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IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 1 - Kwon Eunbi

IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

21,183 words

Categories | best friend!Eunbi, facefucking, cum swallowing, against the wall, anal

The most unrealistic thing about this, besides getting to fuck Eunbi, is that she has sex with glasses on.

“Two things. I need you to tell me two things before I kill you in front of everyone. And trust me, I’m very good with a gun.”

“Oh no,” you say grumpily, and a little more sarcastically, while you're gathering your things into the gray backpack you’ve used through its tatters. “How will I ever see the light of day again?”

Eunbi barely looks intimidating anyway in the toga that sags around her small body. The fabric’s a blackish-blue waterfall that drags on the ground. You’re surprised mud hasn’t done its wicked way with it. It began raining earlier, see, and now, except for the mud as evidence, it's as if it never happened. The heat has become too much.

Everything is too much.

“You won’t,” Eunbi says, tongue between her teeth, “but save yourself for once. Tell me what’s going on.”

Right above the garment, her long tresses fall over her shoulders. Earlier last year, she had it cut and everyone fell for her instantly. But you’ve always taken the speedy growth of her hair a victory for your side.

No victories right now though. It’s supposed to be a grand day—the scam that is college has finally run its course, and today you ought to celebrate and throw your cap in the air like everyone else.

But you’re still completely, royally pissed off.

Turn your back. Clear answer, with other possible variations that basically say the same thing: I’m not telling you shit. Nope. Stop bugging me. Brat.

She follows, and she’s a shadow behind you who’s too pretty to be one. But you lengthen your steps. Hope she doesn’t pursue you, but she’s always done that. Since you were kids on the playground, she’s never let you deal with things on your own. It’s forever been Eunbi will help you, Eunbi will stay with you, Eunbi will talk for you.

Why must that knowledge swirl a puzzling mix of emotions in you? She has not once left you alone, and yet here you are, forcing her to do so.

A pair of leather shoes and high platforms (which give way to the illusion that she’s barely shorter than you) pave through the cobblestone ground of the campus you’ll never dream of returning to. You say that yet you and Eunbi are the only other few graduates remaining on the premises. Why? It’s not like you have anything or anyone to be melancholic about.

She walks in the corner of your line of vision. Alright, maybe someone.

You’ve tried to avoid eye contact but you turn to her anyway. She’s always been this easy on the eyes, even when you were high schoolers with wild hormones and sensitive young hearts. Sharp nose, intelligent brown eyes, and pretty smile—she could’ve been a real heartbreaker back then if she weren’t hanging out with you. She could’ve been everything, because this town is too simple, too small for a girl of her caliber.

Turn your eyes away before she could notice. Broken out of your train of thought, you start to notice how your bag knocks your spine repeatedly. Painfully. With the way your notebooks from years and years ago are bumping around in there, you’d think you were carrying a luggage good enough to give you a week’s worth of supplies.

“Ugh.” Eunbi pinches her nose irritably, allows the sounds to continue for a good three seconds, then pulls the source off you. "Dumbass. Alright, now tell—”

“No. Become a nun. Live a good life. Go eat ice cream with Chaewon or something.”

“She likes mint chocolate, so no. I’m never eating that shit.”

“You’ll live.”

“Oh, I will”—she taps your bag, smiling evilly—”and I’ll take the bag with me.”

You sigh loudly. “Eunbi.”

Oh no, don’t get it wrong: she’s always like this. It's not just today that she pushes your buttons, catty with her negotiations and even more so when you turn them down. She discreetly takes control with a sleight of hand, and you never see it coming. You wish luck to whoever smug kindergartner she’ll be an educator to in the future. She’ll quickly show him his place, just like she’s shown you yours.

“What?” she says with a derisive smirk. She pulls on the arms of the backpack to boost its weight up. “No tell, no bag.”

At this point—

“I don’t give a fuck, Eunbi,” you spit. "You have bigger things to worry about.”

Pause. You briefly consider telling her how your grand day was shattered by your own self and thinking, but you don’t want to bother her. She's your best friend. You shouldn't be making her listen to your woes.

Close your mouth; you didn’t even realize it was hanging open for a while.

You exhale through your nostrils. “Do yourself a favor and take care of something else.”

You walk away. That was supposed to be the end of the story. It's the hashtag at the end of an article, the death of the conversation. But wide strides can’t keep her from coercing an answer out of you.

You know that because she’s suddenly pulled you by the wrist then so close to herself that even your cloaks can’t bar yourselves from each other. Her body presses below your chest. Her stern eyes hush you. You can quite literally feel her breathing.

“I think I can handle it,” she says, gaze steady and chin lifting, “much more if it’s you.”

Okay, so maybe you underestimated how intimidating she can get.

She’s a small girl, lying her way into five foot three, but she’s surprisingly strong. You’re more than aware of that to avoid testing if her palm on your heart is sturdy. Her fierce glare, needling into your integrity, is something new. Frightening, too. Her jaw—(oh, and you can never give that perfectly cut line it’s incredibly lucky to possess a normal glance)—is tight with determination.

For a moment, you think you know how to speak but just forgot to completely.

You get the hang of it after a few seconds when you crack a smile. “Can’t tell you anything if you got your hands on me, little raindrop.”

Eunbi squints her eyes, then folds her arms neatly. “A silver rain drop. And I’m not little, I’m one sixty flat.”

“Take that cap off and we’ll see.”

You’re not exactly a top student, but you’re smart enough to run away before she whacks you with her rolled diploma.

(It somehow lightens your mood, because if there’s anything you love more than your phone and street food, it’s Eunbi’s tiny, challenging self trying to one you up. Her light punches are like package peanuts trying to make a dent in you. And it’s just so adorable seeing her face turn dark as she aims for you, and fails.

Oh, and it’s all in good banter. It wouldn’t be a friendship if those jabs were spiteful. There are a lot of relationships out there, both platonic and not so, where insults are masked behind “jokes” and jokes behind insults—you’re glad that doesn’t count for you and her.

But even if we’re to say that Eunbi’s cornering you to the wall, suddenly having grown taller than you, and snarls, with a knife to your throat, “Say good night forever,” you’d kiss her and tell her: “I won’t let the bedbugs bite.”)

"Two, please. Thank you."

Slip the paper bills in the vendor's brown, rough hand and slap yours back on Eunbi's shoulder. You’re still surprised at the bareness you feel, then you remember she's since stuffed her toga in your backpack because of the heat. Now she’s wearing a sundress that flows around her like water.

Look at her discreetly. You’re wondering how she managed to hide all… that. The fabric fits and compliments her figure too much to go unnoticed. You have to pretend to be curious about the boiling process of the eomuk again to avoid staring at her slim arms.

"I still don't get why you call me that," she says. She pulls the drooping strap of her dress back up her shoulder, and you swear you’re gonna lose it.

Take deep breaths. You can do this. "Call you what?"

"You know." She daintily taps away a bead of sweat from her forehead and looks up at you. "'Little raindrop.'"

You return her stare eye for an eye. You have to admit it was a feeble attempt. Whenever you look at her, you're overcome with the realization that she's just so beautiful. Her brows are naturally curved and shaded, and there’s just the tiniest dimple at the side of her mouth when she smiles hard. Who in the world just has a face like that?

But you can't dwell on it. It's a dangerous premise, and you're a rightful coward.

"Ah." Your fingers tap comfortable rhythms on her skin. "Because… hm. Bi means rain, right? And you’re small, a.k.a little. So there you have it."

A crowd sifts through the streets and roads opposite your university, and occasionally daring motorists. Graduates fill the sidewalks to purchase street food. It's been this cramped since forever. You can't believe this is the last time you'd ever see this commotion: nameless faces that have matured through the years occupying every space, scentful smoke that wafts in the air, and, of course, the familiar sight of these stalls on wheels catering to young'uns like you short on cash.

Now that you think it over once more, perhaps you'll miss this place more than you thought you would.

"Well, would you say it, uh…” Eunbi taps her chin. “Hm, derogatively?"

"Oh, come on," you say, shaking your head emphatically, "I would never."

"Good, because I just lost your bag."

Your eyelids suddenly stop drooping. Realize only this second that you haven't felt torn fabric on the shoulder you’ve been caressing.

"Eunbi, what the—"

"Kidding, it's right here." Eunbi lifts it up in the air cheekily. "Gotcha."

"Oh, fuck off," you groan. Push her away, but not so much that she's out of arm's length. There are people whose intentions aren't so nice in this crowd.

Eunbi's adorable, you have to admit. Every day that rises is April Fools Day for her. She loves pulling pranks on you and commits to the bit perfectly. It’s been like this since… forever. It’s like you were born knowing her.

With all that fake innocence on her face when she tells you a white lie for her prank’s sake, she could be an actress. For a moment, you wonder what you'll do if she does become one, if she finds out that she's more than this place is worth. Would she leave you with no warning? Make a name for herself and never bother to reach out?

You gulp a little. That could happen even without the entertainer job. You've been friends with her for ages. One day, she'll grow tired of you and seek brighter horizons. Finer places. Better men.

"You alright there?" Eunbi asks.

You envy her for a lot of things—her charm, her easy way of making new friends, those legs that she’s worked hard to tone. But right now, you’re jealous because she isn’t privy to all those things that run in your mind about wanting to do things to her. Stupid things like hold her hand, tell her something you shouldn’t, the works.

Jealousy won’t amount to anything, so you just nod. It's not like there's much to say that you won't be embarrassed of saying later.

"Well—"

Just in time, the kind vendor raises two eomuks from the bubbling broth. The delicious scent makes your mouth water. "There you go," he says in his usual jolly way that always makes you laugh. "Congrats on the graduation!"

"Thanks!" Eunbi says, always the first to be grateful. She takes hers and the aforementioned dimple on her cheek shows itself again. Your chest squeezes.

"Don't forget me when you're rich." His jovial face almost looks sentimental. "One for the gentleman and one for his girlfriend."

Your smile fades into a nervous line. "She's not my girlfriend," you say carefully.

It's more embarrassing each time you have to say it. Are you too close with her? Probably; your arm is always around her and she's one of the few consistent friends you have. She's been by your side longer than anyone. People are gonna think something’s going on along the way.

The vendor nods mockingly, as if to say “yeah, sure,” and winks at Eunbi. She winks back, but fails to halfway—her left eye scrunches up.

"Don't listen to him," you tell her. You walk away from the crowd; it's suddenly begun to feel warmer than usual. "He likes to play around a lot. Even in first year he was like that.”

“Eh. It's not like he said anything bad.” She sinks her teeth into the skewered food and shrugs.

"It's invasive."

"Invasive," she repeats thoughtfully, (chewing thoughtfully, too.) “Okay. But how?”

"Because… ‘cause…" Suddenly, you find there's no appropriate reason you could dream up to justify your uneasiness. "It's, you know, strange when people do that."

“I don’t mind, honestly.”

You find that you swallow on nothing rather than the delicious treat you’re holding.

The place becomes too much, with the heated smoke eventually making Eunbi hack a cough and the sweaty people surrounding you more than they should. So you squeeze between them with her and go on for a resolute walk down the road. Just a few blocks up ahead, you can see the sun setting. It reflects back and pours a hefty amount of light on your figures. Your shadows synchronize with your steps.

“You don’t?” you ask, just to make sure you heard her right. The possibility of her being so comfortable with you that she isn’t bothered to be called yours… it’s a lot to handle. She shouldn’t just place that on your shoulders and expect you not to buckle.

Try to keep your knees from folding at the idea as you walk down the familiar streets. The roads reside in a subdivision that's humbler than the others, hence the houses being small and more trees standing above you. But you don't mind—you need a break from the urban place anyway.

Your university stays a little near the border between them. That's why more street food stalls come up to view and a few thrift stores. Is this the last time you'll come here?

The last time you'll see her?

“No. Why would I? Alright, now that we’ve got things all nice and settled…” Eunbi takes your wrist. Tightly. She's not going anywhere, and neither are you. “Back to telling.”

“Telling you what?”

“You really wanna play dumb with me?” She presses the point of her skewer to your stomach, seizing you by the waist. “Get those words out. Now.”

"Hit me."

"Two things, right? So answer me." Eunbi's fingers wrap tighter around your flesh. "Why were you crying in the bathroom? What happened?"

Oh.

That.

You're quiet. You look only forward, not daring to meet Eunbi's eyes. If anything, the stick could dig into your guts and it would be infinitely better than having to admit you’re weak. You’ll have to tell her one day. You’ll have to admit that you’re not a better guy just because you’re the only one who has the balls to approach her—you’re just like the rest of them. Nothing special. Grades barely there. Average, probably not even so. Everything but nothing.

“I wasn’t crying,” you say. You can’t remember what happened anyway, but saying what you do leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

The eomuk stick drops to the ground with barely a click. “Are you lying?”

It’s rare that her voice gets solemn. It’s less rare that you rush behind words to cover yourself.

You fix the mortarboard on her head so that it doesn’t slip past her brows. The staff didn’t quite take her measurements properly, so you had to tip the cap backwards. Good enough. “Think you can figure that one out yourself, Eunbi.”

You give her a look that tells her all that she needs to know. It’s not like you can explain properly with this state of mind. What else can you say?

What else can she say?

Perhaps:

“Please.”

Everything stops.

Eunbi takes your hand, which looks large in comparison to her pale one, and traces a finger along your knuckles. Look down at them—those are the days that’ll go by, the months that’ll lose themselves into the void of timeless time. It could never be the same if fate wills itself to change one of these days, and you wouldn’t even know it. Not even a warning.

“It’s just me.” Her voice thins, and you figure out that she’s sort of like you, too: it’s not rare for her to hide behind words and wit. “I’m your friend. You can tell me anything. Please tell me what happened, okay? I hate seeing you get upset.”

You wish you could tell her that it’s the same on your end. Eunbi’s the girl you let climb in your lap after a thunderstorm provoked her, the girl you comforted after she had her heart broken by the man she was convinced was the one. Through it all, you tried to be strong for her, but there’s little foundation to build from.

The side of your mouth twitches upward. “Do you now?”

Eunbi’s shoulders descend as they release a tired little sigh. She nods, refusing to say anything until you take the lead.

“Well, if you want to hear the whole story,” you say as you ring an arm around her, “I was already having a pretty shit day to begin with.”

“Why?” She chews on her lip. Pink gets on her teeth.

“Didn’t feel like I deserved to graduate.”

See, there are a lot of justifications as to why you didn’t deserve to go on stage and receive your diploma. You aren’t worthy of this toga and hat when you’ve barely accomplished anything compared to the others. They’ve already scored internships and some even sealed some higher positions in well-off companies. You, on the other hand, haven’t got anything going on for you.

That rings true for as far back as first year. You cheated (rarely) but still barely passed. Studied but never got the answers right for the test. Kept a strong face but you’re still in pieces on the inside. Now that you’re graduating, you’re the same guy after all that time.

“I had a… very weird time in there trying to get myself together,” you say. “I did nothing to make mom proud. I just bullshit my way through college.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Eunbi hums quietly. Is that her side pressed to your hip? You suck in a breath.

“I mean, sure, but look at how far they got. I’m still in square one.”

“Different speeds for different people,” she says wisely, looking down at her shoes that begin their steps at the heel. “You don’t have to beat yourself up for going at your own pace.”

You chuckle deprecatingly. “When I’m a dumbass, I should.”

“You’re not.”

“You literally admitted you had a hunch I was stupid when I thought your name was Geumbi.”

“No, no, that was a long time ago. I was like, fourteen. It wasn’t my fault. And neither was it yours.”

She steals a bite from your food. A withdrawal from her as she finishes her robbery and yet you bring her back. Do it by stopping, then wiping away the broth on her lower lip with your thumb. Where did that come from?

Eunbi’s frozen. For a moment, she says nothing. She pauses, then looks up at you. Just a simple look from her makes you weak. There are galaxies in her eyes.

“Actually,” says Eunbi, hand floating to your wrist—her voice is soft, “you’ve got to stop thinking everything’s your fault.”

Where should your touch go when all it yearns for is hers?

It's easier said than done, too. Therapy fills your brokenness yet it drains out anyway. All those methods and you can't stick to one. Everything bad that happens is your fault. It's like you're connected to them all.

“I’ll try." Your words barely pass audibility. Should you be ashamed? "I don’t like this either.”

Eunbi presses her lips to the back of your hand then goes on strolling like she didn’t just save you from another spiral. Haughtiness rides her tone. Yep, she knows she’s your anchor. “You can start by carrying your own bag instead of me doing—” She pauses. All the sass is gone; just pure fear. “Shit.”

Your forehead creases and you look around. Nothing out of the normal, just the birds of seldomness and trees that sway with the wind. “What?”

“Don’t be mad at me.” Eunbi bites her lip anxiously. “Promise me. Please.”

“What is it?”

She tells you.

“Eunbi lost your backpack?”

For the hundredth time: “Yes.”

"Like actually?"

"Yep."

“With the notes and sketches you had? What the hell?”

“God, you don’t have to rub it in like that.” You navigate through the streets and try to catch onto anyone perhaps holding a familiar satchel. Nobody fits the description. “We didn’t notice until we were alone.”

You and Eunbi do the very thing characters in horror movies shouldn’t do: you split up. She returns to the food vendors to ask around. They’d cater better to a face like that. You’re left to do the hard work and follow random people to see if they’ve brought away a bag. You really should have reversed roles, but Eunbi’s gone now. You can’t call it off.

The crowds are starting to dissipate, but that doesn’t make your hunt for your bag easier. Whoever stole it must have thought it was his lucky day. That shit was thrifted off a store, but it could sell for thousands if refined just right.

All those documents, lecture takeaways, pencils…

It’s not like they matter anymore. You wouldn’t dream of going back to school, so they won’t have much use in the long run. But those things played a major part in your life, especially in college. Losing it feels like missing a piece of a puzzle you spent nights completing.

“That’s so damn irresponsible of her. Not like her, too. She's a fucking—”

“—adult. Like me. Yes. We’ve gone over this.”

You must look like a local pervert right now, peering at people’s lower sides in search of your treasure. You hope they don’t get you wrong. Women are already giving you dirty looks though. Shit, you’re going nowhere with this.

“You don’t have to defend her every time she does something,” mutters your friend Sakura from the other line. Her accent has lost its origins a long time ago. Now, it carries teasing scorn.

Where the fuck could your bag be? Turn your head to the right, then to the left. There you go, you’re a fucking bobblehead doll. Feel even more ridiculous. It’s all a little humiliating, exposing a vulnerability to people you don’t know. Hey, look at me! I can’t find something important! And I can’t ask you for help because that would mean I’m a shameless piece of shit with no dignity and I’m too childish to graduate and—

“I’m not defending her, Miyawaki,” you blurt out, a little louder than you’d like. More dirty and judgmental looks. Always the centerpiece, you, and for all the wrong reasons. “Go back to gaming, can you?”

“Ha. You’re the one who called me and said, ‘Oh no, I’m with Eunbi again and I’m so in love with her!’” Sakura lets out a smug little laugh. “Just ask her out, dumbass. That way you won’t have to play attorney all the time.”

“I’m not asking her out, dumbass. She's just a friend.”

“Ask her out or Hyewon will. Hyem’ll say shit like, ‘She can lose my bag anytime—“

“Hey.” Eunbi comes up empty-handed. Her words are heavier with each passing fragment. She doesn’t have to say them for you to know her search was fruitless, just like yours was. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see it. I asked around, too.”

Your hopes are dashed. “Call you back,” you whisper into the phone.

“Tell me how the date goes!”

With a small beep, Sakura is gone, (thankfully.) (And so is her song about you and your best friend sitting in a tree doing something so lewd you could only spell it out.) It’s just you and Eunbi, in the gentle end-of-September sunset.

“Now, would you look at that.” Eunbi laughs sarcastically. Sweat usually drips from the side of the face, right? Not the front? She throws her hands up and places them back down her sides anyway. “I guess I did lose the bag after all.”

Something’s wrong. What is it?

You stare at her, not knowing what to say. It is kind of ironic in a biting-you-back-in-the-ass way that Eunbi’s kidding threat about losing your stuff actually came true.

“You sure you didn’t see it anywhere?” you ask. You’re starting to lose determination. And for what? You did say you didn’t give a damn about it earlier. How easily your words come to you when you only think of yourself.

“W-well—”

Yep, there's definitely something wrong. Kwon Eunbi doesn’t stutter. Unless she’s mocking Minju, who’s almost always nervous, or does aegyo as a punishment, she doesn’t trip over her words. “What?”

“Fuck it, I’m sorry, okay?”

Tears come too easily even to the gutsy Eunbi. It’s always been her Achilles’ heel. She’s a great and friendly leader, but one nice word that hits her right where it needs it or a bad day has her reduced to sobs. She smiles through them, wiping the teardrops with the end of her wrist.

“And don’t tell me it’s fine just because I’m crying,” she says. The frustration gets to her and soon her sobs attract attention. “It was, a-a shitty thing to do on my end. I know it’s not okay, but I’m sorry.”

She’s a tearful painter of emotions under a night littered with starry skies.

She doesn’t have to hold the brush for the two of you all the time.

Take the brush from her just like how you take her into your arms. Eunbi says not to absolve her of her sin, but you’re a god whose mercy merges with bias. You like her too much. There’s something that pulls at your chest whenever she breaks down.

The tension partially leaves her stiff shoulders. She sniffles, and it’s an attack straight to your heart. It’s so rare that she becomes so weak.

“Eunbi—”

She shakes her head before you could go on. “Don’t say it. Please. Let me make it up to you.”

“I’ll say it anyway. It’s fine. I can’t use the stuff in there anyway.”

“I said no. Hmph.” Her tears blot the front of your shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I would cry like this. Don't feel guilty, okay? Okay? I just don’t like giving you a hard time.”

“You never could.” You’d trade more than a backpack for Eunbi’s wellbeing.

Somehow, Eunbi cries more. Her hug circles your waist in almost a chokehold, and you realize that the Kwon Eunbi from years back—the one who made everyone call her Madison, the one who’s always glued to your side—is still here. She’s just older, a little braver, and prettier than you could ever imagine.

Emphasis on the last. Her lashes carry her tears in a biblically beautiful manner, like you ought to kneel and venerate her. The southward curl of her lips is so cute yet painful that you’d give anything to see them lift again.

“You don’t have to say I didn’t do anything wrong…” she tells you quietly. You could hear the guilt infecting her words, evident in the cracks of her voice.

“Well.” You touch your mouth on her hairline. “You have a way of making me say it.”

There’s no mourning for your bag. You suspect that there was none at all, perhaps just shock? Must be why you’re cradling her, like a child would to a doll at night, and letting her feel your touch. Maybe the way she’s closing herself into your embrace is platonic, because at the end of day, you’re still friends. But you don’t feel her breath on your skin for a while after you indirectly forgive her.

Eunbi lifts her face from the comfort of your front. Pouting, she then laughs a little. “What are you doing? You don’t have to be so sweet.”

“I could be sweeter,” you offer. She sighs loudly, tired of your mischief; you grin and pat the small of her back. “Come on, let’s go home.”

The night has downed the temperature, and now the breeze whips her small form back and forth. It’s too cold for her to be walking with no sleeves or at least trousers. So you lift your toga up and slip it around her. It’s bigger than the one she had and lost with your bag. Her hands barely fight their way out of being hidden under the long blue sleeves.

Her eyes reduce to suspicious slits while a smile pastes itself on her lips. “You’re a flirt, you know that?”

You shrug casually. “Born and raised.”

“That’s not how you use it,” Eunbi says, wiping the last of her tears.

"Might as well go on. I opened the can of worms, now I'll lie in it."

"Jesus."

"What? I made my bed more than I could, now I'll eat it."

“Wow, it’s like you never listened to professor June.”

Wasn’t it just afternoon a few minutes ago? The sky has become a blueish black landscape. The only sources that provide illumination to the streets and alleys are the streetlights and moon, plus the twelve especially bright stars etched into the map of constellations.

“Okay, miss Oh My Gadnis,” you fire back. She gives you a dirty look. You immediately take it back.

She throws her head back and lets darkness take over her vision for a while. Gulp. The light welcomes itself back and she lets out a prolonged, wistful breath. Tiny sobs glaze it. “It’s Minju’s fault. She was always shouting that in the dorm. Makes me kind of miss her.”

In the last years of university, Eunbi made friends with eleven girls. She was the leader of their friend group, the one who made plans and provided solutions. But as graduation crept closer and eventually caught up with them, she won’t be seeing them much again.

“I can always drive you to your meet-ups. Didn’t get a driver’s license for nothing.”

“You don’t have to. I already fucked up your day.”

“You didn’t. It’s just a bag, little raindrop.”

The chilly atmosphere tracks your nighttime conversation with your best friend. What do the songbirds, sleeping yet eavesdropping, think of you and her? Does the moon brighten to increase your shadows? It’s like they’re listening in.

She looks down at the edges of her shoes as they mark their path to home. “What brand was it? I’ll buy you a new one. I-I’ll send the notes to you.”

“No can do. Just do this one thing.”

And now, the night quiets.

When time has chipped away at the lack of lines on your faces and brought forth hell, you’ll be there. Together. You won’t go back here anymore, but there will be prettier places for you and her. It’s what you pray for though you’re not all that spiritual, but you know it’s what you want.

“Let’s… be friends until we’re old and miserable,” you ask of her. Even admitting that you want to be with her makes you shy, and you’re anything than that when you’re around her. So why is this happening? Why are you doing this? “Spend more time together. Doesn’t have to be something grand.”

Eunbi blinks at you. There are undertones to your words, some kind of hidden message a veteran film critic could pick apart if your life were a movie. You’re asking her to be with you, yet there’s depths to it, almost like you’re telling her another thing.

“Sure,” she whispers, nodding. She can do that.

Again, a lot of subtext. But that’s for another night.

“Oh,” you add, “and be my backpack since you lost it anyway. Get up.”

Eunbi flinches, but she’s smiling the second you lower yourself for her.

“Come on. You’re tired, little raindrop. I’ll take you home.”

She sighs. She climbs on your back anyway. You support her legs with your forearms and boost her up. You pay your gratitude to the dark for hiding your flushed cheeks at the feeling of your friend’s body pressed so tight to yours.

“Please don’t do silly shit,” she begs, placing her face next to your neck and fearing the worst.

She’s right to be frightened. Lowering yourself nearly to the ground in preparation, you yell: “Here comes the rollercoaster!”

“No, no, no—ahhhh!”

You zoom Eunbi in the night, feet picking up speed and racing through the road. Her arms are rounded around your neck. She shrieks in delight, and while along the way your legs start to ache, you’re just glad to hear that laugh again.

Gently push the door to your house open with the help of Eunbi's keys, which come with a keychain of a knitted rabbit. Darkness greets you, spreading itself around the house like water.

“Why is it so dark?” whispers Eunbi, looking around and twisting her arms around your neck tighter.

“You’re such a baby," you chuckle. "It's nighttime, of course it's gonna be dark."

Eunbi whines and squeezes her legs around you. The feel of her fluffy thighs in the curve of your palms—it's… something. You can't think like that about her when she's your best friend, but she's so close, so perfect on top of you that your mind runs with ideas.

"Alright, fine. Turn on the light."

"Where?"

"You’ve slept over so many times and you don't know where it is?"

"Doesn't count when I can't see, genius."

"Right here." Twist your head to the wall, where a light switch stays. "Just near the door."

Eunbi reaches out her hand, and you're cohorts with the dark when you secretly inch the fluff of your sleeve against her fingers. She screeches, suddenly struggling, calling your name and whoever Fuck is.

This is the way of your prank backfiring on you: her limbs are surprisingly strong that her feather-light weight becomes too much. Your legs start to shiver. Your hands weren’t made to suffer this much wildness.

"Something touched me!" Eunbi screams, kicking you in the spine. You try to hold on to her but her legs don't behave. "A mouse, a mouse, a—"

You start to laugh. She's like a proactive rabbit trying to beat you up. "Calm down, it was just—"

"My hand, it touched my hand! Disgusting piece of shit, get it off—"

"Eunbi!"

She both clings onto you and pushes you away, scared of what lurks in the dark. You can't take it anymore and drop miserably to the floor. The tiles knock your back out. Eunbi won’t let go of you; her screams never stop.

"Help! My hand—"

"What's going on here?"

The light flickers on, letting you see what's happening. You're in the living room that connects portallessly to the dining room. The ceiling generates dizzy circles above you. And then there's Sakura, an unexpected presence, standing near you.

"Whoa there," she remarks, smug like she’s a journalist who caught a forbidden celebrity couple. "There's a time and place for this, right?"

For a moment, you wonder what she's talking about. You sit up and realize Eunbi's squeezed herself on your lap, with your arms tangled into hers during the mess.

Flush red. Sakura will never let you hear the end of this: you cradling Eunbi on the floor, with her looking so comfortable snuggled up to your touch. “Something couple something something perfect for each other,” that's what Sakura would say.

"It was just a prank," you mumble to the girl on your lap. Pat her head. Show her the fluffy fabric cuff of your sleeve. "See? There's no mouse."

"What the hell? You're such an asshole!" Eunbi's blade-sharp gaze, it cuts through you. You want to keep bleeding, It's unfair how pretty she is even when she's angry.

"Hey, I can do pranks, too." Turn to Sakura, because the next thing you're wondering is how she's here. "How did you get in, Miyawaki?"

"I drove," she says, like it explains everything. "Should we eat? Your dad left some food in the microwave."

Eunbi turns shy at Sakura's knowing look as she rises. She pulls you up. The veins in her forearm flex.

Sakura leaves anyway to fetch the food. You can smell spring rolls and freshly-cooked rice. Your stomach churns—running with Eunbi on your back has burned all that eomuk and left you hungry.

You look at Eunbi questioningly. "Do you know why she's in my house?"

"No.” She returns your curious expression. “I was hoping you would tell me."

“Christ, what's she doing here?"

"I'm here," butts in the Japanese girl, bringing forth a plate of crispy rolls and utensils, "because I personally want to help Eunbi unnie in making it up to you.”

She takes the liberty of scooping chunks of rice onto your plates. You dig your fork through one of the spring rolls, place it on Eunbi’s small plate, then get one for yourself. The wooden image of Jesus on watches you closely. You’re suddenly aware of every little sin you’ve made.

“Listen,” says Sakura, and you do just that.

So here’s Sakura’s brilliant idea, funded by her and her friends (somehow, Eunbi doesn’t get to contribute a cut): a trip for Christmas.

It’s out in Seoul, where it’s snowing at that time of the year, where you’ll get to roam the city and buy whatever you want—all on the house. There’s ice skating to do and restaurants to try, each new and exciting. You’ve never been to Seoul before, but the way Sakura narrates the whole plan makes you look forward to it.

She talks about how her new job is paying her great, and how the fact that the other girlfriends Eunbi has are chipping in makes it an all-in-all win. It’s a friend’s duty, she says, to stick up for when one of them is down, and since Eunbi made a mistake, she’ll gladly take the blame. You’re surprised at how dedicated the girls are. You’ve never seen a bond so deep that they’d pay thousands just for compensation. And for just a thrifted old bag, too.

It’s inevitable that you agree. You have nothing to lose. This is a chance of a lifetime, and you’d love to have a vacation anyway.

Sakura only has one stipulation:

You have to go with Eunbi.

Now it’s not that Eunbi is hard to be around, but she kinda is. It’s not in the usual way—she’s your best friend, not any other girl, and she’s not overly dependent that you have to act as her father or something. She can take care of herself, which can’t be said about a lot of people.

But this is what sets you off: you’ll be the only one with her in Seoul. A guy and a girl sharing a hotel room. Would it be awkward? Of course. How do you tell her that you won’t look when she dresses up? What do you tell her if you find her bra in your sheets?

Still, she’s your best friend. It shouldn’t be awkward around friends, especially when you’re on the journey of spending more time together. That’s the whole point of the relationship: to be free and careless around someone. It’s supposed to be like that until you see how pretty she actually is, with the flow of her long hair and the crinkle of her eyes.

That’s where it gets difficult. Really, really difficult.

“Hey,” she says, and that’s what breaks your reverie. Looking up at her, however, has you drowned in another.

Black-framed glasses sit on her nose, curling at the ends behind her ears. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, some fringes flying free from the band. It’s such a deadly attack. Then there’s the graphic shirt that hugs her too tight and the denim shorts that cut too close to the starts of her thighs.

You gulp. When you thought Eunbi couldn’t get prettier, she proves you wrong.

“You like it?” she asks. She twirls around. “I got glasses.”

“I see that,” you reply. Why is your chest immoveable?

Eunbi grins. “I couldn’t say that until I went to EO.”

You force out a laugh. You look at your phone, scrolling through your feed in search of a little reprieve from how pretty she is. At this point, it’s a constant run around your mine: Kwon Eunbi is so pretty. And she’s not just pretty, too. That’s what makes her so beautiful: the duo of feistiness and painful attractiveness. Can you say that? No. But that doesn’t mean you can’t think it.

The first thing Eunbi does when she takes the seat opposite you is swipe a finger through your ice cream. Glare at her. She beams at you. Your reprimand dissolves.

“How’d you know where I was?”

“Lucky guess,” she says. She decorates the sides of her face with her palms as she looks at you curiously. “What you thinking about?”

You. “I’m still not sure about the whole trip thing.”

"Come on," she says, and that pout knows how to break away at your attempts to ever hold her accountable for anything. "It's only weird if you make it weird."

Weird is fitting for October anyway. Should have ordered that Halloween special instead of this.

You were a solo customer in the ice cream parlor until Eunbi came out of nowhere. She always knows where to find you. Telepathy? Power of friendship? Power of something more than that?

You don't want to think about it.

"It's Sakura," you say, testily, as you shove another spoonful of double dutch in your mouth. The sweetness can't melt your anxiety. "It's always weird when it's Sakura."

Eunbi considers this. "What about when it’s me?"

“What?”

“I said: is it weird when it’s me?”

She’s clever at finding ways to make you stutter. “No,” you tell her quickly, “it’s not you, I promise. Just… it’s only us.”

You and Eunbi, alone in a hotel room. A straight man and woman in the same place, with nobody else around. You have fantasies about how it ends, but you know it'll never happen. But the thing is: you're stupid. You're going to do something you shouldn't, like watch her as she pulls long stockings over her legs. Think about more details than the shadow of her body on the glass shower panels let on. Want your best friend when it's everything you should never do.

“Is that so bad?” Eunbi sighs and looks around, thinking. As she takes in the jolly retro style of the parlor and the waitresses, she continues, “I mean, if you want to, I can find another way to, like, make things good. I can tell Sakura to call it off—”

“No!”

She looks at you surprisedly. Always, you speak before you think. To be fair, there’s a single thought behind your too-fast outburst: you can’t let this opportunity pass by. But rather than the grand city lights and expensive restaurants, you think about her.

You cover your mouth. Shit. You have no worries about fucking up in front of her. The worst thing she’d do is make a reference to it in future conversations or joke about it. But right now you’ve just revealed your true intentions.

You’re lucky Eunbi never takes things to heart.

“Okay, fine, geez.” She chuckles lightly, shaking her head at you. “You really need a vacation, huh?”

The only thing you need is silver rain, but you somehow always wield an umbrella.

“Do you like it?”

It’s what Eunbi says, on her knees before she sucks your tip. Groan you must because that tongue is too talented. It’s a skill you could only make faint guesses where it originated. For that, you don’t care anyway—not when she’s slipping and wrapping those perfect lips around your cock, the intent suction making you reel into her face. Almost knocks her specs away, and you wouldn’t want that to happen, would you? Her appeal just goes to an all-time high with them.

“Fuck, yes, Eunbi,” you say. “I love—”

“No. Now that I think about it, you don’t actually get to speak.” She teases your testicles and nurses on one, her hand attending to your stiff erection. “Not until I have my way with you.”

And she does. She switches back to your cock then, like an expert, she bobs her little head up and down, taking you in her throat like it was nothing. The chest of her tight shirt is stained with precum, and some of the foretelling liquid is in her hair. But when has she cared about that? Never, not in the time continuum of this room. She only likes to keep the propriety of servicing you, no matter how red her knees are or how sore her jaw gets.

Eunbi teases her tongue on the lower side of your cock then brings her lips up. You hiss. Her throat welcomes you again, and, with a hand on your thigh, she makes it work. She’s choking, and yet the clever little thing is so diligent with her work. Through choke and sob, those teary eyes looking up at you for validation, she continues. Spit dots your cock and so does lipstick. It’s smudged at the side of her chin.

She licks your cockhead repeatedly. It’s swollen, and she takes advantage of it by licking. And sucking. Then licking it again so rapidly you start to shake.

There’s a greedy glimmer in her tears. “Gonna cum?” she asks. “Please? I want you to.”

Fingers wrapping around your base, she goes down again. Her nose touches your pubic area. You can feel her hot breath tickling your flesh when she rises for a brief and subtle breath. Then it repeats: Kwon Eunbi is forcing her head up and down, lips wet with saliva and precum. The texture of her tight throat and the welcoming pleasure of her mouth brings you too close. Too damn close—

Fill her throat with white so much that she squeals in surprise. A little adorable giggle, then some more hardworking sucking to work your cum out of you. You want to tell her that you’ve become too sensitive, that she shouldn’t continue. But then you never want it to stop.

“Fuck! Eunbi, Eunbi, Eunbi—”

That’s what you say when she continues despite her breaths getting lost.

“Good girl. Good pretty girl.”

That’s what you say, with your hand on her ponytail, tugging it so she gets access to the oxygen she willingly deprived herself of. Her mouth’s filled with your semen. She’s gasping. Her chin’s lifted to the sky but her eyes gaze only at you. Your approval isn’t what she needs to get by solely, but god, does it make her think so.

“I love you.”

That’s what she says.

But like everything else—this blowjob that made you fail November’s challenge, the sweet talk, her on her knees, her actually liking you—

It could only ever be in your imagination.

December couldn’t come any sooner. Packing was an eventful occasion. You bunched up a lot of underwear in your carry-on like you had a habit of pissing yourself. It was only when you got to the airport that you realized that in all the rage to get clean underwear, you didn’t bring socks.

The twenty-third was a day you both dreaded and yearned for. But then you’re in the airplane, traveling through clouds you used to stare up at, and Eunbi’s beside you. Isn’t she always? She falls asleep a couple of times in the airport, head on your shoulder, and you pat her knee to slumber her. Her Sanrio neck pillow is of no use when you’re a better one.

Why can't you stop staring? She's been a tear in your heart for a long time, making it pulse and ache, but now she's gotten so much prettier, so much more friendly that it isn't really unexpected that you fall for her. Is that your confession to yourself? Perhaps. You could only ever say it to your own heart.

Picture this, (and, matching that of the many other scenes you’ve dreamed of her in, it would only be real for a while): Eunbi's wearing that shirt from the day she first sported glasses. On your lap. Looking at you with an aura any man with a heterosexual drawing could read. Hands on the edges of her knees.

She's leaning over, and she's saying—

"That little witch,” she spits, shoving her carry-on, “I can't believe we fly at seven and we had to be here at two a.m., I'm gonna kill Sakura!"

Close enough?

"You got a mouth on you, huh?" you remark. Pull her wheeled suitcase to the mouth of the plane.

Seoul is a paradise. You could see the greatness even from above. A couple of times you have Eunbi wake up to look, and she does. Her evident happiness shines brighter than the city lights.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs excitedly. Even her eyes that are heavy with sleep appreciate the view.

"So it is."

But you could think of other things that are prettier. Other people.

It's autumn, and the golden leaves are starting to fall. They crumple beneath your feet and release crackles that bring a strange sense of satisfaction. Step on another one. And another one. Somehow all your troubles are gone.

Look at her.

She’s reading from a book, paging through leaves containing yellowed words. She looks like a nerdy girlfriend with the new look, which you still haven’t gotten over. In any case, she’s so beautiful, and again, your heart is sore.

Eunbi’s deep into the story woven with Shakespearean words, but she catches your prolonged stare. Blinking, she lifts her head. Smiles. Cocks her head sweetly to the side and you swear she can’t look any better than this: long dark hair swaying ‘round her face and glasses making her more adorable. Says, “What ya lookin’ at, handsome?”

Yeah, all gone.

Eunbi loves playing around with nicknames, and she must think you’re vain enough for her to use that when she wants to rile you up. (She does.) You roll your eyes, and she laughs at her own ridiculousness and your attempt to be dismissive.

“Someone who’s prettier than ever,” you reply. Raise your chin. “You know her?”

“You really love me, huh?”

“Never said it was you.”

“Oh, darling.” Eunbi licks her lip. “I know it’s me.”

Well, shit.

Eunbi’s the only girl you know who could respond to your teasing. The only person, for that matter. Even the men start to back away. She’s the sole person who can handle you, and you yourself could barely handle her. Good friends don’t suddenly lose their breath when she gets near. Good friends don’t think of ever, ever crossing that borderline between platonicness and romance.

So it’s safe to say you’ve been a bad friend all along.

“Since you’re, like, so obsessed with me…” Eunbi rises and hands you her phone. The phone case is red—of course. “Take a picture of me, please?”

She rises from the bench, and you wince inside at how good she looks. It should seriously be prohibited to look that attractive. You've tried to keep your head clear of her, but then she stands up in those teeny tiny safety shorts, fucking hugging her thighs and that supple backside. Why did she choose to go in that? Not even a skirt to go with it, or dress pants? You’re not one to nitpick at what others wear, but you feel something stirring inside you when she dresses more freely.

And red—it just looks so good on her, doesn't it? That simple tight sweater has you begging for forgiveness. You'd go to a priest, confess your sinful yearning, and you don't think that he'd forgive you after how you describe it.

"Will do," you say, chewing on your lip. "Get to posing. We don't have all day."

"Not to burst your bubble," she tells you, " but we do. But I'm a good girl, so I'll do as you say."

Swallow. Why the fuck is she like this?

"You sure as shit aren't, little rain—"

She bends over.

The question repeats in your head. She bends over, (forward anyway), but if any shameless man were to walk behind her, they'd get an eyeful of her butt. You want to tell her she shouldn't do this, especially when her bottoms grip her thighs as a sole factor. But she's holding her bag in the edges of her fingers and angling her head to the side, and you know you’re over.

"—drop."

Eunbi smirks, haughty and proud. "Cat got your tongue back there?"

"Not even close. Give me a smize."

Proud of yourself for recovering quickly, you snap a photo of Eunbi. The look she gives the camera (you?): relaxed brows, slight pout, the black eyewear being the cherry on top—it's not easy baggage to carry for a man like you.

You put the phone down. Take a breather; you always have to when you're with her. Kwon Eunbi, national heart player. Kwon Eunbi, number one prank puller. Kwon Eunbi—

—your friend. Your best friend.

"What's wrong?" All that confidence evaporates from her as she walks up to you, concern taking its place.

She can be really scary sometimes. How could she be a flirt one second then a sweetheart the next? You're kept guessing, and you're guilty for liking girls like that. But as you study her, look at Kwon Eunbi—her hair and the band that sits atop it, her lips, her face—you kind of figure out that there's no other girl like her.

And that scares you.

"Nothing," you lie. "You wanna go get coffee or something?"

"Actually," she states seriously, rising, "I do wanna go get coffee or something."

The twenty-fourth. The malls are crowded with people buying last minute presents, so you and Eunbi sat on the bench outside. It might be Seoul, but you’re not fighting your way through a crowd. While you stayed there and waited for time to feel wrong, a rich woman mistook you for a beggar, pitied you, and gave you a coin. As you stared at the bust on the metal, Eunbi laughed so hard you were not totally uncertain that she was going to throw up.

"We should leave," Eunbi says, "before someone tries to bring you to a damn church basement."

And the scene repeats itself again: you talk with Eunbi, like you've done a million times, as you go to your home for this night and the next. You talk about everything, because conversations come so easily when it's her. Whether it's about stupid people or school or what happened that day, the words flow naturally.

Eunbi bites her lip, hands on her hips. "It's getting late."

"That a problem for you?"

"No. Nope. It's just that… I can't believe it's going to be Christmas tomorrow."

Christmas lost its spark back when you got into college. You've graduated and still you find no solace in the stockings and evergreen trees. School—oh, its deadlines, its pressure, its it-won't-matter-in-five-years-but-I'll-make-you-think-it-will papers—really ruined things for you. Forever.

She drags her vision around everything: the sky of stars, the roads that are just a bit cleaner than the ones at your home, the claw machine arcade just across the sidewalk. She goes there, and you follow. Don’t you always?

"It’s Christmas and we're here," she continues. She manages a snortle. "Doesn't your dad feel lonely? I know mine does."

"He likes you, Eunbi. He doesn't mind."

You pull out a bill and slip it into the old exchanger. Sure enough, tokens spill from the gap. Count them in your palm. Divide it between the two of you. You and Eunbi always share, no matter how hard you try to make it seem annoying. You only ask for one drink and one straw. You split rice balls from that trip in grade eleven when your parents forgot to give you allowance for lunch, up until college when the two of you were too broke to eat anything else. What’s yours is Eunbi’s, and what’s Eunbi’s is yours.

"What first?" She studies the old arcade. It's filled with machines that are either anciently old or freshly new. No owner patrols the areas, but instead, a CCTV does so mounted perfectly on the corner of the walls. It watches your every move, reminding you to behave.

"Wanna get a Piglet?"

“A what?”

“A Piglet. You know, the one who looks like an armadillo.”

“What the fuck is an armadillo?” Eunbi says the English name with spite, almost spitting it into the ground.

“Forget it. I mean like the cartoon pig people say looks like you?”

"Oh. Nah. A good ol’ vibrating egg for me." She thrusts a thumb into the glass of an 18+ claw machine, where it tempts the player with boxed sex toys and hentai copies.

Heat flares at your cheeks. Now it’s not that you’re thinking of it, but it’s Eunbi’s dirty jokes that make you think of stuff you shouldn’t. Her on her bed, legs spread wide open as the toy pulses on her clit, her throwing her head back and crying…

"Spend my money wisely, please?" you croak out. Slip a token into one machine and start to crank at the lever.

"I'll be good."

Your hand curls tighter around the ball of the lever. You hate how you picture double meanings with everything she says. She doesn't deserve that. And you don't either.

Eunbi prances over to the Piglet machine anyway. You want to snicker at her antics, but it gets broken when you see her bend down. The jeans could only hug her backside so much. Her shirt lifts and you could see her tummy—that flat, soft midriff that you’ve wrapped your hands around when you guide her back on the occasion she runs too fast. Or when she needs to move away. She doesn’t mind; she touches you more freely anyway. But you wonder if she’d let you come up behind her and place your hands all over it, not as friends but as something more.

Because for a friend, she sure does take up a lot of your mind.

Put your focus on this keychain. Yes, this one. This keychain is cute. Would be nice to bring something home to your father. You guide the claw to the nearest one and slam the button. To your surprise, the metal actually hinges around the keychain. You could feel your soul lift up to your throat. It just needs to make it all the way to the hole—

“Shit!” you curse as the claw lets go. That can’t be fair, right? It was doing so well, then it just spread open again. What a waste of time and money.

“Loser,” giggles Eunbi. She shows off a Piglet stuffie, pink and simpering.

“Wow, really needed to hear that. Thanks, Eunbi.”

She lifts her shoulders. “Hey, for what it’s worth: I just got lucky.”

Tokens become nothing to you. You try again and again for a prize to make it your money’s worth, only to end up with nothing. Eunbi scores a candy from the kids’ section, and you could see her consider trying out the 18+ ones. The appeal of the Playboy magazines and the Japanese girls looking back lewdly at her with barely no underwear on is beguiling.

“Do you think I should try to get a dildo or something?” Eunbi asks, running her knuckles along the markered glass.

“You don’t even know if it’s clean.” You’re leaning against the outside exchanger, staring into nothingness. But you always manage a little response for Eunbi, as absurd as her questions are and as wild your thoughts are about her. “You might get an STD or some shit.”

Her face squeezes up in disgust. “Ew, right. Forget it.”

You feel her warm body press into your side later. You’re still surprised even though the girl never leaves you alone. Then her head is on your shoulder, just like in the airport, and your heart surges. How do you deal with her? Pet her arm, and somehow she finds a way to sink deeper in your touch. She looks up at you and offers you a kind smile.

“I got you the keychain,” she says. She drops the Seoul keychain on the hand she forced you to open and looks away modestly. “Saw you sweating over it.”

“Thanks.” You look down at it on your palm and feel warm inside. She really is so sweet. “Appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” Eunbi replies quietly. “It’s the least I could do.”

She purses her lips tightly and exhales through her nostrils. Guilt floats in her face like a dark shadow.

“If it’s about the bag, I already told you it’s okay. I mean, it’s just a bag.”

“So? It means a lot to you.”

Your thoughts race with your words and win, forcing them out. “You do, too.”

Is she blushing? No. No, can’t be. But she’s stroking your palm with the keychain on it, a little tilt at the edge of her lips. That’s kind of close to that. Friends do this, right?

Her touch feels both foreign and familiar. You want to reel back and apologize for something you didn’t do, but then you want to hold her. Make her happy. Is that alright?

“Speaking of which,” she says pensively, staring into nothingness like you are, “what do you think happened to it?”

“The bag? I dunno.” Bring back her attention—eyes on me—by actually holding her hand. Sometimes you could be so brave. Toy with it, swinging your joined hands in the air then pressing them to your chest. You laugh at the suspicion clear on her face. “Probably in some lost-and-found counter. Or someone actually stole it and was like, ‘yep, hit the jackpot.’”

“Like trouvaille,” she says.

“What?”

“Trouvaille,” Eunbi repeats. She breaks her gaze from the space on the road and looks down at her sneakers. “A lucky find.”

A lucky find.

Staring at her is your pastime at this point. Your focus glazes over her once more, and you drink her all up. Two locks of her hair are pulled and tied at the back, making her look absolutely gorgeous. You’re lost in her eyes, like they’re an ocean and you’re on a raft floating on its waves. And of course, those glasses—you’re convinced they were made to make you want to do sinful things to her.

But the urge to sweep her in your arms takes over, and it outweighs your lust. Or are they equal? She looks so beautiful, yet so handsome. So pure and sweet, yet such a bombshell.

“Forgive me, but I must reiterate.” She tilts her head with a silly little grin. “What ya looking at?”

You’ve figured it all out. You wonder why you were ever worried.

"Well," you lead a runaway lock of dark hair back behind her earlobe, "guess I’m just lucky to have found you. Even if you're a nuisance."

Her eyes crease up into half-moons. "And I'm lucky to have met you."

"Even… ?"

"Nothing after. Just that: I'm lucky to have met you."

You never meant to actually do it. But it’s become too silent, like the world is leaving the cards on your table to play. And there’s her certain hold on your fingers, like she wants you to do it. There’s the birds tweeting as they gather into the trees for the night, waiting for the show of a lifetime. The stars, too, are bright tonight.

So who could blame you for nailing her to the claw machine and finally, finally kissing her? Her lips are as soft as they look, and you’re melting in them. You’re still holding her hand, keeping it pinned up to her side. Your tongues come out to play and it’s so much better than you imagined, so much better than your stupid little fantasies. Your eyelids shut, too, because this is an experience you never want to end.

That collarbone will be the end of you. It peeks from the neckline of her shirt, and you suddenly have all the courage to seal your lips on it. If only you could have mustered the same courage back in college to socialize, but you’re glad you saved it all up for this moment. Eunbi’s moan is sharp, and it almost makes you falter, almost makes you stop. Nope, can’t do that. When she’s letting out all these other little sounds as you have your way with her, there’s no way you’d let up.

“Hmmm…” Eunbi twists her head to the side and cries out. It unintentionally grants you access to her flawless neck. You leave some flaws: purple bruises she whines at, harsh open-mouthed kisses that trail saliva all over that pale skin. “I need to tell you something.”

You brush your mouth behind her ear. You can smell her faint perfume. “And that is?”

“I lied about wanting to get a drink.” She scoffs at her desperation, then sighs. She gives in either way. “I fucking hate coffee. Hate it. Hate it like a mother hates her firstborn. Or something. Just hate it, hate it, hate it.”

You shake your head. What an unfitting time to say that. Cradle her anyway. “Then why did you get some with me?” you ask.

“I-I don’t know. Guess I just wanted to be with you.”

Wait, so what about all those times you invited her for a study session at the cafe? She had always ordered a latte. Has she been hiding that silly secret each second, just for a chance to hang out with you? To have your company?

You didn’t know coffee would flatter you this much.

You pause. Does she like you? As much as you like her? You don’t know. You’re momentarily flustered. Step back and scratch the back of your neck, similar to a boy having been caught doing something wrong. Kissing your best friend is something wrong.

You shouldn’t be doing this. A friendship between two heterosexual people of the opposite gender could stray to lengths that are both painful as they are excruciating if someone dared to touch the other. So, if you kissed Eunbi, who could predict the consequences? Chances are you’ve ruined your friendship forever.

Then she grabs your waist and pulls you close. Kisses your chin ‘cause that’s all she can reach and she can barely reach it at all. But it sends shivers down your knees.

“Come on,” she whispers breathily. “Don’t be shy. Touch me.”

Foolish to stop and think. Your immediate yet hesitant reaction is to give her jawline one final kiss and slip your hands under her shirt.

“Oh!”

Alright, you’re a lot more confident now. You pull the cups of her bra down and start to squeeze. It’s no secret that she’s got a blessed bust, and now you get to feel it. Her nipples are hard in your palms and the flesh in your hold is just so soft. You could never get enough.

Eunbi laughs. Sort of; it’s kind of a moan, too. She lifts her chin to the sky as you knead and knead and knead. “H-how long… have you been waiting to do that?”

It’s an achievement making her stutter. More stammering breaths leave her lips when you thumb her nipples. Press, thumb, pinch, repeat. It’s how you find out she’s just so damn sensitive, and of course you’re abusing that fact.

“You don’t want to know,” you reply, brushing your lips over hers.

She gasps. “Again.”

“Huh?”

Eunbi kisses you. “Kiss me. Like this. Again.”

Is anyone aware, by the way, that you are completely incapable of refusing her?

You kiss her, like she asked. She sighs happily, her tongue suddenly coming out to play. More sensations of softness are at hand, and now you’re battling for the upper hand with your tongue responding to her gestures.

Two can play this game. You slip your tongue through her lips and she sucks it, almost like she’s aware of who’d be controlling who. You force her up to the claw machine glass (plastic? It’s pretty sturdy) so hard that your kissing isn’t gentle by any means. It’s leaving her breathless.

“You’re… you’re good,” she hums, when you finally reward her with a break. “I wanted to be the first girl you did that to.”

The revelation definitely isn’t linked to how hard you’re nibbling on her jawline. Her shuddering breaths are everything.

“Actually,” adds Eunbi, “I wanted to be the first everything for you. First kiss, first love, first time. But you just had to date Hyewon, huh?”

“Jealous?”

“Nope. Never. Just, oh, don’t stop–” Eunbi winces, ribbons her fingers through your own more. “Oh…”

Your tongue swirls on her neck. Meanwhile, your hands are busier. You squeeze Eunbi’s fantastic breasts so that her leg pulls you close. Your obvious erection pushes against her center. Her hips start to move, bringing herself closer to your rod and getting off on the feeling. Her little whines increase.

Then you remember something.

“Have to.” You retrieve your fingers from under her shirt. Regretfully. Fix her bra back on her.

She’s near tears. “No…”

“There’s a CCTV, little raindrop. You wanna get arrested?”

You’re out of breath. You pull the ends of her shirt down to hide evidence of the crime, though there’s the camera witness to it, and try to lead her outside. She refuses to budge. Her glare is clear.

“If that means you get to fuck me till I’m begging and drooling,” she says solidly, “then take me to court.”

You take her home instead.

She looks frail waiting at the glass doors as you purchase some contraceptives from the convenience store, almost whining when you take too long. How the fuck do they have lube, too? You buy that and all the contraceptives they have, because if you want to have Eunbi, you gotta do it fast and safe.

She manages to wait on the elevator, hand wrapped tightly around your palm. Then, when you get to the room, she pushes you down the bed as if she were actually taller and stronger. She truly is an actress—wasn’t she just squirming impatiently not less than five minutes ago? Directors would look at her for sure, a face to remember among plain ones, and say, “Oh, this is our trouvaille. This is what’ll make us billions.”

But now, she’s all yours. Your little trouvaille.

There’s pride in that.

“Fuck. Can’t wait to have someone like you.” She kisses you. Again. Another one to your chest. She’s a little greedy with the way she devours you. But you’ll spoil her as much as she wants; curve your body up so her cushiony lips could have more. Your back is buried into the white sheets. “Someone who is you.”

Grasp the small of her neck—her kisses are surprisingly passionate. "Wait,” you say, “you're not a virgin?"

It doesn’t bother you; just surprises you. Eunbi’s had a fair amount of suitors and boyfriends, and plenty looked too frail to even hold her hand.

"Virgin? Hell no," she replies, like it’s the most unbelievable thing she’s ever heard. The center of her jeans grinds against the mountain in yours. She bites her lip. "Mmm. You think with all this hotness a dude would go, 'Oh, I only want to take care of her'?"

"I do want to take care of you," you murmur, caressing her waist.

"Oh?" A grin stretches on her face. Her teeth still trap her lower lip, and it makes your stomach tighten. Your jeans, too. "Tell me more."

“For one,” you sit up and play with the belt loops on her pants, “I’d like to help you out of your clothes.”

“Typical,” she mutters amusedly. “But I’m not complaining.”

Eunbi continues grinding for long seconds that already feel like a taste of heaven, then rises. Her legs are jelly. You can’t imagine how wet she must be, and to think you’d finally see exactly how. She undoes your zipper, and you in turn pull down hers. Your pants are a whirlpool on the floor. It’s only when you roll on the condom and help her out of the shirt that you realize what she’s wearing:

Calvin Klein, from bust to bottom. Her navel sits above the band of the underwear. Her midriff looks even more perfect bare. Flatness travels through its front until it swells largely at her breasts, which look heavy behind the gray bra. Her hair falls messily over her shoulders, a sea of wildness, and her smile is dorkier with those glasses.

“Fuck.” Your Adam’s apple bobs. “Eunbi...”

“Will you?” she challenges.

You stand up and grab her ass to usher her closer, then kiss her. She smirks; she expected that to happen. Of course, the little devil, always getting her way. But you can’t help but give and give and give; you turn your positions around, push her gently so that she lands on the bed, and continue to kiss her.

Silky legs curl around you. Behind the fabric, you could already feel how wet she is. Drive your hips up because the friction is too good. The wet spot of arousal on her underwear prods your clothed erection.

Eunbi screams loudly. Chastise her with a squeeze on her butt cheek. She yelps, and your lips land on her again. “Easy there.”

“I hate you,” she groans, slapping your arm impatiently. She whines when you poke her cheek. “Give it to me.”

“Give it to me what?”

Eunbi huffs. “You want me to call you daddy on the first day? Really? I mean, that’s fine, I can do that. But can’t we dial it back?”

“You watch so much porn that you forget basic politeness.”

“Wow, hypocrite. Fuck you—”

“Baby.”

That shuts her up. Your thumb caressing teasing rhythms on her face plays a big role, too. Her ears are pink at the ends and she genuinely looks shocked. No, not shocked. Can’t be just that anyway. But that tiny pout pulling south at the ends and the tiniest of pants escaping it tell you what you have to know. You and Eunbi can communicate with just a look, and this one she gives writes to you a message of want.

“You alright? It’s okay, Eunbi. Baby.” Proud to have ruined all her feistiness, you tip her chin up. “I want you to say it.”

Wait, patiently. It’ll take time and you’re not one to rush. When she starts to talk again, her voice is barely above a whisper.

“Please.” She nods and nods, like she was doing it just in case you started to doubt. “Please fuck me.”

“Good girl,” you tell her. You’ve always wanted to. You can tell it’s the same for her.

You ease her out of her underwear and find her pussy prettily shaven, glistening wet. Light stickiness lines the insides of her thighs. Her lips down here are just as beautiful up there. You glide your fingers up and down between them, a choreography you’ll never get tired of performing again. Your touch is light yet you manage to put your hand on and in all the right places.

Oh, well, barely in. But that’s the fun of it; teasing Eunbi is a newfound hobby. In little time, it’s become your most favorite. Your touch is so light that when you edge the tips of your fingers inside, it’s already a lot to take. She lets out a humbled little growl, shoulders straightening. Mouth slacking. Thighs shuddering.

“No, no, why does it feel so—” Her voice breaks. Her face squeezes up and she’s crying out in strained, tiny sounds.

Your digits gently curl on the entrance of her pussy, touching her sore clit and making it throb with the stimulation. Eunbi’s lost count of the times she’s done the exact same thing to herself: lying in her bed screaming out silently with only her hand to turn to. And now she’s here, with you doing it for her.

Slip one finger inside, and even with that she’s already so tight. You start to pump her, each driving her nearer and nearer to the headboard. She’s whining, like no, no, oh, please don’t stop. You add another to hear it more.

“You prick,” she squeals out, palm to her mouth. “If you stop, I’m gonna kill you. I swear, I swear, don’t play around with me.”

“You’re in no place to be making threats, Eunbi.”

This is her punishment: a speed her little pussy can’t take. She’s so tight that you’re already struggling. Trust that she is, too. She’s thrashing around on the bed, disheveling the sheets the staff oh-so-carefully fitted back. Hold her down so she gets to feel the force of your pace.

How did she manage to peek in your mind, collect all your fantasies about her, and act them out? She’s there, in her Calvin Klein underwear, shaking at your fingerfucking and flashing you the most needy looks from behind those glasses. That’s gotta come from somewhere. Watch the float of her tummy when you jam your fingers harder; the quiver in her arms when you part her legs more. Now you’re certain.

Because see, it’s how it’s all so frightening: Eunbi’s Eunbi, your best friend and someone you’ve fallen in love with, and it’s the fact that you shouldn’t be crossing the line. You shouldn’t be fingering her with a madness of thousands when she’s your friend. You shouldn’t be touching and leading her on when she’s your friend. You shouldn’t be—

But oh, you are.

You’re doing it with the courage of someone who knows damn well what they’re doing is wrong, and with no regrets.

“In me.” It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command, veiled under a breathy tone. “Now.”

You pull your fingers out of her and lick them. You don’t know if she’s tangy or sweet or bitter, but you do know she’s fucking delicious. “Whatever you say,” is your reply, because you’re always spoiling her.

Eunbi separates her thighs from one another. Your protected cockhead bumps against her clit when you approach. She flinches, but scurries herself near. She can’t stop staring at you, your cock, your stomach. Everywhere. It makes you possess a kind of narcissistic theory that perhaps she’s just as obsessed with you as you are with her.

You’ve never hoped this hard for a conspiracy to become true.

"Please." Eunbi's breath shortens, and she closes her eyes. She’s suddenly quiet, letting go of her harsh neediness. "Please rub your cock on me. On my clit. Without the condom."

Look at her throbbing nub and catch your breath. Barely. You run your fingers below the sensitive pearl. Then, on it. Under it, too, with little weight in order for the heat to circle around. "I don't know if we should, little raindrop."

"You can put it back on after, i-if you want." Her begging is borderline desperate. No wonder she isn’t sassing you. "I’m on the pill. Should have told you, I’m sorry. But I just want to know what it feels like. Please?"

“Are you sure?”

She nods. Not that you need it to know what she wants.

You unroll the condom. Her mouth waters, even more when you do as she says. She’s right to be curious—it feels so fucking good that you’re afraid you have to put it on before you cum all over her. She whimpers quietly, the heat gathering in her clit and her legs suddenly tensing.

“Gah—” Eunbi sobs and catches the side of her fist in her mouth. “Oh god, please.”

“Seriously, you’re so cute when you’re desperate.”

“Shut up,” she gasps. “Just put it in me.”

Sure you will, but you can’t resist flicking your cock between her lips. Your tip teases her entrance and slaps her clit. Eunbi lets out a lengthy groan. It transforms into a girlish cry, and you kiss it all away. What you don’t know is the moment you push yourself inside, no amount of petting would get her to quiet down.

So you do.

“You are so—” Eunbi’s legs stretch out. They require an anchor, and you’re glad to act as one. You place your hands firmly on her thighs and start to push yourself inside the delicious tightness. Every time you try to push past the limits, her pussy only closes more around you. She’s all wet and aroused yet she remains so goddamned tight.

She’s slippery but firm in holding your cock inside that warm, wet hole. She has to stop tensing her stomach so that she won’t deprive you of her. It’s hard to push, but one powerful thrust drives you all the way in, making it worth it after everything. She spreads her thighs more which gives you the chance to feel them, and you’re right for grabbing the opportunity. Grabbing her thighs, to be specific.

Each thrust helps spread her out. You’re pushing her apart and forcing her limits to be taken down. Her pussy sleeves your shaft so well, so tight yet so perfect. You slam harder. Take in the beautiful imagery of Eunbi’s small cunt taking more than it could. Its hold is so enclosed that you’re required to guide her legs up to welcome your dick deeper.

“I’m seriously so angry at you,” she hisses out. She bears every drill with a pleasured face and a fist that chokes the sheets to material death. “How did you not dick me down… all those years ago, huh? What a fucking tease, fuck—”

Make up for it by choosing a rocky pace. She won’t relax, and it’s straining you. You’re so deep inside her yet you can tell there’s more to excavate—her tensed body just won’t let up. It’s like every time you roll your hips, her velvety walls close more around you.

“Well, I didn’t know you were so tight,” you say, kissing her collarbone. Tiny nibbles here and there before you give it a lick. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Oh, you’re sorry? Then fuck me harder.”

You’re terrible at apologies, but you’re sure she’ll forgive you this time. Your core releases a mighty strength in shoving between her open legs. Even that sexy Calvin Klein bra can’t stop her godly tits from bouncing. Her glasses are lopsided while her vision goes loopy behind them.

Her cheeks inflate in labor as her lower body rises to greet you. She’s so adorable; it pinches your heart and leads your mouth down so you can kiss her shoulder and clavicle. See, you’re a good multitasker after all; you can destroy the heat in her center while worshiping her body. It’s good practice. Question is: would there be more times to exercise it?

“That’s it, yes,” Eunbi breathes out. Her hums of affirmation stutter even without her lips opening. “You know what I’ve always imagined? It’s this, it’s always this. When I’m supposed to be studying, I just think of how good you’d pound me. How you’d make me scream. Do what you want to me, okay? Hnnn, so big.”

Plenty of similarities between you and your best friend: your quickness to speak before taking the time to contemplate it, the clothes you accidentally mix and match, your ages. But what you didn’t know is when you sit down at your laptop plagued by thoughts of her, she’s somewhere in her own place being overwhelmed by ones of you. The heat somehow multiplies. Fills the room like a verse.

Therefore, you must hold her in place, give her a false reassurance that you’re going to take her slow. Do so, but then your thrusts become unmeasured and rapid. One hand on the side of that flawless waist, you lead the other to her bra. Harshly pull it down and let her boobs spill out of it. You start to squeeze them hard. Her chest is so bountiful that even the width of your hand can’t map it fully. So you squeeze, forcing it to fit in your fingers, and start to pinch. Her nipple is sore with arousal.

“Oh—oh—oh, shit.” She’s sobbing. But unlike the other times you’ve seen her cry, this one is out of pure bliss. “Just like that. Such a good dick, such a good boy, thank you.”

Your ears heat up. “You’re a pretty good girl, too, Eunbi.”

“You’re terrible at this.”

She mewls helplessly when you suddenly ramp up the pace. You’re doing her like you’re determined to make her pregnant. It’s the last thing you want to happen, but the grinds make it look otherwise. Along the expedition of your cock, it rubs her needy cunt and makes her drench your cock with more wetness. Enjoy the tightness, enjoy the squeeze of her hole. She’s so warm and wet that you don’t think you could live having only done this once with her. There’s gotta be more, right?

“What about now?” you ask, unable to resist smirking at how she’s now completely broken apart. Then, mirror her words from some days back that drove and still drive you crazy, as ridiculous as they are: “Cat got your tongue back there?”

She chokes up and is rendered even more lost for breath when you start to lose control of your own moans. They harmonize in an erotic chorus with hers and soon you’re muffling them with another torrid liplock.

“You’re a bully,” she says, the words mashing with your teeth and lips. “A heartbreaking, flirty, mean bully.”

Your noses nuzzle against each other. “You like me that way.”

“I’m not commenting… on, t-that.”

“Good. Because you know what you need to do? Cum for me. You’re shaking, Eunbi. Bet you wanna cry and get there so bad.”

“Y-yes!” Eunbi curses with that adorable lisp. She starts to stammer at the thumb floating and frisking on her clit, and she gives you this watery-eyed needy look that tells you, along with her stiff nubs and desperate gasping, she’s close.

You start to swipe at her clit and fit yourself lower in her. Eunbi gasps. She sits up though her forearms barely could handle the weight of what you’re doing, and stares down at your handiwork. She feels hot all over. You’re not helping calm her down. But you are aiding her orgasm, (which, by the way, is so near she can taste it.)

“What are you doing, you’re making me lose it—gonna—”

No need for her to continue for you to understand when she’s creaming all over you. Your rapid rubs on her clit don’t cease and neither do your thrusts. Eunbi’s yelling so hard that you’re afraid that even the well-built four walls of your hotel room won’t contain her noises. However, at the same time, you want them to hear her. That girl you always have your arm around on? Yep, she’s yours. That girl who always steals your socks and shirts? Just the same.

Eunbi’s mouth pinches up before sighing loudly, followed by a series of other gaspy breaths. You could hear a venerating one the moment the tightness becomes too much for you to handle and thus milks you of cum. You fill her so much that it drips off her lips. Your gentle thrusts guide the mixture of her cum and yours back inside her.

“That good enough for you?” you ask, pulling out.

Gently close her mouth and wipe the saliva that dribbles down it. When you lead it back to her mouth, she sucks on your aiding thumb. You take the liberty of running your finger along the soft pillows of her lips.

Add: “You’re incredibly demanding when you’re being fucked.”

Anyone could have guessed that it would be that way if they saw how she’s sitting there giving you teary puppy eyes.

“Of course. You know why?” She gives you a tired yet satisfied look, a triumphant one, too. “I know you would give me more if I asked.”

Fix her glasses back on the bridge of her nose. “You give yourself too much credit.”

“Okay. Fine.”

Eunbi stands up. She steals your attention from her heaving, heavy breasts when she gets on her knees. She squirms her thighs together, letting your creampie leave visible evidence. She massages your thighs, and it makes you even more turned on.

“Tell me,” she says, another challenge, “that you won’t give me your cum. Tell me I’m such a bad girl that I don’t deserve all of it on my face. Hell, tell me you won’t even dare give me a nice, hot load down my throat as a reward for taking you well.”

You’re speechless. How do you react to this? She’s on her knees, riling you up and about to get to sucking you off. It’s another dream come true. And you hate how she’s right to death. She always is.

“Tell me all of that,” she concludes, “and I’d know you’re a fucking liar.”

Your tongue can’t form a fragment. Not even a stutter is born in your throat. Eunbi stares up at you, her hands neatly folded on her lap. She’s waiting, and you want to tell her it’s fruitless. You can’t tell her anything because it would prove her point. Plus, she’s gorgeous, so what now?

She clicks her tongue. Hums out a contained, satisfied laugh. “Thought so.”

Here’s how it starts: she licks at your tip repeatedly, keeping in mind how sensitive it is after having just cum inside her. Sparks of heat knot there. Then she leads it between her lips, and you’re on your toes again. She just slides those full, pink lips over you so perfectly. From the base to the head she goes with barely a complaining mouth. To you, it’s everything already. But to her—oh no, don’t get it twisted: this is just the beginning of it. A teaser to what will happen.

Her tongue laps side to side while she takes you in her mouth. You let out a stilted breath.

“Damn, you really, really like that, huh?” She pauses momentarily to lick your balls, then travels her tongue to the sides of your rod. With one lick, there’s another ball of heat tightening in you. And another; you’re moaning.

“Y-yeah.”

“I see.” (She doesn’t; she’s closed her eyes while nursing your sore cock. Okay, now she does.) “What’s something you really wanted to do to me?”

You exhale. It’s the only laugh you can manage to create. “Ah. Where do I even begin?”

Eunbi brushes your cockhead over her pouted lips. Your toes curl. “Tell me? Please?” she says.

Talking to Eunbi is easy. You can tell her anything and she’d be there, listening patiently and adding a joke sometimes. But when you’re asked to narrate all the things you’ve wanted to do to her, it’s a difficult task.

How do you say you’ve wanted to bend her over a desk while you finish between her legs?

How do you say you’ve strained for the opportunity to ask her out, with the first date being consummated by steamy, romantic sex by the moon?

How do you say you’ve wished for everything, from romantically cheesy to filthily rough, when it comes to her?

“I—I’ve thought about cumming in your throat,” you admit. That’s the first step. You run your fingers through her hair. Take care not to mess the braids. “Making you swallow all of it.”

Eunbi looks smug. “Sure, I can do that,” she chirps. “I mean, I’m me, right?”

“You’re a brat.”

“So make me shut up. Stuff this fat cock down my throat. Make me gag with your load. You always wanted to, right?”

Eunbi’s a challenging girl. She pushes you to go the extra mile, makes you do things you never thought you could. Tonight is no different.

You don’t care to keep the aesthetics of her hairdo anymore. You bunch her hair up in one tight ponytail then shove yourself inside. No gentleness in your body, you feed her wet and waiting mouth.

What bests the other in terms of tightness: her pussy or her throat? You don’t know. Can’t choose properly either. Observe anyway: this orifice provides the perfect wetness and a tongue that services you with glides and licks. Then you have that tight hole when you push yourself deep. You can feel her breaths being blocked by your girth.

Start to thrust away. In the beginning, she still has it in her to suck. You can feel the strength of it doing away at your length. But now, she can barely breathe to even do it. You’re just pushing her face into your stomach and her nose to your navel. You’re using her, which you’ve sworn you never would do. But she’s asking for it. Can’t you break your oath just once? Or at least, whenever she asks for it?

“Can I say how pretty you look like this?”

The blush on her cheeks adds to the aura of it all. Her eyes are glowing with tears as they blink at you, and she’s started to salivate all over you. She can’t take it all, yet she’s so determined to that you want to stop and praise her. As you fuck her face sloppily, the thought that she’s beautiful still hasn’t left your head. Even when you’re ruining her, you’re still starstruck.

You’re a little flustered yourself. She’s so gorgeous that it sometimes makes you want to go call every visual storm in a rainforest ugly. She’s the prettiest little raindrop, and you stand by that.

“You’ll be good, won’t you? You’ll take all that I’ve got for you?”

She nods so innocently you wouldn’t think that she was having her face used.

She’s promised you to swallow all of your cum, and Kwon Eunbi? She never breaks promises.

Twist the ponytail you’ve bunched together to push her head firm to your stomach. She chokes, her throat constricting. Just what you wanted. You limit the movement of your hips so that you could shove that pretty face into you and make her put that mouth to good use. She’s good at that; even with her gags that somehow sound more heavenly than concerning, she takes and takes and takes your length.

Pounding away, you bask in the squeeze of her throat, her hold on your thighs, her eyes tearing up. Her glasses are lopsided, and this time you don’t fix them. You caress her cheek then tilt her chin up. Her mouth’s an easy place to access in this position. The imprint of your cock bobs in her thin neck.

“Oh!” she gasps for air once you retreat.

She sucks sloppily on you when you rub yourself on the inside of her cheek to lead you to a climax. After you’re certain it’s right around the corner, you start to jerk off in front of her face. As much as you’d love to completely release her, you want to see Eunbi fill her mouth with your semen.

Eunbi’s a good girl, so you found out. She doesn’t need instructions for her to cleverly part her lips and wait for it. Her heavy breaths fan your penis.

“Almost there, little raindrop,” you say, “just be good and wait.”

She sticks her tongue out and you aim for it. Eunbi closes in and fills the top of her tongue with your thick release. It pools in her mouth so satisfyingly that you almost wish you could keep cumming forever—not for the pleasure of it but to see her keep that desperate face on.

“Swallow.”

Eunbi shows off the plentiful evidence of your orgasm puddling in her mouth, then does so. After she gulps, she pants. Laughs a little, too. She has a way of finding humor in the most absurd situations. For example: your professor’s voice cracking in the middle of a rant. Your dad calling her “a very well-mannered young lady.” Having her face fucked.

“Do you know you’re, ah, shaking?” she asks, fixing her exposed bosom back in her bra.

(You are.)

(But, to be fair, she’s made a mess on the carpeted hotel room floor. That’s kinda worse. The saliva can’t be differentiated from her girl cum. But at least yours can.)

“Thanks for letting me know,” you say anyway.

“Anytime.”

Amazing how things could grow awkward after you just abused her throat. You’re like two strangers trying to make conversation, and you’re everything but that, aren’t you?

“How ‘bout this: d’you know that you glow after being fucked?”

“Shouldn’t you do it again?” She climbs onto the bed you’ve collapsed on. She places your hand on her thigh. “Keep me pretty?”

There’s nothing that could make her look unflattering. The messy hair is wild but she’s still a princess. But if that’s what she wants… well, she’s the last person you’d want to say no to.

“You’re insatiable.” Nevertheless, you let her bring your hand to her used core. You love how she stiffens when you start to rub circles around her clit.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t, too.” Eunbi presses her mound close to the heel of your hand. For a moment, she’s frozen. Then, her lips are next to your ear, telling you of a tale older than her lust. “I want you to do everything you want with me, everything.”

You’ve lost count of all the things you want to do to her. From things as sweet as tucking her in after a bad day to the filthiest like defiling that ass since that day she wore cycling shorts alone, your mind just runs with ideas. You can’t choose.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” she whines out. Her sighs grow sporadic. “So give it all to me.”

“Like I said: incredibly demanding.”

“You asshole.” She chokes this out as you start to roughly prod her nub. “You fucking… gatekeeper of dick.”

“Well, it’s my cock. I think I get to decide what happens with it.”

“You’re selfish.” Her voice gets higher. Her winces grow often, and Eunbi’s starting to babble out these little words of biteless barks. “You’re so, so cruel. You don’t know what I’d do, I will—I will—”

Before it happens, you place your hand on the back of her neck. She doesn’t even get to glare at you because it all happens so fast. You don’t know how you did it. Not just this, but everything else: how you managed to befriend her, how you managed to lay her.

How you managed to push her not too gently to the wall, her chest pressing its solidness. How you managed to perfectly time it so that her head is tilted to the side so you could still catch a glimpse of that face. How you managed to pull up her bra and free those tits.

How you managed to say: “Do you know what I would do to you?”

Because there’s a million things you could do to Kwon Eunbi—the girl you’ve got pinned beneath you who’s absolutely tense with want. Your little kisses melt the freeze of her shoulders; you can hear her soft moans again.

Her lashes flutter over the undersides of her eyes. “Please,” she squeaks out, “do tell.”

“I’d rather show.”

Eunbi hums strainedly. You pierce through her again, It’s the second time and her velvety pussy still barely budges at your contradictingly welcome visit. Press your stomach into her back till you’re buried deep inside her. As a result, she’s shoved harder into the wall. Then you retrieve yourself handlessly from her, then put yourself in again.

She pants heavily, matching those of yours. She’s shaking, the only leverage to stay upright is your body on hers. Your rhythm is not too different from earlier and Eunbi still finds herself seeing it as something so new. She still spasms and quakes around you. Anything you give to her, she takes gladly. Each thrust pushes out a feeble cry from her throat and from within.

Her arms stretch to support her stance to the painted wall. You adore them, like you do to every other part of her. But these—these beautiful, strong arms whose minimal bulges hint of well-trained muscles—they do a number on you. You run your hands all along them, not making it easier for her. Everywhere you touch delivers a quiver running through her body.

Although you touch first from the sides, her chest already feels big. You caress her curves before placing your hands right on her breasts. They’re your guilty pleasure, the kind that makes you pray for forgiveness because you don’t even know if you’re worthy of stealing glances at them. Maybe you are, because you’re getting to hold them. It’s a divine sign, if you do say so yourself.

Clutch them. Use them to plunge to places left unnavigated in her cunt. She’s dripping all over you, and it somehow plays the role of lubricant. It lets you thrust easily and keep her wet enough for more.

Any touch you trace on her beautiful body makes her quake. You brush your fingertips lightly over her clit, and the squeeze of her hole strengthens. You massage her fantastic hips and waist and you’re rewarded with a feral cry. Kissing her does no good in helping her calm down because, if anything, she gets more worked up.

“Oh, look at that, Eunbi.” You continue thrusting in her, pushing her limits far from the bounds, and she’s got her hands on her face, tears on her palms. “You’re so desperate. You squeeze so tight around me.”

Standing is something she’ll soon be incapable of doing for her legs are beaten down by your movements. “Not exactly my fault,” she says. “You know who’s to blame? You. You and that smug face and smug everything. You—”

How is it possible that you can make her garble but lose her words as well? Eunbi’s excessive whining comes to a halt as you plummet said cock deeper. Silent screams escape her open mouth and she’s clinging to the surface in front of her like she’d slip if she didn’t. There’s a possibility that that’s true—when you let go of her hip, she almost falls.

“You—” If you didn’t know Eunbi, you’d think her voice had contempt in it.

“What about me? Can you tell me?” You know that’ll annoy her.

It does, for she says: “W-wow, big ego.” She whimpers quietly at the soft kisses you place on her neck. The circumstances don’t allow her insult to hit properly. It just swells your pride.

“I know another thing from me and mine that's big.”

Eunbi growls. “Then put it to good—fucking—use.”

She has a point. Why are you fucking her rough when you could be even more so? Your touch climbs from her waist, tiny, to her boobs that can be described as every adjective in the thesaurus except for that. Afterwards, you carry out a brutal pace which drives her so into the wall that you’re not sure how she hasn’t made a dent in it yet. Her only protection from its hardness is your hands on her bust.

Nothing can protect her from your hardness, however. It’s almost cruel how pink that milky white skin is, culprit of the defilement being your core that slams and slams into it. But you know she likes it this way. So why stop? Of course, there’s no reason to.

“God, please– you’re—” Her expression changes. Pleasure becomes bliss as bliss becomes paradise. “Oh no, I think I’m close.”

No quote from philosophers and learned individuals could inspire you like that simple statement. Yes, she’s close to cumming. And it’s because of you, she just confirmed it. So you tweak her hard nipples and tilt your moves up. You must have hit a certain spot because a simple “oh” turns to a scream. Several of them actually, each increasing the smacks of your hips on her butt and your lips’ ravages on that delicate, vulnerable swan’s neck.

“Hngh, I can’t! I can’t, I can’t, harder, please!” she yells, falling back to the wall and shaking.

Your moves become frequent and rough. Your hands join in with the roughness; they begin to harshly pinch and grab her boobs until she unravels.

Eunbi suppresses her scream into a whiny cry and falls into you, unable to keep her balance anymore. The flood rages in her core and overflows. Your cum slides out of her pussy as she tightens and loosens. She frantically pushes her ass back into you to keep the climax on a high, coupled with sharp shrieks of affirmation.

“Keep fucking me,” she rasps, “keep ruining me.”

Her voice ranges between low and sexy to high and needy. Both sides, however, are draining you. It’s the way the sweat sticks to her gasping face and how her legs are practically limp. She’s completely under your control, and you… like it? Is that how it’s supposed to work?

“Yes, yes—don’t stop.” Her nails scratch the paint. “Don’t, wait, not inside me. Okay? You can’t.”

You manage to successfully quiet your groan of disappointment. You pull out reluctantly. Tell yourself you already ejaculated in her moments ago, so it’s only fair for it to be once. However, your cock’s still rock hard. What do you do about it? You’ve already done more than you should with her. It was all supposed to be just one kiss. How did you get here?

She turns around and places her hands on your shoulders. Her palms are sweaty in spite of the air-conditioner breezing in the room. The exhaustion on her face from sex is there, and so is this little serious look.

“I want you to cum,” she says, “in my ass.”

Thoughts. Too many of those, none pure. Thoughts of Eunbi that didn’t stay as fantasies because look at them bleeding into reality. Silence, too—you’re not saying they speak louder than words, but of course you can tell she’s serious with those watery bunny eyes.

“What?”

And of course you gotta act like a prude. What the hell? You? A prude? That’s a fucking lie. You’ve pleasured yourself countless times to the thought of her and that body, so why are you backtracking? As Eunbi would say, right after you made fun of lazy students while never studying much yourself, “Hypocrite.”

“What?” Eunbi drags your hands down that supple ass and makes you squeeze its full cheeks. “I want you to get your money’s worth from that expensive lube and pound me. And don’t you even think of stopping.”

You glance at the plastic-wrapped bottle on the bedside table, then back at her. It just doesn’t make sense. You—you and your awkwardness and spontaneous bursts of overconfidence—getting to cross the line? Everyone has probably doubted their worth one way or another, in stories written the same as yours, but is she serious? Does she really, really plan on letting you do it?

You look down at your bare feet. She sighs loudly, obviously and slightly irritated at your hesitation. Only an idiot would pass up that opportunity. But maybe you want to be an idiot—because fucking her would mean wanting her. You’ve already done both. You’ve made her cum twice and always wanted to do so, always desired her. To you, it just makes you worse than the rest of the men who vied and strived for her.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Eunbi,” you tell her quietly. Let them rage at your words as if your life were a movie and they were a judgmental audience, but it’s true. You can’t violate more unwritten rules.

She lifts her head, her face parallel to your own. “What if I want you to?”

You blackmailed everyone into reading your story, you’ll say it straight up. This isn’t a love story or tragedy, or whatever. This is a tale about you being too generous. You’re always giving Eunbi what she wants. Every key point’s been triggered by her wishes—from her bailing answers out of you right up to this passionate Christmas Eve. You’re the genie who keeps giving her extra. Oh, you’re a pretty girl, you see, you’d say, blue hand stroking her hair, so of course you can ask for more. It’s all on me, beautiful. All on me.

You keep granting. And granting. And granting.

“Spread those legs.”

Because it’s all written on paper, in the law of nature: she’ll be the one who calls you names and drags you around. But here? Nothing remotely close to that. She’s the girl who sits on the counter of the kitchen table, and opens her legs. Why? Because you told her to. You’ve already fucked all the sass out of that sharp-tongued mouth. There’s little left.

In this wealth-stealing coup of a hotel room, she’s the one who does what you want. She’d slacken her mouth to have you give her a throatpie. She’d ride you like she would a pillow if you asked her. But in a way, behind the scenes, it’s her screenwriting it all. She’s got it predicted from front to base—you’ll fuck her here. And there. You’ll do what she wants and do what you want. Make it meet in the middle.

Because, you think as you slick her asshole and your cock with the lubricant, that’s what friends do.

The edges of Eunbi’s palms are on the counter. You can see them struggle to keep her body upright. You can’t really say you blame the girl when the two of you have done too many things to fit into one night. Anal is another you’re trying to squeeze into a tight schedule.

But that’s what she wants. And, (heads up—skip if you don’t like spoilers): you just so happen to have a habit of being too easily swayed by pretty women.

“Open more.”

“There’s enough already,” she whines, words pitched and tiny.

“I know, Eunbi. Baby.” You’re clinging on that high of seeing the color rose her cheeks. In every way, red (can’t be pink when it’s that dark) looks good on her.

Eunbi’s breath skips a pattern. Her ass retreats at your touch yet goes back every time for you to hold. “You’re too good at this,” she says, speaking as if the words were a foreign language. Which is to say: cute. It’s like when she speaks English; it comes out sounding like fresh, pretty talk.

“Glad you’ve come to terms with that.”

“Wow.” Can’t tell if she said that at your cock pressing to her anal hole or at your quickness to speak. “Okay.”

“I mean, I’m serious. I only called you baby. How does that make me good?”

Eunbi coos when you touch the side of her face. Hold its jawline over the line your palm calls its own. Glimmering sweat and exhaustion and lust, she still has ways to make you go crazy. Your hand comforting her shudders nearly makes her forget you just want her to admit that you’re cut from the rest.

Both of you know what’s true anyway.

“I just…” Eunbi kisses the space between your index and thumb. “I just fall in love too fast.”

“How fast are we talking?”

“I won’t tell you, it’s been crystal clear since the time I met you. But for this?” She taps your hip impatiently. “As fast as you can.”

Her voice deepens, a stretch from her cheerful pitch. Where did that come from? She smirks at the change in your face, but she can’t hide the desperation in hers.

Her hole and your cock are shiny with the lubrication. Turns out the lube was a good buy; getting the tip inside her proves to be easy. However, it can’t help your job in hilting the entirety inside her. Thighs that glisten with wetness and lube wrap around you. Her midriff tenses, and so does her hole. So do her hands on your arms.

There’s already her cum and yours wetting her ass, as well as the lube you bought that was crazy expensive. So why is she still so tight? Her squeals thin and her face makes clear the labor. You’re spreading her apart in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

She’s straining, too. Eunbi’s using every method in the book to allow your width to enter more: breathing deeply, relaxing her body, spreading her legs. But they don’t seem to work for her when her ass is only focused on closing around the little you’ve put inside her.

“Why do you have to be so big?” she whines. She pushes her cheeks to your stomach, inching you south and into her. “Why does it have to feel so good? Don’t just stand there. Fuck me. Split me open, I need it.”

Her wish is your command. That’s three wishes she’s making there and you’ll grant all of them. In a hard moment of pure will, you pull yourself out and slam yourself harshly into her tight body. Your attempt is successful; your whole girth is snugly hugged by her round butt. The enclosed walls of her anal ring are so overwhelming that you’re close to blowing your load already.

If you’re a genie, Eunbi’s the taker of wishes. She takes and takes and takes, even with your cock prodding past the hurting limits of her little asshole, and she does it oh so well. She’s probably seeing ghosts or the stars they’ve become with the way she’s not even looking at you anymore. No, her body is slanted up to allow you to give what you can. And by what you can, you mean your all.

Eunbi sobs and hugs you close. For comfort? Assurance? Speed? You’ll give her all three. That’s six wishes there, but with her, there’s no limit. You hold her as you find a perfect pace, one that makes her thighs squish on the ledge of the table and has her mouth gaping while you’re making another orifice of hers do the same.

When did pain feel this good? Eunbi doesn’t know. But she loves and accepts it. She’s reciprocating your thrusts with her own ones. It feels too good, so good that the sounds coming out of her are difficult to comprehend. She’s moaning, yet crying, too. Crying yet gasping in delight. Gasping in delight yet panting as if it were too much.

There’s one thing you’re certain of, though: she’s enjoying it. Wetness drools from her cunt and onto your shaft. It’s only a tiny bit of help, but it already aids in fucking her ass open sloppily. Her breaths are warm gushes of wind on your skin, and soon in the air as she throws her head back. Have to place a hand behind her neck to prevent her from bumping onto the all-too-near cupboard.

“So good, so big, can feel you t-throbbing,” she mumbles. Her lips purse before releasing a sharp moan. You’ve just placed your mouth on one of her breasts. “Know you wanted to do this. Saw you, hnn, staring at my ass.”

“Who can blame me?” You lightly slap her backside. “This thing is the best.”

“You got me so...” Eunbi’s gasp becomes a little lost ghost when you start to suck on her brown nipple. “I wore them, those ridiculous shorts, just for you. Wanted you to make me feel good, make me hurt, oh, I want it so bad—”

Her words pierce and break. Their propriety becomes worse yet the willpower they induce becomes stronger. Rapidity becomes a pastime when you’re pumping her. Of course, that’s already a given when the girl’s absolutely incapable of keeping quiet. Anything you do to her she reacts to. She’s still the same girl in the sheets as she is when she’s out and about, and it makes this sinful act—anally ruining her—seem like something so endearing.

Your thumb starts to rub her clit again. You’ve done this plenty of times in this hotel room right after the heat started, yet it still gauges the same reaction from her. She can’t stay still. She wants to stay in one place to receive you better but there’s the pleasurable pain in her ass, your mouth on her bosom, your hand feeling her up. She can’t take it, and you can’t either. She’s a combination of wetness and tightness and loudness and shrillness—you’re both too much for the other.

A lit match to a flamed lighter.

“Oh, god, no.” Eunbi’s teeth dig into your shoulder before retracting. Signs of her sobs linger and roll down her perfect face that wields an expression you admit to have fantasized often on her. “You’re gonna make me cum again. You're gonna make me cum again, I can’t handle it. Please—fffu—”

You stuff your fingers inside her. Match the pace with how you’re fucking her into the kitchen wall. She clenches around you and doesn’t let go. The wet squelching sounds compels you to be harsher with her. Fuck her like it doesn’t mean anything, just like she wants you to.

“Mmm!” Eunbi shrieks at the harsh intrusions she thought would be over.

“Not over yet.” You kiss her. “Still gotta cream this perfect ass.”

The promise of that makes her blush. Red and sweaty, she exercises those toned arms by using them in fucking herself on your cock. The pleasure is addicting, and she’s still keeping you to that oath to cum inside her a second time.

She’s so wet that it’s almost unbelievable. Your fingers curl, spread, jam themselves in her, and each time they pull out they’re soaked to the knuckles. Her clit twitches and you get your touch on there again. A little leak of cum wrinkles your hand from it.

“You really want it, huh?” Hiss at how she bounces that jiggling rear onto you. “Just a little more, baby. You’re gonna have to do much better than that.”

Since when did Eunbi do what you say? Since when did she do it with this much enthusiasm? Despite your shaft wrecking her insides and rearranging her guts, along with the orgasm she’s had, she perseveres. She rolls her body, a snake’s dance, and takes you in further. You admire how much you’ve spread her. Hold her backside to guide her.

You pity the housekeeper who’d have to clean up evidence of your sin. There’s her wetness on the kitchen table, the smell of carnal need in the air, sheets torn by the little power Eunbi’s fingernails have. But there’s no regrets, you think, for this one:

An explosion. The kind that doesn’t kill but brings her to life. Its origin is the base of your cock and birth inside her tight little ass. Hold her close. Slam inside her as if you were mad at her, while she lets out gasped repetitions of “oh, oh, oh.” Now you pull out your digits and resort to furiously rubbing her nub, effectively making her even tighter.

“That’s it, fuck, such a good girl,” you groan. Grip her ass so tightly that it draws a yelp out of her. After it’s all done, you pull out.

“You,” she drawls when you pull out. She spreads her legs and stares at the semen dripping out of her holes. At the mess you’ve made on the floor, the bed, the table, everything. “You…”

She doesn’t continue what she’s saying, but you’re pretty sure you got the gist of it. It was you who fucked her. It was you who made her climax so many times in one night. It was you, her best friend, who did her in.

“Yeah,” you say, laughing.

Somehow, the whole experience is making you guilty. You feel like the richest man in the world, the luckiest, too. So why do you feel you did something wrong?

Eunbi narrows her eyes. She knows you too well. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

You don’t.

“Now kiss me.” Her words fan your chin, a haunting love spell. “Again.”

You do.

Christmas comes, and by then you've flown home. You’re at Sakura’s house to celebrate. Green and red are all over the place: red cupcakes on a baking tray, old books leaning against each other, the rug beneath you and her friends. There’s a giant statue of Santa Claus, overweight and jolly, at the corner next to the Christmas tree. What used to be under the plant were gifts Eunbi specifically said not to touch until 12 a.m midnight. No sleeping in now that you’re well aware that the man himself isn’t real.

Sakura’s undoing the ribbon on her gift, but her eyes are on you and Eunbi. “There’s something really weird going on with you two,” she says.

The girls nod and hum choruses of agreement: yes, he and the bunny leader are acting odd lately. No, they don’t know why. Is it because of the vacation? Seasonal depression (but with Christmas lights!)? They’re gonna find out for sure.

You and Eunbi look at each other. Your faces hold an unreadable expression, until you take an interest in one evergreen branch and her in the collar of her ugly Christmas sweater.

“Nah,” you say.

“Nothing much,” she echoes, drinking her hot chocolate.

Yena groans, tired of your pretentiousness. “You fucked, didn’t you?”

A liquid spray of sugar lands on the rug, courtesy of Eunbi. The girls begin cackling, slapping their hands on their thighs and on each other. You look away to manage your laughter. Unfortunately, it’s as loud as Eunbi’s scheming little members.

“That means yes!” Yujin shouts gleefully. Her dimples are printed on her cheeks. “You owe me ten thou, Yena unnie!”

Christmas spirit truly is in the air. They’re jumping up and down, laughing and cheering, while you two are mortified. You’re the Grinches of the holidays, but even that can’t sour their happiness.

“It worked!”

“I can’t believe it worked!”

“They’re so obvious about it, too!”

“No wonder Eunbi unnie was limping when they came home!”

The whole thing was a setup. It’s all dawning in on you. Why else would eleven girls pool ridiculous amounts of money for a two-person trip? You’ve given them the best Christmas present of their lives unknowingly.

But with how much Eunbi loves them, she’s okay with that.

You are, too.

“Hey.”

You lift yourself up from the comfort of the pillows and sheets. Eunbi’s standing at your bedpost. She still has on the sweater, courtesy of your mother, and her ears are still pink. That’s one of the cutest things about her: when she gets shy or humiliated, it’s pretty obvious.

How do you go about this? It’s been awkward and silent ever since you had sex. It’s so unlike your dynamics, and it’s scaring you. You don’t want to lose her. Is that the same on her end?

At the end of the day, though, she remains your best friend. You’ll always reserve a place for her with you.

“Hi.” You pat your bedclothes, and she sits.

She looks away as she pushes a paper shopping bag in your arms. “Merry Christmas.”

You wonder how you didn’t see it peeking from her tiny back. The bag isn’t too heavy, but it obviously is something large with how much you can feel whatever is inside it. Quickly stapled and taped, it’s a last-minute present for sure. Did she forget you? Of course, your heart squeezes with the idea of it.

“Way to time your—”

“Don’t be stubborn and just open it. Please?”

Do so.

It’s a bag. Not just any bag—it’s a brand new original of the backpack she lost you all those months ago. She’s got it down to the same color (gray), design (two pockets, with black zippers and one for a bottle) and size (medium). The only thing that sets it apart from your first one is the unavailability of shreds and tatters on the bottom side.

Stare at it, dumbfounded. How did she track it down? It’s sure to be expensive, seeing as it isn’t thrifted and is wrapped in the branded plastic of an overseas branch. “Eunbi,” you say.

“It was shipped later than expected.” She shrugs, trying to play it off. Still, you can hear her laughing shyly. “Hope you like it.”

“I told you to save yourself the trouble.”

You lift the bag up and stare at it. The transparent plastic allows you to marvel at its beauty. The faint scent of newness fills your nostrils.

But the real beauty is the one who sits on your bed late on Christmas night, with her hands folded neatly on her lap like a Catholic schoolgirl. A few locks of her hair are braided with red ribbons to go with the season of giving. Her brows are as dark as her glasses, her cheeks as red as her ugly sweater.

“I like it when you trouble me.”

As always, her statements hold more meaning than they should. And, like you could through her eyewear, you can see right through them. Knowing what she tried to say causes you to inch closer to her. The sides of your thighs press against each other.

“Makes me want to trouble you more,” you reply.

She lifts her head. Already the light cockiness she so often brings with her pours back into her face, and you couldn’t be more relieved to see it again. “So do it.”

Things have a way of coming back to you. Your bag, the thrill of meeting her again, Eunbi. Not everything will return, but then it’s probably just a sign that things aren’t gonna be bad forever. There will be days you’ll get to have a vacation with her again, the promise of December’s Christmasses, being with her and her friends you’ve grown to love. There will be days for new beginnings, like this one. This is a fresh start with her. There will also always be days you’ll do whatever she wants, which somehow align with what you want too.

Refer to this:

You kiss her, your little trouvaille.

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koenigami · 5 months

Text

COLD HANDS, WARM HEART.

wriothesley x fem!reader summary : spending your night far away from everything and everyone with your lover in a cabin on a cold night, you finally uttered your deepest wish to him. wc : 3k tags : +18, smut, fluff, established relationship, talks about children, marking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, wrio about to unleash his breeding kink

The fire casted shadows along the walls as it danced in the fireplace, the warmth and crackling of burning wood creating a cosy ambience that could have made you fall asleep right then and there on the floor. Cold winters in Fontaine weren’t unusual yet you could not remember the last time you had seen thick layers of snow like the ones that currently covered the meadows and mountains of your homeland like large fluffy clouds.

A cold breeze rushed inside the little wooden cabin and made you shiver when Wriothesley slipped inside, nudging the door shut with his foot while carrying piled up pieces of wood in his arms. You smiled at the sight of his reddened nose and cheeks, flakes of snow sprinkled all over his hair and slowly melting away, leaving back a trace of slightly damp curls.

“Hope this will be enough for the night.” He sighed, neatly stacking the wood in the little basket beside the fireplace before he joined you on the woven carpet. “Good thing you stayed inside. It’s so damn cold.”

“‘Course, otherwise I would have turned into an icicle.” You smirked, remembering how Wriothesley earlier had threatened to tie you to the bed because you had begged him to let you accompany him outside to get the wood. Apparently, wanting to watch your handsome boyfriend use his astonishing strength to chop wood had been too much to ask for. However, the shriek that you let out when his bare hands touched your neck was proof enough that staying inside had not been such a bad idea.

“Shared sorrow is half the sorrow.” You grabbed his wrists, liberating yourself from the frosty feeling on your skin, and instead tried to gently envelop his hands in your smaller and especially warmer ones. Wriothesley studied you with curious eyes as your thumbs traced tender circles along the back of his hands while warming them up with your warm breath.

“You don’t need to do that.” Your movements halted, and you looked up at him befuddled. He went out by himself in that freezing cold, the least you could do was make sure that he was warm and- “Share my sorrows.”

Bearing others burdens on his own shoulders was a piece of cake for Wriothesley, because somehow he always managed to take care of them very easily. Yet the melancholic smile that he would shoot you every time you stated the desire to help him was a clear sign of a deeply rooted self-destructive habit. And despite knowing that it was only a way to keep you away from any further unnecessary trouble, in some situations it felt more like a brick wall that he cemented between the both of you.

“You’re right.” You stated matter-of-factly, leaning over to ruffle his hair and ridding him of the residue snowflakes. “But I want to. And the next time you threaten to tie me to a piece of furniture, I’ll simply handcuff you to the bed.”

“Threatening me with a good time, huh? Sweetheart, you should really work on your bargaining strategies.” His smug smirk turned into a lighthearted chuckle when he saw you scoff and turn your head away from him in annoyance. Though your body did not resist even an ounce when one of his arms encircled your waist and pulled you closer against him into a tight embrace. You instinctively snuggled into his side, the knitted pullover that he was wearing making him look tamer and more cuddlesome than his usual dress shirt and tie.

Coming here was a good idea. Far away from Wriothesley’s duties as well as your own work, no court cases or due dates for your reports; you were grateful for some uninterrupted shared time with him even if only for a few days. It’s what you both were in need of. Especially since there were matters that had somehow been lingering on your mind and soul for a while now-

Soft tender touches were shared as the snowfall outside the window slowly started to get heavier. His hands along your hips and waist, sliding underneath your pullover to caress and feel the heat of your skin, your lips on his jaw and cheeks, feeling the light stubble on his face. Slow and teasing movements that made your skin tingle and heart do somersaults, the awareness of how happy this man’s presence was making you, bringing a genuine smile to your lips.

“Want me to make some tea?” You eventually asked when you detached yourselves from each other for a moment. Tilting your head slightly, you looked at him. The fire casted an orangish light over the side of his face, the flame reflecting and swirling in the deep blue of his eyes and risking hypnotising you if you wouldn’t stop staring right into them.

“Nah, maybe later.”

“Did you just deny an offer of tea? Are you sick?” You giggled and watched his own lips form into a wolfish grin. In the blink of an eye, you were tackled and pinned to the carpet while Wriothesley’s body now loomed over yours and caged you between his arms. “I see so now it’s sex over tea?”

With nothing but the fire illuminating the cosy bedroom, you looked so ethereal. Your hair was sprawled around your head like a halo, and your skin felt so soft and warm as he glided his fingertips along your cheek and further down to your neck where he started littering light fleeting kisses. “Of course not, my love. It’s you over tea.” He spoke between each kiss. “You over everything.”

A gasp escaped you when the sweet kisses turned into teasing bites, heat already pooling between your legs at the way he sucked on your skin, finishing his markings with light traces of his tongue. Your legs instinctively spread, letting him slot himself between them as he kept assaulting your neck, tasting you, inhaling you in such a fervent way that he made it seem like you have been separated from each other for months. And in some kind of way, it truly felt so. One tiring day after another had led to the both of you being so exhausted and depleted of energy that your shared bed had solely served as a way to recharge your batteries before the next same draining day would arrive with the same taxing work and tasks to be completed.

His breath hitched when your hands slid into his hair, and with the tight grip you had on his strands, you noticed him lower his body, his hips grinding against yours and letting you feel the prominent growing bulge in his pants.

“Mr. Wriothesley.” You suppressed a wince once you noticed that your attempted comment did not sound as teasing as you had hoped it would when you were so out of breath and desperate for him. “Don’t tell me we’re about to have sex on the floor when there’s a king size bed right next to us.”

“Oh, shut up.” Blindly reaching to his side, Wriothesley tore the soft blanket off the bed, the both of you spreading it properly before you hurriedly settled on top of it. “There, better now?”

Though in all honesty, you could not care less about whether the ground beneath you was cushioned or not, whether you did it on the floor or in a thousands of mora expensive bed, as long as it was him that your hands got to touch, as long as it was him that got under your skin and never let go of you. His patience was slowly crumbling to the ground and disappearing into nothingness as much as yours was. His touches became more eager, with rough hands groping your chest, and lips nearly devouring you, licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue- It was so easy for him to make a mess out of you.

The fabric of your jumper was soon bunched up, and your bra pulled further down to let the fat of your tits spill out of it. The warmth of his lips wrapped around your nipples as he started sucking on one while his thumb and forefinger played with the other, the corners of his mouth turning upwards when he noticed you arching your back. “Fuck, missed these tits so much.” He rasped, drunk on your body and the way it felt beneath his hands. His tongue slid around your areolas, sucking and biting at the plump flesh of your breasts until they glistened with his saliva.

Once you two finally pulled back to completely rid yourselves of the clothes and fabrics that created a barrier between you, you were almost astonished at the light shake in your hands and breath, adrenaline and hormones having riled you up like a desperate teenager. Breathless chuckles and giggles echoed through the dimly lit room while you hopelessly struggled to undo buttons here, unclasp a bra there, and unzip and tear off legs of pants. Wriothesley hissed in pain when you harshly tugged the thick woollen pullover over his head, his helix getting caught in the fabric before you yanked it off him a little too harshly.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He spoke nonchalantly, rubbing over the apex of his ears to soothe the sting, and settled back between your legs which you deliberately wrapped around his waist. Digging your heels into his lower back, you pulled him almost impossibly closer as if any space left between your bodies would physically hurt you. With a hushed sorry, you trailed your mouth along the shell of his pierced ear, hearing and feeling his laboured exhales brush across your face when the pads of his fingers finally stroked along your already soaked folds. He played with you. Smearing your arousal over your clit, the circles he drew on the erected little bud made you let out the sweetest noises, his cock twitching in anticipation while he could barely wait any longer to hear you moan once he was inside you.

Wriothesley carefully drove his thick middle finger inside you, so painfully slow that you keened needily, tightly gripping the blanket underneath you in your clenched fists, knuckles white. Though his exterior seemed far more composed than you were, the hard cock that you caught a glimpse of as it hung heavily between his legs with the irritated and glistening tip, the weight of it brushing against your thigh; your pussy unconsciously clenched around nothing, the empty and aching feeling inside you only getting stronger.

“Oh my god-” You nodded mindlessly with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, pouty lips slightly open in a silent moan when he finally added a second finger, filling you further up. Though you were far away from satisfied, and at the way your fluttering and pulsing walls gripped his fingers he too could tell that you needed more. The indecent squelching sound of his palm slapping against your wet pussy with each thrust was so loud, he couldn’t help but groan knowing that you were in such a desperate need for him, that you needed him to fill you up to the brim and satisfy you over and over again.

“Let me see that pretty tongue.” You felt something in your stomach flutter at the sight of his satisfied smile once you obediently stretched your tongue out, letting him brush his soaked fingers on the pink muscle before dipping them into your mouth. With swirling movements, you made sure to lick them clean, the light suction of your lips making his breath hitch undeniably as he relished the sight in front of him, your pretty doe eyes glistening with moisture as the flame of the fire flickered inside them. “My gorgeous girl, always so good for me.”

“Wriothesley.” You croaked when he retracted his hand, a dribble of saliva running down the side of your mouth while the taste of your own arousal still lingered on your tongue. As you reached down between your bodies to take his cock in your palm, brushing it along your folds to cover him in your juices, you involuntarily sunk your teeth into your lip, gnawing at the raw kissed flesh. No matter how many times you took him, he always made sure you were nice and ready for him, wanting to make this as pleasurable for you as possible. Yet something about the brief burn when your walls stretched around him, the way it sent shivers down your spine and made your toes curl until your body accommodated to his size; you could never get enough of it. “Just fuck me already.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t hurt yourself.” His chest vibrated with a deep airy chuckle when he witnessed your eagerness, his big hand taking a hold of yours to place it beside your head, fingers weaving through yours and giving it a tight squeeze when his free hand guided his leaking tip to your entrance. “Going to fuck my darling real’ good, yeah?”

“Yeah, oh-” The warm mushroom tip entered you, as Wriothesley slowly started fucking himself deeper into you. Inch after inch, he sank deeper, stretching you further before pulling back out, and leaving you a whimpering mess. The hand he had placed on top of your stomach to keep you in place, involuntarily grounded you and you wondered whether he could feel himself in your guts. Because with each thrust that he sank deeper into your dripping wet hole, you swore you could feel him in your throat. “Baby-”

“I know, I know.” He breathed heavily against your ear when he eventually buried himself to the hilt, his balls flush against your skin, and tight walls gripping him like a vice, constantly clenching and unclenching. “Taking me so well. Always so… fuck-”

Wriothesley’s voice died down when he felt you fuck yourself against him as if you were in heat, moaning and gasping every time you lifted your hips off the floor. Your legs were shaking by the time he moved his hand to your sex, thumb quickly brushing back and forth over your clit and making you topper over the edge. Your entire body turned rigid when you came, the intensity of your orgasm would have scared you if it weren’t for Wriothesley’s roaming hands, caressing and reassuring you. You had not even realised the tears running down your temples until he kissed them away, letting you taste the salty liquid when he slotted his lips against yours. “That’s it, I’ve got you, love. Ha, squeezing me so fucking tight.” He mumbled against your mouth. “Don’t think I’ll last much longer like this.”

“Then don’t.” Regaining some control over your body, you were finally able to speak up though with a hoarse voice, and weak legs which you desperately tried to wrap back around his waist. Clasping his neck with your arms and holding onto him as if he was your life line, you moved your hips against his with a frail push, wanting to spur him on. “Wanna see you cum too. Want you to fill me up.”

“W-what?” His own thrusts stuttered when he caught your last sentence, letting your words sink in like honey on a burning wound.

“Want you to cum inside me.” By the expression on his face and slowed movements, you could clearly tell that Wriothesley probably thought that your words were stemming from a spur-of-the-moment decision. Brain fried by pleasure and oxytocin, all words that left your mouth should be taken by a grain of salt, though right now in this moment, there was not a single thing that you were more sure of than the thought and wish that had been occupying your mind for weeks. A small being incorporating the love that you and Wriothesley held for each other. Crawling and toddling around your house, filling it with sweet laughter and cries, while looking just like him. His eyes, his nose, his kind heart.. “Y/n, we can’t just-”

“Been meaning to tell you this for a while now.” The pads of your fingers brushed against his flushed cheeks as you cupped his face in the softness of your palms. His deep blue eyes had taken on a darker shade, staring right into your soul, and you swore that if there was a way to drown into that ocean of blue, you would do it instantly. “Wriothesley, I love you so much. I-I can’t imagine a life without you.”

Another stream of tears followed that made his eyebrows furrow before he gently wiped them away. Of course he had already had similar thoughts. How could he not when you were everything he had ever wanted in his life. Images of a little girl with the same sweet smile as yours, same hair, same attitude-

“Wanna give you a baby.”

“Are you sure about that?” His gaze zeroed in on you, looking for something, just anything that could tell him that you were not being serious, that all of this was nothing but an awful joke, some terrible dirty talk. Though all he could find while gazing into your eyes was nothing but pure love and warmth as you nodded at him. Warmth that seeped into the deepest parts of his body, spreading and filling his heart to the brim with affection for a woman he would always be ready to do anything for. “Sweetheart, you’re-”

You choked with wide blown eyes when his hips all of a sudden snapped against yours, his cock diving into your deepest parts and about to make you fall apart again. “You’re going to be the death of me, ya know that?” His voice quivered the slightest bit as he buried his face in your neck, and with his chest flush against yours, you could feel the rapid beat of his heart as it pounded only for you.

The fire had dimmed by now, the dark red flame covered by ash and residue parts of scorched wood fighting for its last ounce of oxygen, while the heavy snowfall outside had calmed. However, when you let your nails scrape down Wriothesley’s back, leaving red marks beside the already residing scars along his skin, while his body eventually tensed up, fingers digging into the fat of your hips and cock pulsing, coating the walls of your insides in white- You knew that your night had barely even started yet.

“Shit- Can’t wait to see you all round and swollen with my kid inside you, darling.”

#wriothesley #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x you #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact wriothesley

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 9 months

Text

You came — you called. II (+18) | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

✦ PART I ✦ Word count: 2.2k ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: After having a little non-friendly chat with your abuser, Simon comes back home to find you asleep in his bed. ✦ TW and general warnings: +18 NSFW, SMUT, lots of porn, p in v unprotected, some dirty talk, size difference implications, he's got a big cock, fluff, open ending sorta ✦ AO3 | Masterlist

A/N: well, since you guys liked part I and I was so fucking inspired I decided to write part 2; honestly thinking of writing a part III I seriously need to stop 😭 I hope you guys enjoy it! x

taglist: @abbiesxox

2am - world was on fire and no one could save me but you

“Y’know,” Simon starts, his legs spread across the armchair. His chin rests on his hand, nothing on his face but an indifference fashion, almost like the blood dripping from that guy’s mouth was another Tuesday to him. “You’re quite lucky, mate.” He stretches and leans his body forward. His elbows rest on his knees and he bends low enough to stare eye to eye into the face of the man who dared laying hands on you. “Know why?”

Your abuser flinches, and doesn’t answer; he couldn’t even if he wanted to.

His body doesn't move more than inches without feeling pain. He had lost count of how many kicks it took Simon to take him to that state - when you said your ex boyfriend was in the military, he didn't imagine that kind of military. There wasn't even a report he could possibly make. It didn't have a face, it didn't have a name - all he knew was that this man, your punisher in the skull mask, coded himself as Ghost.

And he knew that this man - this living ghost, this new alive fear of his, had made him spit blood for every slap, every squeeze, every bruise he left on your body. It would be too much for your tired, melancholic head to notice that whenever he contoured one in your back as he gave you a bath, he was counting. To each one, he’d punch him twice. Face, legs, stomach. He wanted to see blood.

“No?” He asked, licking his lips. “You fuckin’ pussy…” He scoffs, his voice ever so low, almost a whisper - almost like he could wake you up in his house, from this distance, by talking loud. “Because if it wasn’t for my girl, you’d be dead now.”

To your abuser’s silence, Ghost stands up and steps off avoiding the bleeding fucker in front of him. “And let it be known, I am not one to make noise. If you come after her again, you won’t know where the shot came from.” He states over his shoulder, before opening the door and leaving it open for the ambulance that’s yet to come - because, especially after you, he’s not a monster. Just a ghost.

4am - strange what desire will make foolish people do

The shower is on. You don’t hear it, blame it on your tough sleep; can barely hear your own alarms when it’s morning.

It is almost morning. In a few hours, the sun will rise in the horizon of the simple window by Simon’s bed side and invade the room - equally humble - annoying you. Right now, although the sky is still dark blue, the only light source poorly illuminating the room is the dim, yellow light that comes from the bathroom while Simon finishes his much deserved bath.

The bloodstained hoodie and his mask are thrown aside in the laundry basket and now quietly replaced for a pair of sweatpants - his pajamas. He walks towards you in mute steps, the mattress sinking from the pressure of his two hands against it, on either side of your waist. You feel the warmth of his freshly bathed body against your skin as he shelters you from the night cold breeze with his own body. It covers you entirely, and you mumble in your sleep, “Mmm, Simon.”.

“Hm…” His raspy voice asks, against your ear; your body, still drunk in sleep, shivers at the contact. You move slightly, while his nose brushes against your cheek, and continues down to your neck. Simon takes your smell in like a drug, shit, how painfully hard he misses you.

“You’re back…? Hm- what time is it?” You ask in a drunken voice.

His hand caresses your bare thigh under your shirt, his thick palm scraping up your skin till he reaches your belly; it covers, almost entirely. You mewl, “Simon…”

“Late.” He replies simply, warmly, against your ear. His dog tag swings in the short space between the two of you, and brushes against your chest. You turn a little, now awake enough to be able to speak at least, and your eyes meet his staring at you, drinking in the details as if all that time away from you has made him forget how beautiful you look when you just woke up.

“You smell good.” You admit in a mutter, feeling his hand sliding up from your belly to your waist in explicit desire. Though the two of you reluctantly tried to withdraw from each other, you couldn't deny it - it was mutual. “Are you calm now?” You ask, your hand takes hold of his dog tag and your index finger wraps around the chain; slowly, you wrap yourself around his neck, and before he can answer you, your lips take his in a quick kiss.

“No…” He replies against your mouth, in a breath. The sound of fabric moving fills the room as he repositions himself over you, and his hand moves up, tracing your curves to the top of your breast and cupping it; “Needin’ you right now.” He whispers in between slow, passionate kisses you both share.

Your leg curls around his waist as you kiss him desperately, like he could vanish from

your hands any second. “Ask me.” you whisper against his lips and your hand grasps his dirty blond strands as his hand tightens around your breast. “I like it when you ask…”

He closes his eyes feeling a chill rise in his belly hearing you moan, and smirks in both pleasure and pride knowing he was the one to cause it.

“Can I fuck you?” He complies, pushing his hips against you almost unconsciously, and you feel your body burn, feeling the big bulge in his pants press into your core through the fabrics that separate the two of you.

In one deft movement, Simon lifts your shirt up to your face level and you obediently offer to hold it between your teeth as his mouth proceeds to feast on one of your breasts while his hand massages the other.

“Simon- ah…” You groan, as your body uncontrollably squirms a bit and your lower half pushes up against him, begging him for some more.

Your body relaxes as your soft spots tighten, and after minutes of satisfying your needy breasts, sharing his tongue's attention between the two of them, Simon finally starts to run his wet kisses down your belly - calm as a sea breeze, hot as hellfire, different than it usually is when the two of you meet on an empty night, still enraged by the last time you left each other, fueled by hate, no - this time it's something different.

“I still think about you everytime, y’know, kitten?” He admits with a faint smirk as his hands pull your panties down your legs and quickly get rid of them, exposing now your needy and soggy core to his own view. “Nobody tastes sweet like you.”

His hand cups your ankle and he spreads your legs; his other hand cups your pussy, his fingers parting your folds as his middle finger rubs you slowly, torturously in that sweet spot of pleasure.

“S-Shut up…” You try to say, but your voice is caught in your throat by a sudden moan as his tongue takes place between your legs. In circular, slow and skillful movements, he sucks on your swollen clit - whatever you wanted to say is now replaced by heavy gasps and low, muffled moans as you bite down on your hand trying to hold it back. He disapproves, almost instantly, with a tight squeeze on your thigh and you can’t hold back a loud groan in response.

When he feels you're getting too close to your climax, Simon swaps the intense, slow strokes for even slower ones, his tongue barely touching your clit yet - that tiny tip of contact causing all you get is the intense desire and the twitching of your legs in a near-orgasm that's thwarted so many times, it gets you insane.

“Simon, p-please for fuck sakes…” You cry, your eyebrows furrowed in lust. His cock almost pierces the sweatshirt at this point, his veins visible on every possible part of his body - his arms, his temples, his crotch that shows when he straightens up over you as his pants lower to his waist, with that small clump of hair showing. “Don’t fucking make me beg…” You curse once again.

His tattooed arm grabs your waist and moves you over him; his hand grips your ass and moves you against his lap, your hands look for support around his shoulders and your hips instinctively continue the movements he started.

“Take it, c’mon.” He teases you. “It’s fuckin’ ripping my pants already, baby.” He grunts in your ear, his breath gets heavier when he pulls down his pants only enough so he can pull off his rock-hard large twitching cock; he stares into your face as his hips press forward, running his length against your slit, slowly.

“Ah, fuck.” You curse under your breath as you lift your hips until his tip is against your entrance, and slowly start lowering yourself. Simon holds back a growl as your tight walls begin to swallow his cock, inch by inch, slowly. It's almost too much for you, like you lost practice by fucking guys that were smaller than him; it’s not a hard deal - he’s really too big. His fingers dig onto the skin of your waist trying to restrain himself as he holds you steady and gives you some time to get used to his length filling your whole cunt.

His low groans flood your ears as after a few painful seconds, you begin to move up and down, slowly at first but quickly getting faster, deeper - the excruciating pain of feeling him stretching you up entirely as if it was your first time again, gives in to the deep pleasure of having him hitting your spot each time you thrust against him.

Simon is a groaning, gasping mess beneath you; his hips move uncontrollably against yours, he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it back exposing your cleavage to him, so he can suckle onto your soft skin - leaving marks all over you.

“Mine, aren’t you.” He groans while fucking you hard, kissing all over you like a dog who crawls back to its owner. “You feel so fuckin’ good- ah-” he takes you in a sloppy kiss, your hands digging his back in raw flesh;

“Y-Yours.” You reply in a gasping voice, almost out of air yourself.

Without much time to tell beforehand, your eyes roll up and his movements grow faster. You grab his shoulders, feeling your own climax start to flood through your body intensely, your legs tighten and your walls tighten against him; your clit throbs, and you grunt.

“Simon- I love you-” You moan, and your inability to keep moving now, with all your muscles suddenly relaxed and your cunt painfully overstimulated by his continuing thrusts, causes him to grab your waist from both sides and lift you without further difficulty - like you’re lightweight. He fucks you through your orgasm with his thrusts getting stronger - feral, animalistic, as his stomach tightens and his muscles jump even more defined than they already are, a few beads of sweat trickle down his chest as he grunts in pleasure.

Simon pulls out the instant he feels that crossing of lines where his consciousness loses itself to pleasure and surrenders completely to you - fast enough to spend himself on your thighs, partially, in a mess of grunts and gasps.

Your body collapses onto his and he holds you, both of you still trying to recover from so much intensity in so little time. Little by little, he regains consciousness as he smells your hair against his nostrils; vanilla ice cream. And then, the feeling of your body against his, your thin arms seeking support around his neck - your voice, saying you love him.

Minutes later, after taking care of your needs - water, a hot shower, another clean pair of clothes, you finally find yourself snuggled in his arms. Simon’s eyes are fixed on your face, and he looks tired, but not willing to fall asleep anytime soon.

The tip of his finger caresses your arm, and the morning sun starts to come through the window.

“Do you think we’ll ever work together?” You break silence, gazing through his eyes with uncontrollable love. He sighs tired, and after a couple seconds, replies.

“I’ll break your heart once or twice; you’ll break mine. Isn't that how every relationship is supposed to work?”

“Yes, but if so, why didn’t it work before then?” You close your eyes. He caresses your scalp, your beautiful hair, and closes his eyes as well.

“You look beautiful in the morning.” He mutters. “Not only in the morning, of course.”

“Simon…”

“Come back to me.” He asks, and it sounds like begging. Like crawling.

You open your eyes, but his are still closed. You smile.

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #cod fic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod ghost #cod mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley fluff #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader

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ladybirdswritings · 4 months

Text

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: You’re birthed into a lively family in dire need of financial stability. As the eldest, you’re paraded around to be married and much to the dismay of your mother, you deny every hand offered. Yet unbeknownst to you, a man of great power and influence, Mr. Snow, is lurking in the shadows, waiting for his chance to have you. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: I hope u girlies eat this up, getting scrapped otherwise </3 — as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated!

next chapter

one

You’d much rather be at any other breathing, standing tower of gold trimmings and cracked pillars in existence.

At any building filled to the brim, simply overflowing with tiered skirts and lively grins… offered hands and gentlemen donned in fine suits, pockets suffocated by their own riches.

Yet you cannot be; for mama has ordered your presence to be most dire and mandatory. Although you did consider fleeing for the highest hilltop or feigning ill, you knew well that mama would find you or see straight through your falsehoods.

“My my, you look as though you’ve got something unsweet taped to your vicious tongue.”

You scowl at the blonde goddess most confusingly known to be your sister, and she only flips a ringlet of gold behind her poised shoulder.

“I think it to be quite clear how dreadful I find this. No need to observe aloud, sister.”

Her mischievous sapphire orbs glow with enjoyment, face pink and flushed — skin glistening under the gold lanterns flickering above.

You’ve watched happily from your seat, she’s sure to have danced with at least twenty men now.

No wonder mama has no fears or worries about Jane. She is just guaranteed to run off and be married within the upcoming season, it only makes for less of a distraction for mama— she’ll be glued to you like quill to paper.

It is not as though men do not want you. Oh, they do. Most ardently.

The trouble is only that you do not want them.

How horrible it is to be confined to four lonesome, frayed walls with nothing more than your books and your wit to keep you company. Married to a man who will most certainly be your senior, who busies himself with trivial matters and leaves you to be cold at home.

You would much rather drown yourself in the river stix than face a fate so melancholic.

You wish to be an odd thing, to run away into a cottage and spend your days parted from the people who surround you. You will read books of men made from dreams and you will find comfort in knowing that you will not be wed to a man who will only discontent you.

Of course, that would bring great shame upon your family, ruin them. So it seems you will end up a spinster or a governess. Both fates, although not as you may hope in your dreams, still offer more joy.

“Forgive me for having fun. It is not why I displease you however, perhaps if you picked your pretty head up from that book and stopped waving the hands that greet you away— you would know this. Mama has sent me. The duke, his sister and a dear friend of his have arrived here. Here! At our party, can you believe it?”

You huff out a sigh laced with annoyance, flipping to the next chapter of the dilapidated thing in your hands.

“No, I truly cannot.” You mutter, yet you cannot spare the fresh page even a glance before it is snatched from your clutched fingers.

A first edition, it shreds from its spine and erupts a gasp from both you and Jane. Mama’s cyan gaze is cold and anxious, feigning a tight smile.

That one was your favorite.

You do not lift your head, you do not notice the three towering men who look down upon your reserved oak wood bench in interest. Mama clutches the duke’s palm in an embrace of suffocation, yet you do not pay it even a little mind as you drop to your knees in your pretty dress to find the strayed page.

“My god, where are your manners — girl! Please do not pay her rudeness any attention, she gets sickly over these things. Sweetheart, up now— we can buy you another.”

Her voice is cold, devoid of any admiration. It is a lie, too. Your family cannot afford even a singular chapter of a new novel, let alone a first edition. You should be the one plagued by frustration, yet you feel as though it is you who is doing something wrong.

Even so, your eyes search the floor with great fervor, landing on a polished leather shoe which suffocates chapter twelve.

You wince, preparing all the words you can to kindly request the stranger lifts his big foot off of your paper. Yet they dissipate in the back of your throat.

The man, he bends at his knee as he frees the old thing from his sole. Your eyes lift to greet him, then.

He is a mess of blonde locks, unruly compared to that of the others with hair long enough. Theirs are tamed with ribbons, his only sits atop his head. His eyes are a cold color, one you cannot explain. They are commanding, fueled with great intensity.

Beyond all of this?

He looks most certainly miserable.

He does not wish to attend tonight, one glance proves this.

He spares you no words as he passes you the paper, eyes locked upon the contents of it. He offers you a hand of assistance, too.

You ignore it, wincing at the disgust your mother expresses.

You need no aid as you lift to your feet and dust the old thing off, he follows you — becoming a tower taller once he stands.

Jane, you are grateful now that she is still here. She laughs most uncomfortably, placing a polite hand upon your shoulder as she snatches the page away. Far more gently.

“My dear sister, may I introduce you to your grace — sir Sejanus Plinth of Newbury. Alongside him, his sister — Grace Plinth and their dearest friend, Coriolanus Snow, also of Newbury.”

You know well that you’ve just about boiled a vicious pot of scorching water, one you’ll have to face the many consequences of. A quick glance stolen toward mama proves it.

With a soft sigh, you curtsy to the men before you. A show of respect which you most certainly do not have for them. They are just as unimportant as the others, grand status or not. Including the miserable looking blonde with cold eyes.

“Lovely to meet you. This is truly a grand gathering you’ve all put together…” Sejanus offers with a smile of pearl. You peer up at him, his eyes stealing quick glances at goddess Jane.

Mama goes off on a tangent about how much she adores hosting gatherings as much as attending them — and it’s all a mere buzz in your ears.

Your eyes shift toward the sister, Grace. She’s scowling at you… how peculiar.

“Jane, forgive me if this is far too forward but — I would be most honored to be the last dance you partake in this evening.” Sejanus swallows back his nerves, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Sweet Jane doesn’t bother torturing him, she only nods a shy head.

“Oh, come Grace! I must show you how my youngest daughter performs on the grand piano!”

You feel poorly for the scowling girl who is whisked away by mama. Jane and Sejanus follow alongside them, but part as soon as the music begins.

Both of your palms come to a clasp— shifting weight on your heels as you watch Jane twirl and giggle a golden sound, so beautiful you are certain it could bring each and every single gentleman in attendance to their knees.

Well, except the miserable Mr. Snow.

Your eyes drift to him then — and you catch his gaze already locked upon your stature. He averts it hastily, staring at what looks to be the far wall after he is caught.

Does he plan to lurk here like a shadow’s phantom for the entirety of the evening?

“Do you dance, Mr. Snow?”

His jaw is a sharp — tense thing. It clenches in surprise at your voice. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he answers.

“Not if I can help it.” Is but all he offers before returning to a miserable state of silence again.

By god, to garner more than a mere word is equivalent to the act of tugging teeth loose. You purse your lips, turning your head away to find another question you could offer.

You do not bother, however.

For the first time in all your life, in all the seasons you’ve suffered — you wish to dance. Not because you find it to be fun or any more stimulating than a novel but; rather because you would be far more joyous away from him.

Beyond this, it would make mama less angered when the gathering reaches its end.

You do not offer him a word of parting before you plunge into the lively crowd. A man with blonde locks, not quite as icy as Mr. Snow’s own tousles, offers his hand.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, pretending to be that of a girl in one of your novels. Whisked away by a mysterious, dancing stranger who offers more than just a meaningless hand.

You pretend the blonde is to be a grand lover, one who will care for you beyond material needs. Beyond what is expected and a bore.

You pretend, and when the song ends — so does each and every one of your mindless fantasies.

To normality once again…

486 notes · View notes

changbunnies · 6 days

Text

Reverie, (18+)

♡ Pairing: Prince!Hyujin x Lord's Daughter!Reader

♡ Genre: royal au, historical au, love at first sight, fairy tale elements, angst, fluff, eventual smut

♡ Word Count: 18.9k

♡ Summary: Staring out from your window everyday where you live confined, Hyunjin sees you- melancholic, lonely, beautiful; love at first sight. He wants to know you, to take you away from where you remain, doomed to be solitary. Spending your every moment daydreaming about the perfect life, meeting Hyunjin sparks a hope that you'd long since given up on- that your reverie can become your reality.

♡ Warnings: reader has an evil step-mother and step-sisters, involuntary confinement, themes of loneliness, isolation, and emotional + verbal abuse, reader is very touch starved and has low self-esteem from her mistreatment, past + referenced parental death (none are described) as well as having a parent who is sick, outdated marriage traditions, chan is featured and goes by chris, incredibly unrealistic because of the fairy tale romance inspo lol but it's a fun read, i hope!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): virgin reader + virgin hyunjin, petnames (darling), loss of virginity, nipple play, oral (f + m rec), unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: hey yall sorry its been a over month since my last post :') i was going thru a lot in my personal life that made it hard to write, as well as i HATED my first draft of this fic so i decided to entirely rewrite it gfsdhsdg but it's finally here after a lot of grief !! I honestly still don't like it all that much but I didn't want it to sit in my drafts any longer or rewrite for a third time so :') anyways i took a inspo for this one from rapunzel and cinderella, as well as a bit from sweeney todd (if you’ve seen the movie pls tell me you see the vision of hyunjin as jamie campbell bower’s character…) + a smidge of romeo and juliet.

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Sighing as he watches the scenery slowly pass him by through the carriage window, a deep frown adorns Hyunjin's face. He's no stranger to traveling, and normally he quite enjoys the break from the typical royal monotony, but this time around he can't bring himself to enjoy the sights that pass him by. The abundant flower fields, the surrounding lush forest on the edges, the perfectly blue sky.. none of them prevent the melancholy from setting in; because waiting for him at today's destination, in a manor just a fair few miles outside the castle city's walls, is yet another girl hoping to be his bride.

He's tired, to put it plainly; tired of meeting girl after girl who cares not for who he is as a person, but what his lineage offers them- and he expects today to go no differently. Why would he after the countless disappointments he's faced, after the myriad of times he's expected a night to end badly, and been proved right? And perhaps it is unfair of him to judge how the afternoon will go well before he's even met her, but his expectations have long since been set.

Hyunjin's royal attendant, who accompanies him to all his meetings and currently sits beside him within the carriage, does his best not to show how the prince's constant sighing grates on his nerves. Royal attendants should always be calm and patient in the face of frustration, and that is what Christopher strives to be; so he speaks to the prince as kindly as his dwindling patience will allow him. "Must you look so miserable? I imagine the girls won't take kindly to the prince looking at them with such disdain."

"Girls? Plural?" Hyunjin asks, groaning audibly when his attendant nods. Great. As if a blind setup with just one girl wasn't enough.. Still, he doesn't need to be reminded to mind his manners. He'll hold himself to the utmost royal standard when the time comes, as he always does- and he tells Chris as such. "I certainly hope so," Christopher responds with practiced ease, "There aren't many demoiselles left to meet, and your father will be disappointed if we return with more outright denials."

"I'm aware," Hyunjin replies simply, frustration still clear in his voice, though he tries his best to temper it. He knows his attendant is not wrong, and is simply trying to look out for him while also keeping Hyunjin's royal duty in mind. It's imperative that Hyunjin marry before his father's illness progresses to the point that he must concede the throne, and it's Christopher's job to ensure that Hyunjin doesn't forget that.

But still.. despite the circumstances begging for urgency, this is not a matter that Hyunjin is willing to bend on. He values true love, romance, genuine connection above all else; and so when he marries, he'll do it for real love, and real love only- even if it means the throne passes him by and goes instead to his uncle. Hyunjin doesn't understand, nor does he care, why the law requires him to marry to take the throne. He imagines it's related to ensuring that the noble line continues- something he ultimately pays no mind to and refuses to take seriously, though he knows he should.

Hyunjin is considered by most of the royal family to be stubborn by nature, a trait his father has told him countless times he gets from his late mother, but Hyunjin himself likes to believe he is reasonable. While he's not entirely malleable, he does act with the country's best interest in heart, and he swallows down all frustration and gracefully does whatever he feels he must in favor of doing what is best for the citizens.

It just so happens that marriage is the one thing on which he will not compromise; and stubborn or not, Hyunjin thinks he should be allowed this one thing. All he wants is genuine love with someone who places the same amount of value in that love as he does, and he never expected that such a wish would be too much to ask for. But either way, all he can do for now is straighten his posture, put on his best smile, and hope that against his expectations, today will bring him the love he’s been searching for.

Similarly, you too stare from your window; though not from a horse-drawn carriage, but from where your bedroom lies on the second floor of your late father's manor. According to your step-mother, a very important suitor is coming to meet your step-sisters today, and she has taken every necessary precaution in ensuring you would be out of the way for the evening. You were used to such treatment by now, and being locked away in your room and ignored for hours on end was no longer something that brought you the intense grief it once had.

Sad to say, it'd become a simple fact of life since your father passed; you were used to the loneliness and the sadness and the grief of having a family that did not love you as you loved them. Truly, you loved your step-mother and sisters, and back then you never would've guessed they secretly abhorred your existence. But your father passed, and with his passing came the truth- that she never loved your father, or you- just what he had; and she was raising her daughters to be just the same.

Against his wife's knowledge or wishes however, your father's will had stipulations she must follow if she wanted to inherit his estate- the most important of which being that she care for you, his precious, only biological daughter, as one of her own until the day you are wed and depart from the manor to be with your new family. Thanks to this clause, your step-mother provides for you; and though it is only the bare minimum amount necessary, it could certainly be worse. You still have your childhood bedroom, all your precious belongings, 3 hot meals a day, and the maids who helped your father raise you still checking in on you.

The maids are forbidden from interacting with you more than is necessary, as your step-mother makes it her mission to make you as miserable as possible within the limitations your father's will provides, but they do what they can. The small talk they provide while filling your bath with hot water, and the snuck in messages written on scraps of paper hidden beneath your dinner tray are often the highlights of your day. You are lonely, but not alone, and that keeps you going on the particularly hard days.

Days like today, where the padlock your step-mother installed outside your bedroom door is ordered to remain locked no matter what, ensuring that you are unable to leave and ruin her evening, or her plans. She intends to find her daughters wealthy, prestigious husbands- men that cannot be given the chance to look upon you, lest they decide they like you more than her biological daughters.

You wouldn't misbehave regardless of whether or not the lock was in place. You're so used to being locked away in your room that even were the lock to no longer exist, you don't think you'd even notice; because you wouldn't ever try to leave in the first place. And compounding on that, you don't think yourself particularly special or beautiful enough to "threaten" your sister's marriage prospects; all you'd do is needlessly subject yourself to reminders that you're lesser than when they inevitably gloss over you.

You simply.. exist. But in your step-mother's eyes, that's your greatest sin. She hates you, and your existence alone causes her great grief. The simple fact that you exist prevented her from truly obtaining what she wanted most; your father's wealth hinged on you being taken care of to obtain. And thus, she couldn't just throw you out and leave you to your fate as she originally intended; so she begrudgingly provides for you, the depth of her loathing coming out in passive-aggressive words, meals resentfully delivered, and a locked bedroom door where she can leave you for a time and pretend her greatest wish is true- that you don't exist.

Staring out your window is how you've come to spend most of your days. Daydreaming, listening to birds sing, watching deer graze and rabbits sprint across the fields and between the trees. You reread your books to the point you could recite them with ease, you fantasize about love and companionship and freedom, and you wonder if there will ever come a day where such joy can be yours. You suspect not; when you do marry, it'll likely be to some terrible man your step-mother chooses on the basis that they continue your misery.

But in the sanctity of your bedroom, inside your imagination and idle daydreams, you can pretend that true love and happiness waits for you. Where you are valued and cherished and adored, where you are wanted and craved, where a life without you in it cannot even be imagined, for it would be too painful for your lover to even consider.

Lost in thought as you are, you almost miss it when the carriage your step-mother and sisters are expecting comes into sight. And normally you would pull yourself away from the window, make sure you're out of sight from whomever exits the carriage, lest whoever your step-mother is having over recognize you. But this carriage is so different from the ones that typically arrive at the manor that it makes you curious.

It's fancy- easily the most extravagant and ornate carriage you've ever seen; not that you've seen many, but the point stands. It's clear that whomever your family is meeting today is no ordinary suitor. There’s a crest beholden on the door, one that seems vaguely familiar, and you wish you could place it as it would assuredly be a hint to who is arriving, but the memory of what family it comes from eludes you.

It’s been so long since you’ve been out to the city, or communicated with families your father was close with, that it's hard to recall the family crests you once so easily recognized. But whatever family it belongs to, one thing is clear- they are surely wealthy and prestigious to afford a carriage this grand. No wonder your step-mother wants you out of the way today; if a wealthy suitor somehow chooses you over her real daughters, that would be her worst nightmare.

You watch with bated breath as a man steps out from the left side of the carriage, a man you can tell from dress alone is some sort of attendant. He works his way around to the right of the carriage to open the door for whoever remains inside- the wealthy suitor being an obvious guess. And really, you should look away and mind your own business lest you risk angering your step-mother, but you can't help yourself. This is the closest thing to fresh entertainment you’ve had (and are going to have), and so you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away.

And oh, the man who steps out when the door is opened for him is breathtaking. Even at a distance, he’s positively ethereal- easily the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. And you are certain that, even with your lack of worldly experience, he is utterly without comparison. He’s pretty, impossibly pretty, with long black hair, half of which is tied back by a ribbon, rings adorning his fingers, ornate yet dainty bracelets that seem to perfectly match the necklaces he wears, and beautiful, pure white and dangly earrings that remind you of a teardrop in shape, all of which match his equally embellished doublet.

He looks so very grand, elegant, to the point that you feel absolutely unworthy to even be looking at someone so strikingly gorgeous and well dressed. God, if he chooses one of your step-sisters to marry, someone so clearly wealthy and beautiful and important.. you just know your step-mother will lord it over you as her greatest proof that they are better than you.

The bitter, hurt part of you half wished the man your sisters were meeting today would be boorish and unimpressive, but of course that’s not the case.. And it saddens you, strangely. You like to think yourself above pettiness, and you’d rather experience the world through a lens of kindness despite what you’ve suffered, but seeing someone so utterly perfect going to meet your sisters, and knowing how they will mock you and laugh in your face should he fall for one of them..

Maybe, somewhere deep down, you’re jealous. Jealous, and angry, and hurt, as you’ve always been, but tried not to acknowledge. And it’s not the perceived wealth you’re jealous of, or the possibility of a beautiful husband, but the chance for connection they have that you don’t. That they can meet someone like him and be given the chance to fall in love, while you are forced into isolation and monotony. It isn’t fair, and it never has been, but today of all days is where you feel that injustice most strongly.

You choke on the melancholy, your eyes well with tears that you try to blink away as your hands ball into fists in your lap. You shouldn’t have watched the window today or let your curiosity and boredom get the best of you- all you’ve done is make yourself impossibly sad. You begin to stand from your seat by the window, ready yourself to close the curtains and wallow in your bed for the rest of the evening, when suddenly, you freeze. Your hand unmoving on the curtain, eyes widening with the realization that your sister’s suitor is looking at you. And it's not as simple as a passing glance- no, he is staring at you.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened when he first saw you in the window, at first just passively looking over the manor and taking in the sight as he readied himself to enter, before his eyes fell upon you. And upon seeing you, he became completely and utterly enraptured by your beauty, in a way he’s never experienced with anyone he’s ever met before.

He can’t help but stare, can’t manage to tear his eyes away from your visage even when Chris calls his name. And when you stand to close the curtains, and your eyes travel to him and meet his gaze, his breath catches in his throat, his heart skips a beat before it races, and his face flushes to an impossibly bright pink.

How and why does he have this feeling? How is that you enchant him with just a glance, when others have failed to with much more? You’ve not yet truly met, nor spoken a single word, and yet he feels it firmly- a desire hereto unmatched, that does not follow preconceived notions of what is logical, the kind you would only read about in the great romantic works of playwrights and novelists. A feeling he never expected to be based in truth, but here he is now, feeling it for himself- love at first sight.

And if love at first sight is real and it is true, then he cannot wait to meet you. To learn your name and hear your voice and speak with you until your throats run dry. He’ll devote himself to learning everything about you, to carving your every word and thought into his memory. He wants to learn what it is about your soft, melancholic expression that he finds so entrancing, to discover what it is that causes his heart to stir in ways entirely foreign to him.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, Prince Hyunjin, Hyunjin-” Christopher tries every way possible to get the prince’s attention, letting out an exasperated sigh when Hyunjin finally turns back to him. He doesn’t even know what caught his attention- when he tried to follow the prince’s gaze, all he was met with was a window with its curtains pulled shut. “My apologies. I just-” Hyunjin starts, taking one last glance at the now empty window before turning back to his attendant. “Nevermind. Let’s just go inside.”

Chris quietly huffs his agreement, quickly offering the manor’s maids who were waiting on them his apologies in Hyunjins stead, as he is used to. He’s accustomed to not understanding what goes on inside the prince’s head, but at least he seems prepared now.. Almost happy, Chris would think if he didn’t know better. Regardless of its origin and whether or not he understands where it came from, he will welcome it- because it really is vital that Hyunjin choose a bride with haste.

The start of the evening goes as predictably as anticipated from that point on- the maids lead them to the great room, offering tea and freshly baked sweets while they wait. Hyunjin politely turns them down while Chris stands a comfortable distance away, there simply to keep an eye on the prince and observe how the arranged meeting proceeds. The lady of the manor enters the room after some time passes, bowing politely and apologizing for the delay before ushering her daughters into the room.

They’re dressed extravagantly, as expected, with expensive jewelry, perfectly laid hair, and tasteful makeup. They introduce themselves politely, though they erupt into quiet giggles afterwards, likely excited that one of them will potentially be chosen to marry the prince. Their mother shoots them a look, and it makes them clear their throats and cease their elated giggling, returning to proper posture with their hands folded in front of them, both smiling at him sweetly. But something’s wrong..

Hyunjin looks between the girls, their mother, and back to the girls, head tilting and brows furrowing in confusion; he doesn’t see the one from the window anywhere.. Shouldn’t she be here? “Isn’t there another?” he asks, and the dame’s eyes widen for a moment, a complex flash of emotions that Hyunjin doesn’t have enough time to fully decipher within them, before she reverts back to her previous calm, inviting demeanor.

“I believe I wrote in my proposal to the royal family that I have two, and only two, daughters. Perhaps there was a miscommunication between you and your men?” She suggests, and though it’s spoken kindly, Hyunjin gets the distinct impression that she wants to shut down any talk of a third daughter here and now. Christopher too is confused, but he apologizes to the dame, insisting the mistake is his fault, though it certainly isn’t.

The dame accepts the apology and swiftly moves on, though the tension still lingers. Even as she begins to talk at great length about how wonderful her daughters are and how lucky everyone involved would be should Hyunjin choose one of them to be his princess, there’s an edge beneath the kindly spoken words that hint towards how bothered his mistake made her. Her daughters too seem tense when he first questions if there is another, though by the time they are allowed to speak themselves all tension in them seems to melt away, instead focusing on singing their own praises and expressing their desire to see the royal castle.

It’s so jarring, tense, awkward, that it completely prevents Hyunjin from being able to focus on a single word the girls say. Ordinarily, he would not bat an eye at someone correcting a mistake in his speech or for having come to an incorrect conclusion, as it is imperative that a prince goes about his dealings with as correct as information as possible. But that being said, the dame’s reaction rubs him the wrong way, especially when paired with the nervous flash in her daughter’s eyes as their bodies tensed..

If he was simply mistaken, it would be natural and correct for her to clear up any misgivings he has about her family and estate kindly- there’d be no reason to address him with such underlying hostility or be on the defensive, as if he’d brought up a point that needs to be fiercely fought against. The emotion that flickered in their eyes, the terse words filled with faux-niceties, the shift in body language.. They suggest to Hyunjin only one thing- that a third daughter is in fact here; and for some strange reason, the lady of the house doesn’t want him to meet her.

But why would that be? The ideas that cross his mind make him woefully unable to focus on anything spoken to him. Maybe you’re already promised to someone else, maybe you’ve been married before and are now widowed, living in your old family home while stricken with grief.. Maybe you’re a cousin simply having a visit that by pure chance coincides with the prince arriving too, or maybe he imagined you somehow. But could that really be? You were so real, that doesn’t seem possible..

“But what do you think? .. Prince Hyunjin..?” One of the girls asks, and when he doesn’t reply, Chris clears his throat and steps forward to subtly nudge the prince, breaking him from his thoughts. “Allow me to apologize. The prince is.. tired these days. He’s got a lot on his plate, as I’m sure you understand,” Chris says, shooting Hyunjin a look that begs him to take the lead and finish cleaning the mess he’s made.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Uhm- perhaps you could allow me a small break? And then I promise you’ll both have my undivided attention,” Hyunjin suggests, being sure to offer them his most charismatic smile in the hopes they’ll look past how inattentive he’s been thus far. They agree easily, giggling and lightly blushing, assuring him a break is good for everyone (which he knows isn’t true, but it’s polite of them, at least.)

This time, he accepts the tea when it’s offered to him, chugging it down in a display that goes completely against the manners that have been drilled into him. He asks to be led to the nearest restroom, splashes water on his face and wills himself to focus on the task at hand. And though it comes with great difficulty, he forces himself to pay strict attention to every word spoken to him from that point onward, though your image continues to exist in the back of his mind the entire time.

Hyunjin steps out of the manor with a sigh, finding himself entirely drained after his meeting with the two sisters and their incredibly duplicitous mother. Originally, he’d planned to leave before nightfall, but they somehow managed to rope him into having dinner with them, and to say it was exhausting would be an understatement. Now he stands in the light of the moon, deep frown returning as he waits for preparations to leave to be made- because he absolutely refuses to stay here until morning.

As expected, once he broke himself out of his fog and started paying attention to what they were saying, they were incredibly vain and equally daft, and the more he spoke to them, the clearer it became that they weren’t fit to someday sit on a throne. It was extremely obvious that they were vying for increased fortune and pride- and at the behest of their mother specifically. To old herself to marry into the royal family, it seemed she was content to allow her daughters to do the social climbing on her behalf.

Not that her daughter’s are completely ignorant of this plot- he’s sure they’re well aware of the benefits if one of them becomes a princess, and are well instructed and prepped on how best to appeal themselves to a noble’s proclivities. Unfortunately for them, Hyunjin is unlike most nobles, and he takes the task of one day rearing his country very seriously- much too seriously to marry someone selfish, and without grace or tact, nor whom he fails to have a genuine connection with. Beauty alone won’t be enough to win him over.

Saying that however.. He can’t seem to stop thinking about the strikingly gorgeous girl he saw from the window. He feels himself a hypocrite, saying it takes more than good looks to win his heart, and yet still finding himself hung up on the mysterious beauty in the window. He looks up to that window, and sees nothing- the curtains are drawn, the room pitch dark, and there’s a part of him that considers the dame’s words true. There is no third girl, and what he saw was perhaps a phantom, a trick of the light, a mysterious cousin, or..

Well, he doesn’t know what, but he can’t allow himself to continue to linger on a girl that may not even be real, or obtainable if she does exist. "What's going on with you tonight? You never have a good time at these things, but you've been more off than is.. typical of you," Chris suddenly speaks up after Hyunjin sighs once more, and the prince frowns as he looks to his attendant.

A lot weighs on his mind; more than he feels he can even begin to explain. The way Hyunjin's thoughts swim in his head like a whirlpool- can he even begin to express himself in a way that is coherent and understandable to his most trusted attendant? Regardless, he has to start somewhere, and so he tries. “I’m afraid that I’ll never find what I’m looking for. Those girls were.. vapid to say the least. I’ve no interest in marrying a social climber, but.. I am beginning to think that perhaps I have no choice.”

Chris' expression softens as he offers Hyunjin a gentle, reassuring pat on the shoulder. There is little he can do to make the prince feel better about his circumstance, he knows; he often has to remind Hyunjin to keep his royal duty in mind, and though it doesn't always show, he does feel bad that the prince is forced into such a situation.

It can't be easy bearing such a burden, and Chris certainly doesn't envy the struggle to find a bride under such constraints, or the responsibilities that will come to Hyunjin once he is wed. “Well, don’t fret too hard about that just yet. We still have a few more interested parties we’ve yet to meet. And maybe the universe wants to show you the wrong first, so that when you meet who is right.. you’ll know,” Chris says earnestly, trying his best to show the prince support.

"Mm, maybe," Hyunjin mumbles, desperately hoping his attendant is right. He hoped you would be that right person, but if fate deems it right to show him heartache and to put him through trials before happiness can come to him then he will just have to accept that. Chris frowns, but knows there is not much else he can offer to ease the prince's worries; so he instead turns his attention to the carriage to check on the progress for departure.

“Looks like we’re ready to depart,” Chris says after the coachman finishes adorning the carriage with lanterns suitable for the night ride back to the castle, "Maybe you'll feel better after some rest. And if you'd like, we can talk some more about this tomorrow." Hyunjin simply nods, following his attendant to the carriage with an immense weight still on his shoulders.

Despite what he logically knows, he can't shake his sadness over the fact that his burden wasn't lifted this evening, the irrational sorrow that comes from his hopes being dashed- that the beautiful girl he saw in the window could not be met.. But he tries to think that maybe it’s for the best that there wasn’t a third daughter for him to meet after all. Given the influence of their mother, she’d likely have been just as bad as her sisters, and that would’ve surely broken his heart beyond the ache he feels now.

Chris approaches the left-side door first, opening it swiftly and then standing to the side, motioning for Hyunjin to enter first, as is customary. Hyunjin places a hand on the doorframe and a foot on the iron step, ready to step inside in the carriage, but takes one last glance at the manor before he does. And there, a glimmer of hope- the image of you, just barely there peeking through the curtains, the faint light of a candle flickering in your hand.

Though a considerable distance away, he can see your eyes widen when you realize he sees you yet again, gasping and quickly moving away from the window, the light of your candle disappearing with your image. “She’s there!” Hyunjin exclaims, instantly separating himself from the carriage, and taking an unconscious step back towards the manor. “Who’s there?” Chris questions as he follows Hyunjin’s gaze to the window, confused to, again, find absolutely no one and nothing of note.

"I.. don't know who exactly, but she was there, I saw her," Hyunjin continues, and while Chris is still utterly baffled, he does see that the curtains are slightly swaying despite the window being closed- meaning someone was there, and caused them to shift by either touching them, or walking past them. He looks back to Chris, sees the hesitant, puzzled expression, and tries to explain himself in the briefest, but most concise way possible.

“I saw her in the window when we first arrived too! I asked the dame about her, thinking she may have had another daughter, but you heard how she reacted- she brushed me off so coldly.” "Well.. maybe she was telling the truth? It's possible she's simply a maid," Chris suggests, but Hyunjin quickly shakes his head. "She isn't. I assure you, after seeing their maids I wouldn't confuse her for one.. She's entirely unlike any of them."

"Okay.. So she's not a maid. But there could still be a reasonable explanation for everything," Chris says, and oh no, he can instantly tell where Hyunjin's mind is going. "Exactly! So I'm going to meet her, and find out what that reason is," Hyunjin says, wasting no time in walking back up to the manor. “What? How exactly do you plan on doing that when the dame clearly didn’t want you to meet her?” Chris quietly exclaims as he follows Hyunjin towards the direction of your window.

“There’s a trellis near her window, and I intend to climb it,” Hyunjin smiles, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable plan and not at all insane for him to do. “Go back to the carriage, and instruct the coachman to drive it down the road and out of sight. I don’t want the ladies of the house to know I’m still here if they happen to look out from their windows,” Hyunjin instructs, and again, Chris is absolutely floored by the prince. “Your Highness, you- you can’t be serious,” he quietly exclaims again, though he can tell Hyunjin is entirely serious about all of this.

"Just do this for me, please? I need to do this- for my peace of mind if nothing else," Hyunjin tells him, and though Chris still doesn't understand why the prince is so adamant about meeting you, he can see the sincerity and the drive in his eyes, and so he concedes. “Fine, just.. try to be discreet and don’t take too long, okay? And don’t make her uncomfortable!” Chris warns and Hyunjin thanks his attendant warmly before turning his attention back to your window.

He approaches the manor carefully, tiptoeing up to the trellis that will act as his ladder to your window. He places a foot into one of the slots and carefully adds his weight, making sure it’ll hold before he begins to climb it in earnest. He’s never done anything like this, but he knows he’d regret it if he didn’t at least try to meet the woman who so easily captured his heart with just a glance, while desperately, and maybe vainly, hoping he has a chance with you.

Hyunjin knocks softly on the window once he reaches it, doing his best to make it loud enough for you to hear, but not so loud that he would alarm anyone who may be nearby. Though your room is dark, the moon offers just enough illumination through the curtains that he can make you out. And while unlit, you are still holding the candle in one hand, while the other is nervously placed over your heart.

You can't believe this happening- the devastatingly handsome man meant to be wooed by one of your sisters saw you again, and is now at your window? Your heart is racing out of control, you don't know what to do or what to think seeing him there, waiting for you to approach the window, approach him.

You didn't even expect to see him again when you stepped to your window and peeked out; you simply saw lantern light from your window whilst preparing for bed, and it piqued your interest. You wanted to know what was going on, of course you did, so you looked, fully expecting the answer to be guards doing an uncharacteristically late sweep of the grounds, or maids sneaking out to meet the secret lovers you knew them to have.

But what you saw instead was the beautiful man from earlier in the process of stepping inside his grand carriage- and as if sensing you were watching, he turned to the manor, his eyes instantly falling on you. Just as you had this evening, you gasped and quickly shuffled away from the window, blowing out your candle as your heart pounded in your chest. Several seconds passed, and with trembling steps, you stepped back to the window and took one more cautious glance outside, only to see him approaching the manor, clearly intending to seek you out.

You gasped again, moving away from the window once more, mind reeling and pulse quickening. And now he’s here, having clearly climbed the trellis up to your window, hope in his eyes as he looks at you and waits. Swallowing, you carefully set the candle down on your nearby nightstand before you take cautious steps back towards the window, opening it ever so slightly. “May I come in?” he asks quietly, likely recognizing that speaking at full volume would be unwise, “I wish to speak with you.”

His voice is as silky and pretty as you imagined, and it positively jolts you. Everything about him seems impossibly perfect- part of you thinks that you've must've already fallen asleep, that you're tucked in bed and having a vivid dream based on the events of the day. But no, you've never dreamed as vividly as this, and you'd certainly remember if you'd crawled into bed after checking the lantern light from the window.

And that leaves you with a dilemma; the man, as gorgeous as he is, is still a stranger- and certainly you can't just let a strange man enter your room through your window.. That goes against everything your father ever taught you about safety. So you hesitate, observing him carefully for a moment.

And maybe it's just the fact that he's beautiful, or your yearning for connection that makes you want to trust him, even if it makes no logical sense to do so. You can't help but think he looks genuine and sincere, and well.. you can't ignore how desperately you desire to talk to someone, anyone, for more than the brief amount you're allowed to with your maids. Still, even if you crave connection with someone, you should be careful who you speak to shouldn't you?

He notices the hesitancy, recognizes what kind of situation he's imposing on you, and so he speaks up again, "Or I can stay here and we just talk through the window? If that's okay with you." Hyunjin knows he's being unreasonable and getting way too ahead of himself in his desire to speak with you, and it's crucial that he does his utmost to show you that he has no intention of making you uncomfortable.

Really, you should turn him down; but logic has left you, and truth be told you don't entirely trust that he can stand at the top of the trellis and support his own weight for much longer. So, you open your window further, granting him permission to step inside in your bedroom. He crawls in through your window as quietly as he can manage, smiling at you when he's fully inside. His smile is timid, and a bit awkward- this is easily the most nervous he’s ever felt, and he knows he’s going about meeting you completely backwards, but what other choice did he have?

Your mother, aunt, or whoever she is to you- he doubts she would’ve allowed him the chance to meet you. Her words and body language were much too passive aggressive to lead him to believe she’d meet the request to speak with you kindly, nor does he think she'd take kindly to being insinuated a liar. Additionally, it was highly unlikely that she’d willingly and truthfully divulge information about you or answer his questions. And so it led him to this- his fateful first meeting with the girl of his dreams happening within her moonlit bedroom.

He's completely out of his depth and unsure of himself or anything he's doing, but he holds out his palm, offering for you to place your hand in his. You blink, look up and down between his hand and his patient expression, and then you remember- oh, right, proper introductions. The setting is unorthodox, but it seems he still has it in mind to be polite and correct; as much as is possible, anyways.

You hesitate a moment, but ultimately place your hand in his, and he bows to you, lifting your hand to his mouth and placing a chaste kiss just above the knuckle. It's a simple, proper greeting, one that most people your age are entirely accustomed to, but it's been so long since you experienced it that it makes your skin erupt in goosebumps and heart thump erratically in your chest.

And there's the fact that he's jaw droppingly gorgeous- that certainly doesn't help.

You do your best to collect yourself when he straightens back up and looks at you once more. "I'm Hyunjin," he tells you in case you don't know, voice still as soft as it was at your window, a near whisper, "would you tell me your name, please?" This whole thing is entirely out of order and backwards, but you politely curtsey after offering him your name, though it feels silly to do so in your night chemise. And something about the way he looks at you makes your face burn hotter than it ever has.

All he’s heard is you speak your name, but he already considers your voice to be just as pretty as you are- he hopes he’ll get to hear it far beyond this single night. "If I may, I want to ask.. Do you know who I am? Or why I came here today?" He asks, looking directly into your eyes as he awaits your answer. You swallow, the eye contact making your heart skip a beat and pulse climb, but you steady yourself the best you can to answer. "You're.. a suitor who came to meet my sisters. But I didn't know your name until you told me it."

Hyunjin's eyes flicker with unfamiliar emotion as he takes in your answer- he knew it! You're no ordinary girl, nor a housemaid with an unusually lavish room. And what strikes him, apart from the confirmation that you're related to the girls he met downstairs, is what you said about him. You didn't know his name, don't know who he is apart from a potential suitor to your sisters.

He still doesn't understand why you weren't allowed to meet him, but it gives him hope- that if you are unwed, your love can be genuine. You won't marry him for title or wealth or power, but for who he is as a person. In the 4 corners of your bedroom, his name holds no weight, and that's all he's ever wanted.

But he should ask now, before he gets too ahead of himself and breaks his own heart, or lets a leap in logic carry him far beyond where rationality can reach him- ask if you are already promised to another. "Are you betrothed?" Hyunjin asks, and you quickly shake your head, surprised by the way he smiles in a mix of joy and relief to know you are unwed. Is that.. a good thing?

You're not even sure why you shook your head so vehemently when he first asked, as if you wanted there to be no mistake. Why would it matter to him if you are going to be married to someone or not? But something about his smile tells you it matters to him very much, though it is impossible for you to fathom why that could be. "Why do you ask..?" you question hesitantly, unsure of what you even hope to hear in response.

"Since I first saw you in the window, I've wanted to know you," he tells you earnestly, and your heart once again skips a beat. You knew he saw you, and you knew that were he perceptive enough to tell you aren't a maid he'd likely have questions about you or lingering curiosity. But it still surprises you that he shows this much interest- that it's more to him than just a passing question he'd be content to forget about in a day's time.

“Why didn’t you ask my mother then?” you ask him, though you suspect you know the answer. It’s not that he’s trying to solve a mystery or investigate why a seemingly innocuous girl is tucked away out of sight from visitors- and while you’re sure he’d welcome the answers to such questions, it’s more than that. For some strange reason, it’s just you- you as a person that he wants to know.

And you don’t know what to do with that. Your existence is so often ignored and trivialized, you can’t begin to understand why a glance of you in the window is enough to drive him to seek you out. You can’t understand what it is about you that is worth this, worth the curiosity and the climb to your window. Why would anyone want to speak to you so badly? You’re not special enough to warrant this.

“I did ask, and I didn’t like the answer,” Hyunjin says, and you blink in surprise. You can easily imagine that your step-mother would dismiss your existence when asked about you, or say something along the lines of “she doesn’t matter,” or “don’t worry about her, she’s nobody,”- so it’s not that that surprises you. What surprises you is that he heard an answer and not only didn’t accept it, but said he didn’t like it. Why?

Try as you might, you can't understand his motivations. Even if he could tell there was more that your step-mother wasn't telling him, why does he care so much about who you are? All visitors before Hyunjin who have stolen a glance at you either never asked about you, or have accepted her answers at face value, and it made sense that they did- because what reason did they have to push for the truth, or meet you regardless of her wishes?

“I’m interested in you, and I didn’t believe what I was told. I want to know you,” he continues, reiterates his sentiment, and you feel utterly frozen. All you can manage to do is blink up at him, your breath and words caught in your throat. And you realize your hand still rests in his, and you’re sure he can feel the way it trembles- from confusion, from nerves, from the simple act of even being held by someone for the first time since you were a child. But he doesn’t let go, and you don’t take it away- because he’s interested in you, and you want to know what that means, want to cling to the possibility that you can have the companionship that has eluded you for years.

“But.. why?” you finally ask, mind reeling from the possibilities. Regardless of what your step-mother may have told him, there’s one thing that she’s never wrong about- that you’re nobody, nothing, that your existence is a hindrance and you’re better off shoved aside where you can’t impose on her. You used to challenge that thought, but you’ve long since lost the will to fight against it, often finding yourself believing it to be true. And since you’re not special, or important, or particularly pretty, why is he so interested in you? You just don’t get it.

"If you'll forgive me for being forward.. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. And I know it's presumptuous of me, and perhaps shallow, to want to meet you so badly for that alone but.. I couldn't let the image of you go. I had to take the chance to find out who you are," Hyunjin spills his thoughts freely, making his desires and motivations clear.

And just as before, it leaves you completely stunned. What he's saying.. that can't be right. You? The most beautiful he's ever seen? That feels like something you should be saying to him- Hyunjin is easily the most radiant and ethereal person you've ever seen, but he's saying all this about you?

You're rendered speechless, face burning impossibly hot as the words repeat themself in your mind on a loop. "I've got to go," he continues, slowly letting go of your hand as he prepares to return to the window, "but I want- I hope you’ll allow me to see you again." I hope you'll give me a chance to win your heart, he wants to add, but he's already been much more forward than he'd ever imagined himself to be, and he doesn't want to jeopardize anything that might be budding.

He steps back to the window and you follow, watching as he readies himself to climb back down the trellis he used to reach you. "We'll meet again?" he asks after settling his weight on the trellis, looking back at you with hopeful eyes. It feels foolish, and a bit naive to wish so hard that you'll desire to see him again; all he can do now is hope the impression he made is enough to allow you defy your sense of logic, just as you've done to him simply by looking his way.

You smile softly, the first smile you've shown him, the first you've done in God knows how long- and you nod as you promise him you will. You don't know how it will work or where it will lead, if anywhere, but you think you'd regret it if you didn't at least try. You miss companionship, you miss having someone to talk to, you miss smiling and the feeling of comfort and joy that comes from being close with someone who understands and knows you. You don't want to let this opportunity to have someone in your life slip you by.

Hyunjin's heart jumped when you smiled at him, and he returned the smile brightly as he said his goodbyes, heart still thumping and smile still plastered on his face as he descended the trellis. He looks back to the window, waving to you when he sees you watching from between the curtains, a giddy feeling building in his stomach when you wave back. Following the dirt road away from the manor, he meets back up with Chris at the carriage, happily relaying everything that happened to him on their way back to the castle.

You retired to your bed once Hyunjin was out of sight, but found it hard to sleep following your interactions. Curled up under the blankets, eyes closed and heavy, ready to sleep, but mind racing and replaying the night's events. There's a chance that this is a mistake, but you don't think you'll regret having taken the chance- because the hope and joy you feel now is the most delightful feeling you've experienced since you were a girl, and that feeling alone is worth whatever trouble it may bring your way.

It's hard to explain in words the emotions that come from having Hyunjin close to you. From having just a few short months ago gone from spending your nights restless from loneliness, to now lying awake in bed wondering if tonight will be one of the nights you hear his tap on your window. Going from hardly ever speaking a word, to now talking so much that your throat aches. To never feeling the warmth of another, to lingering touches and reluctant parting of held hands heating your skin.

You suppose what you can say is that it feels like the hole in your heart is being mended; a void wrenched open by loss and sadness slowly repaired with each clandestine meeting you share. It's bittersweet, sometimes; your melancholy was easier to ignore when you didn't have someone to share your thoughts and feelings with. It’s strange, how gaining what you were missing makes the bad in your life hurt much worse. It awakens a new fear within you- that one day, Hyunjin will tire of you, and you'll be alone once more.

As if knowing your fears, irrational or not, Hyunjin makes it no secret how he feels about you, or what he hopes the two of you may become. Besides, the very reason he first came to the manor was to answer a marriage proposal- so of course he makes it clear how much he likes you. And though you're aware of his feelings, you don't feel any sort of pressure or expectation from him, nor does he ever make you uncomfortable. You get the distinct impression that should you ever reject him, Hyunjin would move on gracefully, even if it weighed heavily on his heart.

All that being said, he hasn't blatantly asked you to be his bride yet, though it is obvious he wishes to. And putting aside what is rational, proper, or logical, you don't think you'd turn him down were he to ask you now. Hyunjin has become the highlight of your days, the hope that keeps you going when loneliness and sadness acutely strike you. He's radiant and intelligent and effortlessly witty; and you can still remember the way his eyes lit up the first time he made you laugh.

You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing too loudly, and Hyunjin's eyes crinkled as his smile beamed. He told you it was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard, that happiness suited you much more than sadness, that he hoped you'd smile and laugh more than you'd frown. And you think as long as you're with him, that'll be an easy promise to keep.

You've confided in him much of your life, your thoughts, and your feelings. He's an attentive listener, as well as empathetic and compassionate. And while you're sure to most it's the bare minimum, it felt nice to be listened to for once; to cry openly without being ignored, or mocked on the off chance you were acknowledged. It was nice to be held and gently consoled as you let out years worth of pent up tears flow out, though by the end you were always greatly embarrassed by your red eyes and puffy face.

Hyunjin, who wasn't fond of your step-mother from the start, liked her even less after you'd explained what you'd gone through following the loss of your father. It was interesting, as well as vindicating, hearing in detail his first impression of her, and how accurately he pin-pointed her personality and motivations. He told you he was used to dealing with people such as her, and his ability to nail her down was proof enough of that.

That's why he likes you, he said; likes that you're nothing like your step-mother, or step-sisters, or the countless other people he's met that hold the same motivations and values as them. There was no denying that his attraction to you started with your appearance, he admitted so himself right from the start, but you believe him when he says he's not superficial enough to marry for looks alone.

Whether you're as pretty as he says you are is still a matter of contention within yourself, but you try not to reject the compliments; especially not when he speaks them so earnestly. You don't find yourself special, but maybe it's enough that he does. And you recognize that everything about your relationship with Hyunjin is unconventional, but you don't dwell much on it.

You never would've had the chance to meet someone normally, and you welcome the solace and joy he brings you just by being near. When you think further upon how close the two of you have become, you wonder if words like "friend" or "companion" are enough. You wonder if this is what it means to be in love, if longing and desire and joy are really as hand in hand as they were always portrayed in your novels.

His tap on your window comes earlier than you expect it to today, elation spreading through your veins instantly as you rush to the window to open it for him. Normally, Hyunjin doesn't come to you until the sun has long since fallen, but tonight he arrives while the last specs of sunset still linger on the horizon. "You're early," you comment simply, a small smile spreading on your lips as he steps his way inside to your bedroom.

"Couldn't wait anymore," he replies, meeting you with a soft smile of his own. Summer brought with it longer days, which meant longer waits for Hyunjin to arrive at your window, and less time spent together before he had to rush back to his home. He pulls you into an embrace, gentle and warm, and you squeeze him tight for a small moment before you allow yourself to melt in his arms.

His hands rest comfortably on your back, lingering even as you pull slightly away to look up at him. "Your hair has gotten longer," you muse, taking a soft strand into your hand and admiring it between your fingers. "Has it?" he asks, having not noticed himself; it's hard to notice subtle changes considering he sees it everyday. "Do you like it?" he follows up, ever so slightly tilting his head as he awaits your answer.

"I do," you reply as you let it fall from your fingertips, now letting your hand fall to his shoulder, "it's pretty." He hums in response, smile turning bashful. Since becoming more comfortable in his presence, you speak your mind more openly, which also means he receives more compliments from you. There's a shyness that lingers, a blush often overtaking your cheeks after an admittance of finding him pretty, or handsome, or beautiful, but it never stops you from saying what you truly think.

Hyunjin is used to receiving compliments; and it's not meant to sound vain, but that's the reality of being the prince. And because he is used to them, he is normally unaffected by such words; but with you it's different. He isn't blind, of course, he knows he's conventionally attractive- but it's the intent of the words that matter. Unlike others he's met, you are genuine and sincere. You don't speak with ulterior motives, you don't say things unless you earnestly mean them.

So, when you say he's pretty, he takes great pride in it; because you aren't saying it out of a sense of obligation or gain. You just like him, and he likes you- that's all there is to your interactions. The affection you share is the realest thing he's ever felt, refreshing and authentic.

You know he's the prince, though he hasn't yet told you himself; you overheard your sisters speaking about it to each other just a few days after their arranged meeting. They were by your door, loud voices carrying and infiltrating your space. You think you were meant to hear it- vain and confident in themselves as they are, you suspect they wanted to rub it in that one of them would marry the prince.

Not that you cared- unbeknownst to them, you already met him yourself, and you’re the one the prince really shows interest in. And his identity shocked you at first, but as you thought about it more, it made sense; his impressive carriage, his elegant attire, the way he carried himself and spoke, why you thought you recognized his family crest- it all clicked.

Given all you've learned about him, what he thinks about the world and what he values, it makes sense that he wouldn't tell you right away, and you don't hold it against him. Going your whole life questioning the motives of others, and perceptively picking up on their dishonesty.. it must be hard. You can't even imagine it.

In turn, Hyunjin can't imagine how hard your own sufferings have been, his heart aching terribly for you whenever you put your sadness to words. There's a strange sort of comfort that comes from it however; your lived experiences being so entirely different, but aligning in just a way that leads you to understand one another.

Still, there were many times that Hyunjin wished the solutions to your problems were easy- that he could just use his authority as prince of the realm to give you your life back. Unfortunately, he thinks his interference would only make things worse for you; wish as he may that he could simply order your step-mother to be kinder to you, there's no way he can do so without great risk to your well-being.

It's frustrating and saddening to realize how little his power can do to help the one he cares most deeply for. There were equally times he wishes he could just take you away from all that hurts you; but until you either agree to wed him, or he becomes king after marrying another, he has no authority over who may or may not reside in the castle.

His greatest hope, of course, is that you'll wish to marry him. He doesn't even want to think about the devastation that will be wrought upon him should you reject him. You like each other, that much is true and plainly obvious, but marriage, especially to someone destined to rule, may not be something you want. And besides that, he's always wanted his marriage to have real affection tied to it- and until he knows definitively where your heart lies, he will be patient.

Though they sound like complaints, Hyunjin actually loves the progression of your relationship. Yes, it saddens him that as things stand now he can't remove you from the source of your pain or change things, but there is an equal amount of good that has come from his experiences climbing to your window.

His heart beats fast and erratic whenever you look at him and smile, your soft, small giggles and sweet laughs make his ears and face burn pleasantly. It doesn't always show, given his natural charisma and learned manners, but you fluster him more than you realize. His brain stutters when you compliment him, his body crawls with goosebumps when you initiate a hug or hold his hand, he unconsciously holds his breath when your face ever comes slightly too close to his own.

Though his father still urges him to bring home a bride sooner rather than later, he has managed to quell his father's worries by describing his affection for you. It's also what allows him to regularly leave the castle to meet you, with Chris himself also attesting to how genuine the prince's infatuation for you is.

And it's moments like this, when you're in his arms and looking up at him with your soft doe eyes and sweet smile that he feels the urge to kiss you the most. Before he can think about it much longer, you're separating from his hold, grabbing his hand and leading him to your bed with a softly spoken, "Shall we?"

It's your routine when he visits to sit or lie in your bed together, talking endlessly until the time comes that he has to depart. Sometimes you fall asleep, in which case he just indulges in the feeling of holding you close, stroking your head until the chirp of birds begins with the start of the sunrise, alerting him it's time to go.

Sometimes talking is too hard, and all you want is to feel him close and let your negative feelings wash away in his hold, and let them be replaced by his warmth. Sometimes you run out of things to say and simply enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence. Oftentimes, Hyunjin just being in your space with you is all you need to be happy.

There's an unspoken hope there that you share- that someday soon you'll be able to fall asleep together, to wake together, to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, for every moment to be spent with the person that rouses your once dormant heart. There’s still part of you that questions if you can really be loved by someone as good as him, but it’s what you hope for more than you’ve ever hoped for anything.

"Wait-" Hyunjin calls softly as you begin to step towards the bed, and you stop, turning back to look at him with a curious tilt of the head and questioning eyes. He swallows, beginning to lose his nerve as you stare at him. He wants to tell you how badly he wants to kiss you, to ask if it's something you'll allow him, if you crave it as much as he does.

"What is it?" you ask, squeezing his hand when you feel the slight anxious tremble. His face reddens, and he internally curses himself for having such difficulty. He once felt it was entirely unlike him to be reduced to such shyness, but you bring it out of him with just a look. "I just.. uh, well-" he starts, but before he can get much further, you hear a sound from the hallway that makes you jump.

"Shit-" you mutter in a harsh whisper, the sound of a metal object clinking just outside your door. Hyunjin doesn't realize what it is just yet, but the sound is one you can instantly recognize- it's the sound of your step-mother taking the padlock into her hands. You scramble to push Hyunjin in the direction of your bathroom as you hear the lock begin to turn, afterwards standing near your open window as calmly and naturally as you can manage.

Hyunjin doesn't have any time to think about what's happening, or to dwell on the sound he heard outside your door before he hears it start to swing open. All he can do is hide himself behind your bathroom door, and pray that whoever is entering your bedroom has no reason to step inside your bathroom.

Your step-mother enters your room with suspicion clear on her face, looking around the room with narrow eyes and scrunched brows. You take a quick, cautious glance towards your bathroom, relieved to notice that Hyunjin isn't in immediate sight. Thank God, you think; you don't know how she'd react to seeing the prince inside your bedroom, and you don't want to find out.

"Who are you talking to?" she asks, taking a stern step closer to you. You swallow down your nerves the best you can as you prepare yourself to answer- you can't give her any reason to suspect you're lying. "I was talking to the birds," you answer, pointing to where a nest of them rests on the tree nearest to your window.

The family of birds are settling in for sleep now that the sun has sunk, and you hope your step-mother finds it believable enough that you'd talk to them as they ready themselves for bed. Her eyes follow where you point, easily spotting the birds beginning to tuck their heads down, and she scoffs. She could've sworn she heard another voice replying to you but.. that'd be impossible, wouldn't it? Who would even be here talking to you?

Yes, though she hates to admit when she's wrong, she was likely just mistaken. The other voice she thought she heard was likely just you supplementing a conversation you wish you could be having with another person. There were never two people- just you, and the lonely life she inflicts upon you. So she smiles, condescending as ever as she speaks, "Yes, well. I suppose that's all you can do."

Your step-mother takes one more cursory glance around your room before she decides she's satisfied and turns to exit your bedroom. You breathe a sigh of relief when she finally steps out the door, and Hyunjin steps out from your bathroom just as the sound of the lock on your bedroom door clicks shut. He recognizes what it is more clearly after hearing the sound of the lock a second time, and his heart sinks at the realization of what that sound means.

"Hyunjin?" you whisper in question as he walks right past you, heading straight for your closed bedroom door. He takes the doorknob in his hand, twists it and pushes the door- and what he feared to be true is immediately confirmed. The door doesn't open, harshly stopped as the lock clanks against the door from the motion of it trying to be opened- you're locked in. Why are you locked in?

When he turns back to you, you say nothing; just look at him with those deeply saddened eyes that twists his heart into knots. "You're.. are you always locked in your room?" he asks, though he dreads the answer- and he suspects he already knows. You feel as if you'll sob if you speak, so you don't- you just nod.

His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach, a complex mix of sadness and rage on your behalf beginning to boil in his veins. He knew your step-mother to be vindictive, vain, materialistic, mean, but this.. It was a cruelty positively unheard of, and he couldn't fathom why anyone would have so much hatred in their heart as to resort to this.

He clenches his fists, takes a breath, tries to quell the intensity of his anger before he steps back to you. Your eyes have fallen to the floor, head hung low, hands balled into fists. Hyunjin softly calls your name once he's returned to your side, and you look up at him, eyes glassy as you blink away the tears that try to form. He wraps his arms around you, pulls you to his chest and hugs you tight.

Your reaction is delayed, the complex whir of emotions dulling your senses, but you eventually return the hug. You hold him the tightest you ever have, your hands gripping and bunching the fabric of his linen shirt. Carefully, Hyunjin leads you to your bed, where he knows you find the most comfort. You crawl into bed as soon as he pulls back the blankets, practically curling into a ball as soon as your head hits the pillow.

Hyunjin lies next to you, pulls the blankets up to your chests once he's settled, holding you once more after you move in closer. You press yourself close to him, curling your limbs around his, clinging to him in a desperate need to stay as close as possible. Head pressed into his chest, he softly strokes your head, whispering comforts to you until he feels your body begin to lose its built tension.

Now more than ever, Hyunjin is firm in his belief that he can't let things stay this way- there has to be some way he can use his power to help you. He doesn't want to walk away after knowing the true depth of all that you suffer, he wouldn't forgive himself if he did. Again, he calls to you softly, and when you look up at him he asks, "Do you want to leave? Get away from here?"

You blink, processing the question and wondering how you should answer. Unfortunately, the answer isn't an entirely simple yes or no. The truth is, you wish you didn't have to; this is your father’s manor, the house you grew up in, and though you've suffered greatly since his passing, you find it hard to let go of the happy memories that came before the tragedy.

Despite that, even if he were still here now, it is true that you'd have to leave eventually; you'd marry someday, and married women always leave their childhood homes behind when they wed. Still, when you think of never seeing the manor again, of never returning to your childhood bedroom or talking again with the maids who helped raise you, you feel impossibly sad.

You wish you didn't feel so tied to your home, but it's hard to let go, even when you know it is what's best for you. Additionally, when you did let your mind wander and think about what sort of life you'd lead if you ran away, you realized you were impossibly scared of the world. You've been locked away for so long that you don't remember the way to the places you once recognized, all your connections have been severed, and getting to the castle city, even if you did remember the way, would take days on foot.

Add the fact that you'd have no money, and no way to prepare food for the trip without getting caught, you never let yourself entertain the thought of running away past the occasional frivolous daydream. Sure, you could climb from your window and leave without getting caught, but you could never convince yourself that it was worth trying.

But now you have someone, don't you? Someone who cares about you, who would help you find your way in the vast world you've been kept away from, someone who doesn't want to sit idly by and let you suffer any longer. All you've done since meeting Hyunjin is hope- and the more you look at him and see how vividly he cares, you think that maybe your hope isn’t misplaced. That maybe the life you’ve always wished for is actually obtainable if only you just try.

"If I leave.. where would I go?" you can't help but ask now that you are entertaining the thought of fleeing from the source of your suffering. Realistically, you know there is no way you can do this without Hyunjin's help, and you're sure he knows this too, but you don't want to ask too much of him. You're thankful to have him to rely on, but you don't want to impose- so it's imperative to you that he offers first, so that you don't feel as if you're burdening him.

"Stay with me," he offers without any hint of hesitation, "even if we never wed, even if you never desire me the way I desire you, stay with me." Hyunjin takes your hands in his, squeezes them in his as he continues, "I promise, you’ll never have to suffer again as long as you are in the castle. Please, leave this place with me.”

Your heart skips and stutters, emotion crawls back up your spine and pricks your skin, hitching your breath. And shit, Hyunjin realizes what he just said- he got ahead of himself, and brought up that he lives in the castle. He wanted to admit the truth of his identity carefully, but now.. well, he supposes if you agreed to leave with him, it would've come out tonight regardless.

Still, he stutters as he tries to explain himself- how it was never intended to be a lie he kept from you. How he doesn't often have the chance to meet people who don't already know his status so when you didn't recognize him, it made him happy. How he enjoyed that you could talk to him without pretense, how refreshing it was to him and how it was exactly what he needed, what he'd been looking for.

You smile, even giggle a bit once he gets really deep into his spiraling ramble of explanations. He stops then, nervously giggling back when you squeeze his hands and tell him to slow down, that you understand him completely. "I knew," you tell him after a moment, "well, not the whole time- I didn't find out until later. But I didn't bring up that I knew because it didn't change anything for me. I never cared that you're the prince. To me, you're just Hyunjin."

God, the relief that spreads through his body at your words- a massive weight has lifted from his shoulders. And the confusion you felt about why someone like him could ever fancy you so much- you feel like you understand more now why he likes you, and it helps ease the burden of your self-doubt. You sit up from the bed, looking down at Hyunjin with a timid, yet eager smile.

"Let's go," you tell him, and he quickly sits up with you, a bright smile of his own plastered on his face. "Right now? You're sure?" he asks, trying (and failing) to hide the excitement in his voice. You nod, and he positively beams, ready to help you with everything you need. You don't have many bags, much less ones suited for travel- so you settle for choosing the largest of them all.

Hyunjin helps you back the things you can't bear to part with; old gifts from your father, sentimental pieces you can't bear to part with, the blanket your mother knitted for you when you were still growing inside- you stuff your bag to the brim with your most precious belongings. It's heavy by the time you're done, and Hyunjin takes it and slings it around his shoulders, promising to treat it with care until it's delivered safely to the carriage. "Are you ready?" he asks after you both approach the window, and you pause, turning around to take one last look at your bedroom.

Once you leave, you'll never be back, and with that comes strange, new and complex feelings. But you think it's more than past time you left this place behind, and made a new place your home- a place where you are free to be happy and to exist without guilt. "I'm ready," you affirm as you turn back to the window, and Hyunjin smiles and nods, giving your hand one last reassuring squeeze before he lets it go to climb out of your window.

Hyunjin steadies his weight on the trellis, and you lean out of your window to check how far down the ground is- and shit, you might be afraid of heights if the way your stomach drops is any indicator. "I'll wait for you at the bottom," he tells you after noticing the apprehensive look in your eyes, and you nod with an anxious swallow. Hyunjin has done this a million times at this point- you can do it too! No problem!

Of course, Hyunjin makes the climb look effortless, but you suspect you won't have nearly as easy of a time climbing down. Once he's finished his climb, he takes a few steps back to see you clearly when he looks up, smiling at you encouragingly. You take a breath to steel your nerves before you take a cautious step out of your window, carefully finding your footing on the trellis before adding your weight- the same way you saw him do it.

You descend much, much slower than Hyunjin did, impossibly terrified of losing your footing and falling to the dirt below. When you finally reach the bottom, you let out a massive sigh of relief, and Hyunjin pulls you into a hug, beaming as he squeezes you- he's proud of you, you think.

His joy adds to your own, so much so that you can't help but show it. Leaning closer, standing on the tips of your toes, you kiss his cheek- a way to tell him thank you, to show him how much you like him, and to convey how happy you are with him. He blushes ever so slightly as his smile grows, a giddy feeling once again building in his stomach.

"When all this is behind us, and you're safe at the castle with me.. Can I kiss you?" he finds the courage to ask, your face flushing as you smile and nod. "I'll look forward to it," you tell him, and you raise your pinky to him, intending for it to be a promise. With a soft chuckle, he interlocks his pinky with yours, happily solidifying the promise.

"This way," he tells you shortly after, separating your pinkies to take your hand in his, and lead you to where the carriage awaits him down the dirt road, and away from the manor. You take a final glance back at it as you walk with him, whisper goodbyes to all the things you'll miss, to your father most of all.

As the carriage comes into sight, it really sets in how real all of this is- how with this night, your life will become completely different. You wonder how everyone will react when your maids enter your room in the morning and find that you aren't there- part of you is sad you can't bid them goodbye personally, but you hope they'll be happy for you and wish you well.

You hear the coachman call to Hyunjin's attendant as you step closer, informing him with surprise in his voice that he is back earlier than expected- and with you. His attendant, who you know as Chris, and have heard many stories about, steps out of the carriage with an almost bewildered expression. He certainly wasn't expecting this to happen tonight.

Hand in hand, Hyunjin continues to lead you up to the now open door of the carriage, with Chris standing next to it. "Are you..?" he asks tentatively as he looks between you both. Together, romantically, you infer him to mean. "We'll discuss it later," Hyunjin says, turning to offer you his usual warm, reassuring smile before he looks back to his attendant, "for now, I'd like you to formally meet the future princess."

Living in the royal castle is something you never would've believed would ever happen to you, and it became your reality in the strangest of ways. To think that a beautiful man came to your window in the night, that said beautiful man wanted to marry you, and was the prince of the realm of all things.. It was confounding how you ended up here.

There's part of you, that even having known the truth for months, still can't seem to wrap your head around Hyunjin being the prince. You suppose it comes down to knowing something and seeing something being entirely different- because though you knew, you never, until now, saw him in his element, so to speak.

Watching him interact with the world behind your small scope was as enlightening as it was affirming; you saw a new side of him, but it was a side that was still firmly Hyunjin. He was eloquent but opinionated in royal discussions, he was kind and grateful to his workers, he was stern when something needed done, but never cruel or overly demanding- again, all you could think was that he’s perfect.

Was Hyunjin getting ahead of himself when he introduced you to his attendant as the future princess? Maybe. But though you haven't said it aloud, you think you fell for him harder since coming to the castle; and being the princess, while a stressful endeavor that requires you to intensively study politics and speech, will be worth it to stay by his side.

The parts of Hyunjin you've come to love the most are the parts you realized are reserved only for very few to see- the part that is wittier than political discussions will allow, who is secretly a bit dramatic when things don’t go his way, a hopeless romantic who clings to the ideals of literature.

And further beyond even that, are the parts of Hyunjin that are for you, and you alone; where natural charisma melts away into bashful sincerity. Whose soft, affectionately spoken words are said with an equal mix of earnesty and boyish timidity. Whose graceful confidence is intermixed with the subtle complexities of shyness and the seeking of your approval.

All these aspects combined are what make him so special to you, and you will be forever grateful that after all the suffering you’ve endured, you are allowed to love someone as good as him, and are loved by him in return. And thanks to his help, not only do you live a life you could have only ever dreamed of, but are adjusting quite well to that new life.

Some things are the same, such as having kind maids who helped you settle and attended to your needs, but then there were things that were entirely different from the life you lived before. You have your own attendant now- a sweet boy that Christopher vouched for named Felix, who Hyunjin affirmed you would be able to trust with your life, as he does with his own attendant. And truly, Felix did quickly become someone you felt like you could rely on and trust; oftentimes, he feels more like a best friend than a royal attendant.

Though he makes sure you stay on top of your studies, and fulfill all tasks you need to have done, you can also easily spend hours giggling away about various things- like how Chris is so serious but also a secret softie underneath, about your relationship with Hyunjin, about Felix’s secret crush that he hopes to confess to after preparations for your wedding to Hyunjin are concluded.

It’ll still be some time before that day comes, as apparently the king is sparing no effort in making it an extravagant event to remember- his only son is being wed, after all; it’s worth the kingdom celebrating to the fullest extent possible. You try not to think about the life you left behind, but you often wonder if your step-mother and sisters have connected the dots between your disappearance from the manor, and the announcement of the prince’s wedding.

If not, she’s certain to realize once the day has arrived; because all reputable families of the kingdom are invited, and she never turns down a royal invitation. The offer to rescind their invitations came up, of course, but you declined- because there’s a part of you that sincerely wants this to strike your step-mother in the core of who she is, and make her reflect on herself. And if it doesn’t, well.. You’ll find some satisfaction in seeing her appalled and infuriated that you’re thriving despite her meddling in your life.

Currently, you and Hyunjin still reside in separate rooms because unwed couples sharing a bed before marriage is deemed inappropriate- not that either of you care; it doesn't stop Hyunjin from sneaking to your room at night, in much the same way he did when you lived back in your father's manor. Sneaking across balconies, quietly climbing over each and every banister until he reaches your room- it's a far cry from the "proper" way a prince is expected to behave, but when it comes to the whims of his heart, he pays no mind to such expectations.

What was once a knock at your window is now a careful tap to the glass of your balcony door, where Hyunjin stands and waits with a shy grin for you to greet him. You never lock the doors, as you're sure he knows- but regardless, he always waits for you to come and let him in yourself. It's just the same tonight- he softly knocks and waits, smiling when he sees you rise from your bed to come to the doors.

"My darling," he greets you sweetly when you open the door, taking your hand and kissing just above the knuckle as he bows to you. You've experienced the greeting what feels like a hundred times over at this point, but it never fails to raise goosebumps on your skin; especially when he looks up at you and smiles before he straightens his back and stands tall once more.

Instead of inviting him inside, you step past the door to stand on the balcony with him, the cool breeze refreshing after having dealt with the heat of the late summer sun prior. He wraps you in his arms, wasting no time in tilting his head down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. His lips on your always fill you with just as many butterflies as the first time, his hands finding their way to your waist causing you to shiver.

"I've missed you," he breathes against your lips before he kisses you again, and you hum as you return the kiss, wordlessly agreeing with the sentiment. Preparing for the wedding makes you both incredibly busy these days, from dress fittings to studying in your case, and readying to ascend the throne in Hyunjin's.

With hardly any free time to yourselves, this is how Hyunjin ensures he gets the chance to spend at least some time with you. Sneaking over to your room, no matter how exhausted the day has made him, because now that you're in the castle with him, he can't go a single night without seeing you, feeling you, at least just once.

And normally, he would follow such a kiss with conversation- ask about your day, what you did and how you're feeling, what preparations for the wedding were done today, etcetera. But for whatever reason, right now he just wants to keep kissing you, over and over again, for as long as you'll allow him.

Maybe it’s because the last few nights he hardly got to see you for more than a few moments, leading to greater longing. Maybe it’s because the wedding looming closer makes the reality that you’re together feel so much more real- you’re his, and he’s yours, and there’s so much beauty in being in love, in promising that you’ll remain together no matter the years that pass or challenges that come.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your body pressing closer into his, and it’s almost criminal how much that simple of an action makes his head spin. You’re a clingy lover- not that Hyunjin minds by any means; he loves it, in fact. He loves feeling wanted and desired by you, and the way you crave and seek out his touch; the problem, so to speak, is the way his body reacts to your close proximity. It’s.. an indecent reaction- one that he has to do his best to contain, lest he do something improper and act gracelessly.

Still, you tempt him- with doe-eyed looks, pouting lips and gentle caresses to bare skin. He desires you, wants to lay your bare and look upon every inch of your body, to feel you naked beneath his fingertips- but he can’t, not yet. And so instead, he has to make a conscious effort to not linger on such thoughts, to swallow them down until the time is right. But the more time he spends with you, the more difficult a task it becomes; and now, after having gone a handful of days not being able to see him for more than a few passing moments, you cling to him more than usual, making the need inside him impossible to ignore.

You drive him utterly crazy with a simple touch- and he wonders how much of it is a conscious decision, and how much is executed simply by instinct. Do you realize just how deeply you affect him, or do you act purely on what feels good and right to you? Maybe it’s an equal mix of both- enjoying the effect you have on him, but also thriving in the euphoria that touching him makes you feel.

You haven’t gone much further past passionate kissing and idle, yet purposeful, groping of each other’s bodies, as Hyunjin tries his best to be proper and “follow the rules”- in which having intimate relations whilst unwed is wildly improper, and against everything he’s ever been taught. But when the wind blows your robe partly open, and he sees nothing underneath but your soft white lingerie, he can’t help but recall that such rules have always been pointless to him.

Hyunjin has always followed his heart before considering consequences and what is "right." So, if you're in love, if you want each other more than words, if you know you're going to be wed soon anyways, why should he hold off from following what his heart desires? Nothing about your relationship with one another has ever been conventionally proper, nor followed pre-established rules and notions, so why hold himself to such things now?

Do you think and feel the same as him? He suspects you do, but tonight he intends to find out for sure instead of wasting any further time questioning the depth of your intent, and considering conventional rules above his feelings. His hands squeeze your waist as he turns you both around, pressing your backside against the sturdy balcony banister, the sound of surprise that leaves you muffled by his lips that have still yet to part from yours.

"I want you," he says after pulling away from your lips, though still close enough for you to feel his breath directly on your skin, "more than I fear is allowed." There’s a fear there- that the depth of his longing is entirely one-sided, that the way in which he craves you goes unrequited, that the longing you feel doesn’t go past its current boundary.

Hyunjin rests his forehead against yours, eyes staring straight into yours in a way that makes you feel equal parts vulnerable and warm. "Do you want me too?" he asks carefully, setting aside his nerves and uncertainty, his hands trailing over where the wind tousled your robe and exposed your shoulder.

"Say no, and I'll stop right now. We'll move on as if this never happened until you're ready to discuss it," he continues, hand pausing where the strap of your bra lies, uncovered thanks to your partially fallen robe, "but I need to know- if I am allowed to want you as badly as I do, and if you return these feelings." He watches your reaction attentively, unconsciously holding your breath as he waits for a hopefully favorable response.

You swallow, heart nearly beating out of your chest as you open your mouth to speak, and you're certain that Hyunjin can feel the goosebumps rising on your skin- goosebumps that exist solely because of him, and not at all from the late night chill. "I want you too," you respond, and you can see the way relief and excitement wash over him. A million promises and "thank you"'s linger on his lips, but instead of speaking them aloud, he pours them into his kiss, letting his body do the talking for him.

His hand travels away from your shoulder, down towards your waist, where your robe is held together with a loosely tied ribbon. The anticipation makes you shiver, and when you feel the knot come undone, you pull away to allow him the chance to look at you. It's utterly nerve wracking being this exposed, and you don't feel the least bit confident in yourself- but at the same time, you know how much Hyunjin reveres you, and so you want him to look.

While it's still a struggle to believe all that he sees in you, you know this is something he'll sincerely love. From the very moment your touches started to become more intimate he has craved this sight of you, and you grant him the opportunity to stare as much as he wishes to. You leave him breathless for a moment, and for quite possibly the first time, you watch in real time as something shifts inside of him.

The look in his eyes changes, first from awe as he unconsciously sucked in a breath, to utmost, almost overwhelming desire. He takes you in his arms and lifts you up, and you instinctively cling to him with a surprised squeak. His hands hold you up from under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him while tightly holding his arms. He places you on the thick banister, and you shiver when the cold iron makes contact with your skin through the thin material of the robe you’re wearing.

He kisses you with fervor, his tongue sliding past your now parted lips. Comfortable with your position and Hyunjin’s strong hold on you, you move your hands from his arms to his face, holding it as you invite his tongue further inside your mouth. One of his hands continues to support you and hold you close to his body, while the other slips your robe further down, until it falls down your arms and pools at your elbows.

Another breeze rolls by, and you shiver once more, this time fully feeling the chill. Your thin, almost sheer lingerie does nothing to hide how hard your nipples have gotten, allowing Hyunjin to see them clearly when he pulls away from your kiss and glances down. He licks his lips as he stares at them, lets his free hand move away from your legs and up to your chest, palming one of your breasts over the thin fabric of your bra.

You gasp when his fingers brush your nipple over the fabric, and Hyunjin drinks in the way your body reacts to the near overwhelming sensation his fingers grant you. Your hands fall back to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as your body squirms. "Does it feel good?" he asks, this time watching your face as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, attentively watching the way your face changes.

Biting your lip and closing your eyes as you nod, your legs instinctively try to close together but are unable to due to his place between them. The soft, near whiny gasps you let out are intoxicatingly sweet, a sound Hyunjin could easily imagine himself becoming addicted to. He kisses you again, lingering on your lips and briefly muffling your whines before he trails down your jaw and to your neck, where he places wet, open mouthed kisses.

His touch makes you hot- so much so that the cool breeze no longer affects you the way it had moments prior, your shuddering coming solely from the way he's making you feel. He slips a hand inside your bra, touching your nipple directly now, the pad of his thumb rubbing over it in rhythmic strokes. He can feel your thighs tremble and squeeze him, still desperately trying to close together, driven by the innate need to seek friction.

You don’t outright say you need more, but your body does more than enough to tell him- and so Hyunjin dips his hand further down, slowly traveling between your bodies, over your stomach until it reaches its destination between your legs. He doesn’t know what to do, really- but he’s nothing if not a romantic at heart, and he lets that guide him onward. Following the romantic fantasies that often played in his head, he brings his lips back to yours, sensually kissing you as he rubs your heat over your panties.

It's so wet- much more than he ever could've anticipated. The fabric, that was already so thin and nearly sheer to begin with, has become almost entirely see through and now sticks to you uncomfortably (though Hyunjin’s hand is proving to be a perfect distraction from the discomfort.) His own fingers become slick even without direct contact, and it excites him as much as it drives his curiosity. What do you taste like? Is it okay for him to find out, or is that too far?

He wants to know, desperately wants to know- “Can I taste you, please?” he asks in a soft, pleading tone; it’s okay if you say no, he’d never question your limits, but fuck, he really wants it. You let out a breathy, eager “yes,” to which he responds with the most breathtaking smile. You watch with bated breath as he begins to trail kisses down your torso, leaving a few lingering touches to your nipples and stomach on his way down.

Hyunjin helps you slide off the banister, hands securely on your hips and guiding you forward, closer to him. He completely kneels down in front of you, presses soft kisses to your inner thighs as he guides one of your legs to rest over his shoulder. You lean back against the banister, your hands holding it for support while his hands rub over the back of your thighs and to your ass. He holds you there, occasionally squeezing, and you can feel him smile against the meat of your thighs when it causes you to squirm in his hold.

You watch his tongue dart out from between his lips, wetting them before he finally brings his face closer to your center, giving you a curious kitten lick over your panties. That alone is enough to make you jolt, and he squeezes you a bit tighter in response, trying to help you stay still while he explores the newly accessible parts of your body.

He can’t think of a single thing he could compare your taste to, but he loves it, an involuntary noise of pleasure rising from his throat. He quickly grows dissatisfied with small, careful licks- he needs more of you on his tongue, needs to taste you directly. But rather than separating from you and wasting precious time getting your panties off you, he decides it's a better idea to simply pull them to the side.

Your balance falters for a moment when he moves his hand away from your behind to shift your panties out of his way, but he’s quick to bring it back and continue to hold you once his tongue has once again met your core. Your grip on the railing tightens, head falling back and eyes fluttering closed as you let out a low moan. You never expected to be experiencing your first time with something like this outside, on your new balcony of all places, but you can't deny that it excites you.

It's fun, exhilarating, almost freeing- something that would've forever eluded you had you not met Hyunjin, and fallen in love with him. And oh, you’ve never felt anything as good as his tongue between your folds. You divert your gaze back down, mesmerized by the sight of him between your quivering thighs, and he too is mesmerized- by your taste, by the way you drip on his tongue, by the way you gasp and cry out when his tongue finds your clit.

He alternates between swirling his tongue around it, and giving you long, flat licks, both of which drive you crazy with need for more. You try your best to not let your noises get past a certain volume, teeth digging into your bottom lip almost painfully, hands desperately clutching at the banister as your body involuntarily trembles. It doesn't take long for Hyunjin to find the pattern you like, what motions cause you to cry the loudest despite your desperate attempts to contain yourself.

Your stomach rapidly tenses and contracts, your moans quickly turning into high-pitched whines as you’re driven closer and closer to release. You’re dizzy, mind practically floating with immense pleasure, your hips unconsciously rolling into his face as you seek sweet, blinding relief. Hyunjin’s cock throbs painfully in his trousers, straining against the fabric that has now grown tight around him, but he ignores it, completely focused on you.

He looks up at you from between your legs, watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest as you take desperate, panting breaths, sweating clinging to you in an ethereal sheen. You take one of your hands off the banister, instead burying your fingers into Hyunjin’s long hair. He groans against you, unexpectedly enjoying the way you slightly tug on the loose strands.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach grows in intensity, your eyes rolling back as he flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you please. You let go of his hair when you feel your orgasm start to peak to clamp your hand over your mouth, wanting to avoid waking the entirety of the castle with your moans if you can help it.

He squeezes you once more, does his best to hold you upright as you lose yourself to the feeling. It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, the tingling that starts in your spine spreading throughout your entire body, as mind numbingly euphoric as it is overwhelming. He doesn’t separate from you until he feels your thighs relax and legs go limp, carefully removing your leg from its perch on his shoulder, holding you steady as he rises back up to his feet.

It takes you a moment to return your senses, only just barely registering Hyunjin talking to you as you blink away the fog of pleasure muddling your brain. He’s asking things like if you’re okay and if it felt good, grinning when you nod and answer him with meek affirmations. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on him, and it somehow adds to just how amazing you feel.

It’s in that moment, where he’s stroking your cheek while kissing you, tongue exploring your mouth and sharing the taste of your release with you, that you decide you want to return the favor. Mirroring what he’s done to you, you let your hands wander his body until they meet the waistband of his trousers, where you slowly undo the buttons. His breath hitches when you sink to your knees, anticipation rising in tandem with his nerves.

Will you like what you see? It’s not something he’s ever worried about before, but now he finds himself awaiting your reaction anxiously. Wanting to spare him the late night chill, you don’t pull his trousers and underwear all the way down, instead just pulling down enough for his cock to spring free of its confines. And, wow- it’s much longer than you expected, as well as mouth-wateringly pretty, the vein running along the length utterly entrancing to you.

Pre-cum leaks steadily from the tip, and you curiously stick out your tongue to taste it as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He hisses and softly gasps, twitching and throbbing in your hand that is so much softer than his own. You quickly move on from small, careful and curious licks to swirling your tongue around the tip, sometimes stopping the movement of your tongue to press wet kisses to it.

His pre-cum smears over the tip and all over your lips thanks to your kisses, and it’s easily the most erotic thing he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing. And God, when you look up at him through your lashes as you kiss him, your pretty lips wet and glistening because of his release- he has to make conscious effort to not let out a visceral groan.

After a few more soft, wet kiss, you open your mouth and flatten your tongue, leaning forward on your knees, using your hand to guide his cock into your eager mouth. His body shudders as he groans, the more you take of him into your mouth, the more he struggles to restrain himself. Hyunjin leans forward, grabs the banister for support while he watches you try to work him in past your limits- taking him in until you gag, retreating just long enough to recover before resuming, trying to take him further than last time with each attempt.

Tears prick the corners of your mouth, threatening to fall with each additional inch taken down your throat, but you refuse to concede. He brought you such unimaginable bliss- and you’ll do anything to make him feel the same. Just as Hyunjin had done, you proceed purely on instinct, staring up at him as you finally succeed in taking his entire length into your mouth. And fuck, the sight of you- how is he supposed to retain composure after seeing you like this?

Grip on the railing tightening, his eyes roll back when you start bobbing your head along his length, the sound of his cock sliding back and forth in your mouth creating impossibly salacious wet sounds. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, down to your chest and thighs, but you continue on, paying no mind to the mess you're making on yourself.

For the first time, you hear Hyunjin speak with an utter loss of composure- no smooth charisma, no eloquently crafted line of dialogue; just pure, pleasured rambling. "Darling, I can't- feels so good, I-" he cuts himself off with a curse, biting his lip as he feels you caress his throbbing vein with your tongue. He’s never felt so good before, and he’s so close- but what is he supposed to do? Release in your mouth? Is that even okay?

He intends to ask, opening his eyes to look at you as he does, but oh- the sight of you instantly causes the words to die in his throat, the sight of you paired with pleasure he feels is just too much for him. He cums with a moan, loud and pretty, his cum gagging you as it shoots straight down your throat. You pull away seconds later, releasing him from your mouth with a pop, swallowing the cum that lingers on the back of your tongue as you wipe your lips clean with the back of your hand. You look up at him next, taking in the sight of your normally elegant lover looking so debauched. He’s breathless and utterly disheveled, but still so impossibly perfect.

Hyunjin helps you to your feet after he’s collected himself, pulling you into an emotionally charged, sensual kiss; lips parted, tongue seeking yours. He lifts you up once more, deciding that both of you have spent more than enough time on the balcony, continuing to kiss you even as he carries you inside your bedroom. It makes the walk more precarious, but neither of you care, absorbed in one another as you are. And maybe you should feel some amount of shame for having pleasured one another in such an open space, but it’s the furthest thing from your minds.

All that matters is Hyunjin; how he makes you feel, and how you make him feel. Lying you on your bed as gently as he can manage, he finds his place between your legs as you fall to your back. His hands find the waistband of your panties, and you lift your hips to help him slide them off your body. Your robe is the next thing to be removed in your flurry of impassioned kisses, followed by your bra, and all of Hyunjin’s clothes.

“Love you so much, my darling,” he breathes against your skin between his kisses to your lips, hands roaming your body, “want to be inside you.” You pull away enough to see him clearly, your eyes finding his even in the dark of your room. “I want it to,” you admit softly, heat rising to your face, “I love you, Hyunjin.” He smiles, brief and timid, before he kisses you again, slipping one of his hands between your thighs to feel your heat with his fingers.

He rubs his fingers between your folds, and you let out a shuddering breath, body trembling with anticipation. You’re still so wet, and Hyunjin can’t help but involuntarily groan when he imagines what you’ll feel like wrapped around his cock. He takes his cock in his hand, smears your essence along it to get it wet, glancing up at you after he aligns himself with your hole. You look apprehensive, and he’s immediately worried you’ve changed your mind and want him to stop-

But when he offers, you quickly shake your head. You’re nervous, that much is true, but you want this- everything you experience with Hyunjin is new and beautiful, and you’re certain this will be too. And every time you’ve been hesitant, or scared, or anxious, he was there for you; he held you and listened to you and helped you find not only the courage to be where you are now, but your self-worth too. You love him, you trust him- and what better way to show him the depth of your love and trust, than to offer yourself to him, body and soul.

With one last affectionate kiss, a softly spoken promise to always take care of you, he begins to slowly push inside you. You both gasp, sensitive from your prior orgasms, the effect profound even before he’s all the way inside. There’s a slight discomfort at first that quickly gives way to tingly pleasure across your body, the sensation effectively stealing the breath from your lungs. Hyunjin clenches his jaw, breath growing more labored, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you even when his body is completely still.

He leans back down to you once your hips are flush together, wraps his arms around you, pressing your body against his. You wrap your arms around his neck, while he holds you under your shoulders, kissing you as he experimentally rolls his hips into yours. Each roll of his hips is slow and purposeful, as is each kiss you share. You understand now, why sex is often referred to as making love- because there can truly be no other way to describe the moment you share, and the feelings that come with it.

When he pulls away and looks down at you, his heart races even faster; you’re so pretty, beautiful- with your hair fanned out around you, the moon shining through your balcony doors highlighting the sheen of sweat in the most ethereal way. All he can think about is how much he loves you, how lucky he is to have you, how good you are to him. You’re perfect, utterly perfect in every conceivable way- and he knows you’d say just the same about him, would still find new ways to compliment him once you ran out of words.

Despite the languid pace, it doesn’t take long for Hyunjin to feel close again- he’s already cum once, and the sensitivity he feels from it in combination with the way your walls squeeze him is impossibly overwhelming. He squeezes you closer, his chest pressed against yours, his face burying its way into your neck. You can tell how close he is, from the way he twitches and throbs inside you, to the way he gasps and moans close to your ear.

Wanting to cum again with him, you move your dominant hand between your bodies, finding your clit with your fingers. When Hyunjin feels what you’re doing, he separates from you enough to watch, looking between your bodies to watch the way your fingers move. Your walls start to squeeze him tighter as you work yourself close to your release, and he can’t help but groan, hips picking up speed as he chases his orgasm with you.

Your noises grow louder once he picks up his pace, and you’re sure the guards outside your room have realized what’s happening- but neither of you can bring yourselves to care about containing yourselves anymore. You cum in tandem with one another- Hyunjin first, a strained groan of your name passing his lips as his cum shoots deep inside you, the feeling of it sending you over the edge with him.

Both of you are breathless and hot, with hearts thumping the hardest they ever have, but he kisses you regardless, paying no mind to his desperate need to catch his breath. He brings one of his hands to your face, caresses it as he kisses you, and still after he pulls away. He looks at you with such pure affection, soft admissions of love and tender care softly spoken for only you to hear.

Even after he carefully pulls out, he sticks close to your side, holding you close in his arms, refusing to leave you to go back to his own room. This is his place now- with you, listening to your soft breaths and stroking your head as sleep begins to take you. His own eyes quickly grow heavy, your warmth inviting, and he knows he’ll soon fall asleep with you. He whispers his affections, his love for you and how happy he is, knowing that this night is just one of many perfect nights you’ll continue to share in the future.

network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety

#ksmutsociety #skzstarnet #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz smut #hyunjin smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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radioactivesweet · 1 year

Note

Ok hear me out, what about moon god s/o x Poseidon, its been itching my mind cause of the sea x moon troupe.

What i imagine is, s/o being a powerful god like nyx but rarely appears so only a few gods know or saw them so Poseidon became curious about this mysterious (beautiful) god. Feel free to add more about this!! im just really craving for someone to write this 🥹

Uhhh I like this concept a lot!! I tried to keep the reader's gender kinda neutral, I hope it's fine^^ btw I really enjoyed writing this!

word count: 1.2k

Poseidon often found himself staring at the moon. He couldn't really explain why he would do that - not that anybody would dare asking the God of the Sea what he was doing. Unbothered, Poseidon would stand silenty on the ivory balcony, looking up to that apparently endless sky. Even for someone like him that domain appeared far and full of mystery.

It was a dark night, its only beam being the peaceful and perlescent light emanated by the sleeping moon. He was once told that a god inhabited the moon, far from all other living beings. It wasn't known the reason why the deity ended up there, observing humankind from the satellite. Some believed they refused to get involved with human affairs and chose to live as a hermit instead; others claimed the god was exiled and was cursed to live on their own, bound to live in loneliness; some believed that god to have died long ago, the moonlight being their only inheritance, the memento of a god who existed no more, the reminder of a otherwise forgotten past.

Poseidon, everytime he would look at the moon, would wonder the real story behind it. None of the moon goddesses he knew could give him a response, despite asking themselves the same question - with whom were they sharing their moon? A god, a ghost or nothing at all?

Not knowing made the God of the Sea restless. He wasn't supposed to be this ignorant - it was his duty and right to know the truth. Yet, all he knew didn't make sense to him at all. He couldn't find a reason why a god would choose to abandon their place a seek shelter on the moon; if a deity was trapped on the moon, he would have surely heard of it somehow. It wouldn't have been just a rumour; lastly, gods weren't meant to die, it wasn't their nature. They didn't have an expire date nor any time limits, so it was impossible to begin with. If there really were someone looking down on him from the moon, Poseidon would discover it.

Poseidon spent that whole night reading books and looking for information regarding the legends surrounding that mysterious and mystical figure. There weren't many references and he couldn't even find the name of that god, yet there were reported some events which most likely involved them. A beautiful deity whose melancholic face was reflected on the moon on certain nights, someone wearing a silvery armor while riding a shining chariot across the sky. Also, a powerful god who could conceal the sun and the earth. A god capable of moving the stars and making humans into constellations. A god who could flex the tides to their own amusement - which meant disturbing the God of the Sea too - the moon phases and the sea had always been strictly connected to one another, but the thought of someone directly interefering had never crossed his mind. An ancient deity whose name had been long forgotten and all traces canceled, no statues nor temples left, their believers long dead and turned to ashes.

Poseidon was intrigued to say the least. He couldn't recall even if tried the last time he had felt so interested in someone - maybe last time was when he recognised Hades as his brother thousands of years before? He didn't remember anymore, and it didn't really matter to him neither.

Rumours spreaded fast across the Heavens. It was a matter of days before everybody knew what the lonesome Poseidon was looking for, yet nobody dared approaching him nor suggesting him the information that could have helped him reach his objective. Yet, everybody was curious as to why he was interested in that legend in the first place. Poseidon was used to those lower deities' gossips, so he didn't pay them much care, they were nothing more than a bother and wasn't expecting them to act some other way. He was more interested in what certain gods had to say.

Zeus, despite his prestige, knew no more than him but reccomended talking with the goddess Nyx, whom he was afraid of, much more ancient than he was. Hades and Hermes agreed with Zeus and added some rumours that had been circulating for ages in the Underworld regarding a moon deity who lead the souls of the dead to Hades' domain. Beelzebub clearly remembered studying moon's phenoma and seeing that legendary face. They didn't ask him the reason why he was looking for the god. He wouldn't have answered anyway. Without a single word, he left, approaching his next destination, the goddess all gods feared: Nyx.

He respected the goddess, recognising her value and strenght, but didn't understand the reason why even the almighty Zeus feared - he could only suppose it must have been because of one of his many affairs that didn't end the way Zeus imagined. Poseidon didn't have anything to do with that though, therefore had no reason to fear her.

Nyx knew it all, the story of the human who ascended to the skies and then flew even higher above. That god's name was (Y/n), the vagabond of the stars, the hermit who found a home in the dim light of the moon. Poseidon was satisfied by the answers he had finally found - and a way to reach the moon itself. He was close to his goal.

He had finally landed on the moon. Poseidon had never been there before. It was the first time he got to see the sea he ruled from that perspective. It was a foreign feeling to him. He could almost understand the reason why humans tried so hard to leave Earth and reach the space - it was undescribable. He couldn't even blame (Y/n) for hiding in that timeless place. Poseidon felt as he could touch the stars if he only wanted to. And he was just about to do it, if only a sudden voice hadn't interrupted him.

"I've heard someone was looking for me. I don't receive many guests, so I suppose you must be that person." it was quite, almost a whisper. It didn't surprise Poseidon. (T/n) mustn't have had someone to talk to in a long time.

"You are Poseidon, aren't you? You often stare at the moon, I noticed it." a voice comparable to the music of the spheres, the musica universalis, the harmony between the celestial bodies.

(Y/n) seemed to have no material consistence, one with the stars and the deep blue sky surround them, floating on the ground, detached from the earthly beings. Poseidon almost felt unworthy of being before someone surrounded by such a, otherwordly aura, belonging to a different dimension. On the other hand, he was attracted by that holy creature.

"You are welcome here, God of the Seas." almost as if they had read his mind, (Y/n) reassured him "We all belong to the moon, all beings are made of the same stardust. There are no differences between us."

For once, Poseidon, enchanted and bewitched, couldn't reply. He was part of that symphony too - he could feel it resonating deep into his bones.

The everlasting sea below him, the everlasting stars above him. Poseidon felt whole for the first time in his equally everlasting life.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #record of ragnarok x reader #snv #ror x reader #snv x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shuumatsu no walkure #poseidon #poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon #snv poseidon #poseidon record of ragnarok #poseidon ror

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abyssruler · 8 months

Text

if you don’t love me (lie to my face)

dan heng x gn!reader (past dan feng x reader)

he wants you to see him beyond the shadow that his previous incarnation cast. he wants to push you away, wants to hold you close, wants to hear his name spill from your lips without the taint of another man’s name. he wants you, but you cannot bring yourself to let go of the past.

angst

“Stop looking at me like that.”

You tilt your head, feigning obliviousness. “Like what?”

“Like that,” he huffs, averting his eyes uncomfortably to the horizon, if only so he may escape the longing, almost melancholic sheen that glazes over your eyes whenever you look at him.

“Sorry,” you sigh, but you make no move to tear your gaze away from the sight of him, drinking in every detail, cataloguing which ones are the same and which ones leave you mournful for the differences that shatter the illusion of a time gone by. “It’s just hard, sometimes, to look at you and not imagine someone else.”

He frowns at your words. “I’m not him.”

You smile, something brittle at the edges of it. “I know.”

“He’s gone,” he grits out.

“I know.”

“I won’t—”

“Dan Heng.”

He pauses at the sound of his name, turning his head and meeting your eyes again. You’re smiling, but there’s a fragility to it, like broken glass pieced together haphazardly, threatening to shatter at the slightest touch. It’s maddening to look at you and feel the acute sense of his heart twisting within his chest whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of you.

He doesn’t want to feel this way, hates feeling this way. Any connection to that man, any ties and bonds and whatever emotions you once made Dan Feng feel—he doesn’t want it. He wants none of the headiness and the weightlessness and the warmth that spreads through his body that it feels as though it could encompass the entirety of his soul.

But you make him want to want so fiercely it leaves him breathless and little frightened.

He wishes you never approached him, wishes you never got close to him, wishes you never directed such looks his way.

But mostly, he wishes you weren’t so easy to like (easy to love).

“I know, okay? I know you’re not him, but—” You close your eyes, fighting for composure, and when you open them again, he is met with a gaze full of hope and regret. “But just this once, just for a few seconds, could you let me pretend?”

Dan Heng feels his throat tighten, his heart falling with no one to catch it, because you’re not truly seeing him, no. You’ve never seen him for who he is, only the man who continues to haunt his every waking moment. Even now, he feels the weight of Dan Feng’s past mistakes and regrets heavy on his shoulders with the way you’re looking at him, pleading with him for a chance to relive a time long gone.

He knows he shouldn’t, if only so he may spare his heart, and yet—and yet, he is a fool.

However much he wants to deny this—deny you—he has always been weak when it comes to matters regarding you and the emotions you’ve managed to instill within him.

So Dan Heng nods, unable to look you in the eye, but he doesn’t need to see you to feel the way you slump against him in relief, arms winding around his shoulders in a mockery of a lover’s embrace.

This is madness. A foolish endeavor. He should have said no. Should have vehemently denied any sort of connection with that man. Should have turned you away the moment you began reminiscing your time with that man whenever you became lost in old memories and grief.

And yet, he does none of this, because he is weak, because he has gone soft, because—

Because he loves you.

He loves you, so he lets you hold him the way you must have held that man.

He loves you, so he lets you imagine him as someone else.

He loves you, so he lets you bury your face in his shoulder and murmur a name that isn’t his.

“Dan Feng…”

Dan Heng closes his eyes and dreams of a day where you will finally look at him without seeing another man’s face.

#if this is ooc idc i haven’t played any of the quests post 1.1 update so :P #anyway dan feng hrmfskdj teehee #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dan feng x reader #dan heng x reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #gn reader

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strawurberries · 1 year

Text

Stretchmarks

Summary: Vash learns about those little markings he's seen on his lover, and oh God does he fall head over heels.

Authors Note: This is written with Tristamp! Vash in mind, and this idea was sparked by this post :) This is written as a fem! reader. I hope you all enjoy! (Also, here's your tag @blackkiwi! I hope you like it :) I went in a bit of a different direction so I might revisit this idea in the future!!)

Warnings: Mild nudity, sexual themes, self-hate.

Vash didn’t understand it—how could someone so beautiful, holding something so unique and precious, hate themselves and their markings? He felt bad for staring, he really did, but the damp air from the shower seemed to settle around her, water droplets becoming stars and her eyes morphing in a galaxy of possibilities. She, though, didn’t seem to understand his awe. All she saw was the man she loved staring at a part of her she didn’t hate, per se, but rather didn’t love completely. He knew he should’ve looked away, apologized and let her know that he was stunned with adoration, not disgust. Yet he didn’t. Like the fool he was, and always will be, he didn’t have the bravery to confess.

“Ah, sorry,” with a nervous grin she had tried to cover her hips, where the most prominent of her stretch marks were. “I didn’t know you were coming back so soon.” She grabbed her things and shuffled back into the bathroom, wearing only her underwear and a towel loosely draped over her shoulder, “I was just getting my clothes.” With a quiet click, the bathroom door shut and the room was plunged into a somber darkness.

Idiot, he bit at himself, why did you just stare? The patterns though, those curlings lines and loveable little dots and spots, it reminded him of himself; when he looked in the mirror and saw his face staring back, covered in blue lines that marked him as alien, foreign. Was she. . . like him? He turned to look at the bathroom door, listening to the quiet rustling within. No, he thought, she’s human. But there was something so remarkable about those lines, he couldn’t stop thinking.

Like me, she’s like me.

Later they sat in their shared room, the silence acting as a tyrant, holding its grip tight and solid over the melancholic atmosphere. Neither one had spoken since she had retreated to the bathroom an hour earlier; she being silent out of fear and embarrassment, and he out of nervousness and curiosity.

After finishing getting ready for the night, she laid in her bed across the room. Vash, on the other hand, was sitting criss-crossed in his, staring at his fumbling hands.

“You know,” he said, cringing at the abruptness of his voice, “I think you’re really pretty.”

She shuffled slightly in bed, blankets falling off her shoulders, “thank you, I appreciate it. You’re pretty as well.”

He blushed at the compliment—thump, thump, thump, beat his heart. It roared at him to confess, to open his mouth and say everything he wanted too. He didn’t. He fiddled with his hands and lightly tapped his cheek to cool the scorching redness that had overtaken him. “Earlier,” his voice was quiet, a pip-squeak of a noise, “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay.”

He started to disengage his prosthetic arm, small clicks and whirs making the silence seem louder than before. “I—” he gently set his arm on the ground beside his bed, rubbing the raw and sore flesh. He didn’t often sleep without his arm, for a fear of being attacked in the middle of the night, but his body couldn’t handle it much longer. It pulled and gnawed on his shoulders, making his entire body ache with a pain he can only describe as deafening. “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings, but if I did, I apologize.”

She finally turned over, watching as he hopelessly stared at her with a twinge of fear and. . . something else she couldn’t describe. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she smiled softly, “I was jus’ thinking.” She could never be mad at him—not that she was mad at him in the first place, in fact, she had only felt mild embarrassment towards the whole situation. The day had been long, and even if he hadn’t caught her getting out of the shower, she would’ve been quiet and exhausted—, and looking at him now only made her feel like she was gazing at a kicked puppy.

He tilted his head, “about what?”

“My body,” she huffed and sat up, “you know those days?’ Her voice was a little quiet, less teasing than it usually was, and so, painfully somber.

He understood. Sometimes he’d sit out in the desert, watch the sunset and wonder why he felt so unnatural; as if he wasn’t a person, but a thing occupying space in a body that didn’t belong to him. And sometimes he’d cover up mirrors with his coat, afraid to look into them and see what he really looked like. And other times he’d look down at himself and shove back the tears because he was a mural of pain and he wouldn’t have it any other way but God, did he wish there were other options. And sometimes he’d simply lay in bed and think about everything he hated about himself, starting with his personality and then moving on to his actions, and then he’d think about his body and then he really felt the pain because he belonged to this prison of flesh and bone, this sacred thing, and he had managed to decimate it in so many ways it would never be able to recover. And, sometimes, he hated how he looked because she deserved better. And sometimes he, without any reason really, despised the man he was, and the way he looked. So, yes, he understood those days. He understood better than anyone really; and it made his heart hurt thinking she had felt the same way.

In his eyes she was the most beautiful thing. She rivaled the stars, the ones he watched on that ship all those years ago. The greenery of flora and the nature of Earth couldn’t even compare. And even if some Goddess was to descend from the heavens, bearing all her glory and luxury at her bosom, he would deny it and find himself back in her arms. In his eyes, she was worth everything and more.

He stumbled over to her bed, momentarily forgetting himself as he slammed into the mattress with an abundant lack of grace and caution. “I get it, I do,”

She blinked at him.

“Somedays I–I hate myself and sometimes I can’t even look in the mirror, and really almost everyday I can’t even look at myself,” he forgot he had taken his prosthetic off, trying to grab her face with his hand. He paused and cursed a little under his breath, stub awkwardly hanging between them. “I forgot I took that—okay whatever,” he used his other hand to grab her face, fingers tracing her jaw, “but you know what makes me feel better about myself?”

She huffed a little and laughed, crossing her arms. “What?” she asked playfully.

“You.”

She smiled softly, “I’m glad I can help.” A little sliver of anxiety still rested in her eyes.

He took a deep breath and steeled his resolve. “Yeah, so, let me help you this time,” he sat back on his knees, suddenly realizing how close he was. “If–if that’s okay. . .?” All his confidence, his burning determination to help, dissipated into the air and floundered about his mind in a wave of unease and mild embarrassment.

She glanced down at herself, thumbing the edge of her shirt before nodding, “alright,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, “you’ve convinced me.” She gave a nervous smile, one unsure of what was going to happen but trustful in the one before her—she had no doubts that he would keep her safe, happy, and comfortable.

He let out a goofy grin, slowly pushing her back onto the bed, “okay so um,” he stared down at her, blushing a delicious red as he slowly came to understand what position they were in. Her arms were slightly settled to the side, hands above her head and chest slowly rising with each suspenseful breath. Utterly divine, was the only description he could think of. “Uh, could you. . uh, take your shirt off, maybe?” He wanted to cry when he realized his voice had cracked—uncool, so uncool.

She laughed, “alright, what are you really trying to do?” She grabbed the ends of her shirt and whisked it off, tossing it somewhere in the room. Neither of them really cared where it landed.

He waved his hand in the air and panicked, “no! No! I promise I’m not trying to do anything like that unless you want that—or, I mean, not right now! Uh, sorry!” His hands slapped over his face, covering the vague blue markings that had begun to peak through his skin.

She let out a boisterous laugh and grabbed his hips, lovingly drawing circles into his skin, “calm down, I was joking, pretty boy.”

The tips of his ears turned red, nearly drowning out his wonderful, brilliant blue, “pretty boy,” he mumbled. “Where’d that come from?” he squeaked out.

“Jus’ tellin’ the truth,” she hummed, “now, why is my shirt off?”

“Oh!” his hands flew off his face and came to settle on her torso, nervously pressing into her skin. “I wanna—well, can I see your markings?” he leaned a little closer, tempted to put his forehead to hers, but he was too scared—what if she knows what that means? What if she hates doing that? What if she hates me?

“Markings?” she raised an eyebrow, “what do you mean?”

“On your hips.”

“Hips?”

He gently hooked the edge of her pants, looking up at her for permission and when she gave it, he pulled them down slightly, revealing the little lines he had been so obsessed with earlier. Despite everything in him trying to keep his smile back, he couldn’t. “These,” he mumbled, tracing the marks with his fingers. His markings, no longer dull and scared, flowed to the surface of his skin and danced along his fingers. “They’re really pretty.” He wanted to see them in their entirety, observe how they rested along her skin and how they intertwined with one another—that would require less. . . clothing, and the thought made him blush madly, making his markings blink a bright blue for a moment.

She grabbed his hand and gave him a questioning look, “they’re not markings, they’re stretchmarks.”

He tilted his head.

“It’s like. . . little scars from when our skin stretches or shrinks too fast,” she smiled somberly, “they’re not as precious as your markings.”

He huffed and went back to caressing her skin, “I still think they’re amazing.”

“Not many people do,” she closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his touch, “so I appreciate it. Thank you.”

He hesitated and pulled his hands back, “do you. . . do you have more?”

She hummed.

“Can I see them? If that’s okay with you?!”

She sighed and opened her eyes, “you love them that much?” A slight bit of hesitance, disbelief.

A child-like joy seeped into his voice, “yes! They’re like mine, but they’re so much prettier.”

She blinked, a small embarrassed expression coming to rest upon her face. “I mean, if you really want, I can show you.”

He grinned excitedly and sat patiently on the bed as his lover slowly shimmed out of her pants, leaving them hidden by only two, thin articles of clothing that covered barely anything (not that he minded, but he was trying his hardest to focus on the markings solely—he didn’t want to be a creep. He was also trying to ignore the fact that this was only the third time he had seen her so vulnerable before. It made his heart soar, thinking that she trusted him so). After a moment, she returned back to bed and presented her thighs, where stretch marks were painted across her skin like a mural of heaven. “Here’s some more. They’re mostly on my legs and hips.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, “they’re a lot prettier up close.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead to her legs, closing his eyes. For a moment, he could’ve sworn he felt her very soul, as if he was connecting to a plant, and he shuddered out a sigh. “So, so, pretty.” He was lost in her now, gently tracing his fingers along her skin, nose buried into the side of her leg and he cherished every giggle and breathy laugh that came from his lover.

“I never knew you’d like ‘em so much,” she tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly when he got a little too dazed and trailed his head up further than he should’ve.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, “they’re so. . . you’re so beautiful.”

She smiled softly, “you are too.”

The compliment flew over his head, focused solely on the Goddess before him. The divinity that had graced his presence. He sloppily kissed her thigh again, trailing his love up and up and—

She tugged on his hair, “hey,” she warned, “you’re getting a little too close there, pretty boy.”

He stared up and blinked, chin settled in between her legs and nose dangerously close to the bottom of her underwear. It took a moment for him to come back to reality, realizing that he was in a position he’d only dreamed about. “Oh,” he blinked again. “I’m sorry!” he shot up and rested back on his knees. With her hand still in his hair, he was slightly bowed forward, eyes deliciously plastered to her legs.

“Don’t apologize,” she whispered, “you’re fine.”

He whined a little, “I made you uncomforta—”

“When did I say that?”

He peered up at her through his eyelashes, watching her coy smirk expand into a sly smile. He stumbled over his words and quickly decided it would be better to shut up. What’s happening? Wasn’t she supposed to be yelling at him? Ashamed he had given into his desires a little too much? This was supposed to be about her, and how wonderful she was. Not him and his inability to hide his lustful curiosity.

“In fact,” she tugged on his hair a little more, forcing him to crawl halfway on top of her to stop the dull pain in his scalp—he really didn’t mind it though, which made him rethink some things about himself. “I really enjoyed it.”

His markings glowed so bright, she had to look away for a moment. She snickered and brought one hand to his chin, the other leaving his hair and slowly trailing down his chest. “If I’m being honest,” she sighed, “I didn’t really like my stretch marks. They’re ugly and gross, but,” she stopped trailing her hand down when she got to the hem of his pants, “you made me feel better about them.” She smiled.

“I’m glad!” he nervously grinned and tried to adjust himself so the position would be less. . . intimate, but she didn’t let him. Part of him was begging her to do something, and the other part of him was screaming with fear and embarrassment so loudly he almost didn’t hear what she said next.

“So,” she drawled out, “if it’s okay with you, can I help you feel good?”

“What?” he squeaked. “Like–what? What does that mean?” Oh my god, he cried to himself, I’m an idiot! He beat down a whine that threatened to erupt from his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted the ground to swallow him up and never let him go.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed herself into him, hips bucking up and creating a delicious friction. He sucked in a strangled gasp and let his face fall into the crook of her neck, “sen–sensitive!” he cried. He gripped her waist, fumbling for a moment before once again realizing he had taken his prosthetic off. Vaguely he wondered if he should put it back on, but she bucked again and all thoughts fell out of his mouth as he cried.

“What do you say?” she purred, “up for a little fun?”

“You’re a,” he panted and ground his hips into her, muffling his moans in her flesh, “a tease.” He shouldn’t be doing this, should he? Should he have asked before he pressed himself into her, or was that normal? He didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing here.

“C’mon pretty boy, I have to hear a yes,”

“Y–yes!” He whined and ignored the blue light that bathed them both—this is so embarrassing.

“Good boy.”

He squeaked and buried his face deeper into her neck, “oh my god.” This was going to be the death of him—not that he really minded.

#vash #vash stampede #vash trigun #trigun vash #vash the stampede #vash 98 #tristamp #vash x reader #vash x you #vash x y/n #trigun x reader #trigun x you #trigun x y/n #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash the stampede x y/n #trigun #Strawberry writes

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planetdream · 7 months

Text

STRANGE DREAMS !

CHARACTERS ! incubus/demon!hyunjin, reader

GENRE ! horror, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 7.8k [more or less]

SYNOPSIS ! sometimes, you meet a strange man in your dreams. this is one of those times.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! edible-fueled writing. horror [gore—body horror: descriptions of blood and mutilated bodies. frightening figures and situations. description of drowning. nightmares and sleep paralysis. demons, and thus], references to biblical lore [christianity] and small references to milton's paradise lost [if you squint], and smut [dubcon—sexual manipulation and sex pollen, sorta. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possession/corruption. vaginal and anal sex. pussy and face slapping. teasing. fingering. spit. squirting. face fucking. degradation. strength kink sorta. sex with a demon—in demon form. monster cock. lots of cum]

⚠️ if you’re sensitive to gore, be advised before reading. i tried to be tame and brief with descriptions, and although i consider it to be light gore, i understand everyone has their limits. so proceed with caution.

💌 posting this earlier than originally planned cuz why not!! got the idea for this fic a year ago after an edible. it’s very weird n self indulgent but i’m glad i finally finished it !! i hope someone enjoys it <3 i always appreciate feedback !!

You’re certain that it’s the sky you’re gazing into—though, you’re unsure because your vision is unclear, a milky haze clouding your pupils—but the longer you look at it, the more it spins and distorts, bringing on nausea that rises in waves from the pit of your stomach to the top of your head. The nausea brings on a discomfort; dryness in your mouth and a straining in your eyes, and because of that, you’re left with no choice but to close your eyes and let your other senses take over. Darkness surrounds you, and it feels like you have risen into the sky, despite grass being beneath you, and it’s soft, comfortable; almost like you could sink deeper into it before reaching the hard, frigid dirt. You grab the blades of grass with a tight fist, tugging on it, but still unwilling to pull it out as if you would cause harm. Then, the grass all around you becomes apparent—alive—moving against your skin in a response back to you. It tickles all over, building the realization that you lay naked in the grass, though unwilling to get up or cover yourself; lost within the pure contentment of the situation.

There is a wave that sways over you—hot, heavy, and harsh, yet not too overbearing in its nature. You don’t know why, but there’s a sense of familiarity about when you are. It’s as if you’ve been here before, a distant memory that both chills and warms you.

Along with the burbling sound of water pouring into itself, the smell of water whisks in the cool breeze—slightly sweet, green and alluring; whistling your name, calling out for you to come over. The whispering is intriguing, full of temptation but slightly melancholic; no words need be said, yet you understand the language of the waters. The whispers are loud, blaring; not in the sense of volume, but by how jarring it is—unlike anything you’ve heard and yet, it’s something you feel so acquainted with, like a long-time friend. The water cries, begging for you to bathe within it or drink from it and promises a sweet taste that could be comparable to honey and lemons.

When you open your eyes again, everything is clear. The plants around you are breathing, communicating through the whistles of the wind; and just like the water, the plants cry out as well. Though, the cries of the flowers and trees are far different from the cries of the water. The cries of the water nearby sing a great harmony of promise and belief, whereas, the cries of the many trees screech of terror and agitation. They warn of what horrors can be witnessed here, of what great dangers are lurking within them. A sweet song of catastrophe. The flowers, however,—with captivating colors unlike anything you’ve ever seen, yet familiar; like the names of them are on the tip of your tongue, begging to be acknowledged and praised—cry differently. It’s a murmur most comparable to the feeling of silk against your hands, but also the feeling of goosebumps after a close encounter with something you shouldn’t have crossed paths with. A comfortable discomfort.

You look around, fully taking in the picture of what presents itself around you. There are butterflies varying in size and species—they sing as well, something similar to a war cry; morbid and haunting, though still beautiful and in great faith. Dragonflies buzz around, securing their place and status within the area. So much life here—at peace in this paradise. There’s some kind of haze or mist in the air, silent and still, tranquil. The sun is bright, blazing hot and practically piercing, yet despite the warmth, the air is slightly cool. The sight of your surroundings further cements your previous feelings of familiarity. Yet it also uncovers sheer discomfort. Yes, the area is familiar, but there’s something unsettling and distinctly different about it. A discomfort layering in the air, horribly beautiful and homely, but pandemonium is lurking, lurched and hidden within the shadows of this seeming paradise.

You roll over in the grass—laying on your stomach and lifting your head to see beyond what you could before. Not too far from your current position is a waterfall, continuing its whispers. The spring below is surrounded by unusual pink flowers and huge rocks covered in thick, green and yellow moss. Before you can process it, you’re on your feet and moving towards the spring. Once there, you kneel, gazing at your reflection in the waters. It’s almost too much to process but it’s you. It is you and yet it’s like the face you wear does not belong to you. Uncanny and off putting.

Movement. On your left, deep in the periphery of the spring. Your eyes shift, tracking whatever chooses to present itself. A swan. Elegant and pristine. It cranes its neck, beak pointing towards you in acknowledgment. You make full eye contact, and a chill runs up your spine causing your hair to stand on edge. An inflamed feeling of danger sparks within you, and before you have time to fight or run as far away as possible—“There you are!”

The voice comes from your right, but when you look in that direction, there’s nothing there. “So this is where you ran off to.”

The physical energy of the presence behind you is familiar, but strikingly overwhelming—it crawls up your skin like sharp nails, giving you goosebumps—you don’t need to turn around to recognize it. It’s Him. You’re unsure of what he is, exactly, but sometimes you meet him in your dreams. Though deep down you know that his existence and connection to you reaches well beyond the odd worlds of your dream realm. When he touches you, your surroundings change. The waterfall that you were once at is yards away, tiny in perspective. Despite having not moved an inch, it seems that every time you blink, you’re further and further into the woods; trees surrounding you and most certain to bury any noises emitted within their leaves.

The rustling of the tree leaves sounds like a screech, almost like sharp nails against a chalkboard—sinking deep and clashing, scraping out the porcelain enamel. The sound alone affects your brain, echoing in your mind, blaring enough to make you hold your hand against your head. The sound stops once he presses his hand against your cheek—so cold it feels like burning fire, almost scalding enough to melt off your skin; but you do not flinch, nor do you back away, frozen in place. The feeling of his skin against yours evokes an emotional aching so deep, you can feel it festering in the pit of your stomach, spreading to your organs and seeping into your veins—and somehow there is comfort in that.

He’s speaking, and while you’re unable to make out the words he is saying, you can tell that his voice is soft, pillowy like a cloud. Honey-laced words dipping from his tongue as if he’s trying to convince or ask something of you. You avert your gaze, unsure of if you actually want to meet his eyes.

His presence scares you just as much as it calms you. Intriguing, and homely but also frightening and domineering despite simply just standing there. Something about his demeanor feels off, or distorted, at the very least, as if he’s not actually in front of you. As if he was a result of your imagination instead of directly in your eyes view. He’s real, a hand against your skin, almost close enough for you to feel his breath lightly against your skin; and at the very least, he knows you. You know him, too, you think; of course, you’ve seen him in your dreams, but you’re inclined to believe you know him from somewhere else.

“Where are we?” You ask him, avoiding eye contact, shaking away from the contact his hand makes with you. Jarringly, it doesn’t feel like you said anything at all. Your mouth was moving and the words presented themselves in your mind and yet you can’t hear a single thing you’re saying. The familiar fire within your throat when you speak is no longer there.

“The Garden. It’s perfect here, isn’t it?” He gives you a small smile, seemingly understanding your indistinct confusion. Then, as he speaks up again, his voice drips with something resembling woe. “You and I used to live here a long time ago. I visit every so often, dip my legs into that spring back there, and then I reminisce on how pure life was back then before…”

You think he’s talking again, but once again, you’re unable to hear him. You’re too busy lost in his face. The urge to press your lips against his gets stronger as you’re next to him. Then you realize he’s naked as well, and your entire body gets warmer. There’s a budding ache inside you that’s all too familiar, growing at a rapid pace. It’s almost like your body is on fire as a result of being within his presence. Hormones floating, hair standing on edge, your more sensual and raw instincts ready to unveil and latch onto him at any time. Head hurting the longer you’re in his presence until it all just stops.

Everything stops. The trees are no longer rustling, birds no longer humming. There’s no splashing of the waterfall nor whistling in the wind. Just pure silence. The silence is uncomfortable, and causes you to stand still in your tracks like a deer, scared that if you make any sudden moves a predator might attack within the blink of an eye; jumping on you and tearing you apart in a bloody mess of flesh and organs flying everywhere, painting the fallen deep green leaves a perfect contrast of crimson.

“Run,” He says. There’s nothing in his voice; no emotion nor a slight hint at what he’s thinking. But the word echoes in your mind, and sends a chill down your spine, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on edge in either curiosity or total blood curdling fear.

“What do you mean?”

“You need to run,” His voice drops lower. “And don’t get caught.”

So you turn your heels and you run, not willing to ask him twice. Unsure of the direction you’re going in, but the further you seem to travel, the more that discomfort begins to settle in the pit of your stomach. You pick up the pace—one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip over yourself—but a small part of you isn’t sure if the danger that you’re sensing is real or just a part of a sick and twisted game. Instead of running away from the source of your terror, it seems as though you’re running towards it, no matter the direction you run. Twigs and leaves snapping and crunching beneath your feet, but it causes you no pain. In fact, the only thing you can feel in the moment is the thumping of your heart and every single milliliter of blood marching through your vessels.

You admittedly don’t make it too far before you’re cowering, ducking against a large tree. Heart racing with such speed that you’re almost positive it would break free of your ribcage, piercing its way out of your chest. The tree, however, as quickly as you found it, is no longer a place of solace, as you hear a long, loud, and deep growl to your left. The deep guttural sound echoing, slicing through the trees like machetes. You’ve got to move, but you fear that if you do, whatever it is that made that sound, might attack, ripping you to shreds before you’ve even got a chance to exhale. There’s a roar once again, this time uncomfortably closer to your hiding place. You stand still, and the surrounding area of the forest is suddenly extremely silent. No rustle of leaves or echoes of birds, but a loud silence accompanied by a buzzing noise; like a horde of flies marching their way towards you.

“Hyunjin,” You call out. The name slips from your mouth with ease, as if you’ve been calling him by that name all along. In the blink of an eye, just as you exhale his name, your surroundings change; suddenly submerged in water.

You emerge from the cold water, barely having time to register your surroundings before you’re being forced back into the water; claw-like hands scraping into your scalp, sharp and heavy against your skull. It’s hard to make your way above the water because of the forceful weight and before you know it, attempting to hold your breath is useless due to the water infiltrating your lungs. You’re flailing and thrashing around, arms lifting—hands curling into a claws, attempting to grab onto something, only to slash through the water—and legs kicking mindlessly, trying to escape what is uncertain; heart rate accelerating as panic fully sets in. This seems to go on for nearly fifteen minutes, being edged by death over and over; blacking out then awakening time and time again. Vision blocked by the salty darkness of the water, ensuring to agitate you with fright, unsure of when it’s all going to end.

Abruptly, you’re dragged upwards by your hair, back falling harshly against rock, helping you cough up the water in your throat. It feels like it takes minutes for you to learn how to breathe again, attempting to do that and calm down enough to assess your surroundings. You’re coughing so much you think you might cough up an intestine, throat burning with each assault, chest sinking and expanding and then sinking again. It takes many moments of coming back to yourself that you notice that there is no rough hand against your scalp. Alarmed, moving around frantically, backing up toward the closest stone wall. Scanning the area, there’s no human nor animal, nor creature of any nature in sight. Not even a single insect. Not even Hyunjin.

You lean over, though not too far in case history repeats itself, to peer into the water; there isn’t even a single fish, as far as you can tell, the waters quickly descending into a vast, black pit of the unknown. Overhead, the sky that was once shining brightly now dimming rather quickly, accompanied by dark, angry clouds. The winds pick up, swirling atop of the trees, emitting a drawn out whistle comparable to wind chimes; of which you can surprisingly hear over splashing and sputtering of the nearby waterfall. Large roars of thunder stomping in, but no lightning accompanies it. You begin to curl into yourself, attempting to shield yourself from whatever is out there, nature or otherwise.

You close your eyes for five simple seconds, and when you open them, Hyunjin is right next to you. He doesn’t notice you’re awake at first until you shift, catching his attention. He turns to you and you avert your eyes from him. He’s talking but it’s all inaudible, unimportant. Something about his presence in this moment is unsettling. Slightly off from the initially odd behavior he’d be exhibiting. You just nod to his words. “Found you like this about an hour ago. You shook so hard until you stopped and fell asleep.”

Hyunjin holds out a hand for you, which you’re hesitant to grab, but the next thing you know, you’re standing slowly; legs shaking as you attempt to regain strength. You hold onto his arm for extra support, slightly struggling in your steps as he leads you, hand in hand, towards a small cave hidden behind the pour of the waterfall. It’s hardly a hike, but Hyunjin makes sure you get to the other size carefully. “The rocks are slippery. You’ve had a few accidents here before.”

A lot of Hyunjin’s words are vague. Referrals to past events involving the two of you, all of which you cannot remember. There’s a feeling that you’ve been here before, but you’re unable to prove it, or make those connections other than your gut feeling and Hyunjin’s comments.

You’re hesitant to walk into the cave, the inside being pitch black. Hyunjin walks in before you, completely fearless, as if there is no potential danger. At the snap of a finger, there’s suddenly a fire going on within the cave. From you place you can see how the fire illuminates Hyunjin’s figure just a bit, and as you walk closer—finding a bit more comfort now that you can see, and because you know Hyunjin is there waiting for you, willing to guide you into and protect you from the unknown—you admire how the flames of the fire accentuates Hyunjin’s facial features. He was made by God, sculpted from the finest clay and molded into an individual with otherworldly beauty. Hyunjin holds a torch-like stick, fire blazing at the tip of it, used as momentary safety. “I know somewhere we can go.”

He then points into the deep darkness of the cave. You don’t want to go deeper into the cave. Right where you stand is just fine, and most importantly, it’s safe. Hyunjin reads the hesitant look that’s displayed on your face, but he urges you. “You’ve got me, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

And his smile, as beautiful and perfect as it is, seemed crooked, faked for just a moment. He holds out his hand, and without even thinking about it, you take his hand in yours as if you had no choice despite the unease boiling inside of you. His smile curves up again and he turns his head, now guiding you down the cold, dark cave.

The entire time you’re walking, there’s nothing. Hyunjin doesn’t speak and neither do you. The walls on either side all appear the same, dirt colored and oddly smooth, with not even a small crater to make a difference. No matter how long you walk, nor how far, the dark pit continues into nothingness, an upsetting kind of emptiness. Despite Hyunjin being next to you, despite holding his hand, he’s like a stone wall. He makes no effort to speak, nor to even acknowledge you in the slightest despite leading you somewhere, it’s like you’re nothing but a mere bug, nothing to stress about or keep entertained. You feel nothing but loneliness at the pit of your stomach; the only things keeping you company are the thumping of your feet against the ground and the flickering of the flame Hyunjin holds.

It’s a long time of walking before you realize that this cave is actually a tunnel. The tiny white dot of light grows bigger and bigger with every step taken. It feels like forever until you and Hyunjin reach the end of the tunnel. When you do, you’re happy to see light again. The sky now bright and blue, prohibiting any angry clouds of heavy rain. Air fresh and inviting, free of any worry and apprehension. Whatever doubts or dreadful feelings once felt before are now completely an afterthought.

“C’mon let’s go.” Hyunjin discards the torch, dragging you with him by your hand, grip tight against you.

He leads you over to a flower field where flowers ranging in color, size, and species reside. The field is colorful, bright and happy, like a source of glee. Inviting you over by whisper—maybe it’s a honey-filled hum—so sweet and kind. The deeper you walk into the flower field, you notice how enticing the air smells—sweet like a pastry, yet fresh like petrichor. The longer you and Hyunjin walk, hand and hand, the more at ease and loose you feel, almost drunk, mouth welling up with excess saliva. The two of you eventually reach a point to rest, laying on the grass, no words exchanged between you two. Simply just basking in the sun, deeply breathing in the fragrance of the nature that surrounds you.

There’s a passage of time before you start to feel it; an itch that’s tempting you to scratch; a sudden burst in fire. A fire that begins at the pit of your stomach and continues to your core, flaring; spreading further throughout your body in static-like jolts. Your breaths change from relaxed and soft, quiet, to heavy and noticeable; and suddenly the atmosphere feels hotter, small beads of sweat collecting against your forehead. You shift, rubbing your thighs in effort to satiate your sudden cravings, wanting to grind your hips up in search of friction. Growing more desperate and needy by the second.

This is when you look towards Hyunjin, rolling onto your stomach, head resting in your hands as you gaze up at his sitting form; and you actually notice him. You notice his nakedness, every single inch of him on display. He’s like a god, with his honey-like skin that glows and glistens in the sunlight. Toned and defined arm and thigh muscles that flex with nearly every movement he makes. He was meant to be admired, made to be worshiped—having men and women alike kneeling at his feet and imploring him to fuck and defile them. If only you knew how much he agrees. These thoughts almost embarrass you, yet they feel so natural. And your eyes drip lower to admire Hyunjin’s more intimate parts. Cock hanging low, thick, and you’re not too sure if he’s hard or not but he’s big. Mouth watering as you admire his dick: the natural curve to it, how there’s three thick, prominent veins that disperse along his shaft (at least from what you can see at this angle) that are pulsing, just begging for your tongue to roll over them.

You’re pulled away from your fantasy when Hyunjin clears his throat. With an eyebrow raised and a glimmer in his eye, he gives a small smile to you, softly, “You need something from me?”

“Maybe,” You wink at him. You sit up to face him, hand making contact with his knee, fingertips trailing up and down his thigh in a teasing matter. You get a little closer to him, skin against skin, eyes fixated on his cock as your fingertips dance against his inner thigh.

That’s when Hyunjin kisses you, lips soft and plump; and when he presses them against your lips you feel like you're in heaven. At first, your lips barely touch, meeting in small pecks, sweet kisses that eventually deepen into something desperate. The kisses are open mouthed, wet and sloppy, Hyunjin’s tongue makes its way into your mouth naturally, exploring inside of you. The kiss only breaks a few times; when you place your hands flat against Hyunjin’s chest, pushing away slightly just to get air. Each time the kiss breaks, Hyunjin smiles with a small chuckle, licking his lips before leaning in again, forehead pressed to yours.

You break the kiss once more, now focusing more on Hyunjin’s cock. Spitting onto your hand and wrapping it around his shaft, squeezing lightly. Tight fist working up and down Hyunjin’s length, biting your lip when you feel him twitch within your hand. He bites his lip, holding back a moan. Hyunjin stops you before you get too deep into it, instead choosing to take the lead.

Hyunjin plants another kiss to your lips before kissing down your neck, trying his best to take his time to really savor you, but he soon grows impatient. Pushing you down flat against the grass. Quick, wet kisses in several places down your body before he plants one last kiss right above where he really wants to be. There, he wastes no time getting to work, tongue slithering out almost snake-like to lick against your cunt. He really takes in the first taste of his meal, wetness sitting against his tongue, practically melting in his mouth, he moans. He dives in once again, lips and tongue against your cunt, licking and sucking and moaning; fully savoring you.

“Taste so fucking good,” He breathes once to come up for air, not that he actually needs it. Continuing to lap at your cunt, lips kissing and sucking at your clit, moaning into your heat. Hands coming to your thighs to grip, fingernails piercing, spreading you open wider for him.

You grind against his face, hands instinctively going to his hair, fingers tangling within it and pulling with eagerness. Hyunjin groans into you at the slight sting of you pulling at his hair. Tongue not letting up against your clit, following your cunt with every movement you make, not letting you get a break from the feeling of him against you. His mouth domes around your clit, sucking you in, teeth lightly grazing against your bud, momentarily making your back arch. Mid arch, Hyunjin slips two fingers into you. Slight sting as he stretches you out, long digits buried to the knuckles inside of you upon initial thrust.

Soon planting open mouthed kisses against your cunt, fingers working their way in and out of you at an obnoxious pace, curling naturally. Between Hyunjin’s tongue and fingers, in combination with his lips planting kisses against your cunt in between sloppy licks, it’s all too overwhelming. Cunt clenching around his fingers, pulling them in to beg for more, which Hyunjin promptly gives. Fingers fucking into you faster, his other palm pressing down directly against your pelvis.

It’s all too much, but you don’t want it to stop. The feeling of your impending orgasm has you shaking, practically vibrating, unable to brace yourself for it. Tears pooling down the side of your face as you moan out for him. The tips of his fingers repeatedly hit the soft, gushy spot deep inside of you, biting his lip as he watches your face contort. Body stiffening within his hold, unallowed to thrash around, only able to take what he’s giving you. Though unable to completely relax into it, fighting off the feeling of eventual bliss.

Hyunjin lets out a breathy moan at your defiance. Thumb massaging your clit, slowly but surely dragging you further off the edge. Hyunjin finally gets you to relax into his touch, into the feeling of temptation fully engulfing your soul. That’s when it takes over. Your vision blurs, almost going black, mouth agape as you let out cracked moans. Chest getting hot, tightening as you cum, releasing all stress and tension, absolutely melting into this state that makes you feel like you’re floating. Yet your body is only laid out in the grass, legs spread wide for him, as your cunt spills all over his fingers, wetness squirting all over Hyunjin’s forearm and thighs. Tongue desperately trying to lap up whatever he can as his fingers slip away from your cunt. The palm of his hand coming down against your sore cunt once, making you moan out and close your thighs, back arching, pain stinging in the best possible way that leaves you aching for more. Not fully satisfied.

Hyunjin is kneeling over you now, a large hand around his cock. Angry red tip all pretty and glossed with precum that dares to fall onto your skin like delicious raindrops. His cock twitches in his hand, blood rushing, pulsing in the veins that decorate his shaft. It all just makes you think about finally having his cock in you. The burning of the stretch, the feel of him reaching places that haven’t been accessed before, not to mention the feeling of his warm cum filling you up, ounce by ounce.

When Hyunjin pushes into you, you nearly lose your breath, caught in a long inhale. He’s nice enough to push into you slowly, but it’s only because he wants to savor the feeling (though, Hyunjin fully intends to use you however he wants for as long as he pleases). His cock is thick, stretches you beyond anything you’ve experienced before; though instead of being painful, your body is laced, wrapped in pleasure, and the sensation of thrill rushes through your veins. You spread your legs further apart, welcoming more of Hyunijn, hoping that he pushes into you deeper; overcome with desire and want.

“So fucking wet,” Hyunjin pins his cock deeper into you, pulling out quickly, teasingly. “Need more of me?”

You nod frantically, bottom lip slipping away from the clutches of your teeth. When you look up at Hyunjin, his eyes are fixated on your cunt. Tongue peeking out of his mouth, swirling over his bottom lip, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and into his eyebrow. He’s concentrated, breathing so heavily that he almost begins emitting an inhumane growl, but he dials it back quickly. Instead of pushing all of his length inside of you, Hyunjin pulls out completely, tapping the head of his dick against your cunt, sliding his cock from left to right against your clit. You watch as he does this, listening to the pornographic sound of your wetness, cunt clenching around nothing, just begging to finally be filled.

“Please…” You find yourself begging. Eyebrows strung together as you rock your hips up and down, trying to catch Hyunjin’s cock only for him to move away, preventing you from chasing your pleasure. His hand comes down harsh against your cunt in succession, serving as a warning.

“So cockhungry, can’t you be patient?” Hyunjin continues his tease, repeated light slaps against your cunt with his dick. His cock is replaced by his hand, two fingers dragging down from your clit to your slit, thrusting them into you quickly. Two fingers are replaced by three, and three, by four. He moves quickly, tips of his fingers curled and hitting exactly where you need them. He fucks your moans out of you, reveling in the way that your cries spill out just like the wetness of your cunt, and he’s barely doing anything but fingering you. And you’re this fucked up, melting into his fingers, giving him nearly everything he wants. “Always so pathetic and slutty.”

Agreements slip from your mouth, just in hopes that he’ll give you what you need if you’re good for him. Hyunjin just laughs at you, you’re certainly the cutest plaything he’s had—he knows he’s got to take his time with you. Almost wanting to slip his thumb inside of you as well, Hyunjin decides against it, continuing to fuck you with four of his fingers, still unrelenting in his pace. You, however, are lost for words; taking every ounce of what Hyunjin is giving you. A burning sensation rising in the pit of your stomach, hips rising from the ground, but Hyunjin never stops. Even when you’re leaking all over him, thighs shaking and threatening to close around his arm, he doesn’t stop fucking his fingers into you; not until he’s sure he’s got every ounce from you. Cum dripping down his arm as he takes and takes from you, forcing you to squirt all over him and yourself once again. Sliding his fingers out of you with yet another slap against your cunt.

His hand is around his cock again—wet with your cum, smearing it all over his cock—squeezing at its base as he brings his tip to your entrance. But he teases again, merely slapping his cock against your cunt. You arch into him, grinding your hips against his cock but Hyunjin makes no notice of you and your antics. Eventually getting bored, pulling his cock away from you.

“Kneel,” He speaks curtly, standing. However, you do not move fast enough for his liking. “Don’t make me have to do it for you.”

He does anyway. Grabbing you by the hair, dragging you up and forcing you onto your knees, skin grinding into the grass, sure to have bruises on them. Hyunjin’s hand stays in your hair, tugging as his free hand wraps around his cock. He yanks your head to the side, proceeding to slap his cock against your cheek, precum oozing from the tip.

“Open.” He says, and you promptly follow his instructions. “Looks like I’ve got a smart one.”

Hyunjin spits into your mouth, globs of saliva coating your tongue. His cock closely follows, dipping the tip in and out of your mouth quickly. He shifts, though, choosing to slide his entire length into your mouth, lips closing around him; but Hyunjin doesn’t allow it. Cock sliding out of your mouth, resulting in Hyunjin slapping you on the cheek with it again; saliva and cum sticking to your cheek. “Keep your mouth open wide.”

You adjust for him, just wanting to be able to take him and satisfy his cravings. He slides his cock back into your mouth, fully, giving minimum time to adjust to neither his speed nor his size. Mouth stretched to capacity, jaws aching and burning but Hyunjin is completely relishing in all the gagging and choking you do. You’re getting dizzier the longer his dick is in your mouth, tip kissing, nearly ramming, the back of your throat due to Hyunjin’s pacing. You feel like you’re on fire but yet you’re still able to relax into it. It isn’t long before you start moaning around his cock, absentmindedly rocking your hips back and forth whenever you taste a hint of the salty sweet substance. Hyunjin then pulls out, saliva spilling all over your chin and connecting in tiny stings to his cock. Smacking your cheek with his cock another three times, erupting in a full belly laugh, smiling at the way you’re just a completed fucked out mess, barely registering a thing he’s doing or saying to you.

“Look at that,” Hyunjin releases you from his clutches. He pushes you back by your shoulder, making you catch yourself from falling back with the palms of your hands. When you look down, you’re completely soaked, wetness dripping down your thighs and onto the ground, pooling messily onto a leaf, spilling off of its edges and soaking into the dirt beneath it. “Fucking filthy little mess you’ve made. Cunt just begging to be fucked, huh?”

The question is rhetorical but you still nod; even going as far as to whine a little bit, hips moving seemingly without your control. Hyunjin takes pleasure in this small action, kneeling down to your level. He licks his fingers, noting that he doesn’t need to at all, and swipes them over your clit, one, two times before his ring and middle finger are sliding into your cunt. Fingertips meeting the exact place you need them each time he slides them into you. You’re clenching around his fingers now, and Hyunjin licks his lips, pulling away from you.

“Turn around.” You obey, turning on your hands and knees, swinging your ass in the air. He continues with his teasing, and at this point you’re nearly sobbing, wondering if he’ll ever actually give you what you want. Pathetic chants and whines spilling from your mouth as you push your ass against Hyunjin, unable to control yourself; thinking with your cunt instead of your brain.

Hyunjin spits down onto you, and you can feel the glob of spit slide down from your asshole to your cunt, tickling its way down your clit. Hyunjin, though, slides the head of his cock from your clit, upwards, collecting his spit and your wetness in the process. He teases the tip at the rim of your tight hole, teasing at it. But when you push your ass towards Hyunjin, he pulls away, tsk-ing in the process.

“Silly little play thing,” Hyunjin gives a cold, almost threatening laugh. “I think I need to teach you a lesson on patience, hm?”

The threat has you pleading with him, repeated apologies dancing off your tongue, ultimately not acknowledged. Hyunjin loves to hear the sounds of your begs and pleads, but ultimately, the words you say do not matter to him—it all means nothing. Hyunjin marches at the beat of his own drum, and in situations like this, when he’s got a perfect piece of flesh like you beneath him, everything that he says, goes. And right now, he’s perfectly fine with teasing you over and over and over again.

Slapping his cock against your cunt once, twice, Hyunjin slightly pushes the head of his cock against the rim of your ass. He continues applying pressure, fixated on stretching out the perfectly puckered hole. You whine at the feeling, slowly inching away from it, but Hyunjin holds your hips still. Pushing and pushing, slowly, until finally he slides the head of his cock into your tight hole. Hyunjin moans out at how your hole tightens around him, welcoming him inside. He does nothing, just stays like that, moaning and ignoring your pleas for him to do something. It’s not until you feel the side of his hand brush up against you cunt that you realize Hyunjin has got a hand around his shaft, getting himself off while the tip of his cock is in your ass and you’ve got nothing to do except for lay there and accept it, with your ass in the air and your face against dirt.

His moans increase as he fucks his hand around his cock faster; and if it werent for his other hand holding you in place, you’d at least try to fuck back on him through the stretch of the pain. As Hyunjin exhales, letting out a deep groan of a moan, you feel the rush of warm liquid shooting into you. You moan in response as Hyunjin makes a mess of you with his cum, filling you up, trying to keep it all inside until he pulls out and it all, inevitably, leaks out of your hole, pooling around your cunt.

Hyunjin wastes no time, cock sliding into your cunt with ease due to your wetness and his cum; but the stretch is intense, more than you initially expected. You tighten up a bit, resisting, though you want to relax. You can’t hold your arch perfectly any longer but that’s the least of your worries—the only thing on your mind being cock. Hyunjin slides another inch into you. Maybe it’s because of all the teasing, or the fact that you’ve already cum twice, but he’s not even halfway inside of you and it feels like he’s reached the depths of your soul already. His hand reaches around, fingers coming in contact with your clit in hopes of helping you ease up.

“Created just for me,” Hyunjin breathes out, voice rough with possession. “Made just for me. Only me.”

He continues with his ownership of you, voice dipping deeper as his words become mostly obscenities. You don’t hear it. Or perhaps you can’t hear it. Maybe you don’t want to hear the vile things he’s saying. You’re overtaken, caught up by the intense, high pitch ringing that is worming its way through your ear canal, planting and fertilizing clashing waves of static all around your brain.

His hand wraps around your neck. It feels nothing like the soft, once heavenly hands that had been massaging all over your skin. These hands are rough, calloused and rigid palms that venture into freakishly long, boney fingers; with nails like claws that pierce into the side of your neck right behind your ear. Your eyes remain closed, fearing that if you open them that you’ll see something you shouldn’t, something that your mind would be unable to comprehend visually. A feeling of spiritual discomfort crawls up your back, causing you to arch, shivering at the same moment Hyunjin works his cock deeper into you, stretching you further; mentally and physically—of which he insists on doing, wanting to bend you to his will and break you beyond anything you’ve experienced.

Hyunjin pulls you back to him, hips unrelenting. Teeth, sharp like razors, piercing down into the flesh of your shoulders; nearly enough for blood to start trickling down your skin, but that does not occur. His teeth, however, do leave indents in your skin; that, if he’s lucky enough, will be permanent. His lips meet your ear next, a brief kiss planted to the lobe before whispering in a rather gruff voice, unlike that of his usual. “Inferior to me. Mine to claim.”

When he cums there’s an immense amount of it, sticky and warm. Hyunjin makes sure to be fully buried inside of you, cock seemingly swelling in size as he forces you to take all his cum inside. Hyunjin is selfish, not waiting a single moment, and barely pulling out before he begins to thrust back in. Cum coats his cock, almost daring to drip onto the ground in raindrop-like shapes. He refuses to allow that, however, fucking all of his cum back into you. His thighs, which originally felt like the silkiest, softest flesh, now coarse and dry—except for the sticky cum running down them, connecting in slightly thick, white lines against your thighs—and fuzzy; thick. “Mine to possess.”

You slowly come to realize that Hyunjin has taken a different shape completely. No longer possessing the body of a man, he has turned into some kind of beast, something inhuman. He’s grown abnormally in size and you can tell because he’s holding you up as he fucks you, toes barely scraping the dirt.

And as filthy and as frightening as it is, the line between fear and arousal is a very thin, blurry line. It leads you to come crashing down, partially due to the overstimulation, cunt spasming around Hyunjin’s cock, sucking in all his cum. You’re elated, completely delighted, mind elsewhere as you experience your high with Hyunjin fucking you through it. Hardly registering anything other than the feeling of Hyunjin’s cock stretching you out and the warmth of his cum—a sticky mess that’s leaking out both of your holes and staining your thighs.

When you come to, you’re laying on Hyunjin’s chest. It’s still daylight out, the sun beaming as bright as ever, nearly blinding when you open your eyes. It takes a few moments to shake away the pure, drowsy euphoria you’re feeling, completely ravished by bliss; almost hypnotized. You prop your head up to look at Hyunjin, and the moment you do, it’s like there are trumpets sounding off all around you. You have a realization—no, a revelation—that things aren’t as they seem as you peer up at the brown-haired man. As queasiness makes a home in the pit of your stomach, all within two mere seconds, the wind picks up; howling in the distance, bustling within the branches of trees.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” For what might be the first time, your eyes meet his.

What words can be used to describe what you saw when you looked into the eyes of that thing? Petrifying? Nauseating? Surreal? It makes you want to close your eyes, however, when you do, the images you’ve seen seem as though they’ve been permanently printed against the black of your eyelids. Perhaps you can attempt to run away—and hide, praying to God that you’re not stalked and caught—but your muscles don’t respond to the neurons being sent by your brain. Perhaps you can find a way out of this dream, but your physical body seemingly refuses to acknowledge the call to wake up; only processing the utter fright in the images it created. The only thing you can do is stare into Hyunjin’s eyes, continuing to receive visions of which you hope you’ll be able to forget.

His irises are a deep pool of black, displaying a particular flavor not only of loneliness but utter wickedness. The longer you stare into Hyunjin’s eyes the longer you are disillusioned, fully snatched away from all delusion of this former fairytale. Vision clouded by a thick, murky fog; fully spotlighting the shocks of visions you see in his eyes.

A beast, creature unlike anything you’ve ever seen or imagined. The face of a man only oddly elongated with empty eye sockets and horns—covered in blood that only makes a mop of its fine hair—curled up into two spikes atop his head. A smile so wide it’s like it was carved in with a razor blade and charred, blackened and blood stained fangs hanging from its mouth. Its body, with its abnormally long limbs, is completely drenched in blood, dripping in pools all around the entity. Pieces of what you can only assume is a human—or even worse, you—discarded and littered around it without much thought or care.

Flesh. Human meat. Limbs and bones and the insides—intestines, livers and hearts and muscle—all around you as this vision becomes reality; suddenly finding yourself within one meter of this monstrosity. The pool of blood coming up to your ankles, rising steadily. Pieces and pieces of the now deceased all around you, entirely mangled and minced. The creature holds pieces of meat within its claws, sharp nails piercing into the gray flesh, bits of meat stuck between its teeth as it tears into its victim.

It is feeding.

The situation becomes all the more frightening when the creature raises its head towards you. Despite it being eyeless, you know that you’re making eye contact, getting lost within the empty abyss that seems to be staring into the corners of your spirit. It’s wide smile never fading as it lurches, sprinting towards you faster than the blink of an eye.

The transition from the dream world to the waking world is surreal, almost jarring. Especially since when you awaken, you’re paralyzed, body stiff with static crawling all over your skin. The darkness of your bedroom surrounds you, both familiar and completely unknown. You attempt to move around a little, opening and closing your eyes multiple times, attempting to raise at least a finger; though falling short of progress to escape this feeling, left to stare straight up at your ceiling.

Then there’s the boom. A loud, static-like noise; deep as if something really heavy had dropped—but you’re unsure if it’s coming from the dark corner on your right or elsewhere within your home. A thing that simultaneously occurred and did not happen. The speed at which fear rises within you is faster than the speed of light. Heart racing as the physical manifestation of dread drops to the bottom of your stomach—fear making its home in the back of your throat, tightening as your swallow, seemingly making it difficult to breathe. It consumes you, a heavy burden, too insufferable to support, unable to put up a fair fight against it.

Don’t Look.

Curiosity gets the best of you. You shift your eyes to the right and in the far corner of the bedroom is a space that’s significantly darker than anything else in the room; like a void. Perhaps it’s because the light from your plug-in air freshener doesn’t reach that area of the room. And perhaps you’re tired and still reeling from that strange dream, but you swear you see movement as you glance over. You want to look away, you have to look away, but curiosity sinks its claws into you. Hypnotizing and you're paralyzed with fear of what could happen. Then, the darkness in the corner grows, getting larger as if whatever it is has been expanding, standing up to greet you.

Then it disperses. Leaving you alone, shaking and sweating in the cold, unwelcoming darkness of your room, finally able to move and process things.

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