hour, so I thought I'd come keep you company."

Negan's been visiting Alexandria for months now, and each time he comes, our talks get longer and flirtier. Well, he flirts with me and I pretend to be annoyed, mostly so others don't think I like him. If they only knew how much I think about his beard between my legs.

There's something about him that intrigues me.. fascinates me even. I'm ashamed to admit I've even touched myself a couple times - okay, a lot of times - to the thought of him.

When I don't respond, he backs us into my bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

He slides his shoes and jacket off, sitting on my bed and leaning back with his feet propped up. I blush at the sight of him in my bed and restrain myself from ripping my clothes off here and now. A chill runs through my body, making me noticeably shake but I try to play it off. He probably things I'm scared, when in reality I just want him.

"Relax, I'd never hurt you darlin'. Unless you want me to." He winks as he leans back against the headboard getting more comfortable.

"I know." And I do... for some reason, I know he wouldn't hurt me.

He bites his bottom lip playfully and raises his eyebrows while patting the bed next to him.

I nervously walk over and sit down before leaning back, mimicking his position. My bed is a twin, so it doesn't allow much room to ourselves. My shoulder is pressed against his and the simple act has my body on fire already. I glance over and let my eyes roam up his white t-shirt to his handsome face. He watches me with amusement while his leg presses against mine teasingly.

"Sweetheart, I've been around the block long enough to know when a girl wants my dick. And I can practically hear that pussy fucking purring every time I come near you." He grins at me like he knows all my secrets.

My face burns with embarrassment at his words.

"I bet I could make you blush even harder than that, doll." His grin stretches wider but I stay silent, letting him do the talking.

"Of course.. I wouldn't do anything you're not comfortable wi-"

Before he can finish, I press my lips to his hard and climb on top of him. His mouth parts, letting my tongue in and his subtle moan makes my pussy flutter. He tastes like whiskey and smells like leather and I feel high off the taste of him as we kiss passionately. I grind my hips desperately into him and feel his bulge grow underneath me.

"Negan... I need you."

"I know baby." He breathes out.

My hands fumble with his belt and pants until I get them undone. He watches me as I pull out his cock and my pussy is already sore from just looking at it. No way it's gonna fit.

"How do you want it, baby? You gonna be a big girl and ride daddy?" His hands squeeze my ass underneath my dress and he practically growls when he realizes I'm not wearing panties.

"It's like you knew I was coming. Such a bad little girl." His fingers tease my opening and I'm embarrassed that I'm already pathetically soaked for him.

"All for me?" He slides a finger through my slit and brings it up to his mouth for a taste. "So fucking sweet."

I slide myself against his cock that's now slippery with my wetness and wonder how I'm gonna fit that thing inside me.

The big dick energy definitely checks out.

I hover above him naively, thinking I can actually take him. The tip just barely pushes through my opening and I moan at the sudden pressure. His hands grip my ass, guiding me down over him.

"Come on baby, that's it." He praises me as I keep sliding down. I stop when I can't take anymore, realizing I have at least four more inches to go.

"Oh, I know my little slut can take more than that."

I shake my head. "Negan, I don't think I -"

"You can, and you will, doll. I didn't come all the way here for you to only take half of my dick."

Tears fill my eyes as I try to sit all the way on him, wanting to make him proud. I make it another inch before the pain is too much. Not only with how deep he is, but he's so wide I think he may actually be ripping me apart.

"Deeper, y/n." He demands.

When I try again and fail, I quickly climb off of him frustrated. "I can't Negan, I'm trying!" He sits up in the bed, his feet on the floor now.

"Bend over."

"W-what?"

"Do not make me ask again." His jaw clenches as he stares at me seriously.

I lay myself over him, my ass facing upwards on his lap.

"You're going to take all of me, baby. If my wives at home can take me, I expect nothing less from you."

He doesn't even give me a warning before bringing his hand down painfully on my ass making me yelp. He chuckles darkly before smacking me again. He rubs the sensitive spot before teasing both of my holes.. One with his thumb and the other with his middle finger.

"What would daddy say if he could see you right now? Bent over my fucking lap and dripping for me like a little whore..." He pushes his thumb and finger deep inside each of my openings and I bite my lip hard at the pain.

I know he's trying to be all dominant right now.. I'm not oblivious to how rough sex works, but my eyes still sting with tears at his crude words. I shouldn't have built my hopes up that Negan could actually care and be gentle with me.

I sniffle as the tears fall, trying to wipe the snot dripping from my nose.

He quickly pulls me up and his eyes are filled with concern.

"Baby? Hey, look at me." He cups my face gently as I sit on the bed next to him.

"I - I liked you." I choke out. "I was the only one here who actually cared about you and saw you as a person.. and you.. you just see me as a stupid object you can shove your dick in.... You just ruined my first experience with a man. I hope you're happy." I sob while looks like someone just punched him in the gut.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He presses his forehead to mine, looking down with regret. "I didn't know you were all mushy about me and shit.. Truth is?" He tilts my chin to look at him. "I was being so harsh with you cause I didn't want to admit my own feelings. I didn't think you'd ever want an asshole like me, so I didn't want to go catching feelings for someone who didn't want me back. But baby? I can't get you outta my fucking head... Why do you think I started visiting every week?"

My teary eyes look up at him and he looks genuine. I want to trust him so badly, but my heart and head are saying two different things.

"Fuck, y/n. I know you don't believe me. Let me prove it to you. What can I do? Just say the fucking word."

"Stop taking our stuff... Leave our people alone..."

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to agree to. "Does that include you?"

I try to hide my grin as I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. "....No."

"Then it's a deal, baby."

"That's it? Just like that?" I look at him confused.

He shrugs. "Guess you've got me wrapped around your finger already, darlin...And now that I know you've never been with a man, I'm taking my fucking time with you." He lays me down on the bed while kissing and climbing over me.

"What about my dad? He'll be back soon."

"Simon's keeping watch, doll."

His lips travel to my neck. "....What about your other wives? You're just gonna fuck me and go back to them?"

He laughs against my neck. "Sweetheart.. I kicked every one of them to the curb the day I layed eyes on you."

My mouth drops open but he cuts me off by pulling my dress down over my chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. I moan and arch myself into him. After a few moments of sucking each one, he slides down further, lifting my dress to my waist and settling his head between my legs. I watch him in awe as he takes his time, kissing my inner thighs.

"Has anyone ever eaten you, baby?"

I shake my head no as I lean up on my elbows to watch him.

"Good." He spreads my pussy lips apart with his fingers and I blush at him staring at it. "Such a pretty pussy. Fuck." He says before locking eyes with me and pressing a kiss to my clit gently. I moan from the contact and arch myself into him, silently begging for more.

He dips his tongue in me and curls it up, gathering my juices. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he groans and licks all the way up to my clit before sucking on it softly. My mouth drops open and my hips try to jerk away, being overwhelmed by sensitivity.

He smiles against me. "Not going anywhere until you cum all over my face, doll." He wraps his arms up around my thighs, pressing my stomach down with his hands.

My breathing matches the speed of his licking and sucking and I feel the pressure building up inside me.

"Fuck, Negan!" My eyes are clenched shut but snap open when my door suddenly flies open.

"Shit! Dad!" I reach to throw my blanket over me, but defeatedly realize it's on the floor. My eyes widen in horror at my father standing in the doorway, looking like he just saw a ghost. A ghost that's eating his daughter's pussy. I'm unable to close my legs because Negan is still holding me down with his hands.

"God fucking dammit, Rick. We were just ge-"

"Negan!" I cut him off, my cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment.

He kisses my pussy one more time and my eyes widen, not believing he just did that in front of my father. He finally leans up, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and smirking at my dad like he's proud of himself.

I quickly get up and fix my dress.

"Dad, look, I -" I look up, stopping at the sight of Carl pointing a gun directly at Negan's head.

Negan tucks himself back into his jeans, buckling his belt and ignoring Carl.

"Carl.." I slowly step in front of Negan. "Put the gun down."

"You - you wanted this? Him?" My dad asks horrified. "He's done horrible things, y/n."

"And you haven't?!" I yell at my dad. "I watched you rip a man's neck open with your goddamn teeth. If he's a monster.. then so are you."

Negan steps beside me and laces his fingers through mine before kissing the side of my head.

"I love him, dad." I look up at Negan and elbow him roughly when I see a teasing smirk on his face.

"And you think he loves you? You can't be that stupid." My dad says, putting emphasis on the last word.

Negan chuckles and finally cuts in. "First of all, Dick, do not call my woman stupid. Secondly.." His faces grows serious. "We won't be taking anymore of your things. No more visits. Other than me paying this one a visit of course." Negan winks and puts his his arm around me protectively. "That is.. until she moves in with me." Our eyes all widen at the same time.

"You want me to live with you?" I turn to Negan.

"I mean, you did just confess your love for me, doll. Soo, yeah, that's the plan." He kisses my forehead.

"Y/n, we'll talk about this later. Negan, you need to leave. Now." My dad demands, his jaw ticking with anger.

Negan glares at my dad for a moment before turning to me, lifting my chin to kiss him slowly and passionately. Before he lets go, he whispers in my ear. "Meet me right outside the walls when it gets dark. I am nowhere near done with you, baby."

My heart flutters at the thought of us sneaking out together.

Negan walks towards the door before leaning close to my dad's ear. "I get to be her first, Rick. How fucking sweet is that." I struggle to make out his words but don't miss the chuckle at the end. He pats Carl's shoulder on his way out. "See ya 'round, bro."

"Love you, sweetheart!" He calls out to me as my dad and brother follow behind him, making sure he leaves.

I shut my door and smile giddily, running to the window and peeking out. Negan is already looking up at the window when I look at him. He smirks and winks at me before heading off to the gates.

A few hours later:

The sun just went down and my palms are starting to sweat as I pace back and forth on the outskirts of the gates. A million thoughts race through my head.

What if he doesn't come..

What if it's a trap..

What if he lied about everything he said..

Oh my god.. He's gonna kidnap and torture me..

Shut up. He wouldn't do that.

This is a bad idea. What am I doing.

Just as I turn to run back inside the walls, I see him appear from the shadows, wearing his signature leather jacket with a black t-shirt underneath.

"Were you about to ditch me, y/n?" He asks playfully as he pulls my wrist towards him and crashes his lips into mine. When the kiss deepens, he bends a little, pulling me up by the back of my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist. We make out like horny teenagers while my fingers run through his slick black hair.

"You ready to officially be mine, doll?"

I nod without hesitation. "Yes. I'm already yours, Negan. I don't care what anyone thinks about us."

He kisses me again, setting me back down on the ground. "Lead the way, baby." He nods towards the side gates.

"You want to go back to my house? What if someone sees you?!"

"Kinda hope they do.. I like the thought of everyone knowing who you belong to." He smirks and it makes me knees weak.

"Okay.. come on." I pull his hand as I guide him back to my house. We sneak through the back sliding doors as carefully as possible before tiptoeing up the stairs.

He lightly smacks my ass as we're going up and I turn to shush him, tripping over my own feet in the process. He catches me before I make a loud thud on the stairs and his body is leaned over mine as we try not to laugh.

My body shakes as I laugh silently and bring my hand over my mouth quickly to stop any sound that comes out. His eyebrows raise at me with warning as if I better not make a noise.

"Okay, okay. Shushhh." I whisper before beginning our climb up the stairs again. My dad's room is at the end of the hall and mine is adjacent next to his. We try not to let the floors creak as we get closer to my room. We slip inside and I ease the door shut gently. When it finally clicks shut. I let go of a deep breath and look up at Negan. As soon as our eyes lock, we laugh like idiots, but quiet idiots.

He walks towards me. "Goddamn it, I fucking love you." He says as he lifts me back into his arms kissing me.

"You know.. earlier outside.." I breathe out between our kisses. "I thought.. that maybe you were gonna kidnap and torture me."

He smiles against my mouth as our lips lazily fight each other. "...What if I am?"

I stop kissing him to look at him. When I do, his look turns serious and it scares me for a moment. "I fully plan on making you mine and torturing you with this dick forever, doll."

I grin and roll my eyes as he continues holding me in his arms. "I guess there are worse ways to get tortured."

"Wait until I'm all the way inside you." His eyebrows raise teasingly.

I press my forehead to his and bring my hands to cup his face, kissing him again. I can't take my lips off of him. "Well what are you waiting for?"

That's all he needs to hear before he's walking me towards the bed and laying me down gently. He stands back up, removing his jacket and shirt.

I watch him closely, admiring the flex of his biceps when he moves. "Put the jacket back on. No shirt."

He laughs until he sees that I'm serious.

"Yes ma'am." He says with his little country accent. It's not always noticeable, but when it is.. it's so fucking adorable.

Once he's back in the jacket and bare chested, he stops for a moment before removing his pants. "Can I take these off, at least?"

"No, I want to."

He grin stretches as he walks towards the bed, keeping his hands by his sides. "All yours, baby."

I sit up in the bed in front of him and undo his button and zipper. I shuffle his pants down just a little before pulling his hardening cock out of his boxers. It turns to a steel rod in my hand and I don't care that I'm full on staring at it, assessing each vein and how it turns an ombre shade of pink towards the tip.

"I hope you like what you see, baby. Cause it's the only dick you're gonna be seeing for the rest of your life."

"I'm perfectly happy with that." I look up at him before kissing the tip of him, just like he did to my clit earlier. He watches me proudly, letting his fingers run through my hair lovingly.

I lick my lips before struggling to fit my mouth around him. He chuckles down at me.

“If you can’t fit me in that cunt, what makes you think you can take it down your throat, baby?”

I grin around him and I slide my mouth deeper and deeper. Surprisingly I don’t gag and I think it surprises him too.

Guess I don’t have a gag reflex. That’s good to know.

“Holyyy shit, doll. Look. At. You.” His voice is so deep it vibrates to my pussy. The tip hits the very back on my throat and even further until my eyes water.

I try to jerk my head back, but Negan pushes my head down on him again, my nose pressed into his pubic hair. He waits a few seconds until I feel like I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen before pulling my head back. I gasp for air and he pulls me all the way off of him while kicking his pants and boxers off.

"Trying to make me blow my load before we even get to the good part, darlin'? He climbs over me in the bed, kissing me softly.

My hands slip underneath his jacket and rub his back, scratching at it gently.

"I am gonna make you feel So fucking good." He says before kissing my neck. "You want me to be gentle with you baby?" His voice right in my ear makes me shiver.

I nod and he hovers his face above mine so we’re staring into each other eyes.

“You ready, baby?” He whispers and I nod again.

He leans up on his knees between me and lines himself up with my entrance before pushing the tip through. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

He slowly slides in me further and further as he holds my legs open.

“Goddamn this pussy is so fucking Tight.” He pulls back a little before pushing in deeper and my mouth gapes open slightly.

He chuckles and stares down at me through heavy eyelids. "I'm not even halfway yet, sweetheart. You want more?"

I nod desperately as my eyes fill with tears at the overwhelming sensation of him so deep inside me.

"Take it then, doll. Grind on me and make yourself feel good." He stops moving completely while still on his knees between my legs.

My cheeks blush at his request and he smirks down at me, sliding his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, refusing to move or touch me.

I lean up on my elbows while he's still inside me and push my body further into him, taking every inch I possibly can. I grind myself against him until I find just the right spot for the tip of his cock to press into and drop my head back at how good it feels, not caring about the desperate sounds I let out.

"Oh my god, Negan.. fuck." My face reddens at the intense pleasure as I continue using his cock to pleasure myself.

"Fuck, baby. Now THIS? Is a Fucking sight.. Watching you get off on my cock like a desperate little whore."

"Touch me, Negan. Please."

"Please what?"

"Please Negan."

He removes his hands from his jacket to lean over me, holding himself above me with one hand on the bed while bringing the other to lightly grip my throat.

His dark hazel eyes dart back and forth between mine as he squeezes his fingers gently around my neck. My face reddens even more at the sudden loss of air.

"Try again, doll."

"Please... daddy." I choke out and he quickly releases my throat.

"Good girl." He kisses my lips softly before thrusting his hips hard, completely filling me until his balls are flush against me.

I scream out and his hand immediately covers my mouth while his head dips to the side of mine and his deep voice fills my ear once again.

"Sshhh, baby. I know. I know." He pulls out almost completely before sliding in again, this time softer but just as deep.

My eyes fill with tears at the pain but I don't want him to stop. My fingers grip the bottom of his jacket as he continues fucking me hard and at a steady pace. The headboard begins to lightly bump the wall above me and my eyes widen with panic.

"Negan, the bed. My dad's room is right on the other side."

He chuckles lightly in my ear but doesn't speak. Instead, he pounds into me even harder and faster with his head is buried into my neck.

"Negan!" I whisper yell at him but it feels too good to make him stop. The closer my orgasm gets, the less I care about my dad hearing us.

After a few more thrusts, he slows down and suddenly flips us over with his dick still inside me until I'm laying over him.

"Negan, my dad's gonna come in here! We have to be quie-"

Before I finish, he lifts his knees up and rams his cock into me hard. It feels even deeper from this angle and hits a spot that makes me see stars.

"Come here, baby." He maneuvers me until my arms are wrapped around him and my head is nestled into his neck. He smells like musky cologne and sweat and I can't help but lick him. Our mouths are next to each others ears, breathing and moaning heavily as he begins to thrust up into me faster than ever. The headboard slams into the wall with force but I don't even care.

This feeling is unlike anything I've ever felt or knew was possible, so the last thing I'm gonna do is tell him to stop.

"Negan.." I cry out. "Faster."

He obeys and wraps his arms around me tighter, fucking me at an animalistic pace. I cum so hard and fast I don't even have time to announce it. My pussy clenches and I feel myself suddenly leak around him, soaking his dick and probably even the bed below us.

"Goddamn. That's my good fucking girl... You gonna let daddy cum in this pussy, baby?"

"Yes! Please." I whine.

He growls in my ear and holds himself deep and still inside me as his dick pulses over and over.

I try to slide off of him when he's finished, but he holds me tight, not letting me leave.

"Negan, you need to leave before my dad-"

"He's not here, sweetheart."

"What?!" I snap my eyes to his.

"Relax, baby. He's fine. But I did warn him that if he didn't want to hear his baby girl screaming "daddy" all night.. then he should take your siblings and go stay the night with Daryl." He grins up at me and my brows come together with confusion.

"Wait you.. you told him about our plan?"

"Of course baby. Had to be respectful and ask for your old man's blessing."

"And.. and he gave it to you?!"

Negan laughs and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. "Absolutely not. But respectfully, I told him he didn't have a choice."

The next morning:

My vagina is screaming at me for allowing it to be destroyed last night. I can't count on one hand how many times Negan made me cum. I open my eyes to the sun shining through my window and immediately notice Negan is gone. I shoot up and look around, seeing that his clothes are also gone.

What if he just.. got what he wanted and left..

I throw the covers off of me and get up, grabbing my sundress of the floor and throwing it on before making my way through the house.

"Carl?!.... Dad?!" I yell as I descend quickly down the stairs. I stop at the bottom to find Negan stirring a pot of something on the stove.

"There she is! Mornin' sunshine." I walk over to Negan to see what he's cooking and he holds a spoon up to my mouth, letting me taste the deliciousness. This man can fuck and cook... what a god.

"Was wonderin when you were gonna wake the hell up. It's already lunch time, baby." He presses his lips to mine and I notice his freshly shaven face. I've never seen him like his and he looks so incredibly handsome.

He lifts me up and sets me on the kitchen counter while standing between my legs.

"Mmm, promise me you'll wear little sundresses with no panties underneath for the rest of our lives, doll." He says as he kisses me sweetly. I giggle and wrap my arms around him, kissing his neck.

"You hungry baby?" He asks and I nod sleepily.

"Me too." He slowly gets down on his knees in front of me, draping my legs over his shoulders.

He softly licks me with his tongue, moaning from the taste before burying his face further into me until I feel his tongue push past my hole. His shaven face feels soft and much more gentle than his beard.

My fingers run through his black hair, tugging on it gently as my head falls back.

"Mmm, daddy." I moan and my eyes snap open, hearing movement at the front door. I quickly jerk Negan up while pulling my dress down and sliding off the counter, seeing my dad, Carl, and Daryl standing in the doorway. Carl quickly covers Judith's eyes while he holds her and Negan sighs annoyedly at the sight of them.

"God..DAMN it, Rick. Again? You gotta learn to fucking knock."

"It's my house." My dad's expression is unreadable as he stands there, eyeing Negan. "You said one night. You can be on your way now."

"Well now don't be fucking rude, Prick. Have a seat." He grins widely at my dad before gesturing to the table. "I made spaghetti."

The End.

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hedgehog-moss · 11 months

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I found a nice plant in a bog last year, like a reed with a tuft of very soft cotton at the top (bless you English, I just looked up "plant that grows in a bog and looks like cotton" and the English language replied "bog cotton, duh") (in French it's called linaigrette, which should be a small bird), and I was very charmed by the look of it and decided to try to pirate it so I would have some on my land. I plucked one fluffy reed and kept it on my windowsill so I wouldn't forget to return.

Of course, when I returned a few days later with a shovel and a bucket, I couldn't find the bog cotton again. Or the bog. It was a small swamp-y area in a very vast plateau with few landmarks, so it's possible I got turned around, but also, things tend to disappear around here sometimes, like the footpath that leads to the stream, only to reappear a few weeks later. I very much felt like I was in the correct location and the bog wasn't, but okay. Since I didn't trust myself to tell the normal reeds from the cotton-y ones in other seasons, I decided I'd come back around the same time next year.

I've had the linaigrette in my egg spiral in the kitchen this whole time as a memento, and I finally resumed my quest today. I left my car in the exact same spot where I'd left it the previous two times, just before the road gets squiggly for no apparent reason:

I climbed the hill and behind it were just miles and miles of estives (summer cow pastures) with sometimes a barn here and there with a mobile milking parlour. My plan was to follow every rivulet I came across, since I was looking for a watery area.

I picked a barn as a landmark to find my car again, and off we went.

Finding reeds wasn't difficult, but none of them had cotton tufts...

Pandolf was extremely aware that we were looking for something, but he wasn't sure what. Here he is digging in the mud with his paw, looking invested in this treasure hunt.

Sometimes he would stop with one paw poised in the air and his whole body pointed forwards like an English setter who just smelled a pheasant in a Heywood Hardy painting and it was always for cow herds. If I squinted and squinted I could be sure to find a cow on the horizon, the size of an ant—I think Pan was a bit disappointed when he realised I never followed up on the cows he smelled, and it probably wasn't cows we were looking for.

(zoom x400 in case you can't see this cow standing apart from her herd like a sentinel)

I tried to amuse him by giving him little challenges here and there, like climbing on big rocks because he likes rocks. He likes being congratulated even more, though, and if I didn't insist that he actually climb on the rock he would just sort of run towards it and push himself off of it like a swimmer doing a flip turn at the wall to run back to me even faster (for pats). (Had to turn off the sound in the video because the wind was loud, so I subtitled our dialogue)

Some challenges he politely declined to do. I like how despite being very eager to please he sometimes gives me very clear "no thank you"s when I tell him to do something that sounds absurd to him. We found a little waterfall that went down a slope like a mud toboggan and I said "down!" to tell him to slide down that thing and he was like

Our strategy of following water paid off, because look what we found eventually!!

I had a very hard time digging up one clump of reeds with some roots; the bog was holding on to its cotton for dear life. Every time I opened a hole in the mud with my shovel with a horrible sucking noise, the bog would immediately close on itself again with an even stronger vacuum. It also tried to eat my boots, repeatedly. When I moved around the reeds I was trying to steal I had to take my foot out of my boot, stand on one leg like a heron and put the tip of my shovel under the sole of the boot to pry it up. But after maybe 20min of effort, the bog finally let go of one muddy clump of reeds in a loud, dejected SLURP and I was able to put it in my bucket. It was about 10x heavier than I expected so the walk back to my car was slow!

(One thing to keep in mind if you're going to wrestle a swamp for half an hour, is that you're going to end up looking and smelling like a swamp creature. I had to stop at the post office to send a parcel and I really regretted not doing it earlier. It's funny because the post office lady is always like "no, don't worry, come in!! <3" when you show up on rainy days apologising for your muddy shoes, but when I arrived today and asked her from the entrance if I should just throw my parcel at her rather than go in, with my socks making a pitiful plop-plop sound in my boots as I walked, and mud freckles all over my face from aggressive shovelling, and overall looking like a gravedigger, she took one look at me and went "... yes, throw it.")

The good news is, I didn't get lost returning from the swamp to my car, and had no trouble finding my barn-landmark again, and there were new animals there, a nice mule with a retinue of small ponies.

She was friendly at first but then soured on me when I refused to let her sniff and maybe taste the reeds I'd had so much trouble digging up, and then she wouldn't let me approach her ponies.

One of the ponies approached Pandolf, and I told him to stand still—we've been working on "reste là !" (stay there) for a while and it's hard because he's so friendly and exuberant, so I was very proud of him when he stood there frozen as a marble statue, waiting for the pony to come closer. The pony ended up stopping at a prudent distance and stretching his neck out to try and sniff Pandolf, it was very cute.

That's the end of the quest for bog cotton! Here it is now, transplanted to the swamp-y part of my pasture, I hope it'll like it here.

#crawling along

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captain-joongz · 2 months

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Space for two

Pairing: demon!Kim Taehyung x f!reader

Genre: smut, both angsty and fluffy, dark themes, positive ending, historical au (maybe like 18/early 19th century Joseon)

Summary: Trapped in a marriage arranged by our families, married to a cold, uncaring man and taking care of a farm in the middle of nowhere, I had sunken to the lowest lows. Aware of my husband's gambling habits and love for brothels that often kept him from home, I'd gotten used to the feeling of falling asleep in a cold, empty bed. But that changed one day, when an uninvited guest made himself quite at home and brought with him warm touches and scorching dreams. Gentleness coming from the one least expected may just be the push into the right direction.

Word count: 25.4k

Warnings: some dark themes, demon Taetae (he's a sweetie though), he's messing with the reader a little tho, he does have some slight yandere vibes, themes of depression and loneliness, infidelity, a shitty husband, some themes and mentions of domestic violence and verbal abuse (at one point the husband grabs her by the hair, throws stuff around the house), mentions of death and murder

NSFW warnings: slightly dubcon-ish (at first he visits her dreams), reader is inexperienced and embarrassed, slight innocence/corruption kink if you squint really hard, wet dreams, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, making out, handjob, unprotected sex (it's joseon :// you be careful out there), some slight breeding kink, half clothed sex

A/N: super late but finally here!! i'm sorry for all the delays, but this just kept getting longer and longer and i had to juggle it between schoolwork, but i hope it is worth the wait! this is actually based on a korean folklore story of prince cheoyong, which i explain in the end notes so i don't spoil anything hehe

I was preparing the food in silence, the only sounds in the room the clanking of my knife on the cutting board and slight bubbling in the pot over the fire. It was winter and so I kept the doors leading to the yard closed, but I still heard the thuds of my husband chopping firewood, the dull thumps of the wood hitting the ground, the swish of his axe in the air.

I was already well used to this, to the silence of this place.

It was a quiet that could only come from unhappiness and spite, the kind that made you feel lonely and desolate, knowing the only other person around rather chose to not speak than engage with you. It was what I had come to know very well in here.

I had found myself married quite abruptly. It was a little over a year ago, when a messenger from the Ryu family of the neighbouring village arrived at our door. My father accepted him, but didn’t speak of what the meeting was about, which raised some suspicions between the women of the family. I was the second child of the family and the eldest of the daughters, and way past the age when women of my standing usually married. It felt like we all knew what it would come to.

My unmarried status was a bit of a controversial story around these parts.

I wouldn’t call our family exactly disgraced, but we weren’t at the full glory the Kangs used to stand at, back in the days of my great great great great-grandfather, who built the family into a considerable fortune, but whose grandson to the family’s great embarrassment failed the gwageo examinations several times and couldn’t secure an official position. The family had tried to bribe their way into the office, but the local official came from a family that had been feuding with ours for a few generations, over something that was no doubt petty and no longer relevant. He basked in the desperation of our family and wished for nothing more than to see them crash and burn, thus if we couldn’t secure a position through the examinations, he wouldn’t allow any bribery in order to destroy our clan.

The embarrassment continued as neither his son, nor his grandson were able to pass the qwageo and our family was stripped of our title. We had been living on the rapidly thinning fortune, trying to keep some sort of decorum, but feeling the full force of shame the other inhabitants from our area showed towards us. To them, we were pathetic. Just some thirty years ago we were strolling through these streets as if we owned them and now, disgraced and quickly running out of options, here we were – on the same level as them.

My father was able to break the family curse by starting a successful shop with trinkets, toys and other useful little devices, which allowed us to stay afloat money-wise, but cast us further into shame, considering our family had once been part of the yangban class and thus weren’t supposed to work. Even if disgraced, rules applied to us, and we were a great embarrassment to those who we used to call friends and allies.

The curse was further broken when father in his quite advanced age managed to pass the gwageo and got a spot in local office. He pushed my younger brothers into studies, as his pride never took this situation lightly. He was brought up to be an aristocrat, but here he was, working his days away like a commoner. In the end, his obsession was fruitful when two of my three brothers also passed their examinations and entered into civil duty, one striving for the office and one for the military service. The middle son, who struggled with his studies, was put in charge of the shop where he excelled.

As such, we were suddenly catapulted back into our previous standing, after several generations of disgrace, after struggling financially and fighting for survival every month, we were back to walking the streets with our chins held high, wrapped from head to toe in silk.

And that’s where the controversy about my marriage started.

As most young people, I had been promised and engaged to a young boy from a different neighbouring village. Due to the fact that we lost our title, I couldn’t strive for marriage withing the yangban class – after all, social standing was inherited after the mother, so I couldn’t be more than a concubine since I would curse my child with low social status. But that would be a hit to my father’s pride. Therefore he rather engaged me to a son of a lower middle class trader. To them, I was someone of a better status as they had never received a title, and my family would expand their funds.

But then several things happened all almost at once.

We regained our status, thus our marriage in my father’s eyes was no longer appropriate, even though finding someone from the yangban who would want me to marry their son would be nigh impossible. He demanded the breaking of the engagement, which was something the society looked down upon, especially since he had sealed the deal years ago. The two families started feuding, the trader now even more eager to secure me for them, and my father with his regained confidence insisting upon marriage to someone “of our class”. And during this time, the boy fell ill and promptly died.

Since we were engaged, I now was to be considered his widow even though we hadn’t had our wedding, but my father insisted that the engagement was broken off and I had no such obligation. The trader of course claimed the complete opposite and demanded we go through with everything as was arranged. The people in the area, even if they followed the drama between the two families closely and listened to gossip religiously, they themselves couldn’t tell who was telling the truth. Our engagement had been in place for years, but it was also widely known that my father has changed his mind and demanded for the wedding to be off.

In the eyes of some I was free to marry, but some viewed me as a young widow, a ghost bride, and thus I couldn’t find another husband unless I wanted to bring huge shame on the family and reap cosmic consequences. But most simply disliked my father for his underhanded tactics and newfound arrogance.

But this situation had made the question of my marriage impossible to solve. It was already unlikely that a match of my father’s expectations would be willing to take me as a first wife and honour me as such, since the yangbans looked down on us heavily, and now I had become tarnished goods in the eyes of potential suitors. My family still tried desperately to pawn me off to someone, but we had turned into a huge joke between the families in the area and I was doomed. Some even started to view me as a cursed woman, touched by black magic, that would bring death to any man who would want to marry me, and that was a final nail in the coffin of my marriage.

But my father wouldn’t give up so easily. He still had something that many desired enough to risk a curse on their family – money and power.

Thus, when the messenger had come and father refused to divulge any information about the nature of the meeting, the wives and daughters that had amassed in our house over the years all whispered about a potential engagement. I thought it was possible, but it was probably for one of my younger sisters. I was wrong.

The Ryu family used to be a powerful local aristocracy, but over the last few generations they had fallen considerably. Their disgrace wasn’t as openly talked about as ours, even though they were the centre of some mean-spirited jokes, however they had one powerful advantage. They didn’t lose their title, just most of their money. While their children still could live their lives telling everyone they were yangbans, they didn’t have the money to uphold the lifestyle. Only one of their sons had an office and it wasn’t enough to keep the whole extended family afloat. There were rumours of gambling, addiction and unwise spending, which were the most probable factors in their fall.

They knew no one self-respecting would marry their children, who were all pushed into working for their livelihood, and they couldn’t marry under their standing lest the children lose their status. That’s when they came up with the bright idea to get into talks with our family.

My father didn’t waste any time. For him, this was perfect – the right class, family with still some respect left intact, he had enough money, so he didn’t mind striking a business deal with the mostly impoverished family and I was used to working, as I had also grown up before our rise. It was just the perfect deal.

From the moment I had first heard about it, it was barely two months before I found myself fully engaged and a week away from a wedding to a man I’d never met before. He was the second son; he had a house on the foot of the mountain a little further away from the town that was the heart of this area. It would take some travelling, but still remained close enough to keep close ties.

Our wedding ceremony was brief and awkward, a lot of stilted conversation and pretend joy, while my mother and sisters all gathered around me in silent support. I saw their sad and worried eyes, the graveness of their usually more cheerful voices, the barely masked sympathy they looked at me with when I interacted with my stone-faced husband. Marriage was something I had since long made peace with, after all it is what every woman has to face at some point in her life, so I had just squeezed their hands and smiled at them gently, whispered words of assurance and prepared myself for the long journey to my new home.

I had soon found out he was a cold quiet man, rough and unhappy. Most of the time he wouldn’t address me with much more than grumbling complaints, cross when I tried to speak to him, when I asked him questions or requested something to be bought, turning away from me and rather spending time tending to his house and to his animals.

I was suddenly confined to a few rooms within an unwelcoming dark house, knitting or sewing or cooking, trying to lose myself in the mindless tasks of caring for a man and a household instead of dwelling on the growing despair in the pit of my stomach. Since then the situation between us has considerably worsened, but I found that the angrier he grew with me, the less he wanted to see me and the more he avoided me, which had begun to bring me relief. I was lonely and I did feel abandoned, but it was better than surviving in the same room as him.

I had gotten used to the air of gloom hanging over this dwelling.

My hand reached over for another carrot and found none, and I startled myself out of reminiscing. The vegetables were cut and the stew was boiling vigorously, so I busied myself with finishing. The sounds of chopping wood have ceased and I could no longer hear any traces of my husband’s presence.

Curious, I opened the door and peeked outside. The bitter coldness of the air immediately bit into my face and I shuddered, my body shocked by the sudden freezing temperatures when it was so warm from the kitchen fire. Looking over the yard, I didn’t see the hulking form of the man I’d come to live with, but I did see his fresh footprints in the snow leading towards the pig sty. Satisfied I walked back in and closed the door again. Rubbing my hands on my arms and cheeks I hurried back to the pot to warm up.

Soon the sun would go down and night would fall, so he was tending to the pigs for the last time tonight, making sure they had everything, which gave me a little more time to finish up dinner.

Some maybe half hour later the door finally opened roughly and he made his way in wordlessly. There were wet footprints on the floor left behind and a puddle was slowly gathering as melted snow dripped from his coat. I bit my tongue and said nothing, just pulled out the table and started setting it for dinner.

No words were traded and yet the atmosphere chilled considerably, the mood dropping low along with the sun on the horizon. We sat down, we ate in silence. Once he was done, he again got up, put a fresh coat on and was out of the door before I could even wish him a good night.

I used to ask where he was going, but there was no longer any need for that. He spent his evenings and nights in the same place every day, it was a habit that must have started a little before our betrothal. He had found himself some new friends from the town, friends that very happily spent most of their time playing cards, smoking opium, drinking and crawling from brothel to brothel.

Around the time of our wedding, he only joined them a few nights of the week and usually came back in the middle of the night. Back then I saw it as a problem and oftentimes tried to dissuade him from throwing away money this way. His family lost all they had because their young lord lived this exact lifestyle, it was foolish for him to fall down the same trap, but it was a frequent cause of arguments between us and the more I pushed for him to not go out and spend so much money, the more he wanted to. Gradually he went more often, came back later, until I had started waking up to an untouched, unslept in bed.

But I do have to admit that nowadays I saw it more as a relief that he never spent his nights home, even if that meant our already hard-to-come-by money was being thrown out the window like it was nothing. I’d come to prefer spending time alone.

I cleaned up after dinner and started preparing myself for bed. The ritual of changing clothes, brushing out my hair and smoothing out the bedding on the mats was helping me calm down every evening, but tonight I couldn’t find rest for some reason. While I sat on the floor and carefully brushed my hair, the house felt chillier than usual and I kept hearing soft creaks from the outside as if someone was walking around on the porch. It’s just the wind and the frost, it must be.

Unsettled I lost the battle with myself and went to look out into the yard. The moment I got near the door, suddenly a gust of chilling wind bust the door open and I screamed with shock, covering my naked arms to shield them from the frost. Immediately I jumped towards the door to close it back up, not before looking out into the yard and the forest beyond the walls of our house. There was a full moon hanging over us in the night sky and its light allowed me to see everything with startling ease, casting an eerie silver glow over the murmuring trees. I quickly shut the door and sat back down to help my heart calm down, as it was beating so hard I feared it might tear right out of my ribcage.

After I laid down, it took me a long moment to settle down enough for sleep to start licking at my consciousness. I kept startling myself with every crack and every hum of the wind outside and the fright from before still coursed through my veins, making me shiver and trying to persuade me there was something wicked hiding behind the darkness, lurking in every corner and waiting for an unguarded moment.

But somewhere along the way I did nod off and when I woke up in the morning, I was certain the strong arms that at some point found their way around my waist and pulled me into a warm wide chest were nothing more than a dream. An embarrassing dream that just spoke of my sombre solitude.

In the first months of our marriage, much to my chagrin, Minhwan practiced his marital rights almost nightly. Some nights he would return late from his outings with friends and immediately roll over on me and demand I submit. I did of course, it was expected of me and I was well aware of that. I had been taught that.

But over the course of several months, the frequency of such encounters lessened as I wasn’t getting pregnant, until we no longer even spoke to each other and his side of the bed became permanently unoccupied.

Of course, there was a simple, and really the only, reason for my introduction into this family – a child. A son. That was the end-goal of this union and the purpose for my existence in their eyes. After I had failed to fall pregnant despite months of effort, the man I married who already wasn’t very kind to me slowly turned into someone crueller, angrier. I could see the frustration taking over him until he completely lost himself in the rage at my uselessness.

He couldn’t divorce me, even though my inability to bear him an heir would be a legitimate reason. His family was already teetering on the edge of respectability, and this would make them the laughing stock of the town, since they definitely wouldn’t be able to find him another bride. That was because of the other issue. Money. They bought me with what last they had left and if divorced they would not only lose my father’s protection and financial help, but also wouldn’t be able to scrounge up enough money to buy another woman, if they even found one that was willing.

Minhwan knew that, knew that he couldn’t get rid of me, and even though his status would allow him to take a second wife or even a concubine, he couldn’t afford them. What little he had he gambled away and spent on girls in the red district; and not much was left for actually running the household and keeping us alive. No self-respecting family would let their daughter enter a family like that and women who were after money and status wouldn’t find anything here. And if he had an illegitimate son from a kisaeng, he could hardly bring it here and claim him as an heir, his father would never let him disgrace the bloodline like that.

Thus in his eyes I was worse than useless. I was his doom, a wasted effort that only pushed him further down and he no doubt felt that the best thing I could do for him was to die, so he could remarry. That’s why I preferred when he didn’t return home for the nights. Living alongside such pure hatred was draining.

When I was sitting by the mirror in the morning, I had just heard him return home. I opened the door a crack and peeked outside, just catching his eye as he was changing into fresher clothes. He held the contact for a few beats of my wild heart and then looked away.

“Breakfast?” he asked gruffly, not even forming a full sentence, while still looking away from me. I followed his gaze and found it stuck to the door leading into kitchen. I sighed quietly, making sure he couldn’t hear me lest he gets angry with my insolence.

“I will prepare it in a second,” was my short answer. He wasn’t interested in hearing anything more, the less I said the better. Thus my morning routine had to be cut short. Walking past him, I was suddenly bombarded with the smell of smoke, stale alcohol and cheap perfume and powder. The stench was a bit too strong for my queasy morning stomach and I felt it roll a few times, threatening to spill even though it was empty. I subtly covered my nose and busied myself into the kitchen smelling pleasantly of food and spices. This room has become my refuge. I knew he wouldn’t overstep here, this was my domain and I felt at least a semblance of power in here.

As distracted as I was, I kept finding my tools in places where I didn’t leave them in. I would turn around and suddenly my spoon would be laying two paces further into the room then I remembered leaving it. I told myself I was just tired, I was feeling unnerved by my husband’s hulking presence on the doorstep of the room, watching me prepare porridge as if fearing I’d poison him if he’d look away for a moment, I was still flustered by my dreams and nervous from the scare the night before. Surely it was that.

That day I spent mostly inside, sitting by a dying fire trying to mend broken and torn clothes, worn thin by hard labour and years of wear, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of unsettlement that has been plaguing me since yesterday’s evening.

By the time the night fell and Minhwan left again, I found myself quite anxious to be left alone in the cold house, still feeling like a presence was glued to my side, invisible and watching me, but every time I would look over my shoulder, I’d find an empty room. Before settling down to sleep, I walked out and checked the courtyard again, and just like the previous evening, it was illuminated by a silver light so brightly it was almost shocking.

I looked to the sky and was stunned by the giant full moon hanging over my head. The night was calm, much calmer then yesterday, no wind shaking the trees and the only sound was the distant cawing of a bird. The white snow reflected the night sky and blinded me, but not enough to not notice the stark contrast of pitch black footsteps disrupting the otherwise clean coat over the ground. I could see their path clearly, leaving the house and disappearing behind the gate, and they filled me with gentle sadness. With my mind off of the ghost of a feeling that’s been following me the whole day, I made my way back inside to sleep. But I wasn’t prepared for what the night had prepared for me.

As soon as I closed my eyes and started drifting off, I felt the mat and bedding shifting as another body laid down next to me. I had fully accepted it, not questioning the arms making their way around my waist and pulling me into a warm hug. It felt as a very clear dream, and I found myself fighting to open my eyes to see, but instead chose to sink into the comfortable atmosphere. There was a hum behind me, but the voice was so deep and pressed so close to me it almost felt like a purr. Non-consciously I answered with my own, drifting with the current. I fooled myself into this, so desperately needing to feel a nice touch that I didn’t even want to think about why somewhere deep down I felt alarmed and unsettled at the situation. I buried that away and let the hands run along my sides, basked in the quiet humming somewhere right behind my ear and the warmth it filled me with.

When I woke up in the morning, it was to the sound of a door slamming open and heavy steps and sighs. I was confused for a few moments, subconsciously searching for the comfort I had felt in my sleep, only to be hit with a wave of embarrassment and mortification. I had been dreaming again, imagining inappropriately a stranger’s presence in my bed, hoping for a touch and comfort of man’s hands.

I felt the blush spill over my face just as the door to the bedroom flew open and my husband found my gaze. I saw suspicion in his eyes, most probably not used to seeing me in such a flustered state and questioning what could stand behind it. His eyes shifted subtly over the room as if looking for a hidden lover and in my mind I chuckled. He dragged me away into the woods, and living in the middle of nowhere and not allowed to leave the house without him or an attendant I couldn’t afford, how could I have possibly found a lover? No one came here and I went nowhere, the only company I knew was the animals and a warm fire, a needle and a thread and worn books, I couldn’t take the same liberties he has been taking for a better part of our marriage.

When Minhwan made sure I was completely alone, just as he left me, he looked back to me and asked for breakfast. That broke the strange silence and I was thrown right back into the routine of my normal days.

Over the following few nights, the dream kept coming back to me, but every time the unknown man in my fantasy went a little further. More often than not I found myself waking up with a start, blushing red from head to toe at the daring hands that kept straying more and more south, embarrassed with myself but also not wanting them to stop before I had the chance to experience whatever my subconscious wanted to grant me.

At first, his hands would only lightly caress along my side, as if trying to console me and help me sleep peacefully, while he hummed along some kind of a lullaby behind me. Everything always felt pleasantly fuzzy and I’d come to think of him as my dream guardian. My days, in comparison, felt dull and sad, and I’d found some sort of peace in these dreams.

But soon, the direction started to change. The hands strayed lower onto my thighs, grabbing the flesh lightly and teasingly, or going over my stomach until they were right under where my breasts were. I could feel him pressed closer to me too, his front moulded around my back, shoulders caging me in, the sweet humming slowly turning into something more akin to satisfied purring, causing me to flush red and a rush of excitement to flow through my veins. He always laid behind me and his existence felt like half here half not, but the closer he pushed himself, the more solid his presence was, the warmer I felt in the embrace and the more flustered I woke up.

Clearly, I hadn’t been taking proper care of my body and it was screaming for some sort of attention, there was no other explanation for these embarrassing dreams. The shame I felt from such urges surfacing in this manner was overshadowed only by the pressing loneliness, and I kept telling myself that even if I am a married, proper woman, dreams are dreams, and indulging in them a little wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? So, I let myself slip into sweet sleep every night, anticipating where my mind would take me.

During the day the little slip ups would continue. I would misplace things, find them in completely different places then I’d left them before. Sometimes it felt as if I was losing my mind, that the combination of the strange dreams and my sudden scatteredness meant I was finally feeling the effects of the situation I’d find myself in. But I could swear sometimes I would catch a glimpse of shadow or hear a gust of wind that sounded suspiciously like a laugh when I couldn’t find something. It made me feel even more insane.

The moment I realised what was truly happening came a few days later. Even though I was a little unsettled, I’d grown accustomed to the dreams and I treated them as my little escape, no matter whether I should have been concerned or not. I felt comfort from them and they felt like a dirty secret of mine, something I shouldn’t have been doing but it felt so nice I couldn’t stop myself. My husband spent all his nights god knows where doing god knows what with god knows who, I could allow myself this little thing.

Usually, I would sleep through the night without a problem and in the morning I’d be woken up by Minhwan coming back home and barging into the bedroom to ask for a breakfast, but that night for some reason I was shaken out of my sleep somewhere in the dark hours of the early morning. There was some noise outside, something that sounded like a wolf howl, and it was so close I was almost afraid to check the yard in case there was a wild animal there, but I had to go see whether the rabbits and chickens we were keeping were peaceful, just to be sure.

I moved to get out of the bed, but found an arm around my waist pinning me to another body and keeping me in place. My first instinct was to panic, but quickly that was overridden by utter bottomless embarrassment. What if Minhwan has been returning home earlier than I thought and this whole time my mind only substituted some unknown man in the place of my husband as I was falling asleep? Had I been embarrassing myself in front of him the whole time, dreaming about such immoral things and imagining a stranger’s embrace? But he had never touched me like this, and even when we shared a bed at the beginning of our marriage, he never showed the habit of hugging something while sleeping. He always kept himself to his side and never touched me unless completely necessary, even during marital activities. I couldn’t imagine him slipping quietly into bed in the middle of the night and embracing me so tenderly.

Complicated emotions flooded me, not knowing what to make of this, but in a moment of weakness I fooled myself into thinking this could maybe be a beginning of a better marriage. That was shattered the moment I reached back to gently pat at his thigh to wake him up to go check on the animals. There was some shuffling, the arm tightened around my mid and suddenly I could feel him nosing at the crook of my neck, laying a single long wet kiss there. I froze and flushed, completely flustered and even more confused by the situation. Then he chuckled and ice cold flooded my veins. I felt myself freeze in place, terror keeping me so still I barely even breathed. That wasn’t my husband’s voice. It was deep and velvety, rich like the dark chocolate I’d once gotten the chance to try in the city, completely different from Minhwan’s quiet rough commands.

Fear was making it hard to think, but I knew he realised I was awake based on how stiff I’d gotten, I could hear him quietly breathing and waiting for my reaction. There was certain amusement to him, I didn’t know how I felt it, but somehow I just did, something about him gave off excited anticipation and I imagined a sly smirk stretching his lips as he laid there. Then suddenly as if everything caught up to me, I felt my body jumping into motion, tearing his arm away and flying out of the bed. I grabbed the first thing I could see, which were my shoes, and turned around to try my best in defending myself against this stranger that’s apparently been sneaking into my bed deep into the night.

But the moment my eyes fell on the bed, it was empty. No sign of anyone being there. Frightened out of my mind, I searched the room with my eyes, but it was mostly bare and there wasn’t a place that could hide a man. I knew he was bigger than me, I’d felt him behind me and I was sure he couldn’t have been hiding in the sorry state my bedroom was.

For a moment I just stood there and processed before my knees gave up on me and I slid down to the floor, shoes still tightly clutched in my hands, heart beating out of my chest. I wasn’t going insane. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. There was something not human in my bed.

Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night sitting on the bed leaning on the wall and watching the room. My eyes frantically jumped to any movement, even the tiniest flickers of shadows would make my hands twitch, fingers tightening around my slippers, ready to jump out and fight for my life. But nothing happened. The only sounds I could hear were coming from the wind tearing into the walls of the house and messing with the trees and branches outside, and at some point the room was so still I almost felt as if I fell through the cracks into a painting and was now stuck inside.

Thus I had hours to sit there and stew in my fear and humiliation. Whatever the being was, it must have had nefarious intentions, why else would he sneak in like that and make my dreams turn to such depravity? And here I was, fooling myself into thinking it was okay to feel such cravings and giving into them, anticipating them and with bated breath hoping maybe the next night the dream lover will finally cave and touch me in a way I’d barely ever felt in my life. Instead I almost gave myself over to a demon, let him have my body and feed off of my energy, damn my soul and prove that I truly was cursed.

I also had a lot of time to think of my next steps. But what could I really do? I could never tell Minhwan and ask for his help, he’d chase me out as an impure woman. Once I’d tell him the nature of the encounters, he’d accuse me of adultery and use it as an opportunity to get rid of me. If I was returned to my father in such a manner, death would be more welcoming than facing his rage and humiliating the family. Telling him would do more harm than good.

I could buy myself talismans and hide them around the house, but there were many, each of them used for a different ailment. I’d have to visit the village shaman and pay her to exorcise me and our home. I’d have to explain to her the troubles I’ve been having so she could paint me appropriate protective talismans. It was obvious that the being must have been a demon of lust and once I admitted that, the delicious gossip would no doubt spread and I would be as good as dead.

No, I couldn’t tell anyone what was happening. I had to chase him out myself, no matter what it took. Come morning, I was completely exhausted but determined to deal with the situation myself.

When Minhwan barged into the house, pale in complexion and with dark bags under his eyes, I was already preparing the breakfast on the small table, looking similarly dead on my feet. The man’s eyes flitted over me, but he didn’t seem to take notice od my state and only grunted, pleased at not having to wait for food or scream for me to leave the bed.

I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even notice when he left for the yard, didn’t even have time to process the usual air of coldness and disinterest he brought with him, as I was too preoccupied thinking of the unwelcome guest. The little tricks with misplacing things must have also been him. I felt rage lick at the edge of my mind, suddenly making itself known in such an intensity I surprised myself. I’d fully start to believe I was no longer capable of feeling such strong emotions, but here I was. Thinking of million ways to get back at someone who’s been making a fool of me for his own entertainment for the past weeks.

The next few days were suspiciously uneventful. No more visits, no more “dreams”, even all my tools stayed suspiciously still and didn’t suddenly appear at places they weren’t supposed to be, but I wasn’t a fool. I knew he wouldn’t give up so easily, not to mention I still couldn’t get rid of the feeling of being watched or messed with.

And slowly he had begun giving me subtle hints he was still as present as ever. The books that were put in order, the robe that was waiting for me on by the partition one evening, water refilled in a cup I knew I’d finished. He suddenly switched to being helpful instead of messing with me, but I knew it was all just entertainment to him.

One of the bigger ones was some days later in the evening. I’d taken to walking around the veranda checking on the yard and the forest outside of the yard walls. As usual, there were footsteps in the snow, my husband left them there every night when he left, but that evening there was something different about them. I frowned, trying to discern what about them caught my attention. I leaned over the railing to inspect them closer with a sense of foreboding looming over my head like a silent monument. The moment I realised what it was I gasped and dread and anticipation filled me. The footsteps, they didn’t lead from the house. They led towards the main entrance.

This must be it, I thought to myself. This must be the night.

When I walked back inside, I lingered around each room a little, watching the surroundings like a hawk and expecting him to jump out at me from every corner and every shadow. But the house was still and silent, not even any sounds from outside creeping in. I slowly walked towards the bedroom and found it empty and in the same state as I’d left it. I made it through my little nightly ritual without a hitch, but anxious and expecting something to happen any moment. It didn’t. Lying down in bed, I continued sharply watching the room, but to no avail. Even though I could basically taste the anticipation in the still air of the room, and knew the demon was most definitely watching me back, he didn’t make any move. I fell asleep suddenly, without realising I was even teetering on the edge and when I woke up, I wasn’t sure whether the fingers I felt gently carding through my hair just as I succumbed to sleep were my imagination or not.

He didn’t return abruptly, instead he slowly built it up, as if testing how far I’d let this go. Sometimes he would hand me things when cooking or I would be looking for something only to find it gingerly sitting on the table a few hours later, as if suddenly becoming helpful would make me more accepting of whatever his end goal was and I would let him return like nothing happened.

The problem began when he started leaving flowers for me. The gentle quivering of my heart when I saw a beautiful little flower in bloom laying by my bedside was alarming to me, and I didn’t want such a confusing feeling to enter my life. But I couldn’t help myself.

Without thinking I picked it up and brought it to my nose. It smelled sweetly, almost too ripe, the scent permeating the air and everything around it, making me slightly dizzy. I couldn’t remember when was the last time I received a flower like this, maybe when my little brother was still a child and brought it for me from playing in the fields. Our father scolded him then, for running around with other boys instead of studying, but after that whenever either of us saw the little white blossom, we would giggle at each other, sharing smiles like tiny secrets.

I was startled by a tear sliding down my cheek at the memory, the sudden reminiscing of my family, of the one person I was truly close to before he joined the military and went to Hanyang. He was to be married soon too, already at that age when the promises turn to actions and I couldn’t wait for the spring to come so I could travel for his wedding. I’d met the girl before, she was a shy quiet daughter of a smaller aristocratic family who just recently got their title for their merits. I quite liked her, even if I didn’t get much time with her before leaving.

He was the one person in our family who had a chance of a happy marriage, I hoped he would. No matter what our father tried to create out of him, he was a sensitive boy, full of mischief and laughs. I so desperately wanted his life to turn out better than mine did. Or that his marriage wouldn’t end up like our eldest brother’s did. He had married first, when we still scrounged for money, I remembered going to his wedding as a young maiden and being swept away in the celebrations, wishing for my own wedding with red blushing cheeks as young girls did. His wife was a practical woman, strong and resolute, but kind. They never had much affections between them, but they had an understanding and their marriage functioned well. I believed my brother respected her as a husband should his wife, but I was wrong.

After our title was restored, our father started pushing my brother to divorce her so he could marry a lady from an aristocratic family, but he couldn’t do that. She had given him children and wasn’t causing him any troubles, so a divorce wouldn’t be allowed. So my brother did the next best thing. He married a woman of a high standing and made her his main wife, pushing the first wife into a secondary position in the family and robbing her children of their inheritance of the title. Since then she became quiet and withdrawn, no longer she was allowed to make any decisions and lived only to serve a man that didn’t even look her way anymore, couldn’t even explain to his firstborn son that he no longer would inherit his estate and left her to pick up the ashes and survive such disgrace.

It was terrifying when it happened. While she never showed much gentleness, she always smiled at the children and sometimes would sneak me sweets like I was one of her own, even when I was the second oldest child of the family. My heart bled for her, and I started to fear my own marriage, knowing I would never get any aristocrat’s respect due to our family history. At that time, I had no idea that what would happen to me would be even worse.

I was startled by a sudden touch on my cheek, a finger wiping away the few stray tears falling down while I sat on the ground and stared at the pretty flower. I gasped and tried to flinch away, but another arm snaked around my waist and I could feel his head leaning on my shoulder. He sat behind me once again, like always, holding me as if he didn’t want me to see him.

“Shhhhhh…,” came his deep honeyed voice, whispering in such a gentle way that I could feel a wave of goosebumps hitting me, “I didn’t know it would make you cry.” Against my better judgment, I could feel my body relaxing into his embrace and a few more tears slipping out. He rocked us from side to side, trying to console me, but it was like my dams broke and soon I was sobbing in his arms, pushing my face into his shoulder and clutching the single blossom in my shaky hands.

I couldn’t say when the last time I was held so tenderly by someone was, but it must have been when I was a child still, begging for my mother’s touch any time something happened. I was warm, wrapped into him, and soft. There was a hand in my hair, carding through the locks and caressing me like a lover would. I couldn’t stop the stream of tears and emotions and I felt ashamed and scared. I couldn’t trust him, and it hurt because no one’s ever treated me so softly, but I knew. Knew it might be just a way to get closer to me. So I decided to allow myself this just for a moment.

I let him hold me, listened to him hum some kind of a song I didn’t recognise, let him lull me into a half-asleep state until I was draped over him, boneless and numb. His hands never strayed like before and he seemed to be genuinely trying to console me. In my mind I scolded myself, believed myself pathetic for falling for such tricks and for being so desperate I would let a demon embrace me just to feel some warmth, but outwardly I didn’t let anything show. I was too drained for that.

When I quieted down and just limply hung off of his frame, he must have decided it was time to sleep. He grabbed me and carried me onto the bedding, making sure my head was pushed into his shoulder so I couldn’t look at his face. I found it strange, but had no energy to ask him anything, just letting him manoeuvre us around until we were lying just like we used to before I caught him, on our side with him behind me. Sleep came and claimed me suddenly and out of nowhere, but I found myself strangely comfortable.

When I awoke in the morning, the house was silent and the bed was empty, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Would I have confronted him and demanded answers? Or did I allow myself to be vulnerable around someone that wished for my downfall and now I found myself inappropriately attached? One thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t like thinking about it, and so I got up and went about my day as if nothing had happened. I did find myself wondering what happened to the flower, as it was nowhere to be found, wondering whether it even was real or if I hallucinated it. But after that night, a fresh blossom was waiting by my bedside every evening, leaving me full of complicated confusing emotions. No sight of my demon, though.

“Do you want that?” a gruff voice by my shoulder growled and I barely stopped myself from scowling. The hairpin I had been staring at was suddenly plucked from the table by the eager merchant who understood that question as my husband’s intention to buy it for me. The older man pushed it towards me and started reciting all the reasons why such a lady like me absolutely had to have such a decoration, hoping to pitch it to a loving husband doting on his wife. Unfortunately, his guess was completely wrong.

“How much is it?” I asked towards the merchant, who seemed confused by me talking to him while Minhwan stared daggers into my back. His eyes flitted between us, awkward silence taking over for a few seconds before he stuttered out the price, looking at no one in particular. I went to fish out the amount from my purse, but my hand was stopped by another much bigger and rougher one.

“You don’t need it,” Minhwan said resolutely, voice leaving no space for discussion, “Don’t waste money on useless things.” I gritted my teeth, minutely losing control of my expression as rage swept through me at his statement, but as soon as I saw my husband’s eyes narrow in warning, I schooled myself and pulled from the stall.

“Of course,” I answered with false demureness, shooting the merchant an apologetic smile before ducking my head down and following after Minhwan through the market like the picture of the perfect wife. We walked around for some time, from stall to stall, haggling for vegetables and tools, whatever was needed around the house. Minhwan didn’t like it when I spoke to the vendors, he had me trailing behind him with a veil on or my head demurely ducked down like an obedient wife, and I was to speak only when he asked me something. Thus I spent most of the time in the market saying only “yes, we need it” or “no, I think we still have enough”. I hated it, but there was nothing that could be done.

The ride back to the house was also incredibly tense. I could still feel my husband’s rage at my earlier behaviour and knew that the moment we walk back through the gates of our farm, he’ll have some things to say. So I sighed and waited for the endless journey to finally reach its final destination.

To my shock and unease, nothing came when we walked back into the house, supplies in hands and struggling to pull the baskets through the door. Silence was all that greeted me. Minhwan helped me pull things into the kitchen and then with one last burning hateful stare he walked across the house. I watched him rummage through a chest, pulling out his only other jungchimak he usually wore when outing with his friends. It was the better one, in deep indigo colour, that made him look like a young affluent yangban. I snickered behind my hand and pretended to sort through the different bags and baskets we brought back.

When Minhwan was done changing, he charged out of the door without even a second glance. I looked out of the kitchen door facing into the yard and watched him until the gate slammed shut behind him, then I returned to the task at hand with a sigh. He didn’t do this often, but sometimes when I would make him angry, he just left. Without a word. He likely wouldn’t return until late noon tomorrow morning.

I’d long since given up on trying to stop him when the sun was still high up in the sky, he would still leave, just significantly angrier, which would result in him throwing out more money, so it was better to not get in his way when he wanted to drink, smoke and fuck his frustration away god knows where with the other young men.

I busied myself cleaning around the house and caring for the animals, finishing the work he had left. I found myself gritting my teeth in anger and annoyance as I chopped the firewood, wildly swinging the axe around and taking it out on the logs. When the time to go to sleep came, I was drained, both emotionally and physically, too strung out and tensed to even enjoy my nighttime routine like I usually did.

When I turned to the bed, a single hairpin was lying on the bedding. A beautiful, red, lacquered hairpin with a carving of a flower and a single red gem in the centre. The one I’d been looking at while we were in the town and almost bought to spite Minhwan. A mix of emotions overtook me, the most prominent one being sudden anger. My heart stuttered under the weight of it, the frustration of the day and the past weeks bursting through me in one big eruption.

Our uninvited guest was keeping himself surprisingly scarce after that night I had cried, but kept bringing me flowers. I accepted them with complicated feelings, but I had convinced myself into believing that since they’re already here, since they already have been plucked, it would be cruel of me to not accept them. So, night after night I tucked them away so Minhwan could never find them. I didn’t even know where the demon was getting them, since we were in the middle of a tough winter, but after all, I should care for them all the more, right?

But the hairpin was a step too far. I did not need to be reminded of my shameful behaviour and of the fact that my husband felt it appropriate to blow all his money away but couldn’t spare a single silver to let me buy a hairpin, and definitely not in such a way.

“Okay, come out,” I spoke loudly into the empty room, “We need to talk. This can’t keep happening.” I looked around, but everything stayed silent and still. Then, a soft voice rang out.

“Close your eyes.”

I stood up and crossed my arms defensively, spinning around to try and catch a glimpse of the being.

“Why?” I asked gruffly, speaking to an empty bedroom like a lunatic, “Why do you not want me to see you?”

“I can’t let you see me until you truly want to,” the answer came, the voice just as melodic and soft as it was before, as it was always, and I involuntarily shuddered.

“I do want to see you, right now,” I replied, ticked off. He just wanted to have the upper hand and not face me head on, I was sure of that. There was silence again, seemingly even the wind outside the door quieting down to listen to us, the room unnaturally still.

“You want to scold me,” he answered petulantly after a moment, sounding more like a child. I could hear the pout on his lips, the childlike upset of doing something wrong and not understanding why. My resolve softened a little, but I pulled myself together, determined not to let the demon play me like that. I couldn’t keep letting him get away with everything.

“So you know,” I stated, the anger seeping back into my voice, “You cannot keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” I could hear genuine curiosity in his question, one that filled me with exasperation.

I gestured to the hairpin wildly. “This!” I exclaimed loudly, “The leaving of gifts, the creeping around, nothing of it. Leave while I’m still asking nicely.” Even as the words left my mouth, they felt like an empty threat. What could I possibly do against him? I’d let him go this far, what could I do to stop him now? But he completely ignored the second part and focused solely on the gifts.

“Do you not like them?” there was slight dejection present in his voice, like he didn’t understand why it was such a problem, “I thought you did. You never threw them out.” I cursed my soft heart. I should have never let him get away with bringing me flowers, I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that. I should have been resolute and told him to leave right then, not let him coddle me and embrace me when I felt sad.

I hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to answer. I found myself not wanting to upset him by saying no, falling victim to his sweet demeanour. Again. I groaned with frustration and hit my forehead with my palm.

“It’s not that I don’t like them,” I started a little softer than before, “It’s just embarrassing.”

“Why?” I groaned again. Good lord, this was going to take a while.

“Because…” I stuttered for a moment, the vulnerability of words on my tongue shocking me, “It feels humiliating. My own husband wouldn’t buy it for me and it feels like an insult for a demon to do that.” There was a beat of silence, in which I almost managed to persuade myself that there was never anyone there and I had been talking to myself the whole time, but then he spoke again.

“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” his voice was quiet, contemplative, “I wanted to make you happy.” That shocked me enough to have me stutter over a few breaths, wildly looking around the room with wide eyes. “W-why?” I managed to squeak out, flabbergasted at such admission.

“It felt like you needed it,” came his simple reply, as if talking about the weather. That statement drained the whole fight out of me, leaving me standing there unsure and confused, filled with shame and wonder at the simplicity of it all.

“What?” I whispered, not really looking for an answer, just voicing out my inner turmoil.

“It felt like you needed it,” he replied a little louder, “You were always so sad. I didn’t like it. You shouldn’t be so sad.” It was such a simple statement and yet it pulled down the walls of my heart and made it flutter. I chided myself for being so easy to fool with a few sweet words, but I couldn’t stop the lightness taking over my heart, the relief bleeding into my every pore.

Someone saw my suffering, I thought to myself. Someone noticed my pain.

“What are you?” I whispered the question into the empty house, but no man stepped out into the light, no shadow moved. He was silent for a moment and then said: “Close your eyes.” And this time I did.

The moment my lids fluttered closed, I could hear slight shuffling of clothing behind me and light footsteps. On instinct I went to turn around, but a hand suddenly tightly covered my eyes, startling me slightly. I jumped a little, pushing myself back straight into his chest, which embarrassingly enough was a position I’d gotten used to over the past weeks. Then a silken ribbon touched my cheek and the hand moved quickly to tie it over my eyes.

“So you don’t try to cut this meeting short,” he explained lightly, voice full of amusement.

“But I do want to see you, is it not enough that I no longer wish to scold you?” I asked, confused by the strange rules.

“You need to desire to see me, truly, with your soul,” he said lowly, voice deepening into the honeyed register I was used to hearing from him and I shuddered lightly, feeling the words trickle down my skin and bite into my very being.

“S-so I can only see you when I want t-to-“ I couldn’t bring myself to finish that thought, the sinful image burning into my brain making me stutter and blush so fiercely I felt as if I burst into flames. I ducked my head, but his chuckle followed me, melting over me. There was no longer any amusement in his voice, now there was something darker and heavier, threatening to consume me from the inside out.

“Smart girl,” he whispered and I couldn’t help the wave of goosebumps that hit my skin when I felt his breath on my ear and neck. The sudden turn from his earlier more innocent voice and words left me confused and flabbergasted, blushing at his newfound confidence. I felt him lean closer into me, nose almost touching the crook of my neck, only to whisper: “Time to sleep.”

Before I could react, he swooped me into his arms and I yelped in surprise, before hiding my face in my hands in embarrassment. He carried me to the bed and very gently laid me there, his hands smoothing down my nightgown and pulling the blanket over us. My face burned, but I stayed silent and let him happily chirp behind me as he pulled me closer to his chest and made himself comfortable.

It felt like years before I fell asleep. I just laid there, feeling his chest move and his breathing deepen until I was sure he was sleeping, but even then I didn’t reach back to untie the ribbon. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust his words. That’s how I finally got pulled under, with my heart trembling with careful hope.

Come morning, something new happened. When I woke up, his strong arms were still wrapped around me and as soon as I started wiggling in his grip, he woke up with a content groan and a big stretch, like a cat. I blushed again, which seemed to become more of a permanent thing in his presence. I went to call out to him to scold him, when I realised something. I didn’t know his name. I haven’t asked him for his name all this time.

“Good morning,” came his morning raspy voice, then he burrowed his face somewhere deeper into the bedding and my hair. The ribbon slipped during the night and with my movement it unravelled onto the pillow, making me freeze slightly. I reached for it, playing with it between my fingers a little, before I spoke to him too.

Good morning...” I trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to ask him his name, “d-demon?” I flushed in embarrassment. Truly perfect, why not just call him a pervert if I was going to be like that? Behind me, the man chuckled and wriggled a little, presumably to make himself more comfortable. I couldn’t believe I let myself lie with a man like that, but it was better to just not think about it.

“Taehyung would be a bit better, but I’ll take it,” he replied nonchalantly, but then suddenly stiffened. Before I could truly register his alarm, the entrance door slammed open and heavy footsteps made their way into the house. I panicked and flew out of the bed, but when I turned to warn Taehyung, I was met with an empty bed. The other half was even made as if nobody slept there.

Seconds later, the doors to the bedroom slid open and my disgruntled husband peeked in. His hair was a mess, his face taunt and white, bloodshot eyes adorned with dark circles underneath. He looked like death itself, the exhaustion seeping out of him in waves, but he still managed to scowl when he laid eyes on me still in my nightgown. I wondered what time it was, but concentrated on schooling my expression and not showing my flustered state, my heart still beating wildly in my chest. He regarded me with slight suspicion in his eyes, but ultimately decided not to comment on it.

“Make me a breakfast,” was all he said and then he disappeared into the house. I glanced at my little vanity sitting in a corner of the room and noticed the hairpin sitting gingerly right in the middle of it. I swiped it away quickly putting it with the flowers, and started getting ready for the day. But the thoughts of Taehyung and his words and behaviour wouldn’t leave me for the rest of the day, plaguing me when I was making breakfast, when I was cleaning up the melted snow Minhwan carried into the house on his shoes and clothes, and embarrassingly enough even when I went to wash up that evening, wondering whether he could see me now too.

The peak of the winter came and went, but the layer of snow stayed thick, blanketed over the world and painting it pure white. I had found myself much fonder of the quietness it brought, how it swallowed all sounds and created a bubble of calm over everything, especially when my husband was gone from the house, which has become more and more frequent. Lately he left earlier and came back later, turning more and more pale with every morning. He didn’t speak to me about what he did, he barely ever spoke at all, but the tension in his shoulders and the troubled angry expression that has made itself home on his face told me that he must have gotten himself into some big trouble. I found myself just as anxious, waiting for him to tell me we would be losing it all because he made a bet or let himself be swindled.

Taehyung, during that time, worked hard on trying to distract me, bringing me little gifts and messing about the house trying to help me. Anytime I would come across clothes that have been rearranged or things that have been cleaned up, but put into the wrong places, I would sigh and jokingly glare around the room, but I couldn’t stop the fluttering of my heart and the fondness that spread through me at hearing his disembodied giggles.

During these evenings he took to covering my mirror, sitting behind me and brushing my hair for me. We would spend this time in comfortable silence, resting against each other and enjoying the simple companionship. It was such an intimate act, like we were lovers taking care of each other, like husband and wife who love each other, I would find myself flustered and blushing, feeling like it was my wedding night all over again. It was such a strong contrast to how tensed and hostile the silence was when my husband was around, that I often shamefully dreamed and pretended that Taehyung was my spouse, that this was a part of our life and our routine. He would caress my hair, my sides, press soft kisses to my shoulders, play with my hands and my fingers, and when we retired for the night, he hugged me tightly, pressing himself into me and making me feel safe and secure.

The longer this went on, the more torn with fervent longing I was, wishing this was my life and not just pity that a passing demon took on me. I was choked up with emotions, the words “stay”, “show yourself to me”, “love me” always on the tip of my tongue, fighting to spill, chest heavy and full like I was about to burst. It hurt. I hurt. I wanted a life I couldn’t have; I wanted a man that would take my soul and leave once he’d gotten what he came for, and I hated myself for it and I hated my life.

Taehyung felt this in me, felt this shift from happiness back into tortured silence, I could feel it in his touch, in how gently his hands and fingers regarded me, how reverent his lips were on the skin of my shoulders and neck, I felt it in his voice whispering praise to me. The desperation to make it all better, the frantic beating of his heart against my back because he feared he did something to upset me. No matter how much I wanted to ease him, the words would just not leave my mouth.

And my body, it betrayed me. It lit up with every touch, heat pumping through my veins with every brush of his lips, I could feel it swirling in my lower belly and oftentimes found myself hoping for his daring hands to explore as they had been doing back then before I caught him. But Taehyung stubbornly never strayed from the safe spots, never returned to his previous antics.

One night when he didn’t show up, I had a lot of time to think about where this was going and how I was dangerously teetering on the edge of improperness. When I sat alone by the bed and worried for him, called out to him and then promptly spiralled into believing he had grown tired of me, the feelings of pain and despair it filled me with shocked me. I missed him. I missed his touch, his presence, his voice. I didn’t want him to leave me. I’d grown attached to him, to a shadow that spoke to me and treated me with gentleness and kindness.

I wanted to see him. I looked at the ribbon lying on my vanity, the one he used every night to cover my eyes so I couldn’t swindle him and peek when he wasn’t paying attention. I wanted it gone.

I wanted. I longed. I needed.

Falling asleep that night was a challenge, I couldn’t find a comfortable position when I suddenly laid alone once again, too used to a warm comforting body behind me. And when tiredness finally overcame me, he visited me in my dreams, his bold hands exploring places that haven’t been tenderly touched before; drawing out sighs out of me, body trembling with unknown pleasure as his fingers dipped between my legs and leisurely moved in little circles over the bundle of nerves. My dream self was moaning and writhing in his arms, begging for him to never stop as the pleasure mounted until it burst out in a bolt of pure ecstasy. I jolted awake, breathing heavily and still shaking from the intense sensations. Startled I realised there was wetness coating my intimate parts and the top of my thighs, the sticky feeling making me blush in embarrassment. My whole body seemed to be tingling from this experience and I couldn’t calm myself down.

“Taehyung?” I called out carefully, checking that he wasn’t around to witness this. When no answer came and the man himself didn’t come out and shown himself, I quickly ran to the vanity to grab the first cloth I found and cleaned myself. My shaky hands couldn’t hold onto anything properly and I couldn’t get my breathing back under control, the experience leaving me full of confusing feelings, longing filled with arousal mixing with shame until I my head was spinning and my chest hurt. After that, I didn’t fall asleep again, instead I sat on the bed and tried to make sense of my own heart.

The only thing that saved me from getting suspicious stares from my husband was that he himself barely looked at me. But it felt different from his usual coldness, he looked haunted and worried, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to even realise anyone else was present. It made me anxious. Whatever he’d gotten himself into, it seemed bad and if it came to it, he’d drag me down with him. For the first time in so long I found myself wishing he’d just talk to me, tell me what was happening so I could stop drowning myself in worry. But I knew that if I had come to him and asked him, he would get angry. So I waited for my life to end with bated breath.

Taehyung returned after two days and acted as if he was never gone, as if he didn’t suddenly disappear without a word and left me spinning, thinking he’d never return. When I heard his voice ring out it the empty house for the first time in so long, I couldn’t stop the tears of relief and he spent the whole evening and night holding me and consoling me, whispering into my ear how he’d never leave again.

More than ever I realised the burning desire coursing through my veins whenever he touched me. I wanted him, like wife should want a husband, and it was getting harder to ignore the way my body responded to him. I wasn’t sure if Taehyung was aware of my plight, if he registered how I seemed to stiffen anytime he pushed me closer to himself, how I held my breath when his arms snaked around my waist, how I shuddered when his hands slipped through my hair when he tied the ribbon over my eyes. I didn’t know if he noticed, but if he did, he didn’t say or do anything. Sometimes he would get closer to me, nose at my neck or play with my ear and then he would suddenly stop, as if he remembered himself, and pull away. And I wanted to scream at him. To not go. To do more.

And the more the situation went south in my marriage, the more I realised that my heart has long since been stolen by a being I haven’t even seen, but whose actions spoke louder than thousand words.

And so I decided to take the situation into my own hands. Or, well, to put it into Taehyung’s hands.

Some nights I would dream about him, even when he laid behind me I just wouldn’t have enough. And in those dreams, he would do the things I desired from him. It felt like my dirty little secret, enjoying him in such way in the privacy of my own mind, but knowing he was there. That he could be witnessing me be improper, could be witnessing my needs resurfacing in this manner. He never showed it, but sometimes I wondered if he knew, if he was waiting to make a move. And it excited me even more. The tension kept thickening, and I boiled, I boiled until one day I just… burst.

I had woken up in the middle of the night, woken up by my own dream as usual, hot and breathless, but just short of release, pent up and frustrated and needy. Taehyung behind me stirred, but his breathing stayed deep and stable, arms minutely tightening before he relaxed again. I felt my wetness seeping down my thighs, squeezing them together on instinct to chase the pulsing and throbbing there, choking out a little whimper and squirming in my place.

That seemed to shake Taehyung out of his sleep, I could hear the shuffling of his clothes, his hand flexing on my belly. He raised his head and murmured something, but I couldn’t hear through the rushing of blood in my ears. I was so aroused my head was almost spinning, my mind zeroing only on getting back to the pleasure I had been feeling. I squirmed in his arms again and whined.

“What’s going on? What’s happening?” came his quiet raspy voice by my ear and I could feel goosebumps breaking out over my arms. Without saying anything I reached for one of his hands and pulled it lower, until it laid over my thigh. There was silence behind me and neither of us moved for a moment.

“What?” he whispered again, confusion lacing his voice as he started caressing my thigh, thinking I just needed comfort, “Did you have a nightmare?” I shook my head, frustrated at myself for not being able to get the words out of my mouth, so instead I grabbed his hand again and this time I gently laid it over the very top of my thighs, the tips of his fingers just grazing my intimate area. Taehyung froze for a moment, and I held my breath, fearing his reaction.

But then he released a long breath and his hand moved, grabbing onto my nightgown and slowly pulling it up over my legs. “Are you being naughty?” he asked me playfully and I trembled with anticipation, the searing heat seemingly reaching a crescendo with the promise of his touch. The moment I felt him gently caressing up the naked skin of my thigh, I whimpered again and immediately lifted my leg to grant him access to where I wanted him the most.

Behind me, there was a chuckle, so deep and rumbly I felt it in my bones, satisfied and overjoyed with my eagerness. Taehyung nosed up my shoulder, until I could feel him laying searing wet kisses into the crook of my neck. His hand suddenly shot up back to my knee, grabbing it so he could hook it over his legs and keep me spread. I blushed, but another gush of wetness seeped onto the skin of my thighs at the prospect this finally happening.

“Want to have your pretty little cunt played with, hmm?” Taehyung whispered into my hair, the smirk evident in the smugness of his voice. This was his element, and I ducked my head into my arms, embarrassed by the words and the actions, embarrassed by my body screaming for him. He didn’t seem to need an answer, pleased with my shyness and with how my body responded for me, arching into his touch and begging for more. So he indulged, both himself and me.

His fingers descended between my legs suddenly, shocking a moan out of me as they glided through the wet folds until they settled over the little bundle of nerves. He touched me teasingly, circling it lightly, tapping and pressing on it and then sliding his fingers down to play with my entrance, as if testing how much I would be able to take.

I trembled whole, overflowing with relief, pleasure and burning need for more, spilling out of me on sighs and whimpers. I lost the control of my body as it swayed and arched, pushing into his elusive playful fingers. When my whines took on a more desperate tone, Taehyung finally seemed to be satisfied enough to stop teasing. He started playing me masterfully, fingers drawing tight quick circles on my clit, making me choke on my spit, brain not comprehending the sudden onslaught of sensations.

I found myself hurling towards that edge of ecstasy quicker than I’ve experienced before, my whole body singing under his touch, thrumming with the fulfilment of all the desires that had been piling up over the past weeks.

“Let go whenever you need to, don’t be afraid,” Taehyung whispered to me, voice low and aroused, and I arched with a silent scream as the release overtook me, bursting through my body in a single white flash. Taehyung carried me through it, fingers slowing down but never stopping, little quiet groans leaving him at seeing me blissed out. When the pleasure ebbed away gradually, I pushed his hand away with a quiet whine, feeling too much all at once.

He led me down from the high gently, hands running over my body, over my sides, his voice murmuring loving words into my ear, telling me how lovely I was, how well I did for him. I soaked it all up, preened under his care and attention and loved every moment of it, the fear and insecurity about his intentions taking the backseat for a few calming moments. My body thrummed with the after-shocks of my climax, and I pleasantly floated on the feelings of relief and release.

I was still catching up to my brain, when the words “I want to see you” tumbled out of my mouth. Taehyung’s hand stopped for a moment and then grabbed onto my arm gently. He hummed, non-committally, fingers suddenly teasing again as he lightly dragged them on my arm up and down.

“Do you really?” he whispered sensually, almost purring, and I gasped at the sensation. Before I could reply, he was suddenly gone. I heard him moving around in the room, the sound of his steps, his stable breathing and the light clanking of items as he moved them. I had no idea what he was doing, but when he was satisfied, he returned to me. Taehyung leaned down to me and grasped my arm, pulling me up to stand.

“Get on your feet, darling,” he told me sweetly, the sudden nickname making me blush as if we weren’t just wrapped in each other in such sinful ways. I stood, knees still a little shaky, but managed to hold my weight. I was a little achy, but it was a pleasant and boneless feeling, as if everything had been drained away and all that was left were soft sweet clouds.

Taehyung’s hands left me, and I could hear him stepping away, his heels hitting the wooden floor heavily. I held my breath in anticipation, my hands trembling, my body still confused from the screaming pleasure it was put through just moments ago.

Then, he spoke.

“You can pull the ribbon down.” His voice was smooth, kind and happy. My arms moved as if they had a mind of their own, lifting up to my head to grasp at the ends of the ribbon to pull. When it fell away, at first I was left blinded by the light for a moment. I blinked; eyes hurt from getting flashed with white after so long in the dark. I hurriedly wiped away the few stray tears and gently pressed on my eyelids to alleviate the pressure. When I opened them again, he stood in front of me.

He was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. I gasped as I took him in, the softness of him.

He had long black hair, half done up into a bun at the back of his head. He was dressed in a black cheollik with red hems and pulled together by a silk red string adorned with dark grey jade, and his underclothes were also in black. He was barefoot, standing on my cold wooden bedroom floor like he didn’t feel the chill at all, when I already started shivering in my thin night robes. My eyes shot back to his face. He was ethereally pretty, all sharp edges but still looking so soft and lovely it stole my breath away. Even though his eyes were shockingly blue, I could see the kindness in them, unlike his mouth that was pulled into a mischievous smirk. Just I as I imagined he so often had.

I could see he started nervously fiddling with his sleeves, face flashing with panic and unsureness. He stepped from foot to foot, looking at the ground bashfully, before looking back up at me with wide round eyes full of pure-hearted earnestness.

“What do you think?” he asked, as if I was looking at fruit at the market. He squirmed in his place again and I couldn’t bare to let him believe that I didn’t think he was the most beautiful man I have ever seen. In a few quick strides I crossed the room to him and threw myself into his arms. He caught me, as always, and I had begun believing he always would, and pressed me closer into him. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled him down by his neck and pressed our lips together.

Taehyung caught on quickly, wrapping his arms around me and taking charge, kissing me like a man starved, passionate and hungry and all-consuming, filling my head and my heart with him and only him. I dreaded my husband’s return, because it would mean my little fantasy dream life would dissolve and Taehyung would have to disappear again, but for now I focused on his mouth claiming mine with such fervour it left me breathless.

Seeing Taehyung made things both easier and more difficult. Nothing much changed between us, only now I saw him messing with my things and “helping out” around the house. I heard his endless giggles and sometimes would catch a glimpse of his figure before he disappeared into a different part of the house, and I always trailed behind him and looked for whatever it was he misplaced or swapped.

I found that even though he was visible to me most of the time, he still didn’t talk much, preferring to sit by me and watch me with fond eyes. He would silently take heavy things from my hands and carry them for me, only sending a playful grin my way, or push me away from the cutting board to prepare the ingredients himself with a simple quiet “let me help”. I liked it. Taehyung filled the space with his presence, with kind eyes and gentle laughs and comfortableness I haven’t felt with anyone else. Sometimes laughs would just bubble out of my throat at his antics or at his expressions and I stopped, surprised at my own ability to laugh. I was happy. I felt content.

I loved him, and I knew that. I wanted my life to be like this from now on until the end of time. More and more often I found myself thinking how married life wouldn’t be that bad if my husband was Taehyung, and I blushed at those thoughts, but couldn’t fully fight them away. I imagined him chopping the firewood in the yard (he already did that for me after he saw me with an axe one), taking care of the animals (it wasn’t unusual for him to feed the hens and the pigs after sundown, since Minhwan was already long gone around then) and then coming home to happily eat supper I worked so hard on (he loved my cooking and never failed to compliment me). I loved watching him walking around the farm as if it was him who owned it, him who married me. Him who loved me.

And during the nights… Taehyung was more than happy to dote on me, naughty hands suddenly insatiable once I showed interest, bringing me to the peak of pleasure every morning, wandering around my curves and gently squeezing and loving on every inch he could reach. I melted in his hands, my brain suddenly interested only in how to get him to please me again. But he never moved it further, no matter how much I gently probed, tried to touch him back or insinuated that I would like to do more, he always grasped my hands and pulled me into a tight hug until we ended up falling asleep.

I was confused. I wasn’t a virgin. I knew how it worked between men and women and I trusted him with my body and my pleasure, and I wanted to return it too, learn how to please him too, but he didn’t seem to want that to happen. He would always give me this unsure smile and then hold me all the tighter and I didn’t want to push him.

But while I found my domestic bliss in Taehyung’s presence, it was harshly brought down every time my husband returned home. Even though he’d become strangely withdrawn, he always seemed to fill the house with gloom and uncomfortable tension, choking every spare inch in despair. I was dancing on eggshells around him, trying my hardest not to draw his attention lest he redirects his ire to me.

This explosiveness was also new. He’d been angry at me before, but never like this, never with bloodshot eyes and shaking hands, spewing poison until I was trembling with fear and shame, and then walking out. He would scream at me for the food not being warm, about spilling something on the floor, about not cleaning proficiently enough, and I begun to dread his returns, because he would always smell of alcohol, opium and other vices, and immediately find something to vent on, only to become silent and absent the moment after.

I could see on Taehyung he was worried for me. I wasn’t a fool, I knew he was present and heard everything, I could feel it in his sad tender eyes, in his loving caresses and the little gifts he would leave me. I wanted to assure him that everything was okay, that this was just my life and I had to deal with that, that him being around the house was already making a dreadful reality all the more bearable, but sometimes he just zoned out and I saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to come up with a way to somehow deal with this. But there was nothing that could be done.

While Minhwan spiralled and came home looking worse and worse every day, Taehyung tried his best to raise me up and make me feel better. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.

One afternoon we were enjoying a particular sunny day, the door to the kitchen cracked open to let in the crisp freezing air, but I couldn’t feel the chill, not with Taehyung plastered to my back. He hung off of me, hugging me and whining playfully, his hands ever so often straying to my thighs or breasts, trying to rile me up while I made broth. I would always slap them away, but I couldn’t hide the blush on my cheeks or the way my body started responding to him and demanding his attention lower.

I was playing with the idea of letting him pleasure me right in the kitchen in the middle of the day, when Taehyung behind me stiffened, arms tightening around me. At first I didn’t register it, but when the sound of snow crunching under someone’s shoes reached my ears, I panicked. Throwing the wooden spoon away I turned and pushed Taehyung away from me.

“Quick, disappear! Minhwan must have returned!” I whispered urgently, almost sobbing with frustration when the dark-haired man just continued standing there as we both listened to the footsteps getting closer. He was looking out the door, his face curious but impassive, as if he didn’t realise the impending doom.

“Taehyung!” I cried out desperately, pushing him away just as the doors slammed opened. I froze and turned to the door, while Taehyung’s arm snaked around my waist and pulled me into his chest. At first I recognised the gesture as protective, but then I realised it was too casual.

I forced myself to see through the panic and registered that in the door stood a complete stranger. He regarded us both with a bored expression, his eyes sliding down my panicked frozen face and then skipping to Taehyung, sneering lightly in a pretend angry manner.

“So this is where you spend your days, I haven’t seen you in forever,” he grumbled a touch whinily and made himself comfortable on one of the seating pillows in the corner. He had elegant gestures and moved about in a graceful manner, he was also dressed in expensive clothes, showing off to everyone his status as a son of a wealthy yangban family. His face was sharp and impassive, but I could see a strange spark of something in his feline eyes.

“Hyung,” Taehyung said cutely and pulled me towards the man in expensive robes, “this is Y/N.” I stared dumbly between the two men, flabbergasted at the situation I had suddenly found myself in. Hyung? Was this another demon?

The man in question nodded towards me, showing polite interest. He looked intimidating, but whenever his eyes jumped to Taehyung, there was softness in them, and his face would suddenly relax and look more human and boyish.

“This is one of my hyungs,” Taehyung said towards me and then leaned closer until he could whisper into my ear: “He’s a tiger spirit.” I gasped lightly and looked at the man. He gave me a goofy toothy grin, his posture loosening as he made himself more comfortable. I slipped into the hostess mode and started offering drinks and food and he indulged happily, even getting Taehyung to take a glass with him. I listened to their gentle teasing for a while, content with watching him be so happy and carefree.

“So if one wants to see your face around these parts, they have to come here, huh?” said the tiger with a little smirk and winked towards me. I giggled and added: “As long as my husband isn’t home.” I immediately blushed, but the feelings of shame I used to feel over this have ebbed away and now I could only feel a little twinge of it as a phantom pain, before I put it away and focused on the men in my presence.

“Oh, I know your husband very well,” the man said, his face turning into a mysterious sharp hungry grin, “He isn’t home very often.” Taehyung tensed behind me, and I glanced at him, before throwing a confused smile at the visitor.

“What do you mean you know my husband well?” I asked, ignoring the way Taehyung’s hands tightened around me. I refused to turn his way, instead focusing my all attention at the dangerous being sat in front of us.

“He plays cards out of his league,” the man stated, eyes glinting with some feral contentment, “He lost a lot of money to a lot of people. An especially big sum to a certain very dangerous man that likes to prowl around those parlours.” It felt as if I was thrown into a freezing water, the panic seizing me at this information. I had known, to a certain extent, that he must have gotten himself into something, but losing in cards and owing money to someone dangerous, that would absolutely destroy my life alongside his. Distressed, I looked to Taehyung, who immediately pushed his hand into my hair in an attempt to comfort me.

“Hyung, stop that,” he scolded the man gently, “Stop scaring her.” I blinked at Taehyung owlishly.

“You knew?” I whispered the question, my heart aching when the dark-haired man looked away with guilt etched into his handsome face.

“I told him,” the older man piped up again, gently inserting himself back into the conversation he himself started, “I happen to have an insight into the situation. Don’t fear, dear, this is between your husband and the forces he messed with.” The vague statement did nothing to ease my anxiety and my eyes flitted between the two men again, but I chose to not say anything anymore. They shared a resolute look, full of determination, and then moved on from the topic.

Mr. Min, as I finally learnt his name, stayed for a better part of the afternoon, only departing once the night fell with only the moon lighting his way. His sharp eyes seemed to glow in the dark and once again I was reminded that he was a spirit of the mountain. I snickered gently at that. Look at me, the cursed widow dining with a demon and a tiger. If the old ladies in my home village knew that, they would lose their minds.

Taehyung wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we watched his friend go, looking at my amusement fondly, but the way his hand squeezed me I could tell he was worried about the conversation we had. I looked at him, truly looked at him, and contemplated whether to bring it up again.

He sensed it, his face turning a little guilty and sheepish again, before turning to me, grabbing both of my shoulders and saying: “Y/N, do you trust me?” Did I? Of course I did. I loved him, I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone. He never failed me, never gave me a reason not to trust him. So I nodded firmly.

“Then know that it will be taken care of,” he stated, voice gentle and kind, “I wouldn’t let this impact you.” I nodded again, looking at him fondly before caving in and seeking the warmth of his embrace. He held me tightly, then and through the night, whispering words of love. I trusted them.

I should have known that this would smudge lines, that me living my little fantasy with Taehyung and him living in the house fully visible would lead to us being careless and slipping. But still, when it happened, I was sorely unprepared for the whirlwind it started.

We depended too much on the belief that Minhwan wouldn’t return home early. He didn’t, in the past weeks. Every morning, I would watch the sun climb pretty high up on the sky before the door slammed open and he trudged in wordlessly demanding food. Taehyung spent the mornings lazily spread out in the bed, stretching like an over-sized cat, grinning at me lazily and watching me get ready for the day. And usually I would be woken up by his gentle hands or kisses, or by the sun shining through to my face, or the cold would make me turn and snuggle deeper into my lover’s arms.

So when I got woken up by a scream, I was shocked and confused to my core. I jerked up into a sitting position, eyes wide open and looking for the source of the commotion, heart beating out of my chest and throat tight. It was a cry of rage, a man’s ire bursting through the quiet comfortable space of early morning.

There was a flash of movement and then suddenly I was being painfully pulled out of the bed by my upper arm. I cried out, legs fighting to get into working order and stop the pain from the uncomfortable angle. Suddenly I was face to face with a seething Minhwan, his face red and bloated, twisted into a grimace of pure primal rage. He grabbed onto both of my shoulders, nails digging into my skin until I feared he would draw blood, shaking me violently.

He screamed something, but I was too tired and shocked to fully comprehend what has happened. Panic started pumping through my veins, my breathing getting out of my control as I choked on the instinctual fear of being met with a man in such an emotional state. He shook me again and I got dizzy. Behind me the bed was empty, but very obviously slept in.

As if wading through a thick fog, I finally realised he must have seen Taehyung in the bed and my knees buckled. He let me fall, let me knock painfully into the wooden floor as he paced around the door. Thoughts going a mile a minute I scrambled to try and come up with something, with anything instead of just sitting there staring dumbly. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, slipping slowly down as my mouth opened and closed. My head hurt, my chest was so tight I could barely breathe and my heart was beating so fast I feared it might just tear right out of my body. I looked at my shaking hands and released a few strained breaths.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Minhwan was suddenly screaming right into my face and I flinched. It was as if a filter lifted off of the world and the sound was suddenly getting to me fully, the thumping of his feet on the floor, his ragged breathing, his enraged mumblings. I stared at him blankly for a moment and in a split second decided to play it the only way I could.

“W-what happened?” I asked quietly, still looking at him with wide confused eyes, movements sluggish. I put a hand to my head, shaking it from side to side. At least I didn’t have to pretend I had a headache.

Minhwan stopped pacing and regarded me with suspicion. Come on, I prayed to myself, I know you must have seen him disappear in front of your eyes. He watched me for a moment, and I made sure to look as disoriented as I could, blinking blearily around and pulling a blanket closer over my rapidly cooling body. The seconds ticked away as he just looked around the room, watched the bed, the doors, as if measuring whether the man could have gotten away around him. He wasn’t saying anything for the longest time, and I felt like I was losing my mind, fearing any moment he’ll decide I was a liar and do god knows what in a fit of rage, but then he looked at me again with eyes filled with more confusion and fear than rage.

“Do you really not know?” he inquired, and his voice was grating to me, rough from speaking and drinking the whole night. I nodded slowly and then asked again: “What happened? Why were you screaming?” His face filled with determination, and he wordlessly walked out of the room. I scrambled to follow after him.

“Where are you going? What’s going on?” I hammered him, looking for a confirmation that I was safe, at least for the moment, but he just silently started fastening his hat back on. Finally, right before walking back out of the door, he turned to me and said: “I’m getting the exorcist.”

The next few hours I spent sitting in the house in panicked silence, wondering what my fate would be beyond this day. What would the shamaness say? How will this go? Do I have to pretend to get exorcised? I tried calling out to Taehyung, but he didn’t respond once. I bit my nails and paced around the house, counting every second ticking by as if waiting for execution.

By the time the door slid open again and stone-faced Minhwan stepped in, my nerves were completely frayed, and I could barely support my own weight on my shaking knees. My head snapped into the direction of the noise, and I saw a man and a woman step inside. The moment their eyes landed on me, they bowed slightly to me, but said nothing and instead followed my husband through the house into the bedroom. I hurriedly trailed after them, shaky hands with nails bitten almost bloody grasping onto my skirt to ground myself at least a little bit.

When I stepped into the room, Minhwan was gesturing to the bed, still unmade as I was too panicked to clean, and explaining what had happened.

“I walked in and saw four feet instead of two,” he said darkly, anger shining through to the surface again, “They were clearly man’s feet. I threw a shoe at him and started screaming, but then he was just gone. He disappeared into thin air. When she woke up, she was disoriented and had no idea what was going on.” I listened to him with a lump in my throat and when they all turned to look at me standing in the door, my knees almost buckled. I hoped that my nervousness would be interpreted as my unawareness, but when the woman’s eyes bore into me with a startling intensity, I couldn’t help but flinch and look down.

She came over to me and an expectant silence fell over the room, all of us collectively holding our breath and waiting for her judgement. She grabbed my chin, not roughly but definitely not gently, and moved my head so that I was looking at her. Her eyes flitted across my face, in search of something. I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but I wondered how I must have looked to her. Did I look guilty? Did I look sick? What did she see?

She examined me for a moment and then let me go and stepped back to the man. She looked at him and nodded.

“It is a demon of sickness,” the man spoke, “He was draining your wife’s life energy, eventually saddling her with plague or similar illness. It is good you caught him before he did irreparable damage to her.” I touched my own face, wondering how bad I looked for her to come to the conclusion I was getting drained in such a way, but felt immense relief. Before I caught myself, I swayed, the feelings of anxiety crashing onto me, leaving my body too weak to stay upright. I crashed into the door and barely managed to catch myself before I hit the floor full force. The woman rushed to me and pulled me up, holding onto my arm and helping me stand in a manner she must have believed was comforting.

“Don’t worry, darling, he will not get you,” she whispered in a raspy old voice, “We will take care of this.” I mumbled something out, an insincere thanks, and propped myself up by the door. Instinctively I looked to Minhwan and found him already looking at, eyes coldly assessing me. He was scaring me, I had no idea where I stood with him and what was going through his mind, but I hoped this would buy me some time. I looked back to the floor and started smoothing out my skirts with shaky hands.

“We will get the supplies we’ll need and return tomorrow with the dawn,” the man spoke again, looking mainly to Minhwan, “For tonight, hang garlic and onion around the house. The foul smell will keep the demons away. I will draw you a talisman for your door and main gate, plaster it on the wood and keep it there until we come.” My husband curtly nodded.

The pair started moving towards the door to leave and Minhwan followed them out. I took the time to slide down to the door. I was trying to keep myself calm, but the stressed tears came anyway, rolling down my cheeks and there was nothing I could do to stop them. Once Minhwan returned, I was silently sobbing on the floor, too overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in these few hours.

Minhwan regarded me silently and then moved to the main room, sat by the fireplace and didn’t speak again. I sat there, filled with dread, and waited. Waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to fly off of his handle and do something, but the house was eerily silent. In the end I pulled myself together and moved about my day as if nothing was happening, as if Minhwan wasn’t sitting in the other room counting minutes before sun went down. The uncomfortable atmosphere stretched over us like a suffocating blanket and even though I went with the motions, cooked food and served it, I wasn’t even interested in eating, and neither seemed to be Minhwan.

With dark setting over the dwelling, the moon shining over the snow and creating a silver glow over everything, I found myself anxiously glancing at my husband to see whether he would leave, but he stayed firmly sat. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I had to have a talk with Taehyung, confide in him and see what he thinks we should do. I desperately craved his comfort and calming presence, I needed him to hold me and kiss me and whisper about all the things he loved, I needed him to whisk me away into the woods and keep me away from this life I had found myself in.

As I paced around the bedroom nervously, I realised that. I wanted to leave with him. I wanted to flee into his reality and leave my own behind. I needed to talk to Taehyung soon.

The door slid open, and I flinched and instinctively moved a few steps further into the room. Minhwan looked at me, his eyes empty and dark, and then moved to the corner of the room, sitting down and staring soullessly at me.

“Aren’t you going to get ready for bed?” came his gruff voice when I stood there frozen for too long, watching him out of the corner of my eye. I could hear a certain accusation in it and my heart jumped into my throat. Without saying anything, I mechanically moved to my vanity and started brushing my hair while keeping an eye on my husband’s dark form slouched in the corner. His eyes never left me, slowly with every second ticking by filling with more and more pure hatred.

The room felt as if it was freezing, the air so heavy with tension I could taste it on my tongue. I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest, my clammy hands squeezing around the brush.

“I feel quite stupid now, you see,” Minhwan started suddenly, his cold voice startling me. I turned around to look at him, trying to keep my expression neutral but knowing I probably looked truly scared and guilty. He stared at me expectantly, but when I failed to say anything, he continued.

“I saw it,” he simply stated, “the hairpin.” It felt as if time stopped, the blood freezing in my veins with one simple word. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but I ultimately failed to say anything. He knew I wouldn’t be able to go back to the market to buy it myself, there was nothing I could say to excuse that.

“I saw how certain mornings you seemed to be flustered,” he continued quietly, “how you changed, I saw the flowers you tried to hide.” He chuckled darkly, mirthlessly, but stayed sprawled out in the corner, watching me. I sat frozen in front of my vanity, brush still in hand, thoughts going a mile a minute.

“I ignored it, of course,” Minhwan carried on, seemingly okay with being the only one to talk, “I know how hard it is to get here and there’s no one close enough to sneak here like this. But when I went to town for the shamaness, I started remembering these moments. I saw the hairpin in my mind, as clear as day. And it made sense. Whatever he is, you knew about him.” I gulped, but said nothing, staring at my hands. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movements and I looked up startled. Minhwan was now moving towards me, slow and calculated, and dread filled me.

I looked up at him and couldn’t help a few stray tears escaping me. Minhwan watched me coldly, but it was so different than what I was used to from him and it terrified me. This was a different kind of rage, the kind that made people unpredictable, the kind when you know the person is so angry they’ve become calm.

He slowly threaded his hand into my hair, gripping it tightly until I could feel slight pain. He angled my head, watching the tears slide down my face with a scowl. Then he pushed my head away and released my hair, sending me crashing into the vanity. I caught myself on my hands, but the impact still hurt and I whimpered through the tears.

I heard Minhwan moving about the room, thrashing the chest I kept some of my belongings in, tearing through my fine robes and sending little reminders and keepsakes flying through the room and crashing into the floor and the walls. With every crash I flinched again and again, shrinking into myself and slowly slinking into the corner behind my vanity.

Minhwan finally got to what he was looking for – the dried flowers and other little gifts Taehyung has been bringing me. Whatever he got his hands on, he destroyed, tearing the flowers apart or breaking things by throwing them on the floor. I watched him helplessly, now fully sobbing as I witnessed my life being torn apart.

Minhwan paid me no mind, his eyes catching onto something in the chest. He bent over to pull out the object, and I eyed him carefully before I realised what it was. The hairpin. He glanced over at me and when he saw my eyes trained to it, he smirked with such malice it made shiver. He gripped it with both hands and then with a quick gesture broke it in half. Before I could stop myself, I cried out with my hands outstretched going to grab it, grab him, just do anything to stop it from happening, but I couldn’t. Minhwan threw the broken pin on the floor, and I watched the little gem break away and fall through the tiles.

Minhwan walked over to me again and crouched down so he could look at me closer.

“Did he get you pregnant?” he suddenly asked, and it was such an unexpected question it shocked me into silence as I just stared at him dumbly. Then I just slowly shook my head. Minhwan’s face stayed impassive. He just stared at me until I started squirming in my place, my skin crawling with fear and nervousness.

Then he just got up and walked out.

I stayed put, not daring to move from my place, but I strained my ears to hear whatever he was doing. He walked around the main room for a moment and then his footsteps seemed to get further away until I heard the door slide open, slide shut and then silence. I held my breath, waiting for a moment before I allowed myself to decompress, immediately slumping down onto the ground. With the stress rapidly draining from my body, I found myself a shaking crying mess. I crawled over to the chest and grabbed onto whatever destroyed piece of memory I could, cradling them to my chest and desperately hoping that I could mend it, that it would all go away. That I’d wake up in Taehyung’s arms and he’d console me and tell me it was all a bad dream.

I didn’t sleep that night. And Minhwan didn’t return in the morning. The shamaness and her husband came knocking with the dawn and I sat on the porch and expressionlessly watched the main gate rattle and shake under their fists, listened to their raised concerned voices calling to be let in. I was drained, empty and exhausted. I waited until they got tired of it and left, and then I continued sitting there watching the trees move, the sun travel the sky. I could barely feel the frost biting at my fingers, my arms, my face. I could barely feel anything.

For two days, I waited. I sat around the house and watched the walls, walked around the yard and looked outside, into the forest and the trees. Minhwan didn’t return. Taehyung didn’t return. I was completely alone, in the silent house, just wondering whether I was forsaken by both of them, wondering what would happen if neither of them came back.

On the dawn of the third day, I heard footsteps in the yard. My stomach dropped and my heart felt like a piece of ice. Footsteps meant Minhwan. Footsteps meant the end of my life, meant my husband was back and there was no telling what he would do.

I drew the blanket closer to myself and resignedly made my way outside. I would accept whatever was to come. Except the moment I slid the door open, I saw a sheepish Taehyung nervously stepping from foot to foot in our yard. I could only guess how I looked, but when he saw me, he closed the distance between us in a few quick strides, arms immediately pulling me into his chest. I felt my resolve break and desperately clawed at him, pulled him closer, just needing to touch him and make sure he was real and he came back.

He pulled back and I whined, but he took my face into his hands, gazing upon me with tenderness and sadness and despair. His fingers smoothed out the worried lines on my face, touched the puffy cheeks and eyes, gently caressed my face until I could see my vision blurring with unshed tears. Taehyung sighed and bent down to lightly kiss my forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered quietly, his voice like soft caress for my soul after days of loneliness and solitude, and sudden onslaught of emotions hit me like a stone wall. I grabbed onto his robe and looked into his kind beautiful eyes.

“Where were you?” it came out choked on a sob and I couldn’t even wait for his answer before the dam broke and I started crying. Taehyung held me through it, he took me in his arms and carried me inside, petted my back and held my face, whispered to me and it almost felt like a huge déjà vu to the first night I let him get closer to me. He apologised again and again, and I should have pressed for more answers, but I was so relieved he returned, I couldn’t bring myself to ask more.

When I calmed down, Taehyung’s attention was finally drawn to the state of the house. I didn’t clean up the bedroom, I barely even slept, and all the broken things were still lying around. It must have been quite a sight – a broken life, and in the middle of it all, a broken me. But instead of saying anything, he just reached over to grab the remnants of the hairpin. I watched him wordlessly, heart struck with grief at the sight of it, but he played with it for a moment, eyes peeking over at me and grinning mischievously. I returned it shakily, heavy emotions still weighing the corners of my mouth down but I tried, head leaning on his shoulder.

He encased the broken parts of it into his hands and shook them little. I thought nothing of it, watching his hands turn from side to side, expecting this to be just a way to distract me, but when his hands stopped, he uncovered his palm with a grand gesture and I gasped. There, lying on his palm, was the hairpin in one piece, looking as if it’s never been broken.

I immediately went to grab it, but he moved his hand away, keeping it out of my reach. Instead, he grabbed my brush and started slowly brushing out my tangled unkept hair. I let him care for me, I sat there on the floor of my thrashed bedroom, leaned on him and listened to him hum as he played with my hair. When Tae was satisfied with it, he tied my hair with his red ribbon and then pushed in the hairpin.

The fondness in his eyes when he looked over his work warmed my heart, and I relaxed into his embrace.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Taehyung whispered again, “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” I shook my head and tightened my arms around him.

“There was nothing you could have done,” I told him and attempted to smile. I wanted to ease his worries, but I still felt too shaken.

“I should have been here,” Taehyung reiterated, “You needed me, and I failed you.” I squeezed his waist, trying to share comfort to him as he did to me. He looked at me fondly with a little smile, then kissed me gently.

“Where were you?” I asked again, this time much more calmly. Taehyung’s face fell immediately and I expected him not to want to tell me, but with some difficulty he started talking.

“I went to my hyung,” he admitted to me, and I realised there was guilt in his expression, “I asked him to sort something out for me.” I looked at him confused, but his face has turned hard and cold, gazing out of the room. I wanted to ask more, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It didn’t matter now, all that mattered was that he returned.

“We need to leave,” I blurted out suddenly, the calmness leaving my body. I turned on my knees and grabbed onto his clothed shoulders, looking into his eyes with urgency. Taehyung smiled at me and attempted to sit me back down, but I wouldn’t let him. “We really need to leave, before my husband returns,” I continued, the words falling out of me quickly, “I don’t know where he went, he hasn’t returned for a few days, but when he returns I cannot say what he will do.”

Taehyung’s hands pushed onto my shoulders, gentle smile on his face, mouth opening to tell me something, no doubt to calm down, but I jumped in before he got a chance.

“No, you don’t understand Taehyung, he knows,” I whispered urgently, “He knows about us. When he returns… Taehyung, I’m scared of what will happen…” I trailed off, hands flexing and bunching up the fabric of his robes. A few stray tears escaped my eyes, and I was surprised I even had some left in me, after the last few days.

Taehyung gave me a soft smile, hands coming up to hold my face. He gently wiped my tears away and bent down to kiss my forehead, my nose and finally my lips. I watched him, despair mixing with love and fear inside of me, making me feel like I was about to explode. I didn’t know how else explain to him that we weren’t safe here.

“I’m ready to leave,” I whispered again, desperate and broken, “Please Taehyung, I’ll go with you. I’m ready to go. There’s nothing left here.” He said nothing, but caressed my hair, fingers smoothing out the edges of my cold wet face. His eyes were trained on his hands moving on my skin, as if he wasn’t registering what I said at all. I could see in them that he was battling something, lips pursed in a bittersweet smile like they were trying to keep in some awful truths.

My heart gave a few painful pumps before it felt like it stilled completely. My hands fell from him as despair and hurt took over. Suddenly the realisation hit me, the realisation of what this must have been for him. A goodbye. My lips curled around a silent sob, but I couldn’t cry more, there was nothing left inside.

Taehyung noticed my plight and immediately pulled back into him, and I realised why he looked so guilty when we sat down.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” the words barely left my mouth, so quiet they could be barely heard, but Taehyung reacted to them immediately, arms tightening around me.

“No, darling, of course I’m not,” he replied, but I didn’t want to hear more lies, not now and not ever. My own hands balled into fists in my lap.

“Please, tell me the truth,” I said resolutely, looking straight into his eyes that were coloured by confusion at my statement. “What are you talking about?” Taehyung asked, lost and worried. His hands travelled across my shoulders and back, grabbing onto anywhere they could and then passing on as he tried to comfort me without fully knowing what was happening.

“You didn’t respond before,” I told him, and the realisation seemed to hit him almost instantly. “Oh, darling,” he whispered and kissed me softly again, “of course I want you to leave with me. But…” He seemed to struggle there, looking down to his lap guiltily, fingers digging into my shoulders nervously. I grabbed onto his shoulders too and pressed a little closer, until our faces were just a breath away.

“What is it?” I asked, desperate for a resolution, desperate to leave this all behind and go into the woods with him, follow him wherever he’d take me.

“Your husband…” Taehyung started and I tensed at the mention, but I wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth next, “he isn’t coming back.” I scrunched my face up in confusion. Taehyung avoided my eyes again, this time looking towards the door with a quiet resolution painted on his face.

“What are you talking about?” I pushed out of my mouth, mind muddled and tongue tied, “Of course he is, and he’ll bring all hell back with him.” Taehyung sighed, hands flexing into my skin.

“Y/N, you don’t understand,” he reiterated, urgency taking over his sweet, honeyed tone, “He isn’t coming back. Ever.” I froze when I finally put together what he had tried to tell me. I wish I could say I was terrified. I wish I could say that I was filled with dread and panic and disgust instead of relief, I wish I could say that I pushed him away, confused and hurt, instead of letting out a shocked laugh, hands immediately searching for his face. I turned him so he’d look at me.

He was painted with shame and guilt, with fear that I would hate him for the implication, so I gently caressed his face and laid a little kiss over his furrowed brows. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief. My heart was beating fast, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of nervousness or joy. I wondered whether that made me a bad person, whether I was cursed after all. But when Taehyung opened his eyes and gave me a toothy grin, it didn’t seem to matter much.

“What did you do?” I asked the question in a hushed whisper, as if discussing my husband’s demise was a thrilling secret just between the two of us. Based on the dark-haired man’s reaction to it he was expecting to hear a horror-struck tone, not the casualness with which I spoke about this matter, but he shook the surprise quick enough.

“Do you remember my hyung? The tiger?” Taehyung begun his explanation, a small smile taking over his face when I nodded in answer, “He was the one your husband owed money to. It was a matter of time before he’d gotten himself reaped, I just called in an early favour.” I frowned slightly at that.

“You mean that my husband was always destined to die?” the question was asked more out of curiosity than concern, but Taehyung still seemed to be a little on edge, fearing my reaction and attempting to gauge my emotional state. Still, he indulged me.

“He was since the moment he decided to play cards against a spirit,” Taehyung explained, “Tigers don’t play for money. We have no need for earthly possessions. But the more the human loses to you, the more under your power they are. With the mounting debt, the spirit only bides his time, terrorising the soul and pushing them into losing more. Then the spirit only waits until they’ve lost the amount of money that could buy their soul, before reaping. Your husband was a lost cause since Yoongi set his eyes on him.” I took in the information slowly, but to me his death was inconsequential now. Taehyung would take me away, I didn’t have to fear being left behind and collected by a family-in-law and living out the rest of my life as a proper widow, a property of my husband’s relatives. With that my only concern was taken care of and I found myself empty of any big reactions regarding his impending sudden demise.

“Do souls have prices, then?” I inquired more, interested in his earlier statement. Taehyung’s eyes sparkled slightly, as if he was delighted I wanted to know more, delighted that I wasn’t mourning, that I didn’t think him a murderer.

“Yes they do,” he answered simply, “a saint would be hard to tempt, the amount would be higher. A tyrant on the other hand, a sinner, they don’t take much.” I hummed quietly, absent-mindedly playing with some of Taehyung’s long hair. It didn’t take much to know which category my husband fell to. Getting my questions answered, I was satisfied to let this subject go. I felt as if a great weight has been lifted off of my shoulders and off of my heart. I found myself cautiously hopeful, looking forward to leaving this house and everything in it behind, letting it rot and fall to the ground and never return. But Taehyung seemed to have something else on his mind still.

“It was me,” he confessed quietly and suddenly, leaving me confused what he meant. He looked at me, gauging my reaction, fingers nervously playing with the edge of my jeogori. “It was me who told hyung to seek him out and tempt him into playing,” the man finally got out and it seemed as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders too.

I said nothing, hands migrating to caress his hair gently, smiling softly, and then getting up. I walked across the room to where my possessions laid strewn across the floor as if they were violently gutted from the insides of the chest. I found a cloth big enough and started piling the most important things inside. Taehyung watched me quietly, unsure of where I stood, still believing I could shun him for this. I smiled at him again when I caught his sad eyes watching my hands move. He returned it, in the same cautiously hopeful way I felt, and I could just think to myself. How perfect. We’re perfect like this.

“I just need to grab a few things and we can go,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. His returning one was as bright as the sun itself and I felt my drained heart tiredly jumping in joy.

When I gathered everything, he took the bundle from me gently into one of his hands, the other holding mine as I quietly led him out of the cold empty house. Outside, the air was crisp and freezing, but the sun was shining and it filled me with happiness. The snow was sparkling, reflecting the rays of sunlight, blinding me slightly, but I had everything I needed, and it was a beautiful day outside. I squeezed Taehyung’s hand and he returned it.

Once stood in the gate, I turned back to the house wordlessly. I could see through the open doors the mess that was left inside, the state of the bedroom, and the two trails of footsteps leaving forever. Taehyung watched me carefully, making sure I was okay. I nodded at him and he grinned gently. We both turned and walked away.

He led me through the forest, up the mountain path. I’d never been here before, and it seemed that it was a long time since someone else than the demon himself took this path. Briefly I wondered if it even was visible to other people or if it was one of those paths you see once out of the corner of your eyes and then never find it again, even if curiosity kills you from the inside.

Taehyung was walking confidently now, once we crossed the threshold into his world he gained strength and resolve and led me through the trees until we reached a little clearing with a dwelling firmly in the middle of it.

It was smaller than our farm, but it looked much nicer, with little windchimes and colourful decorations hanging from the beam over the porch. Their clanking created a nice ambience in the background and their colourful flashes reflected off of the snow. I smiled fondly at that, feeling at ease.

The house only really had two smaller rooms and a kitchen, but they were filled with books and clothes and paintings. Taehyung seemed to be a lover of arts, his walls full of various pieces varying from flowers to landscapes and portraits. I peeked at them curiously, but Taehyung seemed eager to pull me along until we reached the other room, where a bed was unfolded but untouched. There was a vanity on one side, very similar to the one I had, ready with a brush and another beautiful hairpin sitting next to it, waiting for their owner. I smiled at that, heart filled with so much love it felt like bursting.

Taehyung carefully laid the bundle with my things on the ground and then skipped back over to me, plastering himself to my back, arms possessively coiling around me and lips and nose immediately running over the expanse of the skin at my shoulder and neck. I shuddered lightly, noting his palpable excitement at bringing me to his home.

“This will be our bedroom from now on,” he whispered in a rough voice, laying a series of wet open-mouthed kisses down my shoulder, “This house will become a home.” His hand splayed over my stomach and pushed me more into his form, his heated body melting over me instantly, lips travelling wherever a sliver of skin presented itself to them.

I shuddered lightly, squirming in his arms. I managed to turn to face him and immediately was met with fond eyes full of unshed tears. I grabbed his face and gently pressed our lips together. I meant for the kiss to stay innocent, but Taehyung clearly had a different idea, descending onto me with an urgency of a starving man, lips devouring mine in a hot all-consuming kiss.

I moaned lightly into his mouth, hands tightening in his clothes and subconsciously pulling him closer to me. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue inside my mouth, sighing with content when it met mine and twisted and pushed around each other. He towered over me, with every second bending down a little more, making me arch into the kiss. The dark-haired man was grabbing onto my hips, as strong as a vice, digging fingers into the layers of fabric with such force I still felt his nails biting into my skin. My own hands slowly travelled up, tangling into his hair and wrapping around his neck. When I pulled on the strand lightly, Taehyung sighed into my mouth and pushed us closer together.

My mind was quickly becoming muddled, only thoughts of the man in my arms swimming around in my brain, body heating up rapidly and begging for his attention in the way that he used to give me. And with the way he held onto me and pressed into me, he was in a similar state.

Without interrupting our kiss, Taehyung started slowly sliding down to the floor and pulled me with him. I gasped slightly and finally broke our kiss to breathe and take in the new position, but Tae didn’t get discouraged and continued his path down my jawline and my neck. I had enough mind to breathlessly move my head out of the way and present my neck for him, which made him hum appreciatively, his low deep voice purring into my skin. All I could really do was hold on to him and let the sensations sail me further.

I could feel his hands inching higher, until they were kneading my waist, thumbs slipping under the jeogori and messing with my undergarments. My whole body trembled like a plucked string, desire wreaking havoc on my psyche. I released a shaky sigh and decided to be a little bit braver. I grabbed one of his hands, Taehyung making a little questioning sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t stop his ministrations, and I pushed it towards the bow tying my top together.

Taehyung paused only for a second, eyes searching mine for any kind of hesitation, but I only blushed under his heated gaze, the lust taking over the control of my body and pushing my chest more into his curious hands. He no longer wasted time after that, leaning a bit back and making quick work of the binding and soon he had me sitting in his lap in only my undergarments. My lips found his again, needing to feel his touch more than I needed to breathe oxygen.

With new skin now visible Taehyung seemed to be over the moon, a little content sighs and quiet moans leaving his mouth as his fingers travelled across the expanse of my shoulder blades and my arms. The intensity of the kiss kept increasing, my body confusedly trying to move with the motions and seek even more pleasure. When Taehyung gently bit on my lower lip, my hips jerked forward on their own and I could feel a hardness sliding across my centre. We both gasped, Taehyung’s hands jumping to my hips to stop them, but I felt as if a lighting struck me to my core, pleasure zapping through me on a jolt. I gasped, hips mindlessly chasing after the feeling again. Taehyung separated the kiss on a groan, his head falling to my shoulder, hands now encouraging my hips to move instead of stopping them.

For a moment we just enjoyed each other, mindlessly kissing here, grabbing onto each other and chasing the pleasure, moving against each other. I managed to get Taehyung out of his outer robes too and he was clad only in a thin undershirt that teased a little bit of his collarbones, which I immediately covered in kisses. We didn’t speak and the room was filled with the sounds of shifting clothes and airy little gasps and moans, but I needed more. I needed so much more.

Taehyung’s lips travelled down to the edge of my undergarment, kissing the soft swell teasing my breasts, and I gasped and arched and curved into him, but I could feel the smirk settling on his face as he moved away again. I whined, mind gone and begging for more solid touch, for his hand between my legs and his lips biting into my shoulders.

I pushed onto his shoulders and as Taehyung wasn’t expecting it, he went easily, slight alarm painting his face, but I just grabbed him and pulled his face back to mine. The moment our lips crashed together, I keened, licking into his mouth desperately. The dark-haired man chuckled, but he seemed to take pity on me.

With one hand gently laid on my lower back, he slowly toppled us over until I was lying on the ground with his weight settling gently on top of me, legs tangled and lips intertwined. With a wet smack our lips separated and for a moment we both just looked at each other breathing hard, but then the time and reality caught up to my overheated excited brain and I immediately started tearing at his clothes, untying anything I got my hands on and pushing the fabric away until his whole torso was on display.

I choked on a moan, the desire reigniting within me tenfold. He was beautiful, strong and lean, honey-toned skin blemishless and perfect. Distracted with all the possibilities and my body screaming at me to have the man take me now, take me as soon as possible, my hands wildly flitted over his chest, kneading the skin but not settling anywhere for too long. I decided to pay back the favour and my lips latched onto his neck, making him shudder and moan. I played around lightly, just like he had, kissing anywhere I could, moving south to his pecks and then back up all the way to his ear with wet open-mouthed kisses, revealing just how far gone I was and how needy he made me with his earlier ministrations.

Taehyung buried his face into the crook of my neck, skin rippling with every touch, releasing low groans right into my ear, which made me work even harder. I was ecstatic that I was finally able to touch him too, ecstatic by the prospect of returning the pleasure he had been bestowing me with all these mornings that would have otherwise been cold and lonely.

With that thought in mind, my hands shifted to his hips, at first seemingly just sitting there and holding onto him, but slowly moving downwards, pushing the pants down. Taehyung didn’t seem to notice at first, but once I got low enough to expose the v of his hips and the thicker part of his happy trail, he let out a loud excited groan, body shaking with anticipation.

His lips pressed into my ear. “Do you want to see me? Touch me?” he whispered, voice rough and aroused. I gasped quietly, legs falling open more so that he could settle his hips more comfortably and I could see the moment I finally pushed them low enough, breath held in excitement.

“Yes, please,” I answered in a similarly debauched hushed voice, “please, Taehyung.” His chest rumbled happily, lips busying themselves with biting and kissing into my neck. I must have been absolutely covered with little red and purple bruises and the thought sent a bolt of arousal through me, my body jerking underneath the bigger man.

“Go ahead then, darling,” he said sensually, regaining back a little control. His hips stiffened, allowing me to pull them down the final stretch, releasing his erection. It hit his lower stomach with a tiny noise, the wet tip leaving a little smear of clear liquid there. I clenched on nothing, a gush of wetness suddenly leaving me at the prospect of having him inside of me. He was watching me closely, a wild look on his face, and the more excited I felt, the hungrier he looked.

Then Taehyung pressed his face to mine again, lips caressing the shell of my ear as he whispered: “Do you want it? Do you want my cock, darling?” I nodded, a whimper escaping me, thighs and pussy throbbing with pure burning need. I was so aroused my head was spinning and every thought inside curled around the pleasure this man was providing me with. He clicked his tongue though, and shook his head a little, giving me a playful grin.

“Then you need to say it,” he stated meanly, eyes sparkling with mischief, “Good girls always ask for it.” The way his tongue wrapped around the words good girl made me borderline delirious, back arching and thighs spreading even further, until my hips hurt and I was gasping with the liquid lust coursing through my veins.

“Please!” I whined out again, hands grabbing onto his searing hot skin and attempting to pull him closer, but he didn’t budge.

“No, no, no, darling,” his voice seemed even darker and richer than usual and I was losing my mind on the little rasp, his tongue peeking out to play with the lobe of my ear quickly sending me spinning, “You need to say it.”

“Please, Taehyung,” I choked out, a few tears of frustrated arousal slipping down my cheeks, “I want you.” He smiled, giving me false sense of victory, but still kept his hips away from mine. I whined again, not knowing what else to do.

“I want to hear the words from your mouth, darling,” he stated firmly, “Say ‘Please Taehyung, I want your cock’.” I gasped at his words, the flush on my face deepening despite the lewdness of the situation I already found myself in. My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips and Taehyung’s eyes zeroed in on my mouth, fascinated.

“I want your cock,” I whispered, the arousal pushing me into boldness I’ve never displayed before, “Please, Taehyung, I want your cock so bad.” He groaned and I saw the exact moment his pupils expanded with pure lust and his eyes were overtaken by desire to have me. While his lips crashed to mine, his hand grabbed one of mine and pulled it towards his cock and wrapping it around it.

I squeezed on instinct and Taehyung moaned into me, hips bucking gently. I took a moment to feel him out, just gently ran my hands over the ridges and curves. I could feel the way Taehyung trembled, the way his breathing stuttered on tiny, muted groans, his eyes firmly shut. His hands grabbed onto my thighs and dug into them through the underskirt still half covering me from his eyes.

When I began sliding my hand up and down the shaft, Taehyung’s head once again fell to my shoulder, open mouth pressing into my skin and releasing rugged moans. His hips jerked forward in tiny motions, thrusting lightly into my curled hands. I was content with touching him, but my body also screamed for attention, thighs shaking and muscles in my belly contracting in pleasurable little ripples. I was so wet I could feel my essence sliding down my thighs and my bottom, leaving a little puddle on the bedding under us.

I squeezed around him lightly and he jerked into my hands harder, a debauched groan leaving him. I spasmed, pussy pulsing around nothing, begging to be filled up to the brim, an answering moan leaving my own lips. Taehyung looked at me through half-lidded eyes, reason completely overridden by the need to push himself into my tight wet heat at the clear need depicted on my face, he shuddered again, pre-cum leaking out the red tip of his painfully erect cock.

His hands scrambled to grab my skirt and push it up my legs until it pooled around my stomach, wet pussy exposed to his needy hands. He didn’t waste any time and pulled his fingers through my folds, teasing my clit for a moment and punching out desperate moans out of me, whole body spasming at the sudden onslaught of pleasure cursing through me, but then his fingers hurriedly slid down and pushed inside of me. At the feeling of his fingers getting so easily swallowed up by my wet cunt he groaned, thrusting them in a little and scissoring to make sure I was absolutely ready to take a cock, but both of us were beyond gone with desire.

I was enjoying the feeling of finally having something inside of me, but it didn’t last for long. After a few hurried thrusts of his fingers, Taehyung pulled his hand away and I whined, arching my back, pussy chasing after him. He quickly swatted my hands from his length and lowered his hips until we were pressing into each other, his cock snuggly sliding through my wet folds.

Our breaths were knocked out of us on deep satisfied groans. He moved his hips back and forth a few times, coating himself in my juices to ensure easier slide, and then pushed inside with one firm motion, cock driving inside of me without any resistance, filling me absolutely all the way up on the first thrust. I threw my head back, mouth open on a silent scream, the contentment of finally having him inside me lighting my every nerve on fire and satisfying something deep inside of my core. I trembled, desperately holding onto him as my brain turned to mush with barely anything.

Taehyung was having more trouble staying silent, mouth open and instantly pumping out groans and moans, shaky hands keeping my hips still and desperately trying to stop himself from immediately mindlessly driving into the divine pleasure that was the feeling of being enveloped by my wet tight walls.

I whimpered and squirmed underneath him, grabbing onto him. I wasn’t even fully aware of myself, body and mind consumed by the heavenly feeling of being filled by him.

“Please!” I whined out loud, desperately needing him to finally start doing something, like there was an itch deep inside of me that needed scratching, “Please, give me more!”

Taehyung chuckled above me, trying to stay suave and smooth but I could hear how breathless he was, could feel his hands tightening and loosening on my hips. His hips trembled against mine, jumping with excitement at my words.

He pulled his hips back and slowly slid back in, making us both sigh with content. He kept the pace slow and deep, covering me with his body and claiming my mouth with his while I fell apart on his well-aimed pace. I moaned on every stroke, arching my hips and spreading my thighs to let him hit deeper, pull him in closer.

The slow build up of the pleasure had me losing my mind. I felt like I was getting gradually submerged into boiling water, the heat steadily rising with every thrust filling me with deep primal satisfaction. My hands roamed over Taehyung’s body, appreciating his smooth skin and muscles as they jumped with movement, soaking up Taehyung’s little hick-uped groans when I passed over sensitive areas.

Taehyung changed the angle a little bit and when he pressed all the way inside, his tip pressed into a spot that had me keening loudly underneath him, eyes tightly shut and mouth wide open. My hands instinctively grabbed onto his waist and squeezed, nails digging into his skin, and Taehyung groaned loudly, hips jerking into me roughly, punching out a whiny moan out of me.

That seemed to break us into a frenzy, my hands sliding down his body and grabbing onto his ass, pushing him into me and encouraging his movements. Taehyung happily took the sign and started thrusting faster and harder, filling the room with sounds of our moans and the wet slapping of our hips. I couldn’t stop the sounds spilling out of my mouth, his every stroke hitting deep inside me and lighting my every nerve on fire, stoking the lust and the bliss in pulsing consuming waves.

I felt myself getting close to the peak I was so familiar with from his hands, the sensations drowning me and washing over me in over-powering waves. Taehyung’s moans were reaching crescendo, getting higher and whinier as his hips unfalteringly pounded into me.

“So close, darling,” he croaked with a raspy voice, “going to paint you with my seed, going to fill you to the brim.” I moaned in response, pussy throbbing and clenching around him, sucking him in deeper. I needed us both to peak, I needed it more than air to feel him unwind and release, get consumed with pleasure I provided him with.

“God, just a little more,” I answered to him breathlessly on a pleasured sigh. My hands squeezed his bottom and pushed him a little rougher. His breath hitched, but he changed his pace accordingly, slowing down but snapping his hips into me harder and rougher, making me wail with pleasure.

I felt myself spiralling into the heat, knowing I wouldn’t last too long like this. Above me Taehyung watched me through half-lidded eyes, mouth open and face consumed with raw lust at my blissed-out state. I caught his eyes just seconds before my whole body spasmed and then stilled, climax exploding over me with force that shocked a raspy scream out of me. I blanked out, trembling and overflowing with bliss and ecstasy, legs spasming and toes curling with the sensation of the fire consuming me inside out. It was the best feeling I’ve ever felt, the most intense thing my body has ever gone through, but I loved every second of it. It felt as if all the stress just drained away from my body and was replaced by molten gold.

Taehyung fucked me through the orgasm, and it took him only a few more thrusts before his hips jerked wildly, pleasure mounting until he released deep inside of me with his head thrown back and a long drawn-out moan. I felt his cock throb and pulse inside of me as it spurted his seed, his hips lightly swaying in circles to ride it out, until the boneless weightless feeling set in and he collapsed on top of me.

I was feeling so content, body pleasantly light and thrumming with aftershocks of our shared moment, eyelids heavy with sleep. I felt Taehyung slip out and move away from me, his release running down my legs and making me blush again, but I didn’t have any strength to move or wipe it away, so I just laid there and waited for the man. He returned with a piece of cloth, still just as naked, shooting me a little playful wink when he saw me looking at his body. I turned around, embarrassed, even though we had just enjoyed each other like husband and wife.

I heard his little chuckle, but then the cloth suddenly pressed onto my thighs, making me gasp quietly. Taehyung squeezed my leg in apology and continued cleaning me up. I couldn’t help the little sighs of content leaving me, the warm cloth and his gentle touches filling my heart with love.

When he was done, he threw the piece of cloth away carelessly, before jumping onto the bedding and snuggling up to me. We ended up like we always have, Taehyung holding me from behind, hands pulling me as close to him as I could go, lips and nose pressing into the crook of my neck and into my hair, trilling happily.

I let it gently lull me to sleep, melting into his loving embrace, listening to his content purrs, our bodies moulding perfectly together like it was always meant to happen. I closed my eyes, and welcomed sleep, feeling the most comfortable I’ve been in years.

I couldn’t remember what I was thinking right before I slipped under, but I did with the feeling of just everything being right.

I would be okay. We would be okay.

hope you enjoyed yourself and see you around <3

A/N: the story of prince cheoyong, the son of the dragon king who neglected his wife to which a demon of pestilence took a liking and sneaked into her bed - one day cheoyong returned home and saw four feet sticking out of the bed instead of two, and he chased out the demon with singing and dancing, saving his wife and becoming a guardian god - it was said that no demon or evil spirit could enter a house as long as there was a likeness of cheoyong there, so people bought his portraits or talismans with his face and put them on their door, but i kind of switched the sides hehe

#kpop fic #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop angst #bts fic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader

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mayearies · 9 months

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✰ DRAMA KING

‘not to be dramatic or anything, but i’d die for you.’ -miles g. genre: fluff

warnings: just the mention of the reader having a brother a/n: alright no cause i contemplated this name for a while 😭 (@moonpiies would know also ty for her for this idea mwah mwah) and ill probably end up changing it later if i think of a better one also this is a pretty lazy fic

e42 miles had lost one of his airpods while over your house, around 6 months ago. he was devastated and remained pretty sad for the next few hours. hearing him whine about it was pretty funny though. but now, he was at your house again for a little study date to brush up on some subjects together. but there wasn't much studying going on cause, y'know.

—"i just remembered you wanted me to come over to study." "okay, but this is more fun? stickers now, study later."

you were both dolling each other up by putting random stickers on each others face and arms. for what reason? i don't know the idea just kind of came out of the blue. but you both were enjoying it. "so, how's the one airpod life treatin' ya?"

"shut up." "i mean genuinely." "so do i."

you knew he wasn't being serious. you two play a lot to know the difference between serious and playful. but that playful tone switched to a rather serious one when you both realized you were out of stickers. "there should be more in my brother's room. he's started liking hello kitty, strangely."

miles pointed to your pillows and sheets which were littered with hello kitty. "is it 'cause of you and all this?"

"i mean it might be. you never know for sure."

♡ rummaging through your brothers room, you stumbled upon more stickers, mission accomplished. maybe you were influencing him into your interests a little. 'maybe'? tell that to the 5 pages of stickers in his drawer.

♡ the thing is, you coincidently ran out of drinks. on the way to the kitchen you went, grabbing two cups and filling them to the brim with soda. on your way out, you stepped on something and heard a light pain in your foot. well, miles was gonna be happy for sure.

"i have a surprise." "oh no, i'm so interested." "don't play with me, you'll like it this time."

you pulled the missing airpod out your pocket and miles' face lit up with a mix of surprise and joy. "like you're sure-"

"yes, i'm sure. i'm the only one with airpods in this house and i keep track of them, unlike someone i know."

miles brought his lips to the back of your hand and kissed it all the way up to where you elbow was. then he hugged you. he doesn't do this unless he wants something. it was cunning, but sweet in a way or two. "would it be an exaggeration to say i'd die for you?"

"yes, actually." "what if i said i'd kill someone for you?" "thats not that much of an exaggeration. you've probably tried to do it once." "eh, maybe. possibly, even."

#miles morales #miles g morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales blurbs #e!42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #miles 42 #42 miles morales #earth 42 #miles morales earth 42

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meownotgood · 1 year

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quiet dream. / dan heng x reader, 18+, smut, reader is fem bodied, grinding, thigh-fucking, fingering, creampie, soft dan heng, reader is super needy, dan heng offers to help when you can't sleep. word count: 4.7k

You can't sleep.

It's a realization you've slowly come to after waking up in the middle of the night several times in a row, but it really starts to hit you like a truck after the fourth. This time, you don't even bother to try and close your eyes again. You just sigh, twist onto your back, and stare begrudgingly at the shadows on the ceiling.

You want to get some rest, you really do. You know you're going to need it. You can't let exhaustion affect your performance on such a difficult and important mission. But no matter how hard you try, it's damn near impossible to sleep when every time you start to drift off, you get interrupted by dark visions and terrible nightmares and loud voices you don't recognize echoing inside your head.

It's been plaguing you ever since you first set foot in Belobog. You were almost starting to think you were losing it. Perhaps this hotel is cursed. Or maybe not, since none of your comrades seem to be suffering from the same fate.

You stumbled out of your room and saw your teammates already waiting for you in the hall. March chuckles and tells you she had a nice dream about making snow angels with Pom Pom. Dan Heng doesn't look up from his phone as he answers, I didn't have any dreams.

So it's just you.

At this point, you've tried absolutely everything — you've made yourself comfortable in every position you can think of, you've got up and paced around hoping it'd relieve some of your energy, you've tossed and turned and yet still, nothing has helped. No, no, you can't take this, you have to do something. When your missions are only getting more and more difficult, you're going to need all the energy you can get. You can't go another night without sleeping.

Your brain spins with ideas of possible solutions. You can't get any medicine, it's way past the time for any stores to be open. Can't get any food or something to drink either. You don't feel like bothering March 7th, she'll just babble on and on and keep you up even further. Sitting here alone in silence though, with nothing but the idle hum of the passing train cars to keep you company does nothing but make your insomnia worse.

When it comes down to it, there's only one last idea you can think of.

You fling the covers away from your face and sit up to plant both your feet on the ground. You open the door to your room as slowly as you can to keep it from creaking, and you carefully make your way down the hall, rounding the corner, to the first room on your left. Sucking in a nervous breath, you raise your knuckle and knock, but when there's no response after a few seconds, you twist the doorknob and invite yourself inside.

The blankets shuffle and Dan Heng lifts his head immediately, hair messy and eyes squinted as they adjust to the sudden flood of light. He seems to relax, tense shoulders slumping once he realizes it's only you.

"What happened?" His voice is rough and laced with tiredness, but he's sitting up further, and he's getting right to the point, "Are you okay?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. Relax." You raise your hands defensively and gently close the door behind you with your heel. It clicks shut. "I can't sleep, so I figured I'd stay with you for a bit. If that's okay."

Dan Heng eyes you up and down, considering, before he flops back onto the bed with a quiet sigh, the mattress bouncing from the sudden weight.

"Sorry, I'll leave if you want me to."

"No," He retorts sternly, shaking his head, his response catching you a little off guard. Is he really okay with this?

Much to your surprise, he continues, "It's fine, I understand. Here." Then, he shifts, turning over and onto his side to make some space next to him. "You can sleep with me if you think it'll help."

Quickly, without giving him a chance to change his mind, you make your way over, and Dan Heng lifts the covers so you can crawl in. You aren't used to seeing him like this; his hair all ruffled, his clothes casual, just a blank t-shirt and sweats. When you settle in and he leans his head onto the fluffy white pillow, you swear you catch him trying to stifle a yawn.

Honestly, you really didn't expect him to let you in so easily, either. You haven't known him for very long, but you're somewhat familiar with each other, to the point you'd consider him your friend, but Dan Heng's a private sort of person. He's a bit stiff, a bit hard to talk with — You like him, you really do. You like those parts of him. You like the way he's serious and smart and strong, how he's much kinder than he appears.

You like the way his nose scrunches when he's focused on something. You like how he cares for you awkwardly but earnestly, slipping his jacket off of his arms and draping it over your shoulders when you first arrived to Jarilo-VI and said you felt cold. He cleared his throat and glanced away, muttering something half-hearted like, Just thank me later.

The thing is, despite all that, despite everything he's done for you, you can't seem to figure out the way he feels. Dan Heng is the most impossible person you think has ever existed.

And right now, even though he's invited you to come lay next to him, you still can't decide, and your brain is a little too scrambled to really start thinking about it.

He's already shut his eyes again, his face is close, wisps of dark hair messy. His chest rises and falls, up and down.

"Did I wake you up?"

He cracks his eyes back open when he hears you speak once more.

"Yes." Dan Heng answers bluntly, and if you weren't feeling so shitty right now you might've just chuckled.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." The smallest specs of golden light cast from the street lamps outside reflect in his gaze. "I wasn't upset. I'm more concerned about you. Why can't you sleep?"

"Mmm," You look away, shrugging your shoulders, "Bad dreams."

"Nightmares, huh?"

Yeah, he'd surely know a thing or two about that. Though, strangely, he hasn't had any bad dreams since arriving in Belobog. Maybe it's because the plush hotel beds are way comfier than his little setup on the Astral Express, he figures.

The exhaustion in your tone doesn't lie: "They've been happening ever since we got here. And it's not a regular thing, it's the first time I've had so many dreams like this and… they're relentless."

If the room was a little less dim, and if you were paying just a little more attention, you might have caught the way Dan Heng's expression starts to soften.

"I'm sorry. I wonder if there's a reason for it. Something with the environment here." He says. You let your eyes close at the sound of his voice. "I'll check the data bank tomorrow. I researched Jarilo-VI thoroughly before we came here, and I don't remember anything like that in any of the submissions, but… I suppose I might've missed it."

You snuggle into the pillow, your body feels warm and light; Dan Heng's presence alone provides you with comfort, and you're already starting to drift off. You silently hope to yourself that this will be the last time, and then you murmur in response, "Dunno. I'm tired, you can tell me about it later."

"Right." Dan Heng answers. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

Dan Heng is losing his mind.

When you first stumbled into his room, he didn't think anything of it. He knows how difficult nightmares can be, especially the ones that seem to be affecting you. Until now, he's never seen you so troubled. He doesn't have a problem keeping you company — you'd do the same for him, and he knows that.

The first time, you managed to drift off for an hour or so. He stayed awake for a while to watch over you, and when you ended up waking up from another bad dream, Dan Heng slung an arm around you, he rubbed your back with his palm and tried to mutter something into your ear to help you fall asleep: some boring story he learned from the archives.

But you were quick to wake again. And again, and again. Nothing worked, trying his best to help you has only served to make him just as restless as you are, and right now you, you're just —

"Dan Heng, please."

You say his name in a voice so pleading, so sweet and sugary it takes nearly everything he has to struggle to resist. A warm blaze of heat rushes to every corner of his face, his breath is hot and thick, the slightest bit shaky when it fans over the expanse of your neck. In your tossing and turning, you've chosen to face away from him now, with your back pressed deft to his chest. Dan Heng wonders how strongly you can feel the thudding of his heart.

The proximity alone is enough to get his heart pounding — you're so warm, so close, he can't take it — but each and every word you say makes it so much worse, and you keep shifting back, you keep pressing into him and you just have to know what you're doing.

"You're still awake."

Dan Heng breathes the words into your ear, his voice as still as he can get it. Matter-of-fact, just an observation. Not acknowledging anything but not ignoring you either. Exactly as you'd expect him to respond.

Softly, barely audible, you grumble back a simple response: "Yeah."

"Get some rest."

You back up into him a bit more, your ass rubs against his groin, right there; you both sigh in unison, yours of relief, his more like exasperation.

Dan Heng grips you hard, fingers curled into your side. "Stop it."

"I can't, I can't fall asleep like this. You're so stubborn." You huff, and you sound honest with that, you're seemingly breathless already.

It's half his fault this is happening. He'll take some of the blame. Perhaps he shouldn't have held you so close earlier. When your breathing got faster, when you hugged him tighter, maybe it was wrong of him to let his lips ghost over your neck, or his palms drift over your thighs.

He wasn't trying to take things this far, he's never had any bad intentions. He's the one in the wrong for getting carried away. You were just so close, and Dan Heng hasn't been able to stop his heart from pounding for hours now.

It wouldn't be the first time he's thought more with his heart than his brain. Stupid.

He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry."

He's realizing he's weaker than he thought he was, he's more obvious about his feelings for you than he intended. He has to be stubborn, but he's already failed, because you've gone and found him out. Now, you know.

You know, because you're gripping his arm with an urgency, you're twisting around and forcing him to meet your desperate eyes while your free hand finds and fiddles with the loose drawstrings of his sweatpants.

Dan Heng, please fuck me.

God, how can you say that without even hesitating? His head is spinning. He feels dizzy, he feels like this isn't really happening.

"You're- that's enough." He presses his hand to your shoulder and shoves, but clearly with no force behind it. You don't budge.

"How many more times?" Your warm fingers are working their way under the hem of his pants now, teasing his bare skin ever-so slightly, "How many more times do I have to ask?"

How much longer, because you know he's going to give in.

"I-" Dan Heng looks away, anywhere but where you're staring at him. He breathes a long, heavy sigh out from his mouth. There's an ache in his chest he can't possibly shake, and an even harder throb between his legs.

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. You don't have protection. You're not even dating.

One hand twists up to hold the back of his neck, and when the other brushes down to squeeze the bulge of his stiffening cock through his sweats, Dan Heng starts to forget about all the things he'd better not do.

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, and with eyes half-open, he looks towards you again, finally. "You think it'll help you sleep?"

You nod, "Mhmm."

"And you're okay with that? This is really what you want?"

"Yes, it is, I'm sure," You say, you're starting to tug his sweats from his hips and his breath is hitching and stuttering in his throat, "I can't wait any longer. I need you."

Dan Heng gives himself just one more moment to attempt to compose himself. Your thumbs brush the space just underneath his hip bones, and he takes an unconvincing deep breath in. Then, he's placing his hand on your chest and gently pushing you back; the hotel bed creaks, the mattress shifts and the sheets rustle as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"Need is a strong word," Fingers grasped around the hem, he makes quick work of shedding his t-shirt. The crisp night air is colder than he thought. The dim light casts most of his face in shadow. "What's got you like this?"

"You want it with me just as badly, don't you?"

You've dodged the question. But you aren't wrong.

"Just this once." Dan Heng affirms, "We won't bring it up again."

One time. That'll be enough. If he's lucky, you'll save him the embarrassment and remember this as just another dream.

When it comes to you, he's just too weak.

"Dan Heng-"

There it is again, you're saying his name in a tone reserved just for him — Dan Heng gasps, he fucks up into you a little harder, he rams right into your sweet spot and you grasp his forearm to steady yourself, his muscles firm when you squeeze. The sound of skin against skin along with the rhythmic creak of the bed echo around the walls of the small hotel room. Arm wrapped around your stomach, you're on your side, and his body curls around yours, his head leant on your shoulder, hand tightly gripping the fat of your thigh.

Sweat coats his skin, his head feels hazy, thoughts dreamy. By now, he's come to lose any semblance of lucidity he once had, any hope of not taking things any further. But when he's buried all the way inside you, he's hardly even come to realize.

His voice feels sore and tired, but he still manages to mumble into your ear, "Say it again."

And you do, you say his name once more, twice more. Dan Heng fucks his cock right into that perfect spot for the hundredth time and you're cooing each syllable for him even louder.

"S-Shit, you-" He interrupts himself with a gasp for breath, "You feel so amazing, I'm- I can't," He never sounds like this, so needy and awestruck. A soft moan uttered right into the nape of your neck, then, "I'm gonna cum again."

Your fingers clench the sheets tighter, your breath comes out in short pants, "Wanna hear you say my name too, Dan Heng-"

His arms are shaking, and once he teeters over the edge he's practically biting down on your shoulder to keep himself from getting too loud; he focuses less on hitting the right spot and more on getting off, his thrusts into you become sloppy and clumsy and erratic. As he cums, chanting your name with each fragile breath, he just barely manages to find a moment of clarity, slipping out to fist his cock and empty all over the sheets.

His heart thuds incessantly in his ears, drowning out everything else. He's gasping, wiping his hand off on the sheet, resting his forehead onto your shoulder and swallowing to keep his throat from drying up.

"You alright?" Of course, your well-being is the first thing Dan Heng is concerned about.

"I'm fine," You answer immediately.

Dan Heng stays quiet for a few agonizingly long seconds. Slowly, he guides his half-hard cock to your thighs, he slides it in between them and feels it start to throb and pulse with need again once you squirm, adjusting to give him more room to work with.

Warm, you're so warm, he closes his eyes and thrusts forwards and he's already thinking about how it's going to feel so much better when he puts it back inside you.

"Sorry, what am I doing?" Dan Heng suddenly freezes, rubbing his temple with his fingers. He's absolutely losing his mind. "I'll stop. I'll stop if you want me to."

"Don't," You reply, and he finds it difficult to object, "I want to keep going, come here."

You're twisting around then, pulling away from him and shifting onto your back, splaying your arms above your head and blinking away whatever exhaustion is starting to form behind your eyelids. Dan Heng is quick to follow suit, settling into his familiar spot on top of you.

He raises his hand, and he lets his knuckles brush tenderly over the side of your cheek. "You sure? You're still not tired?"

Your response comes in the form of a hasty shake of your head and an eager grab of his arm.

It's been like this for hours now. Dan Heng gives you what you want, you're satisfied for a bit until you beg and coax him into giving you more. The faintest hints of sunlight are starting to creep past the curtains now, and as much as Dan Heng is trying to hold on to his sanity as best as he can, he's really starting to think he's past the point of no return.

How is he supposed to face you tomorrow? Hell, tomorrow is already practically here, and yet he still can't stop.

He keeps telling himself the two of you need to calm down — but as you're gripping his hand, as you're pressing his fingertips over your swollen clit, dragging them down and getting them nice and wet on your arousal, his heart is once again caught in his throat and all he can do is listen.

Dan Heng's whole body shivers. He gives you exactly what you want; he sinks his fingers into you knuckle-deep, he pumps them in and out to a slow and careful rhythm, slick sounds ringing in his ears.

"Dan-"

He quirks his fingers up and presses them right where they belong, and you can't manage to get out the other half of his name.

"More?" Like he already knows what you're going to say, he pulls his fingers out before he even sees you nod, just like that.

His palms find your waist, he holds you with shaking hands as if you're delicate. Shiny, wet precum is already budding at his slit, and he aligns his hips to press the needy tip of his dick to your entrance. His bottom lip finds its way between his teeth as he's sliding in, just barely, stretching you with just the fat tip of his cock; the rest of him aches, his eyelids flutter and he groans, he can't move. He can't, or he already won't last.

Please, Dan Heng. Put it in all the way.

You're greedy, so ridiculously insatiable. He doesn't blame you though. He can't.

Here you are, always so kind to him, always asking so nicely. Always saying please, always loyal, always sticking by his side. Begging for him, all for him. He'd be stupid not to give you everything — everything you ask for, and every last second in the stretch of this infinite universe.

Because you're special to him. You mean more to him than he'd ever be able to admit. And after being cooped up in the Astral Express for so long, after so much running and running and never finding his place, after never having time for anything like this and never realizing how badly he needed it, he knows he's even worse.

It fits in so easy when he finally slides all the way in, like he was meant to be there. He stays still at first, taking deep breaths, getting used to the feeling. He's sensitive, way too sensitive. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on you. He rolls his shoulders backwards, waits for the moment you start to impatiently squirm. And then, he pulls back only to press all the way in; he starts up a gentle rhythm, taking things slow, fucking you nice and softly.

Even just his shallow thrusts feel heavenly. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, you're warm all over from head to toe. You're a second away from choking out a plea for him to go harder, but Dan Heng seems to read your mind before you've spoken a single word.

You're pretty when you're underneath him, pretty face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his. It's a pretty sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

You've always been pretty in his eyes. But more than anything, he wants to see how pretty you'll look when he makes you fall apart.

"You're getting loud," He mumbles, in that matter-of-fact way you've come to expect. He doesn't slow down though, doesn't give you a moment to breathe; he squeezes your thighs and rubs them with his palms. "If we keep going like this- they'll hear. You know that?"

"Don't care," You can barely get out the words, your back takes on a tell-tale arch, "Let them. Just don't stop."

Dan Heng isn't sure how thin these walls are. But in hindsight, it might be too late. The thought makes him feel dirty. He should have considered quieting down a long time ago.

Forehead to forehead with you, his pace speeds up a little, a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. His hair is a thick, tangled mess, even messier when you reach up to run your fingers through; you grasp and tug, sending waves down his spine, and Dan Heng can't help but whimper. He bucks into you hard, desperately, and you can't do anything but claw at his back, leaving scrapes and marks of red.

He's panting, his face is inches away from yours; he can't take it anymore. He starts with a single quiet please, and when you cup his cheek in your hand he's sighing and stammering without even thinking, "Please I- please kiss me, please please please-"

You pull him closer, he tilts his head and you shut him up as your lips connect for the first time tonight — Dan Heng kisses you softly, his lips plush, his heart flutters and flips. His first kiss with you, and it's so much more desperate than he expected, but he needs this too badly to take things slow. Your lips part and he's groaning, licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue.

He takes the opportunity to grab your thigh, tossing your leg over his shoulder to give himself a better angle. He pistons in and out at a steady pace until you're about to snap, until everything else is melting away and you're focused on nothing but him. Until he gets carried away, the tip of his cock shoves in too deep, and you're tossing your head back, crying so loudly you're certain someone would hear. He feels so good you can't bother to care.

"M'close," You're mumbling once he gives you a moment to breathe, dragging away from your lips to plant wet kisses onto your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Your fingertips drag along his back, you feel out the shape of his mismatched scars — you're whining even louder, begging for him to make you cum, and Dan Heng is really, really done for.

He's thought himself to be somewhat of a strong person. Someone with a good resolve. Tonight, you're making him rethink everything.

He's close too, movements getting sloppy, it's growing harder and harder for him to hold back how you make him feel. He's never felt like this, never been so desperate. Dan Heng's fingers twitch, he moans and wraps an arm around your back securely. He rests his head in your nape and sighs, breath warm and heavy on your skin.

"I-" He hesitates, because even now, even after all this, he's nervous to speak; his chest heaves, his whole body's trembling. "I want to cum with you."

"Don't pull out, please Dan Heng, it feels so good, you're making me feel so good-"

He shouldn't listen to you. But he will. And he won't even think twice.

"Gonna cum," His shoulders tense, his voice nearly breaks, "F-Fuck, you're so sweet, I'm-" A stuttery whine, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming…"

A few more sloppy thrusts and you're both done for. Wet sounds fill your ears, Dan Heng reaches up with an unsteady hand and grips the headboard to keep himself steady. When you cum, clenching hard and throbbing around his cock, chanting his name just as he hoped you would, Dan Heng has little pent-up tears forming in the corners of his eyes, he hastily covers your mouth with his free hand, your noises muffled on his palm. He's riding his high out with you and fucking you through it all, biting hard on his bottom lip to stay quiet, shamelessly spilling every drop of his spend inside.

It takes a while for him to finally slow down, for his vision to unblur. He nearly collapses on top of you, and it takes him even longer to work up the strength to pull out.

The early-morning sun shines even brighter through the curtains. His fingers slip over your cheek, they fiddle idly with your ear. He kisses your lips once before finally settling, rolling over next to you with his eyes already closed.

"Dan Heng."

He was hoping you'd managed to fall asleep, finally. He gives himself a second to regain some energy, and then with a huff, he lifts his head and props himself up on his elbows, meeting your eyes.

"I don't want this to end."

Your words catch him by surprise. Your genuine expression does even more so.

"It won't," He concludes, earnest as ever. Your hands are splayed out above your head, clenching and unclenching, and he grips one to give you something to hold onto. "I'm not going anywhere. And I won't forget about this, or about you. I'll be here when you get up, do you think you can try and get some rest now? It's late."

It's early, more so.

You offer him a shallow nod in response, and Dan Heng wastes no time fluffing your pillow, pulling the covers over you, and giving you some space to curl up. He doesn't bother to find your clothes, he just tucks the blankets in around you and hopes that'll suffice for now.

"I…" He gets comfy next to you, resting his head on his arm. "I don't want this to end either. I don't. I didn't even think it was happening for a while. I think… I think we should focus on our mission. We can't afford to get distracted. But when we're back on the Astral Express- Once we've got more time on our hands, we can talk about this. How's that?"

You don't answer. He takes a few moments to realize you've stilled, your chest calmly rising and falling.

"Are you asleep?"

#dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #dan heng smut #honkai star rail smut

2K notes · View notes

hoseoksluna · 10 days

Text

VAPOR, pt III. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut

word count: 9.9k

summary: the naughtiest of times bring about the greatest of healing.

pinterest board: vapor

warnings: punishment, spanking, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), a little bit of ass play, cum eating, raw sex, multiple orgasms, sex toy included, praise kink, jk smokes:), jk also reveals a past pain:(

note: nawt my best work, but i guess it's alright:( here it is, my loves—the very end to the steam series. i enjoyed indulging myself in this world and i'd like to thank all of you for allowing me to do that. thank you so much for all the love and support. i do all of this for you:) wink wink. this is pure smut and nothing else, and i hope you like this at least a little bit. i love you all so much, pwease give me your feedback, thank you. <3

Jungkook thought brushing his teeth with you in the morning while you wore his boxers and stole one of his white, ribbed tank tops was heaven enough. That was until he couldn’t lay his sleepy gaze off of you when you sat on his balcony with a cigarette between your two fingers and a cup of strong coffee in the other two and your thumb.

Still can’t.

He’s never been a morning person. To him, all mornings resembled some kind of hell that you suffer through until afternoon rolls around until you finally awaken. But seeing you like this, delighted, with two of your pleasures… he might become an early bird. Wake up each morning with joy just to see yours. Just to watch you be at complete peace, puffing out the smoke out into the sun-breathed air.

The weather is a stark contrast to yesterday’s funeral of clouds. Not one is in sight, sun rays envelop the heavens in a golden light that spills through your hair—half done in a messy knot of some sort at the back of your head while wisps of shorter strands frame your face and your neck. He’s given you his spirally hair tie that he wore in his pre-military days. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he told you how long he let his hair grow because he knew shaving his head was inevitable and it served as some kind of strange preparation for him. You brushed your fingers through his hair, then, unbelief painting your face in cutesy colors. As if you tried to feel the long-gone memory of his long tufts of hair that curled at the ends. He was so touched by it—maybe it’s one of the reasons why he can’t stop looking at you now.

It’s dawning on him that you love him. That you’re his. It wasn’t a dream, after all.

And you’re such a stark image of effortless beauty—even with your puffy eyelids and mouth, with your healthily flushed cheeks. How can he not look at you… he fears if he does, you’ll disappear into the thin air. He can’t afford that, not when he went through so much pain to get to this point.

This is his reality now. It’s difficult to get used to. He’d never thought he’d get this lucky. Perhaps, heaven does care about him, wants to see him after all, because it blessed him with you, blessed him with freedom that he can indulge in hand in hand with you.

Jungkook feels an inkling to find a church and kneel at the altar. Thank God for what he’s done for him. Call his dad and tell him that he found Him.

The thought of how happy he’d be fills him with vigor redolent of the last of the summer creeping in. There’s so much of it that Jungkook finds it hard to breathe, his lungs taut with all this joy and love that he feels.

It seems as though this time he will, in fact, live his life happily. Get rid of his alcoholic habits, drink from the fountain of you instead—make that a brand new habit. Keep his paints. Keep the memory of your features and your sleep-tousled hair engraved deeply in his brain so he can transfer it onto his sketchbook. Eternalize you for generations to come. Clutch those papers tight to his chest when God does take him to heaven once his time comes.

Happiness. How did he deserve such a thing?

He sighs, watches you suck the last of your cigarette. The sunlight radiates you with a glow too grand for his eyes to take in and as you breathe out the swirls of smoke, he has to look elsewhere. Your full breasts pebble against his tank top, too stretched out for your small form, and it douses him with liquid tendrils of desire for you. All due to the fact you’re wearing his clothes, that you’re bare underneath them, that your nakedness brought about so much pleasure for him last night—due to the very memory that you didn’t wear your underwear for him because they would get in his way. Fuck, his cock tightens under his joggers, the ones that match those you wore to bed. He hasn’t eaten yet and he thinks you’re the perfect choice of breakfast for the day.

You put out your cigarette in the ashtray he found for you in the cabinet, left behind by the tenants that lived here before him, and a soft smile curls your slumber-kissed mouth. Your irises flick across the width of his chest, across his crossed forearms and biceps and your smile deepens. You cradle your cup of coffee in both of your hands, slouching in your chair. He’ll never tire of the way it feels to be looked at by you. The tendrils of desire thicken in him, flowing rapidly in his bloodstream.

“What do you wanna eat for breakfast?” you ask, and there’s something dangerous about your eyes now, mingling with the light and joy, dimming it little by little. He likes it so much, likes your question all the more, that he props his elbows on his knees and hooks his fingers around the back of yours, thumbs fondling the round bones.

The way his boxers don’t even cover the apex of your thighs, having ridden up so high—he stifles the hiss rising in his throat. They suit you so much he might let you keep them. That is, after he ruins them.

“You,” he murmurs, smirking, and you grin at him so luminously that the speed of his bloodstream slows down. Suddenly, the movement of your hand as you set your cup down is in slow motion—your fingernails provoking him by lightly scratching down his forearms, too. You study his tattoos as you do it, your gaze darkening fully.

You root them at the place, where he’s holding you. Palms flat against the back of his hands. Lean closer to him until you nudge your nose against his. The close proximity will always mess him up, no matter what. He feels himself bespangled by your light, by your celestiality, bringing in the heat until it’s all he knows.

You.

“What if I want to eat you first?” you whisper, head angling to kiss him on his jawline. Oh, he’s already done for; body charged with electricity all over. Your mouth closes over that bone so, so slowly, your tongue licking over that place in the same tempo, causing the hair on his body to stand up to attention.

“Eat what?” He laughs through his nose and you take after him—your giggles a warm rumble that sends tingles down his back, even though all his body longs to do is whimper for you. He knows what you meant, but he simply wants to hear you say it. The memory of the way you rubbed your face in such a private part of him, not just once—but twice, floods his brain and he’s so hard for you that it’s unbearable.

If he doesn’t get his release any time soon, he might combust.

He’d much rather it happens in your mouth. Like it did in the dressing room last night. Oh, fuck. Those winged fuckers are going at it again in his stomach, bringing about his madness for you.

“Your nose first, then your dick.”

It’s now that he lets out that sound—he can’t help it, can’t hold it back. Might need that cigarette of yours, even though he only smokes casually. This is what you do to him.

And you like that sound. You like it so much that you rise to your feet, only to straddle him. And, leaning back, he pushes you towards him until you’re flush against his body. To make you feel how aroused he is for you, your little pussy sitting against his imprint. At the feeling of it through such a thin barrier, you press your hum over his nose, kissing the ball of it with a sweet, soft giggle. His madness evolves into a frustration again and he wonders at the whole concept of it. Now that he has you all to himself, his sexual need for you tends to be on such a raging base, full of yearning, full of frenzy. So intense, so thunderous, so deafening. The world might break apart, fall upon every head with its destruction, if that need remains unfulfilled.

It’s spine-chilling. Absolutely petrifying. And irrevocably thrilling with all its bolts of power.

He kneads your bum with both of his hands, unraveling that melodramatic concept of his titillation for you with the strength he uses to squeeze your flesh with. Jungkook goes as far as to lift you onto your knees, raise the fabric of his boxers to reveal your skin and, holding it taut in his fist, he wetly kisses the red imprint of his hand that he left behind.

And his need flutters with something still yet forbidden.

Yours does, too. And it’s you who voices it out, setting it free like a bird that has been caged for centuries. It touches him, immensely—a deep sea of feelings resurfacing in him, sloshing to and fro, threatening to spill over.

“Spank me.”

Lust and love. A peculiar concoction of it that doesn’t exist in the realm of words. He feels it, feels it with every breath he takes.

“I should, right?” he rasps, dragging his fingernails down your carmine bum, sneaking his fingers around the squishy bottom of the flesh. He might drench his joggers—he didn’t wear his boxers to sleep; you’re wearing them for him. “For wanting to bite my nose off.” He clicks his tongue, squeezing, other hand wraps around your waist, holding you still. “I should spank you until it hurts. Until you cry.”

The most gentle of a moan spouts out of your mouth and he twitches, his need growing—all because you want it as much as he does.

Jungkook lifts his hand in a promise he’s about to do it and you shiver in anticipation.

“Please,” is all you say, but he’s not going to give it to you. He places his hand back in a soft manner, lifting it again to tease you and you wiggle your butt, his boxers still tucked halfway in between, the flesh rippling and he groans. A sight to die for. “I deserve it. Please, do it. I want it.”

He sighs, a wet spot forming in the place of the joggers where his tip is, and he can’t see anything. Can’t see shit when he lifts you up and takes you inside. Can’t see anything but you and the surface of his kitchen island, which he sets you down on, spreading your legs.

Confused by the swift motion, you rise to your elbows, but he pushes you right back down—holding your hips in the air, just like he did last night. You will see what he’s about to do to you, nonetheless. No need for you to strain your arms.

And when he closes his mouth over your clothed pussy, you roll your eyes back, moaning his name so loudly that it echoes throughout the kitchen, rooting around his dripping length. And his arousal for you is so overwhelming, so sensitive that one thrust of his hips against the fabric of his joggers brings him such pleasure coursing through his body that he might as well come like this.

Jungkook rids you of his boxers in a blink of an eye, throwing them somewhere out of his sight. No need for them, either.

Burying his nose in your clit as he licks your slit and plunges his tongue inside, he narrows his eyes at you as yet another wave of pleasure comes down upon him. This time from having you for breakfast, at last. You mewl so sweetly that it drives him to thrust his hips again and he groans, groans so deeply for you. Needs you to know what you’re doing to him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day,” he breathes out, lightly dragging the tip of his tongue across your clit before he swallows, hissing at the delight of your taste. You moan, trembling, barely able to take it. Fuck one day, he’s about to die now. “And you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a fucking boy. Is that what you want?”

Jungkook flicks your bud, fleetingly, just to make your sounds shudder in the sudden intensity. You clench your small fists in the air, your tremor so terribly visible and rigorous, and with your breath hitching in your throat, he sucks that delicious part of you into his mouth.

You stammer, badly enough that he begins to feel a sliver of pity for you, not enough for him to stop. He’s ravaging your little princess parts so hard that it takes a few tries for you to get the words out in a steady flow and he doesn’t help you. Doesn’t ease up for you, at all. Flicking, sucking, licking you up all over, rolling his tongue—he simply doesn’t stop, does it so fast that you lose yourself in it, submitting to it with all your being.

And along with your submission come out your words.

In perfect fashion.

“No, I want to suck you off.”

And along with those your orgasm, too.

Jungkook watches you take it, eyes lidded heavily, take all the pleasure he gives to you as it unfolds throughout your quivering body that he holds tightly in his grasp so you wouldn’t fall over. He sucks your clit until his mouth goes numb, opening it to drink you, not letting a drop of your nectar go to waste. You struggle to reciprocate the eye contact and he finds it so endearing that he wants to make you come all over again.

Setting you down, he caresses your wet little pussy with his thumb, palm spread wide across his tank top clothing your tummy. And while you try to catch your breath, he sends rays of his affection down to her the more he looks at her. He loves her so much that he bends down and kisses her. Over and over. Kisses the hickey he left on your left fold, the one below your hip bone as well. And then, he glances at you. Flushed and glowing, a personification of light. A girl most satisfied. So beautiful.

You sit up and the feeling of the coldness of the marble against your sensitive seashell makes you let out a whine, biting your lip briefly before you enclose it around his. You moan into the kiss and Jungkook knows why. He deepens it, hands drifting down your full breasts, your stiffened nipples. The touch makes you hum and grind your pussy against the island, opening your mouth. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, playing with you, beckoning out your mouth-watering little whines. And when his fingers reach the hem of his tank top, he takes it off of you—your breasts bouncing, the wet spot in his joggers enlarging.

In this position, you’re forehead to forehead. And this time, he doesn’t want to kiss you. No, he wants to talk.

“You taste good, don’t you?” Jungkook husks, an allusion to the way you moaned into the kiss, fists on either side of your outstretched thighs. You bite your lip and furrow your brows, a hand sneaking around his neck. Such horny expression, scraping his madness raw. He’s greedy for more; wants to bleed for you. “Tell me. Tell me how good you taste.”

You sink your teeth so hard into your bottom lip at his words that you whimper once you let go, the pillow so reddened, so cute. The wrinkle between your brows deepens and you grind your hips again. Oh, he’ll put his hand there, on your still needy pussy, as soon as you answer him.

And you do—and his whole bloodstream lines with a river of flames.

“I taste so good,” you whine and he rewards you for your goodness, for that heat. Places his fingers flat underneath your clit, palm up. You immediately roll your hips forward and whisk your eyes back. That sensitive you are, after such an intense orgasm. He swears. Takes it as a sign to rub your bud and, pushing them back with one hand, he gathers your slick and smears it upon it, making it all the more pleasurable for you. Gusts of breaths emit out of your mouth, intertwining with the squeaky sounds of your juices and Jungkook almost drools, aching to eat you out all over again. The feeling of your parted lips, your slipperiness, the softness of your swollen bud—he grows desperate for it.

But he wants you to come like this, too.

“Ride my fingers,” he whispers, just for you to hear and not the angels surrounding him, whose favor he gained. “Come on. Grind your pussy on them, sweetheart.”

You mewl and you listen, straightening your spine. Use his shoulders for stability as you swing your hips back and forth. The silkiness of your flesh, the wetness that makes this a smooth ride for you—he moans, sucking in his breath each time. And then you become so terribly whiny, eyes squeezed tight, that he can’t help but to strum your clit as fast as he can. Your shudders begin again, your breasts rippling and he just thinks they’re asking for his tongue.

A flick of the muscle on your nipple. You cry out, arching your back, halting the movement of your pelvis and he takes over. Takes merely a minute to make you come all over his hand and scream out his name.

And then… then he grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you in—almost nose to nose. A gesture to make you listen. To make you pay attention to the words he wants to say to you.

“This is what you deserve,” he purrs, speaking of the former mention of punishment, studying the way your eyes grow bigger than they already are. “To come again and again for me—and what’s more, I’m not finished with you yet. That wasn’t your last orgasm.”

You mewl and it seems that it’s all that you’re capable of uttering, the clitoral orgasm stealing all of your vocabulary.

Or at least he thought so.

“But I want you to spank me,” you say, your voice a satiny softness. “I want it so bad that I’ll do anything for it.”

Jungkook doesn’t know what’s more stimulating—whether the beauty of your strength or the sinfulness of your craving. The flames in him reach higher highs, burning his skin in a way that unfussily forces him to give you what you want; give in to you, surely and wholly.

“Is that so?”

You nod, leaning over and closing your mouth over the side of his neck, sucking the skin, making his eyes roll back. And when you begin to focus on his ear, your fingers sinking in his hair, he truly just might submit to that specific craving of yours, even though he wanted to save it for the cabin.

He might just give you a taste of it now.

It looks like you’re ready for it, but if he finds that your healing is incomplete, he’ll take care of you, undo the wrongness, distract your thoughts and fold your emotions into a cocoon of his love.

Pulling you away from him, he lifts you off the island and bends you over it. You giggle in triumph and the dulcet sound falters once he brushes your hair back and, pressing his length against your bare bum, he reciprocates the same treatment you gave to him. He doesn’t destroy your neck more than he already has—he barely has any space left to scatter it with hickeys and he doesn’t wish to cause you discomfort. No, he mouths your ear and kisses the very unmarked skin beneath it, nibbling it ever so gently.

It’s only when you circle your hips against him that he rips that gentleness away and bites, making you groan out.

“So that’s what my sweetheart wants,” he breathes, hands drifting to the crooks of those hips, right where your thighs begin, cooling the flames he spat onto that sensitive spot of yours. “Pain.”

The collision of his palm against your cheek is what steals your breath and you whimper in elation.

“Oh, fuck yes.”

He does it again, a bit harder this time, just to hear those delectable words, just to make sure you’re comfortable, rubbing your skin to soothe the sting. And when you pinch your nipples and moan, he gets on his fucking knees for you. Such a good girl; a strong angel.

At your ever persisting service. Eternal.

Spreading you apart, he catches your dripping slick with his tongue and pushes it back inside, thumbing your other tiny hole—pulling away momentarily to spit on it, smearing the lubrication there before circling it. Jungkook hears the soft thud of your head slumping against the kitchen island and you take it, take his abuse so well that he rewards you by flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. Over and over until there’s another thing he hears.

He hears your phone ring.

His stomach drops. He knows full well who’s calling. And you prove his deduction right.

“It’s Yoongi,” you sigh, a bit of vexation evident in your voice, and Jungkook buries his face in your pussy, humming into her, purposefully. “Vi-video calling me yet ah-a-again. Oh, fuck.”

Pleased, he laughs. “Let it ring.” Doesn’t give two shits that he’s calling, but is a little annoyed that he keeps bothering you.

It doesn’t lessen his fire, though.

“But.” He withdraws to let you talk. Doesn’t take his eyes off of the glistening of your flesh. “If I tell him off and if he sees what you’re doing to me, he’ll stop calling me.”

His fire thickens, thrilling tendrils absorbing it. Very well. “Such a smart girl. Go for it, then.” He punctuates his sentence with a curt spank and you jump, rising onto your tippy toes as you curl your back, moans echoing. He caresses your legs all over, mouth latching over your slightly reddened cheek. Thinks it’s a perfect place for another hickey. And as he sucks the supple skin, he sinks a finger inside your heat, your walls welcoming him in.

You answer the phone with a moan. “I’m busy.”

You’ve placed your hand to the edge of the island, so Jungkook has a perfect view of what’s currently happening. You’ve hidden your squished breasts behind your forearm—like you did the first time he’d laid his eyes on you via Yoongi’s phone. How the tables have turned is so mind-boggling to him that it drives him to twirl circles on your other tiny hole, eating your ass with such verve that you can’t contain your sounds, especially not when he begins to caress your sweet little spot with his curling fingers.

Your legs begin to shake.

Yoongi calls you by your name. “What the fuck is this?”

“W-what does it look like?” you retort, grinning, looking back at Jungkook, catching his glance. He sends you rays of his love, eyes crinkling, the tip of his tongue finally penetrating inside. “I’m getting my ass eaten and you’re—” You suck a breath in, trying your hardest to remain calm and not succumb to the pleasure. Jungkook worsens it for you; he syncs his finger and his tongue, fucking you in one fast rhythm in both holes at the same time, and your stammer returns. “You-you’re disturbin’ me, oh fuck.” You pant, heavily, letting go of your phone and scratching your nails down the surface, trying to grab onto something, anything. Jungkook hums, endearingly, and catches both of wrists in his hand at the small of your back. Seeing you bound like this, bound in pleasure mainly, while on the phone with your ex-boyfriend almost makes him come in his fucking pants. “I don’t want to fucking come looking at your face. I’m not on your timeline, stop calling me.”

Oh, Jungkook wouldn’t even let you—and the reason why he intensified your pleasure was to spite your ex-boyfriend. It seems as though it worked because Yoongi remains silent, at loss for words in most probability, and you consider your job done, tugging up your arm.

“Let me hang up,” you whisper to him and Jungkook loosens his fingers for you, the sound of the call ending etching a smirk on his face.

He straightens his form and, turning you around, he pins you against the island, his smirk only widening. The love, the proudness he carries in his heart for you, the freedom that oozes out of his every pore—he uses it to kiss you, tenderly. Fights hard to stifle his grin, to mold his lips into yours, but to no avail. You mirror his expression of joy, looking up at him, both of your wrists back in his hold behind your back.

“You took your spanks so well, enjoyed them,” he murmurs his praise, his other hand clasping around your binding. “Didn’t even think once about the past. And to top it all off, you basically told your ex-boyfriend to fuck off. Moaned your lungs out. I’m in awe,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave lower, meaning every word. “I’m in awe of you. What a good girl you are. The best.”

The glint in your irises bursts and spreads all around, your eyes becoming two lighthouses that gain a new instinct to bring him home, whatever form that might spur into. You blush for him, taken aback by his praise, and your lashes flutter so prettily that he grows weak in the knees. His reactions are constant, never-changing when it comes to you and he finds so much beauty in them, in you that he feels as though it’s golden sand in his fingers and all he longs to do is finish his job like you did. You rouse the inspiration in him—you always have.

And listening to his body, he stumbles back into his former position. On his knees for you, at your ever fucking eternal service. And he makes you come with his fingers stuffed in your heat and his tongue flicking your clit until your knees give out as well and he has to take you then and there. Against the window on the other side, your pleasured body embraced, almost, by the golden aura that spills from the sunlight. And he opens it out, stretches it, with every word that trickles out of his mouth and into yours with every swift stroke. A bunch of rays of ‘You’re mine’, ‘My pretty, tight pussy’ and ‘Good girl, take it all, it’s all yours’ permeate your skin, lighting you up from beneath and when you come around his cock, your light doesn’t fade into his and leave you barren. No, it melts, a conscious, ever-flowing stream, into him and soaks him up. It’s still one singular light, but in two bodies.

And the two loads he filled you up with caused weariness to drop so heftily on you that he bathed you in the tub. Scrubbed you clean. Washed your hair. Made you smell like him. Was extra careful when touching the hickeys he left behind on your body, the other unmarked parts of you handled with similar care.

He didn’t even forget about your candle. Borrowed them your shared light and you kissed him quite sweetly for it.

Even when he dressed you in his clothes. A pair of old baggy jeans that don’t fit him anymore and the same white tank top, a clean one, fragrant with the wholeness of summer he will perpetually connect with you. You pecked him so cutely when he tapped your waist, signaling that you’re all done. He knows it was the deepest thank you that you could’ve ever expressed to him. And he hugged you, hugged you so tight that you merged into him, bunching your wet hair in his fist.

It didn’t dry up until he parked by the cabin. Having curled into winsome waves, he couldn’t stop touching them when he lead you towards the front door and, most peculiarly, it ached when he had to let go in order to unlock the door.

His clinginess to you constringes the longer he spends time in your presence and because you’ve graced him with such freedom, he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. You show no signs of being irritated by it and it causes him to think that, perhaps, when God made you, He put some mechanism in you that needs it. Just like he planted those roots of clinginess in him—for no one else but you to receive, to carry, to take care of.

It’s what he thinks about when he makes you lunch while you smoke on the balcony, having finished with the fresh drinks you made for yourself and him. Elderberry with lemon and ice, with funky, colorful straws once again left behind by the past tenants, ready on the dining table. This time you will actually sit down to eat and Jungkook won’t get kissed on the face by the strong knuckles of his once-close friend.

An emotion stirs within him as he flips the meat on the small indoor grill. Tears prick in his waterline because despite the fact he enjoyed spiting him, he still wonders how he’s handling this. Mourns the loss. Probably will for some time. There’s a certain freshness to it that won’t let go of him.

Those liquid feelings almost dissipate when you wrap your arms around him from behind and kiss his spine. He’s not matching you that much—is wearing the only clean laundry he had. A white oversized tee, a zipper hoodie of the same color with jeans. But he feels the love you press onto his back as if your lips touch his bare skin, singing the two layers through and through.

Jungkook reckons you’re saving him as you’re lingering there with your face buried between his shoulder blades. Saving him from spilling.

“I can’t wait to visit the pond once we’re finished with our food,” you murmur and Jungkook hums in response, placing the rest of the meat onto a plate.

“It’s done, we can eat now,” he croaks out, his voice touched by the residue of his emotions and you rub his belly with your hands. He smiles, fondly, at the gesture. You just keep on saving him.

“Do you think the water is cold?”

Considering the rain that would not leave for days, the water is anything but suitable for swimming. And when he turns around, he meets your mischief, playfully toying with your features. A curled smirk, lifted brows, light flickering in your eyes, reflected in your lashes. He might let you dip your toe in. Just one.

Only because you depict such distinct beauty and he can’t resist it. Can’t resist you, even if he tried his hardest.

“Too cold,” he says, however. Just as playfully. “Freezing.”

Helping him with the plates, you sit down to eat and before you dig in, you thank him once again in the form of a peck. Oh, he might spill, ultimately. In a much different way. Melt into liquid love for you—a putty at your disposal. He’s never come across someone as sweet as you.

“My sweetheart, enjoy your food.”

A sliver of comfortable silence hangs in the air as you finish your food and once he downs the drink you made for him, a different type of hunger itches in his throat.

A hunger for a cigarette.

He watches you as you take his plate and bring it into the kitchen, never forgetting to at least graze one part of your body as you depart away from him, his clinginess a full blown, ceaseless stream and when you come back to him and take his hand, he remains seated. Looks up at you. Is probably giving you a nasty set of puppy eyes, he can’t tell. Doesn’t really care. Interlocks his fingers with yours and brings your knee in between his. Just because.

“You know what I want right now?” he says, stroking the back of your thigh, and you smile down at him all excitedly. “A cigarette.”

You squeal and he didn’t expect such sound to come out of you, such display of joy at such mindless thing. You quiver, taking his other hand and pulling him to his feet. Grab your pack and lighter and drag him out to the balcony.

And with a cigarette of your own hanging from your lips, you sink the butt of the spare one between his, your lighter ready in your hand, flicking it to life. Then, a sudden gust of wind blows your hair in front of your face in a grand, sublime way, the clouds shrouding the sunlight, a layer of grayness dispersing across the atmosphere. Jungkook is mesmerized, completely, strands of your hair tickling your cheeks as you focus on lighting his cigarette, such serious expression coating you.

He almost forgets to suck on the cigarette when you cup the lighter, protecting the flame from the breath of the autumn slinking in. How can someone be so beautiful, so caring? He could’ve lighted up his hunger himself, but no—you wanted to do it.

And because of that, he steals your cigarette and grabs your cheek in one hand, careful not to break it. Taking a delightful drag, he opens your mouth and puffs it inside. Watches you swallow it down, your eyes narrowed in a foreign pleasure, and to reward you, he kisses you deeply. But at the taste of his hunger on your tongue, the kiss grows tempestuous. He devours your mouth, makes it puffy all over again, and something else grows hard in tandem.

Something in his pants.

And the way you kiss him back—he has to physically pull himself away from you in order not to take you right here, in order not to bend you over this railing and bury himself so deeply inside you that all the animals in the forest scurry away at the sound of your squeaks. Much, much different ones.

His body tingles, looking at you panting, longs to kiss you again—bring that notion into reality. It’s not merely you who’s become aroused because one swift glance over your body clad in his clothes reveals that you have, too. Your stiffened nipples protrude through his tank top and he has to hold onto that railing and take a deep drag of his cigarette in order to stick to his composure like his life depends on it.

Perhaps, it truly does.

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he comments, mirroring your former actions—placing the cigarette between your lips that willingly open for him, lighting it up. “It’s crazy. I can’t spend one minute in your presence without wanting to fuck you brainless. What are you doing to me, huh?”

You blush, but he didn’t mean it as a compliment. Thinks he should change his ways and call you beautiful more often, so you learn what a true compliment is, despite the fact how hard he finds it. His lungs constrict, choking the life out of him that you gave him—an unfond memory clouding his sight.

A blond set of hair swishing past. A roll of eyes as he threw that compliment in her way. The dismissal that still lives in him.

“You sure it’s me?” you retort, angling your head to the side, two fingers widening slightly as you suck on your cigarette. You tossed the memory away and cuddled his headspace. “Maybe you have a problem.”

Oh, he remembers this feistiness of yours. Missed it, dearly. Makes his cock needy. Even more prominently so now—now that you clothed him in healing.

“True, one taste of you and I’ve become a nymphomaniac,” he says with a mighty, peculiar easiness. Clicks his tongue. “I guess I should go to therapy.”

Your blush deepens and you hide your laughter behind your busy palm. Jungkook shakes his head, not believing something like that could flush your face like this with such rosy, radiant color. He pulls you towards himself, squeezes your bum. Takes a drag, loving the burn in his throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, fondling the sweet color of your cheek with his thumb. The smoke from his cigarette curls around your wavy hair. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?”

It’s you who shakes your head and you place your palm flat on his chest. A gasp leaves your mouth when he spanks you for your disagreement. Then, your mouth ends tip.

Jungkook laughs, softly. “Run. And if I catch you, I spank you again. On your bare bum this time.”

He pushes you and you squeal, turning on your heel and heading for the stairs down that lead to the pond. He could run after you to make you happy—it doesn’t matter he’s wearing his home slides. He’s danced with them, even barefooted, so this is no big deal for him. But he wants to give you the thrill of the chase, so, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray, right next to yours, he slides his hands into his front pockets and waits until you’re halfway there at the pond. Then, then, he slowly makes his way down.

You’ve stopped, however. Half turned, you watch him as he chases you down Michael Myers style. And when he’s at arms-length distance away from you, you begin to run away and this time your feet acknowledge themselves with the wood of the dock that floats above the surface of the still water. There’s nowhere for you to go and he fears you’ll jump into the water. Or, maybe you just want to get spanked that badly.

He’s about to find out.

Gray shadows envelop you, choking out your squeals again when you see Jungkook running after you and you edge dangerously close to the end, bum leaning against the ladder going down.

He lifts his palm, signaling you to stop right there.

And you surprise him. You kick your feet into momentum and as you run and collide into him, you throw him into the water.

The iciness of the water stings and his breath lodges in his throat, submerged. Paralyzation takes a hold of him, but not enough for his body to emerge to the surface. He rubs his eyes as he inhales deeply, shaking off the water from his hair like a dog, his eyesight slowly unblurring and he sees you laughing. The trees bend at the sound, sighing along and the wind, once again, stills.

You even have the nature wrapped around your finger, not just him. And he can’t be mad at you, not when your girlish giggles spark up a joy in his heaving chest, ridding him of the coldness he feels.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t punish you for it.

You asked for it.

He swims to the dock and pulls himself up. The ease he did it with, his wet clothes that cling to his body and accentuate his muscles, it causes your dulcet laughter to falter, little by little and you back away from him.

That aches a tiny bit. He relaxes his face, in case that’s what drove you to do that and he unzips his hoodie, throwing it at your feet. His T-shirt comes next and you swallow, dryly, your eyes drifting along his pecs and abdominal muscles.

You hiss at the cold sensation of his knuckles against the fine sliver of skin of your stomach, the dip between the hem of his tank and his jeans as he unbuttons them and harshly tugs them down. You let him, placing your hands on his shoulders once he kneels and lifts both of your feet, folding the denim and flinging it onto the pile of his sopping hoodie. Your socks and his boxers follow along, leaving behind only his tank top.

Bunching it in his fist, he tightens his mouth in a narrow line and pulls you in. More to cover you from the cold than to soak you and he raises his palm until it levels with your shoulder blade before he spanks you. The slapping noise vibrates through the canopy of the trees and he likes to think the weeping willow in his peripheral vision trembled at the reverberations.

“That’s for me catching you.”

Another spank. On the other cheek. Just as hard.

“That’s for the way you pushed me into the water.” You don’t make a sound, only tiny little breaths spill out of your mouth as your big eyes ogle his dripping face. Taking it so well that his cock, achefully, hardens even more. “All this fucking forest all around and you decided to get on here, on this dock. Push me in.” A spank. “In the freezing.” Another one. “Fucking water.” Another.

You moan, swaying on your feet and he straightens you, grabs your wrist and wraps it around the nape of his neck.

“And this.” Jungkook licks his fingers, sneaks them between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing it rapidly. “This is for the way you enjoy it. Enjoy being spanked. Being punished. Enjoy being a bad little sweetheart.”

You moan, a wrinkle between your brows, and your legs begin to quiver, your orgasm fast approaching. And the fire in him, created by your playfulness and his own words, he becomes it. Like you’re the personification of light, he’s the flames that keep it warm. An oxymoron most profound, most perfect, unseen by the world.

He rips your orgasm away. Spanks you. Kneads your ass. You whine so terribly that it beckons his pity. Enough for him to creep his thigh in between yours, grasp your hips and make you ride it.

“You wanted me wet, so get off on it,” he orders, unlatching his hands, taking off the tank top and fisting your hair, trusting you to hump him well enough on your own. “I know you like it cold, so grind that pussy on my thigh. And don’t stop until you come.”

It’s fast, the way you move your hips and bring yourself to the absorption of your climax. You look at him the whole way through and Jungkook nods with his bottom lip between his teeth, encouraging you to ride out the wave.

“Good girl, coming so fast. Get on your knees.”

He takes off his even more drenched pants. You wait for him with an open mouth and he senses the welcoming embrace of death.

When he plunges his length into that salivating hole, it’s his fire that he feeds you. Despite the coldness, pearls of sweat adorn your forehead and Jungkook grips your hair and fucks your mouth, not letting you be in control, uttering his guttural moans lowly.

“That’s what you get, my love.”

You swallow around him in response and his life flashes before his eyes. Pictures of you, pictures of this cabin dressed in all of the seasons and he halts his thrusts. Pushes your head, instead. Back and forth until he can’t fucking take it anymore.

Your spit trickles down onto the wood. Tears line your vision. Hard, shiny cock in your face. He tells you what he thinks of the sight.

“So beautiful. Look at how hard and wet you made it. You deserved every inch down in that pretty throat of yours.”

It’s a start. Still has a demon on his own to conquer, one that sits around somewhere deep in his chest, where a string of his past relationship makes dents in his lungs. One that he doesn’t want to admit he still has. One that he’s learned to forget about.

But he is changing his ways. For you.

You moan and scratch your nails down his thighs, the fire forming into an animal in you. A feral, little thing that knows what it needs. And he’s going to give it to you, mind already working on the forgetting.

“I love your cock. It’s all mine.” You mouth it, glide your puffy lips upon its length and despite the pleasure he gets from it, he pushes you away.

Straddles your hips. Turns you onto your tummy. Knows the personal cock time was too brief for you, but he can’t risk having his orgasm like this.

“Yes, my love, all yours. And I’m gonna fuck that brain out of your head with it.”

You mewl. “Yes, please.”

In contrary to your words, you try to crawl away when he sinks himself inside, your nails making pretty music on the wood. He brings you right back to him. Presses you down flat with his hand on your back. All while still inside of you. You sputter out your moans and, licking his thumb, he circles your other hole, making them grow in volume.

“No, sweetheart. Don’t run from it. You can take it. Believe in yourself the way I believe in you.”

The strokes he gives you are hard, engraving your rose tattoos made of hickeys onto the dock and he realizes that’s exactly what he wants. He desires to have everything he owns smell like you, look like you and carry remnants, memories and keepsakes of you for generations to come. And so he fucks you not only harder, but faster.

Thinks your back is awfully bare and missing the rest of the marks.

Jungkook bites onto the skin above your shoulder blade and you catch him off guard.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna come like this.”

He hums, fondly. How quickly your walls have gotten used to accommodating him. “Not yet, my love.”

Swiveling you, he hooks your knees onto his shoulders, sinking back into you this way—sinking back home.

And it begins to rain.

Jungkook hears the touch of the droplets upon the surface of the pond first before the same ones pelt down his back. And the briskness that affects him, the conjunction of an autumn kissed by the last of summer—it drives him to crush his lips onto yours with such vigor that he hopes the autumn, at the sight of it, will be here to stay, in all its wholeness. No more triggers of the past seasons. Newness, only. Singularity.

He doesn’t carry you away from the rain. No, he hides you with his own body. Takes every hit from the ruthless downpour for every lash across your heart, for every scar etched for all eternity on its flesh. Hands cradling your head, the broadness of his back a cover for the top half of your body and you keep him there with your hands gripping his hair, holding on for dear life. It stimulates him enough to fuck you just as hard, imprinting the lines of the wood onto your back.

Not so bare anymore.

You could never be an empty canvas. Not with him.

Not when you care for him in the midst of the pleasure.

“Jungkook, ah, you’re go-gonna catch a cold.”

He kisses you for it, terribly touched. “But it feels so good.” A languid stroke, the squelching of your pussy; he rolls his eyes back, sucking in a breath. “Come for me and I’ll get you inside.”

He picks up the pace, seizing your pleasure. But then you start moving your hips up and down and he feels you fill up every dent in his heart with each movement, each moan, each squeeze of your walls. And when you make yourself come on his cock, he considers himself strong enough to tell you all about it later.

Carrying you inside while hiding your head from the rain in the crook of his neck, he takes you up to his room and sets you down like the princess you are underneath the ivory canopy above his bed. Senses your irises digging little pursed pecks into his back as he rummages in his dresser, fishing out a pink bottle of lube and a dildo. Smaller than his length, but almost the same as his girth. Skin-like. With balls attached.

He’s smirking as he swivels, joy evident on his face. He’s eager to watch you ride it and your two lighthouses for eyes divulge to him just as how excited you are yourself.

You spread your feet for him once he’s an inch away from you, smiling from ear to ear. “Fuck me with it,” you purr, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Even the most solemn man in the world wouldn’t be able to not grin at this moment. Too bad he wouldn’t let him near you. His heart pounds, aches to say no to you, but he simply wants to watch you ride it.

“No, sweetheart. I want to watch.”

You frown. “But you haven’t cummed yet.”

He caresses your small pout and you kiss his thumb. His smile widens. “That’s okay.” He might be throbbing, but watching you bounce on a silicone dick will bring him a great deal of pleasure, nonetheless.

“Then, touch yourself for me.”

He hums, his heart lodged in his throat. The turning of tables must be in the script to this movie that he considers his life shared with you. And he likes it more than he’s able to comprehend amidst his intense arousal.

“You have to ride it well, then.”

You suck on his thumb momentarily, a smirk quirking your lips. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will.”

Pecking you shortly, he squirts a ton of lube on the dildo and all around your princess parts, rubbing your clit to tease you. The gasp you let out causes him to laugh softly in endearment and then…

Then, he leaves you to it.

Sitting back in his rocking chair, he fists his cock, the leftover lube making a squeaky sound on his skin. You get on your knees, line yourself up and Jungkook tugs down his foreskin for you, allowing you to see the drops of his male essence oozing out. It turns you on to the point that you moan and bite your lip, sinking down on the toy and he’s breathless.

“Fuck, it’s not as big as you,” you whine, sitting down on it, fully, maintaining eye contact with him. His heart thuds in harsh staccatos. “I barely feel anything.”

A sly remark about your ex-boyfriend’s length is on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back. Doesn’t want to ruin the moment. He’s not a constant presence. Not anymore. So why bring him back?

And what’s more, you’re lying. Because when you begin to bounce, tentatively, your eyes whisk back and you pinch your nipples, the squelching sound of your pretty little pussy driving him to fuck his fist just once. He knows if he keeps going, he might miss the whole experience, plagued by the shadow of his pleasure. He palms his balls instead, his cock protruding from the crook between his fingers and his thumb. Still wet from you.

“Harder,” he commands, squeezing his balls when you listen and he hisses, fights with all his strength not to flutter his eyes closed like his body is begging him to. He can’t miss this. It’s too good to miss. He bites down on his lip.

“Jerk off that cock, please,” you plead, your breasts bouncing and he bites down harder, the fire in him burning off his skin. “It doesn’t feel as good when you don’t.”

He swears and begins to move his hand, gliding up and down, pressure hard. “Are you imagining it’s me?”

“Yes, oh my God. I’m riding you and it feels so fucking good, Jungkook.”

He moans, focusing on his sensitive head. Tips his chin up. Doesn’t break the eye contact. “Good girl. You’re doing so well.”

The praise gets to you and your fingers sneak to your clit, rubbing fast little circles—and just like that he nears to the edge. Whimpering for you, he fucks his cock harder. Hot flashes surround your flushed face and you mimic his sounds.

That’s his very fucking undoing.

Getting on his feet, he paints your breasts and tummy white and you begin to shudder, his orgasm coaxing yours. You pinch your little hard nubs—and it’s almost like you’re milking him dry, spurts after spurts making new tattoos on your torso, white roses to mingle with your red and purplish ones.

And his woozy brain can’t help but to look forward to see them fade to yellow.

He kisses you so hard that he doesn’t feel you breathe and when he pulls away, he collects his cum and feeds it to you. Can’t have it go to waste when he knows what he’s planning for you.

“That was so good,” he whispers, sealing such an intimate moment with another ravenous kiss.

He doesn’t let you respond—he pins you back. Ass up, face down. Squirts lube all over that deliciousness and when he glances over at the ruined dildo, he whistles. Pearls after pearls of your girlish essence trickle down the length and he shows it to you. Hard all over again.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he praises and your eyes widen in that familiar way he likes, mouth parting, blush deepening. “Stick out your tongue.” You listen, so fucking well, and he plunges the silicone tip inside your mouth, circling it around that willing muscle. “That’s it, lick it up, sweetheart.”

You look up at him as you do it, making smacking sounds, so terribly fucked out. Jungkook has to grip your hair in order to hold on to the last of his composure, and when you begin to suck on it—he can’t take it anymore.

He fucks you with it. Fucks you into the mattress. Punishing you for the things you do to him, for the fire that grows hotter and hotter in his veins. And he loves you, dearly, with the entirety of his being, that his fingers cannot physically stay away from your little sopping clit.

Neither can they when you come and gush out your arousal. Neither can they when he switches the dildo with his cock, raises you in the air and fucks you so hard, whispering little praises and sweet little nothings—“I’m getting you used to taking it from behind, my love. You’re doing so good. You’re so beautiful. So damn pretty.”—that you and he both, completely and wholly, fall apart when you come together.

He loves you dearly enough that he can’t stop falling apart even in the shower.

He tells you of the demon living in his chest.

“When we’re together, I feel you healing me. I feel you giving me chances to live on with my life, do the things I’m scared of or wary of. Like today, when you didn’t believe me when I’d told you you were beautiful. I felt that fear I had in me for years, but saying it to you made it seem like nothing. There used to be a girl I was in love with. Whenever I would tell her things like this, she’d scrunch up her nose. It wasn’t enough for her. Her pride was too big for my words. I kept giving and giving and it was never enough. But when I give to you, you take it and you live with it and I can see it on you. I can see you wear it proudly. I can even see it now. And it’s so beautiful. So healing.”

You kissed his scars. Kissed his hands. His neck. Washed him clean. Hugged him under the hot downpour of the shower. Reminded him of the way he healed you. Told him all the small details he never knew—and it only proved his words, tightened his love for you.

He knows from this moment on that you will be the mother of his children. He’s not letting you go. Not until the day he dies.

And the first shower he shared with you… Jungkook sketched it down that very night as you and him sipped on wine, listening to music. And he brimmed with the longing to bring it onto a canvas. Splatter it with colors. Purples and reds, with tiny hints of yellow that are about to appear on your body.

And he will. Hang it up in this very cabin. The eternal keepsake of the movie that his life has become.

It has been several months of living this cinematic life with you. Weekends spent at the cabin, the weekdays spent separately, save for the regular dates. Dinners, trips, sight-seeing. A slow life filled with brand new art supplies, a pile of sketchbooks adorning the walls of his bedrooms. Both at his own apartment and the cabin. And another adornment has come to live with you and him, one of life-long permanency.

He sealed your exclusive relationship with a matching tattoo.

“Sweet” lines your left rib whereas “Heart” lines his—right above the mole you’ve come to love so much. Red ink, an illusion to your red roses, the dress you’ve worn for him on several occasions. Visiting him out of the blue in the middle of the week with black lingerie underneath and a trench coat to cover you up. Mindlessly at the cabin one weekend when drinking wine, smoking together on the balcony, listening to the whispers of the willow tree. And once on the last warm day of autumn, during which he paid you back for the way you had pushed him into the water of the pond. Just like he’d done the first time, he tossed you in, joining you right after, fucking you in the dress. He had eternalized it that very night, sitting by an easel. Paintings of you, some of both you and him, hang on the walls of the cabin. In the living room, in the bedroom. Everywhere one looks, one finds the scenes of your movie—and it brings him joy unlike any other.

Yoongi… he hadn’t called you since that fateful day. You’d made the arrangements to see him after a month or so. Found out he was seeing a therapist.

Quite literally.

He’s banging his male therapist.

The information enveloped you in a dimmed glow. You were shocked, first and foremost, because you had no idea Yoongi liked men. Jungkook did, so it wasn’t a surprise to him—what was more of a groundbreaking surprise to him was the fact you didn’t know. That he never cared to tell you.

And he never pushed it aside. As a matter of fact, he told him off about it the first time he saw him after everything.

Yoongi cared very little because he considered the chapter finished. A similar light swathed him tautly, one he’d never seen on him, and Jungkook agreed. The chapter is finished. No need to get all hot again.

Yoongi forgave him. Found love. Found healing. But he didn’t maintain his relations with you. Neither did he with Jungkook.

And while it hurt for a little while, Jungkook figured that maybe it was meant to be like this all along.

He and you. A singularity.

The nonexistent gap between the word sweetheart.

No third party.

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