#there's times where i feel so dead inside barely any emotions at all and m like okay that's it i'm never feeling anything ever again

[milla-frenchy]

Breathe (SMBU part 5)

4k9 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Tommy Miller x raider Series summary: you’ve been kidnapped by raiders, Joel is their leader. Women who don’t “behave” are locked in a place you call “the shithouse”. You live in your own house, “freely”. You and your roommate, Vic, became girlfriends. Joel, Tommy and the guards have free use of the women in the camp, while respecting Joel's strict rules. Chapt summary: Joel wants to make things clear, if you ever decide to oppose him again.  Him and Tommy use you for an "initiation" Warnings: 18+ mdni. Dead dove. Dark - noncon (captivity, threat) / dubcon Gangbang, dvp, oral (f/m), spitting, spanking, rough sex, degradation, praise kink, size kink, piv, rimming, anal, creampies, angst a/n: Heed the warnings. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, do not pursue reading. I don't condone any of this. Thank you @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for beta-ing 💕🫶 The Prodigy - Breathe | playlist | ao3 | series masterlist

Main masterlist - Part 4

The next morning while you and Vic were still sleeping, Joel brushed your cheek to wake you up. He asked her to go to her bedroom then changed your bandage gently so as not to hurt you, asking if it was painful. He placed medicine and bandages on the dresser, and left saying he was letting you rest. You didn't see him or any guards for two days, until one of them came and told you to follow him. You tensed up when you approached the shithouse, but you didn’t ask why you were there. You knew it was pointless, the explanations would come in due time, probably from Joel, not from a guard. You approached one of the bedrooms and you heard grunts and moans. Your discomfort grew.

“Stay here,” he told you, after letting you into the room. The smell was terrible. Still made of cum and piss. You tried to look away as she tried to catch your gaze, silently begging for your help. You wanted to cry knowing there was nothing you could do for her. Nausea seized you. Three guards took turns between her thighs. Tears ran down her cheeks but there was nothing human in these men’s eyes or words. They were taking, taking, taking. Raping. Feeding on her fear as much as her body. The mattress was even dirtier than the first time Joel had brought you there, the day you had to choose your fate.

When all three had come inside her, they passed by you, staring at you from head to toe and you placed your hands in front of your chest as an illusory protection. Once gone, you moved closer to her after grabbing a dirty blanket from the corner of the room to cover her.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, I’m sorry.” She was crying and was ashamed, as if it was her fault. You hated them. The door opened and Joel entered.

“Having a good day, Julie?”, he asked.

You hated him now, and he saw it when your eyes met. He grabbed your elbow and led you out of the room.

“You’re gonna get her killed.” You were so shocked that you were shaking, barely managing to keep your composure. You hoped not to show him but your guts knew better than your mind. This man felt the slightest emotions that emanated from a person, and he used them. Whether to make them feel bad or good, depending on what he wanted. He was way too good at this, and it was probably why he was still alive, running raiders camp in the lost world. 

“Getting fucked ain’t gonna kill her.”

“Come on, Joel! She is poorly nourished, probably has lots of deficiencies and perhaps an infection. Not to mention a psychological damage. Have you really lost all humanity?”

You were trying not to cry. You imagined far too easily how you could have been in her place.

“You know I don’t. You're still there”, pointing with his chin at the house where you lived. “In your pretty bedroom. With your pretty girlfriend.”

The way he said it made you shiver. You showed him your bandaged hand, to make him think about you, rather than her.

“What’s your point? You think those guys, the one that railed her, wouldn’t have done worse?”

“What do you want me to say? That you're less of an asshole than them? Still an asshole to me.”

You wondered if you were going too far but you were too upset by what you had just witnessed. “Why did you show me this? Those guys? You’re gonna threaten to send me there again?”

“No. No I won’t. We both know it wouldn’t work.” You looked at each other, waiting for the other one to speak. He spoke first.

“You think you have leverage on me, that I love your pussy too much to throw you to these men. And maybe it’s true. But now I have leverage on you too. I know how much you care about her. So if you piss me off again she’s gonna be thrown here and fucked an entire day by these guys. To teach YOU a lesson. She doesn't need one, she knows her place.”

"You disgust me."

“Oh, baby. You hate me now, but you love my cock as much as I love your cunt. You may have forgotten it for now, but you’ll remember it when you’ll moan, bouncing on it. Go back to your house now, lesson’s over.”

You insulted him in every possible way in your head, while he looked at you with his arrogant smirk. Fully aware of what was on your mind. Your heart sank thinking about Vic, and you went straight to your room, hoping that sleep would make you forget everything else.

Footsteps woke you up in the middle of the night, just before a guard entered your room and asked you to follow him. It was unusual. When one of them wanted to fuck you at night, he would do it in your bedroom and then leave. As if they wanted to leave their scent in your bed. You were even more surprised when you saw that he wasn't taking you to the fuckhouse. Or the shithouse. For a moment you couldn’t help but be afraid that Joel would “teach you” another lesson there.

The guard led you to a house you had never been in and knocked on the door. You heard Joel shoot “come in”. The man closed the door behind you, and Joel told you to go upstairs. He was lying on a bed, in jeans and a t-shirt.

“Is it…?” you started to ask.

“My bedroom, yeah.”

You looked around. The furniture, the way the room was organized. Everything was clean and tidy. You looked at the window, illuminated by a nearby lamp. Pink, blue and purple paper butterflies were hanging there, moving with the breeze that brushed against them. Everything was minimalistic in his room, and this childish touch of color stood out from everything else. You turned to him with a confused expression and he took a moment before responding.

“A reminder of my daughter.” A veil formed over his eyes. Your heart sank when you heard this confession. With those words, you suddenly realized two things. He had experienced a loss that broke his heart, and you had a special place for him. A part of you had already known it, but now you couldn’t deny it anymore. And somehow, it complicated things for you. From the beginning, you wanted to hate him. But your heart wavered because of Joel's behavior. You knew you were suffering Stockholm syndrome, you knew that your instincts were doing what they could to help you survive, at almost any price. But it wasn't just that.

And now, you didn't know why or how, but this special place you had, was there. Even if he was capable of acting like an asshole, to fuck you with three other guys or to throw you out to all his men. Or to cut your fucking pinky. But he decided to tell you that and your heart was racing. His constant hot and cold behavior was driving you crazy.

“How’s your finger?”

“Great, for a cut off one.”

It made him smile. You, not so much.

He stood up and came up to you, and surprised you again when he asked if he could hold you. You considered saying no to him, but that wasn’t what you wanted. Even if you hated yourself for it. So you nodded and he took you in his arms, and for a few minutes your body relaxed, enjoying the security he was offering you. Your body was lost in his arms, and you loved that feeling, that strength all around you. And not directed against you, for once. He took your chin between his fingers and lifted it towards him. His brown eyes, which sometimes turned black. But not there. And he kissed you. He’d done it before, while he was fucking you, but never like this. His lips were soft and warm. His hands slid down your body, brushing against your breasts, and you shivered. He removed your top and slid his hand between your breasts, rubbing their curvature. Then your pants, getting on his knees to remove them from your feet. Your panties, while he was still kneeling in front of you. He looked at your pussy and brushed your folds with his thumb.

“Lie down on the bed,” he said.

“Can you…” you stopped, not daring to go further in your request.

“Can I what?”

“Take off your clothes? I’d like you to be naked, like me.”

“Ok, baby,” he replied.

“Can I do it?”

He nodded, and let you take off his t-shirt, pants and boxers. He was barefoot.

“Thank you”, you breathed out, before going to lie down. He knelt at the foot of the bed, sliding you over to him. He was calm. Different from the other times when he had fucked you alone. As if he was less harsh. As if he was human, at least a part of him. The emotions were so strange in that new world. And even more so when you were in captivity. Used.

When he placed his lips on your pussy, you forgot the rest. His tongue brushed against your folds up to your clit, before his lips gripped it, sucked on it, kissed it.

“Open up for me,” he said.

You folded your legs further, resting them against the bed. He spread your folds with his hands and spat on your clit then on your folds, before sliding his thumb on your delicate skin. “Joel…” you whispered. He didn’t respond, preferring to slide his tongue into your pussy, groaning between your thighs. Fucking you with it and collecting all your wetness. Digging as far as possible. His thumb twirling over your clit. Sometimes he would let his saliva flow onto your clit again. The feeling of it flowing over you, before he spread it with his thumb, electrified you.

“Good girl,” he said, just before he moved his tongue up to your clit and buried two of his fingers in your pussy. His other hand was on your stomach, caressing your skin. As if he wanted to feel your stomach moving up and down, following the pace of his fingers or tongue. You felt your orgasm building. He spat one last time, knowing the effect it had on you. You came on his fingers, your pussy clenching on them. You heard him moan, tongue resting on your clit. Feeling its jolts.

Then he crawled over to you, a firm hand around his hard, thick cock. He nestled it at your entrance and pushed in without waiting. Eyes staring into yours, until you had to close yours, trying to get used to his size. He was spreading your folds with his cock, without forcing but without slowing down either. Until he bottomed out.

“I love to fuck you, you’re right”, he confessed in your ear. “Best pussy I’ve ever fucked, maybe. Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ good.” You whined against his neck.

“Told you, baby. You love my cock as much as I love your cunt.” You didn't want to think about it. You were there because they had captured you, because you were forced to let him, them, fuck you.  As if he knew what you were thinking, he added, "yeah, since the beginning, you're getting off on being fucked by raiders."

There he was again, that Joel you hated. Your whole body contracted as you tried to push him off of you but he tightened his grip, continuing to fuck you slowly, growling in your neck.

And you hated it but you couldn't deny the heat that rose in your core, his cock rubbing against your g spot, and his lower stomach against your clit. 

“Yeah, baby, just like that. You’re gonna come on my cock.”

“Yeah…I…fuck, Joel…”

“Come on, baby, I missed your cunt these last days. I missed stuffing you full of my cock.”

He wrapped his arms under your shoulders and pulled you close.

“Talk to me. Tell me what you feel.”

“I…I feel it coming. Growing in me. It’s so good, so warm. Why do you…Oh god…I’m gonna…Joel, Joel…”

“Why do I what?”

“Shit…why do you make me feel so good…”

He growled, and added “come on, baby, squeeze my dick. Come on it, then I’ll fill you up.”

You put your legs on his lower back, allowing him to fill you deeply, completely, as he was thrusting in just as slowly.

“Yeah, fuck, yeah…just like that baby.”

You dug your nails into his flesh as the wave hit you. He kept his body against yours, his cock buried deep inside you without moving, just to feel the jerks of your pussy on his cock. Until he came too, just by being clenched by your folds, and shot his cum deep inside you. He lay on top of you for a few minutes, then he withdrew. He told you the guard was going to take you to your house. You picked up your clothes, put them back on and left. On your way back home, you tried to stop your tears from falling. As if your heart expected that he would treat you differently, less harshly, after that moment. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. What you were thinking, how you could be so naive. He was just a raider.

The days passed. The multiple fucks too.  With time you learned to keep yourself busy. Learned to sew, knit. Tinkering, refinishing furniture. The men brought back various things from their raids. Women were not allowed to leave the camp of course, to avoid the risk of them escaping. At first, time passed agonizingly slowly and you were bored, but refused to participate in activities with other people. To meet other people, chat with them. As if that would mean you were giving in. And then you broke down and took some seeds available in the warehouse. You planted them in the vegetable garden. It was the first activity you got involved in.

Loads of books were available and you had discovered many authors. The days were passing faster now. Sometimes you couldn't help but wonder what you would do if you could leave this camp. If you could survive, and how. If you would come across worse than the men there.

One day you noticed a new soldier. Young, early 20s. And your heart sank thinking of those young people who had only known that violent world. What would their life be like, in another universe? He wouldn’t become a raider, who learnt that women were only a resource. You hated this world so much. Several times you felt his gaze on you. A look still pure, despite everything.

“You like her?” Joel asked him.

“Well…she’s pretty.”

“Yeah, she is. Wanna fuck her? You had the talk with Tommy, right?”

“Yeah, but…I don’t know, I’ve never done that.”

“What, you’re a virgin?”

“No. But…I’ve never fucked a woman who didn’t want it.”

“Yeah well, it’s not a problem here, kiddo.”

You knew they were talking about you even if you couldn’t hear them. Joel wasn’t exactly discreet.

When a guard came for you that night and brought you to the fuck house, you knew what was going to happen. Joel, Tommy, and the young guard were already there, waiting for you. 

“Hey sweetheart, always a pleasure to see you”, Tommy said, grabbing your ass and kissing you, as he always did. “This kid here has some things to learn about the camp. You’re gonna be a good girl and help him with that, ok?” As if you had the choice. You shrugged. 

“But well, once he tastes this pussy, the others will seem bland to him.”

“Don’t be rude, Tommy. We have other good pussies to fuck. Her roommate, for example.”

They both sneered. “Assholes”, you thought. Tommy laughed, seeing your face. “Ok, sweetheart, let him taste your mouth.”

You knelt in front of the guard, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. He smelled good. He was semi-hard, looking down at you. Embarrassed. As if you were in a position of strength against him. You wondered how long it would take before it would change.

You took his cock in your hand and let your saliva run down his tip. Spread it with your thumb, then jerked it gently.

“I wonder how long it’ll take him to paint her face,” Tommy chuckled.

“No, no no. Not too fast, kiddo. We like to fuck them when they’re full of cum. Stuff her at least long enough to cum inside.”

You saw him blush. At least women weren't the only victims of their degradation, and somehow that made you happy. You moved closer to him and licked his tip gently, tasting his precum. He jumped and you smiled, before taking him in your mouth, continuing to jerk him gently. His cock was an average size, and you didn't need to get used to its thickness between your lips. You moved down his shaft, keeping your fist clenched at the base of his cock. Picking up the pace slightly, you began to suck him at a steady pace. His precum flowed down your throat, and you heard him moan.

“How does that feel, kiddo?”, asked Joel.

“Good, fucking good”, he answered. “And you…really fuck her, all of them, when you want?”

“Yeah. Day, night. You can fuck them alone, or with other guards. As you wish. But you do it the way I say. You make them cum, you don't hit them. You can slap them a little, we all like it when our cock is buried in their pussy, but not more than that. You have the ones from the shithouse if you need to let off some steam.” You stiffened when you heard him speak like that.

“Fuck…ok, ok.”

Your saliva ran down his shaft and you licked it.

“Oh fuck…ma’am…” Tommy and Joel snickered, hearing him.

“He’s cute”, added Tommy. The guard didn't even hear him.

“Wait, or I’m gonna come, they said I couldn’t do that uh…in your mouth.”

“Come lie down on the bed, baby. He's gonna fuck you. How do you want it, man?”

“All fours? Is that ok?” he asked, looking at you.

He was sweet and cute, and despite the incongruous situation you wanted to counterbalance the attitude of the two brothers.

“Of course”, you answered. You settled onto your hands and knees, waiting for him to come behind you. He knelt down and hesitated.

“But uh…what if I can’t make her come?”

The brothers laughed. You couldn’t imagine how he must feel, having to fuck you in front of both of them, as if it was something normal, while they didn’t even hold back their laughs. He was still so pure.

“It’s ok, kiddo,” Joel replied. “You’re young, you gotta learn. We’ll make her come, don’t worry.”

“Are you two gonna...make love to her, after me?”

“Oh yeah…my brother and I, we’re gonna make love to her. Don’t worry ‘bout that.”

The guard moved closer to you, placing his hands on your hips before grabbing his cock and sliding down to your entrance.

“Oh, fuck”, he said, when your pussy clenched against his shaft.

“Yeah, she’s tight. We still don’t know how she manages to take both of our cocks at the same time, in that tight pussy”, said Tommy.

“Two? Are you both fucking her at the same time? In the same hole?”

“In the same hole, yeah. Or one in her cunt and the other in her ass. Depending on what we want.”

“Oh, man…” 

He started to fuck you. He was clearly not experienced, his movements were clumsy. But he wasn't abrupt, wasn’t hurting you. He spread your ass cheeks slightly, probably looking at your ring.

“Ever fucked an ass before?”

“Oh, fuck…I’m gonna…shit. Oh damn it was close. No, never.”

“You’re gonna love it. Even tighter than her pussy. Much tighter. The first few times you'll probably cum just from digging your tip into that hole.”

You heard him moan, and he came in your pussy, grunting, clinging to your hips.

“Ok kiddo, not so bad, but you gotta practice. Ever ate a pussy?”

“Yeah, well…a couple times.”

“You gotta learn to make them come that way. And when you’re really good at it, you'll make them cum by rubbing their clit while you’re fucking them. And then, just with your cock. Right, baby? She loves that.”

You blushed with this allusion to the night at his house, and the guard pulled out.

“Ok kiddo. Lesson number 2. You’re gonna watch us fuck her.”

“Come sit on my cock, baby. Hurry up, don't waste his cum, wanna fuck you through it”, Joel told you, spanking your ass. He sat against the headboard and you straddled him. His gaze was unfathomable, but it wasn't the same man who had fucked you missionary in his bedroom. He was good at compartmentalizing, much better than you. You grabbed his cock and impaled yourself on it gently. “Fuck”, you mumbled. He was thick, much thicker than the guard, and you needed to lower yourself onto it slowly.

“You missed my cock, baby?” he asked you with a smirk.

You dug your nails into the flesh of his shoulders, as you gradually sank onto his shaft.

He smiled and grabbed your shoulder, and added “I missed your cunt too. God, I love to fuck you when you’re full of cum.”

The guard’s cum helped you get used to his cock. Joel grabbed your ass with his hands and started bouncing you on his cock. You bit your lip. Tommy was sat in a chair by the bed, his dick in his hand, and said “you look so fuckin’ pretty bouncing on my brother’s cock, baby.”

He came closer, jerking off, and said “suck my dick, baby. Make it wet, we’re gonna need it.”

You wondered how he was going to fuck you, but whether it was in your pussy too or in your ass, you knew you had to make it easier for you. He slipped his cock into your mouth without waiting.

“Shit, yeah, you’re hot baby, suckin’ my brother’s cock.”

He had slowed down the pace to allow you to suck Tommy properly.

“Look at that Joel, the kiddo is already hard again.”

“Nice. You’re gonna have another lesson today. Sharing a cunt with another cock. I hope you’re not one of those who doesn’t want two cocks touching?”

“No…no I don’t mind.”

“Good.”

Tommy kept thrusting into your mouth, while Joel's hand on the back of your head accompanied your movements until he shifted it to stroke your clit with his thumb. His cock was rubbing your core, filling you perfectly, as his finger was swirling your clit. Every time they both fucked you, you always forgot at one point or another the situation you were in. Only focusing on your sensations, and theirs.

“Look at that, kiddo. She’s gonna come soon. She loves taking our cocks so much, like a good little whore. Right, baby?”

You nodded, your mouth around Tommy's shaft.

“Yeah she’s so good at this. Prettiest mouth and prettiest cunt. Taking us so well”, Tommy added.

Your pussy contracted more and more on Joel's shaft, as his thumb gave you what you needed, until you came all over his cock.

“There we go…you’re doing great, baby.”

Tommy pulled out of your mouth, holding your cheek with his hand while you came down from your orgasm. Joel pulled you towards him, leaning forward to offer you to Tommy, who was already kneeling behind you.

“Ok, baby. One more dick”, he said.

“Yeah, that's what you want, baby, right?”

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder. You were used to both of them taking you by now. Used to the feeling of your pussy spreading on both of their cocks. Even if it still stretched painfully, as the second one thrust in. And somehow, taking them both, that abandonment, strangely made you forget your life in the camp.

You felt Tommy’s hand on your hip, and the head of his cock pressing against the dick already inside you. Using it to slide his member in.

“Oh fuck, men…that’s so hot,” said the guard who had moved closer to watch.

“Relax, baby…let me in. Yeah, just like that. Good girl.”

Tommy's praise had always helped you to relax, to turn you on. Today, like any other day. He usually did it in a lighter way than Joel, perhaps less degrading.

“Breathe, sweetheart.”

You did as he said, breathing slowly until his tip slid into your pussy, spreading you completely. You whined into Joel’s neck. 

“That’s a good girl”, he praised you.

“Look at you takin’ these cocks baby”, added Tommy as he continued to thrust in. “Yeah, just like that. One more dick in that cunt.”

They slid into you slowly, then gradually increased the pace. You heard them growl. Joel against your ear, Tommy on the back of your head.

“Gonna take my place after I fill her, man?” Tommy asked the guard.

“Yeah…fuck…Sure.”

“We’re stretching her good, damn…”

Tommy grunted and you felt his hot cum fill you, then some of it leaked out of your pussy.

“Thank you baby, another great fuck”, he said, kissing your shoulder.

You whimpered when he pulled out. Joel remained still and the guard knelt behind you again.

“Take it easy, don’t hurt her. Lean against my cock and slide gently.”

“Ok, sir”, he replied.

He rested his cock against Joel's, covered in Tommy's cum, and thrusted his tip in.

“Oh, fuck, she’s so tight.”

“Yeah, she is. That's good, uh? Come on kiddo, slide in. Slowly.”

The guard placed one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, holding on for leverage. And they started to fuck you. Sometimes sliding together, sometimes alternating rhythms.

“You’re ok, baby? You’re taking our cocks so good, fuck…”

“Yeah, yeah…I’m ok.”

“You’re such a slut, baby…Always ready for more” you heard Tommy say.

“I’m…I’m gonna cum”, the guard whined.

“Come on, kiddo, fill her up. Then I’ll fuck her like she needs to get fucked”, Joel said as he looked at you, grabbing your cheeks in his hands and keeping you facing him.

You heard the guard grunt then freeze, adding his cum to Tommy's.

“Ah fuuuuuck, that’s hot, baby. You never disappoint”, Joel said.

The guard pulled out, and so did Joel, as he told you to stand on all fours while he knelt behind you.

“Yeah, I finally got this pretty pussy all to myself. I'm gonna fuck you rough baby. I know you want it. Hope I'll feel something. We really ruined you, uh?”

He slid into your pussy without waiting, hands clinging to your shoulders. Fucking you hard, without respite. Then he spat on your ass, rubbing your ring with his thumb, his other hand on your waist.

“Gonna fuck that ass. Pussy’s too ruined.”

“Wait, Joel!”

“Calm down, ain’t gonna hurt you.”

He pulled away, licking your ring and spitting on it as he jerked off. Then he positioned his cock covered by your wetness and the other men cum at your entrance.

“See, kiddo…that ass” - he thrust his tip in - “is so good” - pulled back - “that I can never stay too long” - he thrust in totally - “without fucking it. Oh fuck!!”

You laid your head on the pillow, moaning and fisting the pillow, as his hands were buried in the flesh of your hips, fucking your ass hard and deep. You heard him growl more and more.

“Look at that kiddo, she’s taking it so good”, Tommy praised you.

Joel thrust in a few more times, hands frozen on your hips, then he stopped, flooding your ass with his cum. He stayed there while he caught his breath, then withdrew.

“Kiddo, go pick up her girlfriend in 30 minutes.”

Then he looked at you and added “we have to keep teaching him how to fuck”, smirking.

You went back home.

When Vic finally came home that night, you were waiting for her to go to bed. But the guard didn't leave, and told you to follow him, from the front door.

“Jesus Christ…how many times does he need to fuck today?” you mumbled, looking at her.

He didn’t accompany you to the fuckhouse, but to Joel's house, once again. You went upstairs and heard the shower running. You sat on Joel’s bed waiting for him to finish. When he came out a few minutes later, in boxers and a towel around his neck, his hair was still wet and drops of water were beading on his curls. He was magnificent, from head to toe. You looked at his body as he walked towards you. Several scars covered his torso.

“You’re staring, baby”, he said with a smile.

“Yeah, well…not only men can do that.”

He smiled even more when he heard you. He brushed past you without touching you, and went to bed. “You’re gonna sleep with me tonight.”

“What…I…didn’t bring any sleeping clothes.”

“You won’t need them.”

*************

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[zelphin124]

The Error in Aim - Chapter five

Heh, you stuck around long enough for more. I'm impressed by your determination... Let's see where this goes this time. (I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this-) As always, check out the masterpost for all the info on this story. Happy birthday, Aim! (Dec 12th) Hope you have a wonderful day! @zu-is-here Let's continue once more.

~oOo~

"W-W-Wake up."

The subtle change in the darkness already jolted Aim awake. He lay faced towards the wall, taking a deep breath before sitting up to look at the destroyer.

Error glitched, staring down at him. His gaze was more solemn than the first time. He would blend in perfectly with the absence of light if it weren't for his bright red shirt and yellow highlights. The strings woven across his fingers glowed.

Crickets chirped outside at the same speed the stars twinkled at. There was no moon or sun in sight. The grass blew gently in the wind, making no sound. The trees that wove above the grass also swayed, making the area very peaceful-

Error moved out of the room. His pace was quick, and he didn't look back. Aim shot out of bed, stumbling after him. He barely put on his shoes before he bolted out the door. However, he slowed his pace as he remembered what his uncle said the day before.

His eyes lit up as his soul felt heavy. Sadness was always an emotion he discarded; he couldn't recall ever forcefully putting sadness within his soul. He hoped it was enough to wake up Uncle Mare as he followed the destroyer.

"H-Hurry, b-boy." Error snapped. "I-I-I don't go-o-ot all night."

Aim observed the emotions the destroyer was feeling. He was tired... very tired. His eyes sagged like he hadn't slept in days. His body was hunched over and alert as if he was just in a fight. He couldn't help but feel pity once more for the destroyer and was about to offer to help his emotions.

"Don't l-l-look at m-me like t-that!" Error hissed, stepping away from the child as he continued along the path. "I'm fine!"

"Are you?"

Error whipped around, his gaze locking on the figure who spoke. Aim sighed in relief, recognizing the voice immediately. His powers had worked, and Nightmare found them. He removed any remaining sadness from his heart, hating the feeling of sorrow.

"N-N-Nightmare," Error rolled his eyes. "I'm s-surprised it's y-you, and not the f-father of a-anomaly #241."

"His name is Aim," Nightmare took a step closer, adjusting his hat. "And I'm one of the people looking after him."

Aim was cut off by Error as he spoke again. "W-What d-d-do you w-want?"

"I was about to ask the same thing," Nightmare got even closer, ignoring Aim and staring Error dead in the eye. He looked up at the destroyer, regarding their height difference. The negative emotions were churning like a stormy sea within him. "This isn't what we agreed to."

"A-A-And?" Error glitched, his face as dead as he felt inside.

"Where are you taking him?"

"The A-Anti-Void."

"No, absolutely not," Nightmare's eyes narrowed. "That place is too dangerous."

Dangerous? Aim recalled the previous time he had gone to the Anti-Void. It wasn't dangerous at all... In fact, it was so empty and dull, Aim figured it was safer than the AU he lived in. Did Nightmare think such an empty space would drive him insane? Or was it dangerous because only Error could go in and out of that area? Maybe it was dangerous because Error lived there.

But if they were trusting Error to train Aim, why should there be any danger?

"I-I brought h-h-him back a-alive before, I'll d-do it a-a-again." Error shrugged, looking down at his fingers as they weaved themselves into the strings around them.

"That's not what I mean!" Nightmare hissed. "I don't want his SOUL corrupting in there!"

This brought more questions than answers to Aim. Souls corrupting in the Anti-Void? How did that happen? All of the souls strung in the ceiling seemed perfectly fine. Was Nightmare talking about the curse he and Dream suffered from? Aim didn't understand how that could happen. It was a curse, not a corruption, right? To be corrupted would be a fault, a mistake...

An error.

"Y-Y-You're the o-one to talk a-a-about corru-u-uption, o-o-octopus." Error smirked, glacning up from his strings to the negative.

"Don't call me that! I am not he!"

"But y-you are h-he. So is y-y-your brother." Error lifted his eyebrow, clearly irritated. "Y-You're making n-no sense. The Anti-Void c-cannot awaken t-the corruption i-in him. It's n-not like A-Aim w-will e-eat t-the a-a-apple in t-the Anti-Void."

...

What apple?

"That's irrelevant and my point still stands," Nightmare dismissed the topic. "I don't want him becoming like you!"

Despite the smile that appeared on the destroyer's face as he continued to speak, Aim felt the jab of pain that he felt. Aim could only describe it as if the destroyer split in two. Outwardly, he laughed and mocked the negative. Inwardly, Aim felt his soul... crying.

What happened to him?

"B-B-Besides," the smile on Error's face faded. "D-Do you r-really waaaaaant me t-to train h-him here? I w-would r-r-rip this pla-ace to shreds b-by the e-end of e-e-every session!"

"If you would rip the place to shreds, that isn't training, that's attacking my nephew!" Nightmare's eyes were blue at this point, revealing the anger fuming inside him.

"You r-really think t-that p-p-paint freak i-is gonna g-go easy on him?"

Nightmare went silent, his eyes returning to normal. He glanced at Aim, knowing that too much had been shared. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again.

Aim let himself feel the tinge of hurt in his soul, knowing Nightmare could feel it as well. So much for no secrets, huh?

"T-That's w-w-what I thought." Error scoffed, gesturing Aim to continue walking as he opened the portal to the Anti-Void. "Now l-leave, and l-l-let me do w-what I agreed upon."

~o0o~

Aim rolled out of the way from the blast. Extending his hand, he summoned his own gaster blaster and fired it at the destroyer. As expected, he easily dodged. The grin on his face was amusing.

Aim summoned three bones and fired it at Error. Error used a bone wall to block them, teleporting in front of him.

"T-That's enough f-for today," The destroyer turned around. "Y-You've l-learned t-to use C-Cross' powers. I w-will t-teach you t-t-teleportation next time."

Aim collapsed onto the ground, breathing heavily. These powers that his dead father used were... exhausting, to say the least. No wonder Cross was always tired after using them. No wonder he rarely used them at all. Aim thought back to the only time he saw his father fight. It's why he used his swords more than the powers, because they were physically exhausting.

Or Aim just wasn't used to it.

As Error cleaned up the bones around the white canvas, the conversation that Nightmare and Error had came back into Aim's focus. There was so much passed through that conversation, but one thing stuck out to Aim the most.

What did they mean by the apple?

If Nightmare had kept a secret about some sort of apple... then he probably didn't want to talk about it. Error referenced it as if it was an apple that caused the curse his uncle and father suffered from. Aim always thought it was just a generational curse... how could one apple cause so much suffering on a monster?

"Error," Aim stared at the Destroyer, choosing his words carefully. "What... what did you mean by the apple?"

Error looked as confused as he was. "W-W-What?"

"In you and Uncle Mare's conversation. You mentioned an apple as if it caused the curse."

The destroyer's face flattened. "It did," he rolled his eyes. "Those d-d-dang apples a-are the r-r-reason for this whoooooooole mess." He destroyed the bones by clenching his fingers. The strings around them disintegrated anything within their grasp. He looked really annoyed. "Let m-me guess. T-They didn't t-t-tell you that e-either."

Aim lowered his head. "N-No..."

"I s-swear they k-keep you i-in the d-d-dark about eeeeverything." Error slammed the strings he was holding onto the ground. "Ugh! F-Follow m-me."

Aim didn't have time to react as Error opened a portal behind him. Despite the pain he felt in his bones, Aim stood up and walked over to him.

The Anti-Void was gone, and the new AU was his surroundings before Aim could comprehend what was happening.

It was dark, but not just because of the night sky. The entire area was void of life. There was a city in the distance, but no lights were on, no smoke rose, and no conversation was heard. It was in the valley below, and the two skeletons were on a hill. There were remnants of bones everywhere, but most of them were decayed and returned to the earth from whence they came.

To Aim's right was a tree stump. A very large tree stump. It was unevenly cut, and the rest of the tree was nowhere to be seen. It looked like it had been chopped down in a hurry. It resonated with Aim in such a strange way. It called to him like a grandmother would call her grandchildren.

Error startled the boy as he joined his side. Error snickered as he stared at the stump. "T-They didn't t-tell you about t-this either, d-d-did they?"

Aim shook his head. In all honesty, he had no idea where he was. Why did Error bring him here? What even is this place? Maybe this would be the new training ground? No one was living here anyway.

"Sit." Error ordered, pointing at the stump. As Aim obeyed, he sat down on the grass in front of him, sighing before he started to speak.

Error started to tell a story. He explained the basic landscape of the world they were in long ago. He told Aim about the tree and all the delicious fruit it had on its trees. He talked about the two boys who guarded the tree. One of them was liked by all, and one of them was hated by everyone.

Aim listened intently as he described one of the boys being bullied. That boy was the one to take the apple and eat it. That boy turned into a monster and cut down the entire tree, killing everyone in the AU.

The other, after years of trying to stop the other boy, gave up and ate the apple as well, turning him into the monster that he fought against. It was only when the two boys met a soldier were they able to destroy the curse.

"T-That soldier w-was Cross," Error concluded. "Those f-fruits were apples, a-and those b-boys w-were your u-uncle and y-your father."

Everything started to make sense now. The secrets, the worries, how they acted around one another, why they never ate apples... everything clicked for Aim. A part of him was relieved to know it all now, but the other part of him was angry that all of this was kept from him for so long. If this was explained sooner, maybe half of the issues that his family had wouldn't exist.

Maybe Cross would still be alive if no secrets were kept.

"I b-bet t-they s-still h-have t-that apple s-somewhere," Error commented. "Locked a-away in their room."

"Why are you telling me this?" Aim asked as three tears fell down his face.

"A-Any p-power y-you c-can obtain w-will h-help y-you k-kill Ink," he said. "T-That a-apple c-can u-unleash a n-new power f-for you if y-you o-only t-take a s-simple bite."

What? "Have you not seen what that apple has done to my family? It should be destroyed!" Aim argued, standing up. "It's evil, and it corrupts everything it touches!"

Error narrowed his eyes. "Y-Y-You cannot d-defeat t-the paint f-freak while y-you're mmmmortal. Y-You w-will d-die just l-like y-your father d-d-did. I t-thought y-you w-were willing to d-d-do aaaaanything to get revenge, h-hmm?"

Although that's how he previously felt, Aim questioned his motives now that he knew the full story. His parents reactions made much more sense than before, and he understood their perspective. However, the reason he was with Error in the first place came to mind. Ink was hunting him down, and he would not stop until he had Aim. Either way, Aim would probably die. He wanted to go out fighting.

But did it have to involve the apple?

"I-I don't have t-t-time for y-you to decide, go h-home and w-we'll t-talk about i-it next t-time." Error stood up, opening a portal to the AU Aim knew the best.

Aim's eyes widened as the portal was pushed toward him. "Error, wait-"

But he was gone, and so was DreamTale. He stood in front of his house as the sun slowly rose. So much for discussing alternatives... Aim's mind raced as he opened the door and walked inside.

Dream wasn't in his room, nor was Nightmare or Killer. There was a note on the table saying they had run to get supplies for the day, with a little joke from Killer at the end. He smiled, grabbing some food from the kitchen before he headed toward the couch to sit down.

Dream's door was open.

Aim sat down his food, glancing into the hallway. The door was almost always shut, but it was wide open. Maybe Dream just forgot to close it... but it was still unusual.

He remembered what the destroyer had said about that apple still being around. He knew he didn't want to take a bite... but curiosity got the better of him. He stepped inside the room.

Did they really still have the apple? That was the question the boy asked as he observed his father's room for the first time in a long while. Most of the fabric was torn, dark, and covered in goop. There was a large pile of garments in the corner. It looked like a jail cell when Shattered came out, but Aim also noticed that there was effort to clean the room up.

It wasn't hard to spot the locked drawer inside the open closet. Aim bent down in front of it and turned the lock, wondering what the code was. It must have been at least fifteen tries before the lock broke, swinging the drawer wide open.

Aim couldn't believe his eyes. Error was right. Before him was a black apple, covered in tar. There were two large bites out of it, and it glowed with an unsettling presence.

Aim's heart started to beat out of his chest. Sweat dripped along his skull and his breathing became shallow. His hands instinctively picked up the apple and twirled it around. His mind was racing and he couldn't think straight.

Destroy it! Eat it! Destroy it! Eat it! Destroy it! Eat me, come on, just one bite...

Aim shook his head. Was the apple speaking to him? He swore he heard it whisper and call to him. When it did, it looked like the most pleasant thing to nibble at. His heart pounded, and he couldn't control his own emotions anymore.

... One bite can't hurt, right?

#undertale au #utmv #The Error in AIm #Chapter #aim sans #dream sans #killer sans #nightmare sans #error sans #ink sans #sans au #undertale #mwhehehehe

[beantothemax]

Cold, empty darkness.

Never before did Akechi find the bareness of his apartment so oppressive and unfeeling, but it was a feeling he hated.

So, he turned on a few lamps and the TV, and tried to distract himself by boiling some water for tea. Maybe that would help set his nerves back in order.

His stream of thoughts were interrupted by a harsh knocking on the door- if one could even call it that. It sounded more like panicked banging.

Akechi opened it, and his stomach twisted at what he saw.

Ryuji Sakamoto, beaten, bruised and bloody, clutching his hairline (Akechi forced back rage when he saw the blood seeping through Ryuji’s hair).

Ryuji keeled forward, and Akechi caught him with ease, worry and fury and a million different emotions swirling through him as he listened to the words falling on his ringing ears.

“‘M sorry for bangin’ yer door down... I didn’t... know where else to go...” Ryuji mumbled, and Akechi knew the truth behind his words. These wounds looked sickeningly fresh, as though someone (or someones) had beaten him up within the hour and left him in the cold. Chances were that Akechi’s apartment was the closest building where he knew he’d get help,

The thought of Ryuji being left for dead simply brought more rage bubbling to the surface, though he bit it back in favour of asking the question that made his voice go soft and the concern overtake the anger.

“Who did this to you?” Ryuji rested his head on Akechi’s shoulder, breathing ragged. “...don’t know their names... They were ruthless, though, man... Barely managed to keep my wallet... prolly’ ‘cause they thought I was... too much trouble.”

Akechi resisted the urge to press a soothing kiss to the back of Ryuji’s neck, instead helping him stand upright and into the apartment.

Once inside, Akechi sat Ryuji down on his bed, and ordered him to stay put while he fetched first-aid supplies from the bathroom. When he returned, Ryuji was zoned out, staring at a picture.

A picture of the two of them, the first time they’d hung out without being at each other’s throats. Ryuji’s smile was broad as ever, while Akechi’s, though not uncomfortable by any means, was more shy. His real smiles were reserved for Ryuji and Akira, and those two alone.

Akechi knelt in front of Ryuji, gently moving his head to the other side so he could clean up the bruises and cuts that littered his face. Ryuji decided to speak then, and Akechi listened with rapt attention.

“...You only smile ‘round Kira n’ I... Why’s that...?” He asked, and Akechi found himself contemplating the answer. Why was it that his smiles, full of mirth and joy and all things he had been denied nearly his whole life, were only brought forth around Ryuji and Akira? “...You both make me happy,” he finally said, both satisfied with his answer and feeling oddly empty at it. It was so, so much more than that... Not that he could place what it was. At least, it was with Ryuji. It was complex and mysterious and wonderful. It made him want more.

He finished dressing Ryuji’s wounds, and scrounged around in his dresser before presenting the boy with a white shirt and grey sweatpants. “To change into,” he explained upon seeing Ryuji’s confused expression.

When that adorable confused-puppy look didn’t leave, Akechi elaborated. “If you think I’m letting you traipse around in your state, you’re sorely mistaken. You’re staying here tonight, possibly tomorrow night too, depending on how you’re recovering.”

Ryuji took the clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, murmuring a ‘thank you’.

The rest of the night was a blur, between Akechi internally freaking out at how fucking good Ryuji looked in his clothes, and internally freaking out again as they shared a bed (and as Ryuji cuddled up to him). Akechi didn’t even remember falling asleep, but he remembered something else before he did.

That cold, empty darkness was transformed.

What once was terrifying and chilling was now welcoming and inviting.

Warm, shared darkness in the depths of his bedroom, two bodies sleeping close.

omg…. ‘I didn’t know where else to go’ ‘who hurt you’………. the prompt ever….

MAV I THINK YOU SHIPPING RYUGORO LIKE. AWAKENED SOMETHING INSIDE YOU BECAUSE ALL OF THESE HAVE BEEN AMAZING!!!!! (not saying that as in like. your other fics haven’t been good! because they have! abd they are!) BUT STILL AAAAAAAAA

akechi talking about how he only smiles around akira and ryuji because they maje him happy!!!!! akechi internally freaking out over how ryuji looks good in his clothes!!!!!!!!!!! these two live in my brain rent-free now thanks to you/pos

#asks #bewilderedgrace #inbox fic

[pickledpascal]

Secret Weapon

Chapter Five: A Performance Was Demanded of Me, Now I Have Delivered!

Warnings: Blood, gore, swearing, mature themes, guns, shooting, violence, death.

Word Count: 4.3k

Secret Weapon Masterlist

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James parked at the side of a long road. They were already in Scotland. It was beautiful with rolling valleys and high up mountains with peaks of snow. Sky was a steel gray color though it seemed. Serene. That’s what it appeared to be but Ezra could tell a storm was brewing. Much like how there was one building inside James’ chest. The man stood on the road, eyes taking in the landscape. It’s been a while since he’s been home. Decades. He was pushed to because of the fate of the world. It wasn’t the best time for him to take Ezra home for the first time. Quite the opposite. 

Ezra leaned against the side of the car, carefully observing Jame while M woke up to join him outside the car. James was tense. As expected for knowing what was to come but there was also the part of going back to his childhood home. Where his parents died. 

“This is where you grew up.” M stated. It wasn’t a question. She knew but James gave her a nod anyway. “How old were you when they died?”

Bond’s jaw clenched, only slightly. “You know the answer to that. You know the whole story. Orphans always make the best recruits.” He hummed. He wasn’t mad, not really. It was just how MI6 worked. He didn’t have any attachments. No one to worry when he’d leave for weeks or even months. Until now. Glancing up at the sky yet again, James pursed his lips. “Storm’s coming.” 

Any emotion he did have was suddenly gone.

—----

As they approached James’ old home, Ezra surveyed their surroundings. The house was in a huge clearing of the forest behind them. They passed a gate, huge and imposing with a statue of a deer on top of it. Decaying with half of it crumbled to pieces. On the only standing pillar, there was a word carved on it: SKYFALL. Ezra glanced from the sign then to James. He could feel the tension rolling off him, waves crashing into each other only to make an even bigger one. 

Ezra set his hand on Bond’s thigh. Almost immediately, the tension was washed away. Belittled into nothing but a small wave rolling onto a sandy shore.

As the car stopped, the trio climbed out. The house looked lonely and deserted, everything looked horrible. More dead than alive. Not how it used to be. Though, Ezra wasn’t sure if it’s been alive for more than it’s been dead.

“Christ.” M said as she looked up at the house ahead of them. “No wonder you never came back.” M being M meant she always said what was on her mind. Sometimes it would be a blessing if she never said anything at all.

They headed for the front door. James opened the door slowly, taking in the sight of his old home. For him, it was like entering a haunted mansion. It was dark inside with barely any light coming through the windows. James entered first, Ezra and M following. Their footsteps echoed on the creaky floorboards as they advanced further inside the house.

But then there was a sound. More floorboards creaked but it wasn’t either of them.

James didn’t seem scared so Ezra didn’t pull out his gun as they turned. From the shadows, emerged a man. An old man. With a shotgun. He was about M’s age with a stark white beard and piercing blue eyes. He was handsome for his age. The man–Kincade–seemed to recognize James, his eyes were on him as he entered the main hall. 

“James… James Bond.” Kincade blinked. It’s been years since he’s seen James. It showed in the wrinkles of his eyes. It was certainly before his time at MI6. Kincade didn’t know anything about James’ job or why he had two strays behind him.

Bond’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he takes in the sight of his old friend. “Good God. Are you still alive?” That earned him a smack from Ezra, even if he didn’t know Kincade yet. “We were all thinking it.” He shrugged.

Kincade looked at the pair, a knowing look in his eyes before he lowered his shotgun. “Heh!... It’s alright. It’s nice to see you too.” He slowly smiled, thankful he could see James. Even if it was for the last time. He shook Bond’s hand eagerly.

“M, Ezra, this is Kincade. Gamekeeper here since I was a boy.” James explained, a light smile on his face as he glanced between his two companions. 

Kincade nodded at the two. “Pleased to meet you, Emma.” He misheard what James meant. Perhaps for the better. He then tilted his head to look at Ezra as he shook his hand as well. “You’re quite the looker, aren’t you?” 

Ezra’s eyes widened slightly before a smirk graced his lips. “I like him.” He chuckled while James had an unimpressed expression.

“You’re a tad late. They’ve sold the place when they thought you were dead. Seems they were wrong.” Kincade changed the subject, looking to James this time. “What are you doing here?”

Bond weighed two options in his mind. Tell the truth or lie. “Some men are coming to kill us. We’re going to kill them first.” Truth seemed to be the best bet.

“Then we’d better get ready.” Kincade accepted his answer. He never was one to back away from a fight. Not when it came to his home.

Ezra was thankful Kincade didn’t ask many questions. After all, it would be hard to explain everything they’d been through up until that point. Some details even he didn’t know. He was around during Silva’s run at MI6 but they ran their missions entirely separately. At least Ezra didn’t go beyond his orders.

Though, he did keep coming back from the dead. 

Soon, Kincade led them to the house’s gun room. Impressive… if it weren’t for the empty shelves. Notches were unclipped and the shelves were bare. James would thank Ezra later for thinking of packing up some guns. 

“They sold the lot to a collector from Idaho or some such place. They were shipped out weeks ago… There’s just your father’s old hunting rifle.” The older man went to grab the rifle, it was the only thing still in its case. He handed it over to James, Ezra hummed as his eyes raked over it. It was beautiful, intricate carvings across the hilt. “We couldn’t let that go.”

M hummed as she looked over the small collection of arms on the table. “Well, thank goodness we brought more.” She huffed as James set the hunting rifle on the table.

“There might be a couple sticks of dynamite from the quarry… But if all else fails…” Kincade set his hunting knife on the table as well. “Sometimes the old ways are the best.”

Ezra shrugged, a light smile on his face. Hopeful. “Well, I particularly love arson. Not sure about you.”

M let out a sigh. Ezra was a great agent but half the missions he went on, something exploded. A big explosion. Not pretty since she was the one that had to deal with the media most of the time. She shook her head. 

“Let’s get ours, hm? See what we have.” James suggested. They didn’t exactly care what they grabbed from Ezra’s unit. They just knew they needed guns, grabbing whatever was in front of them.

—---

Hours later and they came up with a plan. Sort of.

All the windows in the house were boarded up with some traps along the way from the front door. Guns were stashed in random places in case they needed them later on. For now, James had his father’s hunting gun, M had James’ Walther, Ezra had an AK-47, and Kincade had his shotgun–now sawed off. 

James was looking out the window, the boards off to the side of him, when Ezra made his way next to him. The pair were in heavier clothes in exchange for their suits. Though James wasn’t sure if he would die or not, he had to admit Ezra looked attractive in ‘normal’ clothes. He looked great no matter what he wore. Ezra let out a breath of air as he looked out the window with Bond, his gun wrapped around his body with a strap. 

“Waiting around like this is making me anxious.” Ezra admitted softly, glancing down at his gun before he fixed the gloves on his hands. Usually, he knew when his enemy was coming. He’s dealt with worse but knowing was so much more comforting than not.

James, despite their conditions, smiled. “We’re going to be okay.” A lie. Someone was going to die. It was either going to be Silva or one of them. But Bond was a liar for a living. It was his default setting.

Ezra cocked his eyebrow at James. He knew the truth. Even if James didn’t want to give it to him. For comfort, Bond pressed a light kiss to Ezra’s lips. It was shorter than their first but held a different kind of weight to it. If either of them were going to die, then this moment was the last thing either of them wanted to think about before life drained from their eyes.

Moments later, after they pulled away, M spoke up from her position at the old dining table. “I fucked this up, didn’t I?” She sighed. 

“No. You did your job.” James admitted. He felt this coming. The doubt settled into M’s mind. Just what Silva wanted to happen. He paused, only for a second. “I read your obituary of me.” He admitted. 

Ezra cocked his head with a light chuckle. “And?” M asked as she looked up at the man.

“Appalling.” Bond hummed.

M looked down at her gun, a little disheartened but she expected as such. “Yeah, I knew you’d hate it. I did call you ‘an exemplar of British fortitude.’” 

“That bit was alright.” James shrugged.

A few seconds after that conversation ended, there was the sound of dogs barking in the distance. Nothing came right after that but they knew. Ezra and James exchanged a look. They were close.

“You ready?” James asked softly.

Ezra hummed, reading his gun. “I’m always up to the job, 007.” 

Something about the way Ezra would use James’ designation number… it did things to him. But he didn’t have the time for that at the moment. 

The pair stared out the window as dark, black cars approached the gateway. Figures emerged from the cars, heavily armed. Silva’s mercenaries. Ezra looked at the men. Silva wasn’t there. Perhaps he was waiting for later. The men approached the lodge slowly, creeping through the fog like wraiths. The only sound they made was their feet crunching across the moorland. They communicated through silent hand signals. Professionals. Two men split off from the others, disappearing around the side of the house.

Ezra quickly went to get rid of those two, silently making his way over to them. One was behind the other so Ezra swiftly picked him off first and then the other. Two broken necks later, Ezra could hear the DB-5 shooting away at the men in the front. 

He made his way inside, careful with feather-light steps so as to not step on the wrong floorboards. Ezra shot at two men once inside, bodies falling to the floor as soon as the agent saw them. Riding off instinct was all he could do. At least they were good, Ezra hadn’t even had a scratch on him yet… besides some of the rubble from nearby explosions.

More men seemed to keep on coming, they were about to catch Kincade off guard as he fumbled to grab more shotgun shells from his pockets. But James killed one, coming out of nowhere with a stashed gun, Ezra killed the other. 

They worked quite well as a team.

Kincade took a breath, wide-eyed as he stared at the pair. “You drop something?” James asked with a shit-eating grin. 

Then, they heard a commotion in the kitchen. That had to be M. James and Ezra rushed to the room, Bond shooting down the stray man as he looked at the damage. His house was going to crumble by the end of the day. He could tell.

“You hurt?” Ezra asked softly, lowering his gun slightly.

M let out a light laugh, “Only my pride. I never was a good shot.”

James flipped over the final body. It wasn’t Silva. “He’s not here.” He moved around the room, pursuing his lips. “He’s not here.” He repeated through clenched teeth. He thought they were done. Oh, Silva was just getting started.

Outside, like a great prehistoric beast, an army of helicopters swept through the valley. They flew low over the moor. Kincade and M are behind Ezra and James as they look out the window to see the approaching onslaught. They were so screwed.

“Always go to make an entrance.”  James whispered to himself.

Ezra glanced behind him at the older pair. “You two, go to the kitchen… Now!” He yelled. The only time M would excuse such a thing. They quickly made their way over to the kitchen as James smashed open a shutter and the glass with the butt of his gun. He opened fire. Sighing, Ezra did the same. He started to shoot at the extra men.

The helicopter turned and suddenly a machine gun was pointed at the house. Windows shattered, walls pierced, more twilight started to break through into the house. James ran, Ezra close behind him as they dodged the gunfire. Bullets ripped and ricocheted only a few feet behind them as they made their way to the kitchen. Debris flew past them, so much for getting out of this without a scratch. Glass shards sliced at Ezra’s cheeks as it flew.

“Get behind the arch!” Bond yelled, pointing. It was a stone arch, just strong enough to withstand the bullets. M and Kincade ran over to take cover behind the archway, bullets still piercing through the house.

As Bond quickly grabbed another ammunition clip from underneath the table, the helicopter began circling the house. It continued its fire as it circled. Ezra took cover with James, taking a glimpse at the helicopter through bullet-ridden shutters. The helicopter was annihilating the outer walls of Skyfall.

It was that time. “Go to the chapel, use the tunnel.” Ezra yelled as he looked through the lens of his gun. Hurriedly, Kincade led M to the study, where the tunnel to the chapel was. The helicopter slowed, moving towards the front of the house as it ceased fire. Perhaps they were checking to see if they were dead.

They needed to try harder than that.

James led Ezra to the main hallway, eyes scanning the house as he worked out their next move. They were in the shadows, guns ready. Where they were meant to be it seemed. Through the front door, blown to bits at this point, Ezra could only see Silva and his men. They prepare to fire… Only to be stopped when a device rolls into the hallway. 

“Fuck.” Ezra cursed, the pair dove for cover in the great wall just in time as the device exploded. 

They got up from their spot, only to have to dive for cover a few more times as Silva kept on throwing these bombs into the house. Taking a breath, Ezra rose to his knees after the relentlessness of Silva’s bombs died down. 

“Everyone listen to me! Don’t you dare touch her. She’s mine.” Silva’s voice filtered inside from all the bullet holes and blown up windows.

Like lightning, Bond got on his feet and looked for a shot at Silva. He saw the shadow of Silva in the dining room, caused by the helicopter’s searchlight. Ezra hoisted his gun back up from the position on the floor and reloaded as quietly as he possibly could. 

Silva’s voice filtered in yet again, an almost flirtatious tone in his voice. “Can your friend come out and say hello? I know Ezra is here somewhere.” He teased. 

A new ignited fire in James’ eyes, he fired outside. But Silva’s already gone. Another canister–bomb–rolled in and sent Bond flying. He was okay, recovered quite fast. Ezra let out a low growl from under his breath, setting up his gun at the edge of a window to get a good look at Silva. It’s hard with so many people with guns, catching a single movement out of the corner of their eyes.

Smoke started to spread throughout the house, beginning to suffocate Ezra. He took a few deep breaths, getting away from the smoke as best he could. Another bomb exploded just as James came back from a cellar. He dragged heavy gas canisters towards the study. Ezra narrowed his eyes at them, confused.

Oh.

Oh.

James was going to blow up the entire house. Wouldn’t be too hard, the whole of Skyfall was burning. Ezra followed, taking a peek outside when he heard the machine guns go off again but they weren’t pointed at the house anymore. It was shooting at the DB-5, riddling the car with bullets until it exploded.

“He’s a petty one.” Ezra sighed as James set the canisters down.

Bond let out a light huff. A laugh. He grabbed his father’s cigar box, retrieving a few matches and striked one alight. He then used the match to spark up the fuse… leading up to two sticks of dynamite that were strapped to the gas canisters. He didn’t need to look back, he knew how much time they had.

“I always hated this place.” James hummed, taking Ezra’s hand in his as he ran to the priest’s hole. Ezra didn’t have much of a choice in running with him. It was either get burnt to a crisp or follow Bond. Following James was a much better option. 

They ran, hand in hand, racing to try and get away from the blast as soon as possible. Distantly, yet somehow close, they heard the explosion go off. The tunnel shook and Ezra could tell the flames were about to reach them. Just needed to push a little harder. Suddenly, James pushed Ezra into an alcove–a small cave–and dove after him. The flames ripped past them.

Ezra coughed, pulling himself up as he took a breath. Then he helped James up–he couldn’t contain it anymore–he pressed a deep, swift kiss to his lips. Surprised, James gave him a light smile. “We need to go to M…” James said softly. Ezra nodded, taking his hand as they continued to run. 

They didn’t know if Silva was still alive. They needed to be sure.

Ezra and James emerged from the tunnel. Behind them, Skyfall was nothing but a raging fire. Destroyed. Much like James’ own past was. The pair started a sprint when they realized Silva and a few of his men were still alive–making their way to the chapel. Stakes were high. Life or death. But Ezra marked Silva for death. He pushed faster than James, feet pounding as he leapt over logs and down small hills. 

Neither Ezra nor James slowed down when one of Silva’s men got closer to them–Ezra took a jump and kneed the man in the face. It knocked him clean out. Bond was similar when another man appeared, taking him out with brutal efficiency as they raced on… Until they finally reached the frozen lake.

The lake which was their last obstacle between them and the chapel.

They could only cut Silva off if he went straight across the lake. James looked down at the ice, testing it out with his foot. A low cracking noise could be heard. Well, shit. The pair exchanged a look. It was unfortunate but it was the only way. They ran across the lake. They were going to make it. They were going to beat Silva–

Gunshots. Bullets hit the ice.

The pair slid to a halt. Cracks started to form from the bullets. Ezra pursed his lips as he studied the pattern of the ice. Silva, on the edge of the lake, enjoyed their helpless predicament. He looked horrible, with blood oozing from his forehead and his hair a mess. “You see what comes of all this running around? All this jumping and fighting, it’s exhausting.” Silva took a deep breath, eyes boring into the two men. “Relax. You need to relax.”

A gun cocked. Another of Silva’s men. The last of them but he held the pair at gunpoint, with no means to defend themselves unless they wanted to try hand-to-hand. Not smart. Silva smiled before he turned. There was a light in the chapel. A glow of a torch moving inside. 

Kincade and M.

“Ah, well… Mother’s calling. I’ll give her a goodbye kiss for you.” Silva smirked, raising his gun to fire at Bond.

James stared at the ice then glanced at Ezra. He hoped the taller man would forgive him later… If they survived. In a flash, he grabbed the mercenaries’ gun and fired it downward. It sent all of them into the water. With one shot, Silva fired into the water.

He missed. Yeah, what a horrible agent he would have been. Ezra had no idea why Silva used to be M’s favorite.

Ezra panicked, just for a moment, at the feeling of the cold water. Still, Silva’s man went to fight Bond as they started to sink down and down and down… Ezra narrowed his eyes as he swam a bit to move so he could put the mercenary in a head-lock, choking the man to death with just the right amount of pressure. A few moments later Bond is out of the man’s hands. When Bond is freed, the pair look up. There’s nothing but ice for what seemed like miles, high above their heads. Then Ezra caught a glimpse of something–a flare gun on Silva’s man. Ezra lunged for it, aiming it above their heads before he took the shot. 

The ice above them broke open, shattered.

Ezra and James pushed their bodies as hard as they could, getting closer and closer to the surface. James is out first, helping Ezra out as they catch their breaths. Frigid water dripped down their hair and onto their skin. For a moment, Bond admires seeing Ezra soaked. The pair stood up, backs straight. Silva made his way to the chapel, they could tell. 

Without so much as a single nod, they shot off from the ice. M was still in danger.

James’ fingers clenched around a knife in his pocket. Kincade’s hunting knife. It seemed the old-fashioned way was the way to go this time. Closer and closer… The pair arrived at the chapel just in time. Bond expertly threw his knife right into Silva’s spine, gun clattering to the floor. Clinging onto his last breath, Silva turned to see the two agents–eyes were wide with fury, disappointment, and rage. He took a few steps toward them, dropping to his knees.

007 took the liberty of taking a few steps forward. “Last. Rat. Standing.” He gritted out, looking down at the dead man. 

M took a small breath, gaining the agents’ attention. “007. 009. What took you so long?”

“We got into some deep water.” Ezra hummed as he made his way over to M, holding her gently. From the wound at her side, he could tell… this was it for M. She was bleeding out and it seemed there was nothing they could do about it. Bond quickly made his way to Wayne’s side.

M coughed up some blood. It dripped down her lips. “This is it, hm?” Her breathing became labored, too hard for her. Ezra cupped M’s cheek, looking into her eyes. “I did get one thing right… You two…” She glanced from Ezra to James. “Ezra… you… you would make a great M.” She whispered. And then she was gone, life drained from her eyes. 

They’re silent, Kincade watched from his place. Neither James or Ezra cry but they feel her loss almost immediately. An empty cavity…

—---

Ezra was still getting used to the padded door and… well, having an office. When M said he would make a good M, he didn’t think she specifically appointed him to be in her will. Or the fact that parliament accepted her request. He just hoped he could be in the field every once in a while. It was a bit nice… going to far off places–dangerous places. The lifestyle of a secret agent wasn’t always glamorous but it had its moments. 

Like in Macau…

Tanner opened the door to the office, letting James inside. Right, Ezra was now their superior. Tanner was his assistant. He couldn’t believe it. The door closed behind 007. Just the two of them again. Just the way Ezra liked it. 

“How’s the wounds holding up, sir?” James asked, a grin on his face. He didn’t really need to use the formalities but they were in M’s office. He felt as if it fit. Plus, if he didn’t respect the new appointed M then some agents would unfortunately follow. 

Ezra’s face had a few, small bandages on the side of his head as he sat behind the desk. It all felt so official. The heavy desk Not something he was used to. The suits were, though. At least he could see his child more often. That was a nice perk of being the new head of the British Secret Service when his child worked in the Q-Branch.

“Fine. I’ll be better soon. Can’t say the same for you.” Ezra teased softly. “So, 007. There’s lots to be done. Ready to get back to work?” He placed a new Top Secret case file on the desk in front of James.

“With pleasure, M.” Bond hummed, glancing from the file to meet Ezra’s dark eyes. “With pleasure.”

#oc #daniel craig character #daniel craig #james bond x ezra wayne #james bond #007jamesbond #009 #spies in love #spies #secret agents #secret weapon

[charmdsinphony]

I also decided imma just dump this emotional baggage I’ve been dragging along since last year bc i want to vent about it but i feel unheard when i talk about to my group I’m with now. For some backstory; while in college on Nov 2015, i was hanging out with two former friends (Kiara, F and Lucas, M) on a sad day. Kiara was going to a funeral in a different city and was going to be gone for the weekend. We all hadn’t really known each other long, but Lucas and i still rallied to be some support. Anyway, she leaves to go ride with other friends of the deceased, bc she doesn’t want to drive. That’s around the time things changed for me and Lucas; he and I weren’t that close at the time, but we both wanted to try and be friends (at least i did). As soon as she left, he locks his door and walks over to where i am on the bed and yanks on my pants. I’m kinda confused bc he’d said something about wanting to have s3x with me in crude, off handed jokes before but i was with someone at the time and any other day i was alone with him, he surreptitiously managed to keep his hands to himself in those moments. I don’t think much of it like the idiot i am and he immediately pulls again and my clothes are suddenly halfway down my thighs and there’s a person inside me. No questions, no previous innuendo made during the very serious conversation reminiscing about our friend’s dead friend, no nothing. It probably doesn’t sound so bad being written like this but idk how to classify it 🤷🏾‍♀️ bc after a few mins i asked him to stop and he did. I didn’t wanna go through with it at first bc i was with someone else and i was reeling from the fact that i was technically cheating and didn’t know how to feel. But those few brief moments of whatever were enough to change how we spoke to each other. From not being able to hold a conversation at all the suddenly realizing we like a lot of the same stuff. I’ve realized that my word vomit was more than likely a trauma response. Everything else happened just as fast after that; the other dude i was talking to at the time was suddenly deciding to join the army and we broke up, 2 weeks later Lucas is asking if i wanna be his gf and i, again like a fucking idiot, say yes bc i think he’s just gonna leave in a few months and i wanna not think about the shitty relationship i just left. We were both so wrong. Fast forward, 4 years and some change and 1 slightly better but still very emotionally draining (on both ends bc i can be a lot and i know that) relationship later, i break up w/Lucas bc he’s not giving the effort I’m deserving of and i realize that I’m gay as shit. Nothing awful; i was the one who felt the worst about it but whatever. And one year, post break up, he wants to try and date a girl he liked in college before me. I’m friends with her too; we’ve all been friends since college, those two were just closer and that’s fine. Admittedly, my feelings got a lil hurt bc i knew he’d treat her better with no hesitation and no fighting, but i wanted them to be happy together. I’m really the other woman in their circle of things. I told both of them the same thing, them dating doesn’t bother me, but him doting on her kinda does. But she didn’t wanna go through with dating him bc she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. It hurts but I didn’t care then and I don’t now. I don’t want a person who can barely give me hype over a randomly sent titty picture but falls over their feet to make the next person feel like a queen. I’m hurt bc he couldn’t be bothered to try for me even when i asked; I don’t need that in my life. So she didn’t fully go through with it and he got mad at me bc he thought i gave him permission to date her then lied to to her to get her to not actually do it. It got messy and the rest of our friends got the impression that he didn’t like me, as did i. He didn’t even come and talk to me to admit that he did jump the shark and was kinda harsh to me until Dec 2021 and that was at the behest of our other friend, the one he tried to date, and it’s been weird and messy since then. And for all that…

I just wish he would’ve left me alone. He never liked me and the whole ordeal made it abundantly clear. He tolerated me at best and i hate myself for wanting to try to be happy and wanting to try and fix things with people when i know that no one else will ever really try and put the effort in me; not unless i do it first. And keep doing it until i burnout or retreat into myself. Now i feel wobbly and weird and gross all the time. No libido which makes me saddest of all bc i love feeling good like that and now my body feels tainted and discarded. Frustrated bc i feel unheard and like I’m faking something but idk what. And so alone. All this makes me feel so alone and I’m sick of this lonely alone shit. I wanna discard this old skin suit and be something else.

If you made it this far, I’m sorry you had to deal with my confusing, emotional ass story, but i hope you have the best day 🥰🥰🥰

#story time #sorry for being depressing #i feel better #weird confession #relationships are hard

[l0vepaint]

.

#excuse me while i rant a bit but i'm watching all these minho vids and JTJSFSJKFJSFLJ #i love him so so SO much like really SO MUCH i never loved any human as much as i love him #he just makes me so happy and warm and safe and /alive/ klsjflksj does that make sense #there's times where i feel so dead inside barely any emotions at all and m like okay that's it i'm never feeling anything ever again #but then i see him smiling or doing some cute shit or being funny laughing dancing talking whtghever just him /existing/ skljfks #and i'm like yeah fuck i love this man so much that it even make me tear up i suddenly got so much love in my heart #like for real i legit cry sometimes just bc i love him so much it happens like 80% of the time sjkhs #and it's nice knowing i can actually FEEL rgjhskfsh bc i'm not someone who have so many emotions towards humans #that may sound weird li'e that i can't really explain i just feel i should feel /more/ but maybe it's bc is a diff kind of feeling for him #it just makes me so happy knowing he's out there existing so preciously like this he's such an amazing person #even tho we don't really know him but without even being biased i feel that he's one of the most genuine one like you can #really see he's such a good person?? just looking at his eyes they radiates so much love and warmth and pureness idk tjkhskfs #and he's so inspiring to me which again isn't smth i feel about a lot of people i never really had 'role model' or whatever?? #but he makes me want to just be a better and more positive person and do things idk #and let's not talk about how talented he is he just can do anything and he's always improving and working so hard and i'm so proud of him #and i'm so grateful he entered my life i never knew he'd become so important i didn't even pay that much attention to him at first but wow #suddenly it hit me how precious he was and since then i've wanted nothing more but for him to be happy forever he deserves the world #he's my light my north star idk where i'd be without him ig sometimes i've just kept living to see him smile another day #and gosh i feel like i'm just repeating myself so jhskfhsjk but also i wish i could tell him how much he means to me and how #important he is to so many other people and his existence just bring so much light to people's life??? i hope he knows????? #but even if i get to just see him one day and simply say ily even if it's not much and doesn't even convey all i feel #i'd be happy sjkfhsjfh i really hope i see him in may even from afar #even that would make me so happy just breathing the same air as him and getting to just /see/ him doing what he loves #did i mention how i love seeing him on stage bc he looks the happiest???? skjfhsjfh i could go on forever #omg i didn't intended to write this much and to think i started in all caps at first lmao anyway this is embarrassing bye #i prob reached the limit r.i.p jkfhsjfh it's been so long since i didn't write (almost all) my love for minho and i'm not #doing it anytime soon bc these things embarrass me and i rarely find what to say sjhfs just felt like it now #this isn't even all of it there's so much to say about him but we'll see in 10 years when i write another rant bye

[chanluster]

the duke and i | m ; f

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____, listen to me.”

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

You understood where she was going with this conversation.

Your father is dead now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sad smile exposed itself on your face.

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

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

You dearly wished you could write such flawless books yourself.

A slight frown enveloped your lips.

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

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

And snatched it right out of your hands.

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

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

The roll of your eyes was inevitable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The scoff that escaped his lips dared you to try. 

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

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

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

“And how will you do that, blondie?”

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

First. Always him as your first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “God help her, then.”

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

Your stare remained on his face. “Yes?”

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

Not quite understanding, you drawed, “Yes?”

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

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

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

“I think you should marry me, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot promise you that.”

His next words sent the strangest sensation down your spine. 

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

The ballroom erupted into applause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and him against the world.

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

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

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

Another first, then. 

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

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

“Yes, blondie.”

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

“A thousand times yes.”

THE WEDDING HAPPENED QUITE IMMEDIATELY AFTER THAT NIGHT.

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

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

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

In truth, the ceremony was a blur.

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

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

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

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

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only offered him a scoff in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His request had you face burning. “Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, angel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me what your book is about.”

“I am not telling you anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damned the beautiful bastard. Of course you were going to tell him of your writings. Why could he not simply wait?

The thought had you rigid on the bench as you read on, the mere wind and trees your silent company as you read away your rage. The duke did not come searching for you — it was for the better, because if he tried you would have ran away from his stalking figure. 

Night ascended from the horizons, and as the sun retreated so did you, back into the manor, book at your side. You nodded to the guards who opened the huge doors for you, letting you inside as you went straight for the stairs, void of the man who refused to let you pass.

Dim lights illuminating the way, you walked right up until your bedroom door greeted you, and when you saw Hyunjin, leaned back in the ornate chair as he looked out of the window, you paused at the entrance.

Although your steps were quiet, he turned his head to you. His features held a veil of unreadable emotions, cemented by the slight down curve of his mouth. 

You scowled at him as you stepped inside. “I am not showing you the drafts.”

He closed his eyes, nodding. “As you wish.”

You removed your coat, a brow raising. “I won’t show them to you tomorrow either.”

“As you say.”

Another brow joined its partner. “Nor will I show you them the next week.”

“Of course.”

What was this sudden change? “Hyunjin, are you unwell?”

“I am perfectly adequate, darling.”

The endearment had you frowning further. “Fine,” you muttered, knowing he was hiding something from you. “I will be inside, taking a bath.” 

You were about to enter the bathroom when his voice halted you.

“____?”

Looking over your shoulder, you answered, “Yes?”

The man let out a soft sigh, crossing his leg over the other. “I...I wanted to say that I apologise for my persistence.”

Now that was a statement you were not expecting. You opened your mouth, but closed it, thinking it was for the better, and instead leaned at the doorway.

“I…” he clasped his hands. “I realised that as I insisted and shouted, I was becoming the very man you wished to avoid. That is the last thing I want for us. If you are uncomfortable in showing me your writings, that is fine. A husband, most of all a best friend, should respect that decision.”

His eyes lifted to yours, pinning you with a fierce stare. “I will not persist with you anymore.”

You found yourself unable to break this stare as you, too, locked your hands together, biting your bottom lip at this turnout.

The duke had never apologised for anything.

In the many years you had known him, he would always stand by his decisions, even if they turned out to be disastrously against his favour. His stubbornness refused to let him submit to the other, and you had watched him have his boney backside beaten almost every week for it.

Hearing the plea for forgiveness had certainly changed that perception. 

You took a few steps toward him, willing your hands at your sides as his gaze followed. 

Was the denial really necessary? The poor man only wished to take a glimpse into your mind. Was that too much for him to ask for?

No. You had to stay upright. So what if he apologised? He should have! The man had caused a ringing in your ears from the arguing.

But now, even though the entire time your body repulsed at the thought before, you found yourself reaching for your satchel.

His eyes did not leave your hands as you brought out the papers, dumping your bag beside his feet. You held them out, knowing there is no way out of your actions.

“Here.”

Hyunjin looked at the papers as if they were hemlock. “Why are you showing me your drafts?”

You pursed your lips. “Because I want you to eat them.”

“I have no appetite for paper this evening, I’m afraid.”

The attitude had you warning, “Do you want to read it or not?”

He regarded you with an adorable puzzlement. “Darling,” he started, and the word had you raising it closer to him. “You do not have to show me. I cannot have you forcing to do something which you do not—”

“You’re not.”

He paused. Kept that beguiling stare upon you. You carried on, “Hyunjin, I need you to understand that it was never anything personal. It was me just...not really believing in myself.” Gently putting the small stack of papers in on his lap, you locked your hands behind your back. “But I gave you my word on our wedding night. And the day you proposed, and the day I realised you were a dear friend to me.

“You will be my first for everything. Especially in the goals and dreams I treasure the most.”

The duke’s eyes enlarged, darting to the drafts settled on his thighs and then to you, capturing your lip between your teeth in nervousness. He wished ardently that you would break that habit, for if you kept at it he might just grab your face and continue for you.

My first for everything. The declaration had his stomach turning in on itself. He knew he had been there for many of your firsts, but saying it out loud was something else. Saying it out loud meant you were aware of that fact as well. 

So unimaginable, that you did not even realise the impact you had on him. So unbelievably innocent, eyes searching for his answer, desperate for consolation, when he had completely different matters in mind. 

By God, if you did not turn around and leave him, he would let the control on him falter.

“I...I need to take a long bath, Hyunjin,” you said, finding his stare unusually penetrating. “By the time I am done you would have finished reading half of it.”

Turning, you stalked back to the bathroom, looking over your shoulder as you took a step inside. “No sweetening the feedback.”

You did not wait for his answer as you went inside, shutting the door.

Both of you, not realising that the other was doing so, let out a quivering sigh.

Something was amiss. 

There was this...tension. You did not know the origin, but you knew it was there, underlying and creeping closer. Hyunjin was unusually quiet. Compliant even. A small part of you feared that maybe you should not have given him the most vulnerable possession in your care.

Deciding to fill the hot water in the bath yourself, you got on with your task, filling buckets of water in the copper bathtub till it nearly overflowed. Once done, you got rid of your clothes, and stepped inside. You instantly relaxed as the warmth of the water soaked your skin, calming your nerves, which were running high moments before. 

As you progressed with using the soap, you distinctly heard the pages turning in the room next door. Scrubbing yourself, you hoped that the man was enjoying your words, or else you were never leaving this bathtub again. 

At one point, you leaned your head back, closing your eyes as the water, now mixed with the scent of roses, lapped lazily against you. Your thoughts, once again, wandered to the man a wall away from you — what was he thinking? You wished you were there beside him, witnessing his reactions to the actions, dialogue, romance you had added in there.

Maybe that was the real problem. The couple you had added in this story had a strong relationship, but because you yourself had never experienced any sort of star-crossed love, you did not particularly know how to portray the raw romance. Still, you made sure they held hands in the ballroom at chapter 49. That was the pace in every other book you read, anyway.

After what seemed like a whole night later, you finally got out of the water, drying yourself with the towel hanging beside the tub. Grabbing your white nightgown, you donned the light dress, keeping it as loose as possible as you tried to dry your hair further, opening the door.

When you looked up, you saw the duke, head down, scanning through the papers with a face so focused it worried you. You made to say his name, but his hand shot up, silencing you. He did not even glance at your figure, bringing the hand back to swipe a finished page. 

A little smile appeared on your lips. Is he...invested? 

Does he enjoy your writing?

Another ten minutes of observing him, and he put the last paper down. 

Slowly, he tilted his head upwards, turning to where you stood. His face expressed something cryptic — unable to decipher the emotion which swirled beneath his dark, glinting eyes. 

He then let out a scoff.

“Darling, I need you to sit.” He gestured beside him, on the edge of the bed. “Right here.”

Perplexed, you obliged, settling yourself on the soft sheets, watching him heave off his chair, the last piece of your draft still in hand. He began a pace back and forth across the room, shaking his head as he turned at every end.

The pacing began to concern you. “Hyunjin, is something the matter?” you asked, hands grabbing tufts of your nightgown. “If you really wish to walk then you have all of Cambridgeshire waiting.”

“Tell me, dearest,” he said, still thundering across the room. “Remind me why you did not want to show me your drafts.”

That was an usual first comment. “Umm...because I was embarrassed about my writing?” 

Your answer made him stop. Whirl to your direction.

“Ah, yes!”

His features twisted into anger.

“Such poppycock!”

You blinked back. “I-pardon?”

“No, you shall not be pardoned!” he exclaimed, pointing at you with the stash of papers. “Not when you have written something like this!”

“Hyunjin, what do you mean?”

The man nearly ripped his hair out. 

“____, you have written a bloody masterpiece!”

Your entire body stilled.

“I...I did what?”

“Wrote a masterpiece!” He swiped through the pages, lighting up at each word that passed his gaze. “A bestseller! An award winning novel!” 

A smile worked its way onto your lips. “You...you really think so?”

Sighing out in exasperation, he set the papers upon the desk as he began to lose his initial anger. “How could you be embarrassed about something so beautiful?” He put his hand on the gold chair, leaning onto its head. “Your descriptions were lovely, the characters are perfectly imperfect. You have outdone a lot of the writers in circulation.”

Your shoulders sagged a little — almost as if you had been carrying a heavy burden, and this man had taken it off of you.

You made sure he saw your joy when you said, “Thank you, blondie.”

Seeing the pure contentment upon your face had your friend looking away, eyes narrowing to the plans once again.

“There was, however, one thing which needed improvement.”

The setback had you straightening once again, eager to hear. At least he was not sweetening it fully. “Go on.”

“As I was reading through, right till the end, I noticed a lack of very important details.” 

That was quite strange. “A lack of?” you asked, when you were so sure that you had added too much of everything.

“Yes.”

His fingers drummed against the velvet of the chair. His other hand tightened upon his hip.

“I noticed that there was a deep lack of...passion.”

An incredulous look was your reply. “Passion?”

“Yes, passion. Desire.” He jerked his head towards the papers. “I hardly saw any of those emotions in the book.”

This new information was certainly quite worrying for you. “But I do not understand,” you started. “My whole novel is based on this relationship, of the love that blossoms and grows—”

“I understand that, darling, I really do,” he said. “I know what you are going to say.” 

The drumming continued. “But where is that residing in the chapters? Where is that physical lust implied in the characters?”

Lust. 

You had heard of the word before. Heard of its implications, yet never grasped the weight of its meaning. Was it just another form of longing? 

If only your mother had given you an education on this side of love.

“What do you mean...lust?”

Hyunjin raised a groomed brow. “What else could I mean, angel?”

The way he voiced that question, that endearment, had you parting your mouth, unable to say anything. You tried to speak, to say something to ease the tension which came slithering back into the bedroom.

“I...what were you expecting? From the relationship.”

Curling his locks behind his ear, his gaze became obscure. “You spoke of forbidden love, of...of a coupling which should not be occurring but happened through the fate of the universe. Is that right?”

When you nodded, he carried on. “See, I did not sense that from their exchanges. Their emotions are tame, chaste. An innocence which cannot be tainted.

“Now where is the fun in that?”

You dared not break his gaze. “What is that ’fun’?”

His eyes seemed to darken. “That ‘fun’ in the relationship is physicality. Where is that in your novel?” 

He took a step towards you. “Where are the unbreaking stares? The curious hands, aching to caress another’s? Where are the trembling breaths, the lust-stained sighs that fan lovers’ lips?”

The duke had you craning your neck back as he looked down at you. “Where are the kisses, my darling?”

You gulped. “K-kisses?”

“Yes, kisses,” he repeated softly. “Lips enveloping lips, tasting your inner workings? Travelling to your neck, your collarbone...places which cannot even be whispered in polite society?”

Each part he mentioned had goosebumps pricking at that certain place. 

The bastard still did not stop. “Where is that passion, ____? Where is that forbidden love, which only makes the heart burn wilder?”

And as he descended before you on his knees, delicate hands settling on your lap, you had a feeling swirl up your sides which had never struck you before.

“If I were the man in your book, I would not be tame with you.” 

His eyes offered a new, intimidating darkness. “Because if you were my woman, then I do not think I’d control myself. The moment I’d catch the innocence dancing in your eyes, I’d have waltzed it away into my shadows.

“Only God could save you from my hunger, then.”

Silence descended upon the two of you.

One waiting for the other to speak, and the other unable to form the words to do so.

The moon had illuminated your husband, one side of his face glowing like a celestial being, the other side basked in darkness. How strange, when he had compared himself to it just a few moments before.

You seemed unable to look away from him. His gaze, always intense, now had become so penetrating you wondered whether he could glance at your soul, quivering from his feedback. 

Improvements which you still did not quite comprehend, despite the implications.

Somehow, he could see it on your face. “I have a feeling you still do not grasp the idea. Is that correct?”

A half nod. “I…” God, speak! “I just...I have never understood it, Hyunjin.”

Your head dipped down, darting at the plains of your hands. “You asked me about lust, and I simply cannot answer because I do not know. I have never experienced such emotion.

“Hell, I have not witnessed a single action that you spoke of. How could you expect me to write of desires I have never even felt?”

This.

This was unchartered territory. This was a terrain you had not explored with him.

Yes, he was your best friend. But one does not talk of such...dangerous conservation when your best friend happens to be a male — a complete rake, at that.

It seemed as if the rake, too, was thinking the same. 

His legs, a force which had never let him down, threatened to buckle under him. His mouth opened, only for silence to answer you. 

Lord and all His subjects help him. He did not think he could contain it any longer.

And as his eyes exposed you, vulnerable before him, he only knew of one thing — one fact within this ocean of uncertainty you swam in.

He would jump into the waters for you. But not to haul you out to safety.

No, the duke would drag you down further, with him as your sole saviour.

Or even your destroyer. Your fated undoing.

For the Duke of Hastings will absolutely ruin you, body and soul.

“Hyunjin?”

A blink.

A singular action, dragging him back to dark, dark reality, even sweeter than his fantasies as it sat before him, shy and wide-eyed.

An innocent reality all for him to defile.

“Yes, angel?”

You tried not to shudder at his lilting whisper. “How am I to be helped?”

The man did not even think of the possibilities, to your surprise.

If only you knew, how long he had kept them hidden for.

“How about...how about I assist you?”

Confusion washed over your features. “And how would you assist me, Hyunjin? You have never written a novel.”

His answer was a chuckle, revealing slight glimpses of his teeth as he stood.

“That is true, yes.”

Sitting down beside you, he planted his hands behind him on the bed, leaning into the position. 

“But what I can provide aid for is the one feature you lack in your writing.”

His voice right behind gave you a fright.

“Pure, raw lust.”

Looking over yourself, you watched him reclined in ease. Your speech was uneven as you said, “And...and how will you help me with that?”

“Simple, my darling.” A pause, looking you over. “I shall provide you with examples. Show you what truly happens between a man and woman when all they yearn for is each other.”

He saw the further questions in your gaze. The questions you dared not voice out loud, perhaps dared not understand. 

Smirking, he sat himself up, eyes never leaving yours as his hands encircled your own, bunched up in your dress. As his fingers brushed against your linen he felt his skin go aflame. 

“If, of course, you would let me.”

Tilting your head slightly upwards, you sensed a foreign warmth envelop your face, burning at the sight of your friend studying you like an empty canvas, begging to be filled.

Perhaps you were an empty sheet of paper, waiting to be painted with guidance by the master. Maybe that master was beside you all along.

“What will you do to me, Hyunjin?”

There it was. The question which may have been his drug — his purest form of opium. 

Because when his hands travelled upwards, sliding to your face and imprisoning you with his stare, he knew he would become addicted.

“Not only show you what real passion looks like.”

A shame he did not care for his well-being when you were so fucking tempting.

“But show you what real passion tastes like.”

The shuddering breath that left you caressed Hyunjin’s lips, and he debated throwing the whole course of patience out of the window, and ravage you this second.

But he would never do that. Not unless you asked him to. 

“May I?” He whispered, eyes heavy lidded. The need for an answer was beyond rationality.

You looked at him one last time before you let your heart answer for you.

“Show me, Hyunjin. 

Those three words were all it took for the duke to close the distance. 

Close the final space which had stayed so irritably prevalent, when he brushed his lips against yours. 

The first thought that came to mind was how soft his mouth felt. 

Plush lips, moving against yours with the utmost gentleness; as if testing the waters, familiarising their new surroundings. He did not know what to expect, which was a thought that shocked him. Had he not bedded half of London to know the ins and outs of how a man should pleasure a woman?

Still, his vast knowledge could not prepare him for you and your shy acceptance.

His fingers cradling your jaw, satisfied, he delved in a little deeper, the weathered leash beginning to loosen as he found his opium upon your mouth.

You attempted to follow his actions — letting him lead the kiss as if it were the many dances you had partaken with him, treating this as yet another waltz you both had to share. The issue was, dancing never brought you the unnerving thrill that these ministrations did.

Hyunjin’s kisses were quite indescribable. 

When he tilted your head with the pressure of his fingers, gaining the fullest possible access to your lips, he thought his heart would burst from his chest. So compliant, you were, trailing after his actions. His pleasure heightened when he felt your heartbeat race beneath his fingertips, which resided just underneath your jaw. 

He would have been a happy man if he continued the kiss forever, but he forced himself to break away, remembering that this was your first, that you were not acquainted with the dance of passion. His gaze pried over your features, and a famished smile nearly broke upon his face.

He found you shivering beneath his grasp.

Lips glistening, courtesy of his own, eyes wide and skin warm, there was no other reaction which the duke would have savoured more. A fearful excitement resided upon your beautiful face — almost as if you were scared of yourself, of the feelings he ignited within you.

The man was not far from his prediction. You were positively terrified.

Terrified of the fire-like emotion that threatened to turn your stomach in on itself. It was an extraordinary sensation — as if you were engulfed by some unknown, mysterious fire, and Hyunjin was the one sparking it to life.

You parted your mouth, trying to speak but to no fruition. 

And him, whose eyes grew darker at the lack of words, curled his fingers to your jaw, smirking. “I can hear your heartbeat from here, darling.” A singular finger tapped against the spot, where your blood pumped quicker than usual. 

Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears too, making you all the more aware of the situation — you may not know what these feelings were, but you needed to find out.

It was not entirely your fault. A writer must do their research, after all.

Painfully swallowing the lump in your throat, you made yourself speak, asking the questions which haunted you. “Is...is this all?” you got out.

Hyunjin slanted his head a little, narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” your hands instinctively reached for your lips. “What we just did. Is that all that happens?”

The hesitation had him chuckling, the shaky exhale caressing your mouth. “Do not pretend that you were unaware of kisses,” he mused, and you desperately tried to look away. 

The slight grip on your jaw had you unable to do so. “And as for your question…” the smirk remained. “We have barely touched the surface.”

His other hand skirting downwards, it grazed along your collarbone, tumbling to the free space at your side. It settled itself among the bunched linen, holding you steady. 

“I can show you more,” he whispered. “If only you wish it.”

Face burning further, you closed your eyes, letting your head dip in acceptance. You could not even think at this point — you were curious. Beyond intrigued, wondering whether these feelings would swell up more, take you into another reality farther from your imagination.

It was a slight inconvenience that Hyunjin shook his head. 

“No, my darling,” he said softly, the fingers on your jaw sliding to your chin. “I want you to say it. Say you want more.”

You had not the slightest idea what this ‘more’ was, but you sure wished to discover — judging by the ravenous gleam in your husband’s stare, he wished for you to find out too.

“Fine then, Hyunjin…” one last pause ensued. “I...I want more.”

The said-man let a small groan escape before capturing your lips again. 

He knew he was being selfish — almost pouncing on you like a man starved, grip on your side tightening as he quickened his pace, slowly prying your lips open.

When you felt his tongue skim along the seam of your mouth, you found yourself opening up to him, shocked at the sudden enthusiasm. Your hands, unoccupied, fumbled at your lap, unsure of their use until Hyunjin, his own hands leaving you, held onto them. 

With precise direction he placed them on his shoulders, all the while slithering his tongue inside. You found yourself gripping onto him harder as he explored you, he himself nearly transcending at your yielding. A groan threatened to escape, but was drowned out by his mouth, closing over yours and kissing you insane. 

His tongue worked wonders within you, swirling along with yours, desperation increasing with every time you complied with his actions. He opened your lips a little wider, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, and you could not contain your moans any longer. The whimpered replies had him tugging on your lip, slowly sinking his teeth on the swollen flesh. Your fingers could not grasp harder, the lock around his neck tightening with a growing need.

Is that what it all was? Urgency? What was this need for?

You hoped with all your heart that Hyunjin would know.

He pulled away from your mouth, and with gasped breaths, he got out, “Angel, may I—” His thumb caressed the corners of your lips, trailing down to your neck. “May I kiss you here—?” 

The second the ragged yes escaped, the man’s mouth began peppering little kisses along his finger’s trail, leaving your skin burning with every touch. Dipping his head into your neck, he tugged down the neckline of your gown, settling on your collarbone. The hem descended to your shoulders, threatening to fall at your waist. 

His kisses did not falter, even when you gasped out his name, a soft cry which only grew when his teeth grazed at your skin. Pain bloomed at the touch, but the feeling did not last long, replacing it with his tongue lapping up the mark. The dull ache remained, yet forgotten as he created a pattern of these stinging sensations.

“____,” he whispered upon your skin, a hypnotic chant which only had you whining in response. His mouth skimmed right up to your ear in frantic. “I...I must show you even more.”

You stilled completely. “E-even more?”

Hyunjin’s eyes did not leave yours as his hands travelled down, holding onto your sides. Slowly, he tugged you forward, your body merely following as he laid you down into the bed. Your heart hammered as he towered over you, the loose shirt revealing a glimpse of his chest, and his locks, drooping down to your face.

Your hands held onto the sheets. The gesture had him melting, so endeared by your little scares. What would you know of what will follow?

His idle fingers began to roam. With every shuddering breath they journeyed further below, until they found the hem of your nightgown. He held onto the fabric, slowly sliding it upwards. 

You hissed slightly at the cold that welcomed your bare legs, but it was overshadowed by his warm caresses, every touch causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Or something of the sort. That was what it felt like to you, anyway, with how out of place the reaction was. 

You asked him as his fingers paused, right on the edges of your upper thighs. Confusion, mixed with an overwhelming sensation, washed over you with every phantom touch. “What are you—” you paused as his hand tugged your legs open, ever so slightly. “What are you to do with your fingers?”

His answering gaze had you praying for the Lord. “How about I show you instead?” The contact lingered. “I promise it will feel wonderful.”

There was no other answer you could offer him. A hasty nod could only suffice as, with that signal, the duke braced himself for what he had been dreaming to do.

Nothing prepared you for the feeling of his fingers past your thighs. 

Your breathing hitched as they teased against your entrance, running slowly along your slit. He collected the arousal which pooled at the apex, mouth agape from your reaction. 

How you were drenched for him. 

The very sight, and the prolonging idea, had the man exhaling sharply. Even now, he could see in your gaze — you were unaware of your own responses, your body’s hurried joy as it begged for his fingers to delve in further. 

Tonight, he would show you a glimpse of his fantasies. 

His one finger slipped inside you, and you felt the world turn.

Slowly, so painfully slow it slid between your folds, completely halting your breath as you gaped at him. He held your stare with a dark intensity — no doubt there was hesitation on his part, scared his control would shatter, terrified he would submit to your desire and break you under his hold. Already the thought was so appealing. 

Still, he kept his fantasies at bay, holding your face like a fragile artifact as he delved deeper. A soft moan escaped your lips, and he cocked his head, realising it was a whine you tried to contain. 

“Angel, please,” he murmured, and when he paused on his journey you looked at him in desperation. “Don’t be shy with me.”

And then, grip on your side tightening, he began to pull his finger out.

This time, it was impossible to restrain. 

A heightened gasp shuddered out of you, gripping onto his shirt. How could an action so simple be so electrifying? The idea could not make any sense, but it did not need to when it brought such pleasure. You pulled on the fabric harder, elevating Hyunjin’s joy at seeing you so bothered.

“Yes, just like this,” he cooed, repeating the movement. This time, though, he quickened the pace as he began peppering little kisses upon your face. Each brush of his lips was like fuel to the fire below, growing angrier with every leisured plunge. “Say it all for me.”

You did not need to be told twice. 

Your whines grew as he quickened, foreign waves of mysterious origin overtaking your body. You feared his singular finger might be enough to do something drastic, but then his thumb started to wander. When he found your clit, he created a slow pattern of circling the bud, causing you to squirm beneath him. 

Seeing him above you was all too much — you needed his lips upon yours, needed to be lost in his tongue or else you would lose your mind. “H-hyunjin,” you stammered out, and the dazed expression had him reeling. “Please...please kiss me.”

He nearly moaned at the request itself. There you were, asking for his touch. His delirium spoke for him, letting his delusion a little astray. “But darling,” he muttered, leaning his face closer to you. “How can I watch you like this if I simply kiss you?”

Releasing his finger till the mere pad remained, he smiled at your panting. “How will I be able to watch you when I do this—” and brought two digits inside you.

He felt your walls pulsate around him, and he revelled in your reactions, the groans that followed with his delving. So, so compliant. So wonderfully welcoming, when all he did was touch the surface. 

Your speech was all muddled, broken words and half-prayers as his fingers worked within you. As if that was not enough, he curled them inside, and there, he brushed against a spot which had you seeing stars. You could hardly stay still under his grasp, squeezing your legs together. 

“Fuck,” he slipped out, and the curse itself had you fisting your hands in his shirt, damning the turnout if it were to tear. “Sweetheart, it’s okay to let go, keep those legs open.”

Further fastening his labour, you found yourself developing the most intense feeling in your gut — like a dark, swirling ball, aching to be released. You tried to raise your head to kiss him, but he only did the same, you barely missing him.

“Hyunjin!” You gasped out, and the said-man knew that no orchestra could compete with the music you tuned for him. Grabbing clumsily onto his collar, you tried with meak strength to bring him down. “Something...it’s wrong, something is amiss—”

You cut a glance down, where your cunt was more than occupied with his digits. “Wh-what am I feeling?!” In a frenzy you stared at him again, tears pricking your eyes. “Why do I feel—”

The duke only shushed you, a gaze akin to affection being offered to you as he trailed a slender finger upon your cheek. “Oh, sweet angel,” he whispered, voice a little breathless.

“That is me keeping my promise.”

And when he finally swooped your lips in a heart-wrenching kiss, fingers never stopping below, you let the overwhelming feeling take over. The aching was freed, and you broke away with a cry as you released onto him, spilling onto the sheets. 

Hyunjin commenced a trail of sweet kisses upon your face, slowing his work inside you. Lethargy washed over you, and you barely sensed him slip his fingers out until the hollowness of your cunt welcomed you in his stead. 

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you watched him as he brought the two digits to his parted mouth, sucking softly on the skin. A low noise hummed out of him, and you found yourself growing warmer all over again.

He caught you looking at him, and he slipped his fingers out with a pop!

“Truly divine, you are.”

Skin burning, you quickly shimmied your nightgown down, earning a chuckle from your husband. “That was…” you began, and you did not know why the thought made you so flustered. 

“Do not worry your pretty mind, sweetheart,” he reassured you, flicking your nose. “Your release was answer enough.”

That only had you all the more embarrassed. “Hyunjin?”

His eyes rooted to yours. “Yes?”

“Was this…” you paused, trying to find the right words. “Was whatever we did...everything? Was this the end?”

Despite the two of you only finishing now, the duke had his gut turning in on itself all over again. This time, he let patience take over. He had been rewarded more than enough.

He still answered with a hushed tone, offering you another vision. Another promise, which he intended on fulfilling even further. 

“Of course not, angel. This was merely the beginning.”

 THE NEXT MORNING SAW THE TWO OF YOU IN LONDON.

It was a much more gradual journey than the previous one, with all the time in the world to go back to the duke’s main estate, where he was called to work after weeks of leisure. You, first indignant, were now devastated to leave Hemingford, a place which became a special haven in such a short time. 

But of course, one could not neglect their husband. Not when that husband would never let you leave his side.

Hyunjin was all eye-smiles in the carriage, hands refusing to let go of you despite your complaints. You did not particularly mind, but when he resorted to kissing you with the curtains drawn, your levels of embarrassment nearly broke the scale, amusing him to no end. 

There was no stopping him, though. After taking the first heated step with you, the vault of restraint in his senses had cracked. All this time he had proceeded with caution, but your heightened whimpers of the night before had undone the cellar of his desires. 

Once again, you had experienced another first with him. A first which he wanted to conquer for a long, long time.

Unfortunately, business called, or else he would have stayed a few weeks more. Damn the men begging his presence, when he could have explored every layer of your innocence in that manor, revelled in ruining you of your ignorance. 

He thought he had time to show the world of pleasure. 

Alas, the fantasy he created in his Manor had to fade.

Reality crashed upon the two of you unfairly quick — there was not a moment’s rest as you arrived at Lansdowne, the official estate of the Hwang family nestled in Mayfair. It was more an enchanting palace than a home, every room, furniture and painting like pieces out of a fairytale. You could never forget the first time you entered, knowing that despite your previous comforts, you were to be spoiled in this abode. 

The unfavourable situation which turned out from this was that your husband was not present to spoil you in his royal den.

As the days began there, with banality taking over, the two of you barely had any occasion to spend some time together. Business sunk its claws into the duke, refusing to show mercy. All the days and most nights, he managed tenants on his lands, heard their complaints and attempted to provide solutions. 

The problems arose while he was away tending to you in your getaway, his subordinates incapable of handling the work he did so effortlessly. It frustrated Hyunjin to no end, when he had to learn these strategies since his adolescence, yet his employees, far older than him, could not manage to use his funds efficiently. 

Although this meant time was sparse together, you did not mind so terribly. Having solitude meant having opportunities to write, and so you threw yourself into your drafts. You revised the more intimate scenes between your couple, and dared write down your first experiences onto the page.

Even documenting the occurrence had your stomach fluttering — when he kissed you delirious, going as far as slipping his fingers inside you. It felt like a delusion in your mind, scared that you merely created such events through your imagination, but you could not not make up such passion.

Hwang Hyunjin had shown you a very tangible fantasy.

It was these memories that kept you company as you penned down your world, a couple thousand words being scrawled on paper everyday. You wished to talk to him about taking matters further with your novel, but whenever the two of you had the occasional dinners you could not bring yourself to address the subject. He was already so occupied, and dumping your own tasks on him would devastate you

So you secluded yourself into your room, and only wrote.

Few weeks into Lansdowne, and you began to miss him.

You did not know how this feeling entered, but the moment it crawled into you it was all you could endure. It was not uncommon for you to miss your dear friend, even before marriage, but now that you lived with him, the situation changed. During the afternoons, when you burned your mind from the constant writing, you longed for his presence; conversation never ran dry when he was around, and the maids who offered refreshment were hardly an alternative.

Your longing, unfortunately, did not stop there.

Ever since that fateful night, you failed in shaking off the ever present tingling. His midnight eyes, akin to the devil, haunted you in isolation, and the sheer image of his full lips quickened your heartbeat. In fact, when you wrote a similar recount into your writing, the incident came into your mind so clearly you had to abandon the task altogether. The familiar wetness pooled at your core, and you cursed the heavens for being weak.

His fingers had an everlasting impression on you.

That was a whole other problem — you and Hyunjin, because of his tightening schedule, hardly had any opportunity to explore further of what happened. Teasing words and stolen kisses were your only alternative, and you dared not ask of him to do more. Your cowardice may have been one of the main reasons, but he was another factor of your silence. The man came home every night, so exhausted that even requesting to have him satisfy you brought you shame. He was much too tired, and you could not be selfish.

So you did not bother him. Let him leave every morning, and imagine what would be if he did not have so many responsibilities.

However, another couple of weeks later, and the need became unbearable.

Your every thought and feeling was replaced with this...this urgency. It was horrifying to you, never having been forced to such extremes, but it preyed on your mind like a beast. Meaningless tasks turned into burdens, sleep was lost, and your very heart threatened to burst from the intuitions. You wished to stop, but once you remembered that phantom touch, it was over. There was simply no alternative.

During those times, you could barely look at Hyunjin, offering you tired smiles as he disappeared into your chambers. You figured he did not notice, or else you knew he would make a comment on your worsening state. Truthfully, you were overjoyed that he was too exhausted to see you like this. If there was any chance he was aware, that alone would kill you off.

But this desire, too, was slowly withering you away.

Even as the sun began to descend, birds singing softly beyond your intricate window, soon to be drawn to a close. The library was bathed in gold from the light, painting your face as you attempted to write the last of the chapter, but to little success. 

You figured your creativity had had enough of being stuck in your bedroom, so you opted for a change of scenery, but the parasite was at hand, churning just below your stomach. Even with the thousands of books settled all around you, radiating their knowledge, the ache remained, dull yet present. You scowled, pushing the pencil harder in your hand.

The poor lead broke suddenly, making you flinch. “Argh!” you let out, throwing the object upon the desk. Useless — you were so utterly useless, reduced to a mold of nerves, growing with each image that passed in your head.

Cursing, you put your hands in your lap, looking to the gardens beyond the window. 

There is nothing you can do, ____.

The need arising, you slid your palms back, enough so they rested over your core. 

A dangerous thought entered your mind.

That’s not true. There is one solution.

Your eyes widened.

Of course, there was always that alternative. Glancing down, you involuntarily pressed your palm to your clothed cunt. Already a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you suppressed any sound with a hand to your mouth.

You cannot. By God, you cannot do such a thing.

Especially in a bloody library.

Turning around, you glanced at the bookshelves guarding your figure, stretching to the painted ceiling. As an aspiring writer yourself, you cursed yourself for suggesting to do such an action in your temple, with the place your church and the books your Bible. 

However, when the ache begins to creep over, your morality seemed to fade at first flight. 

What a shame your brain was not to be listened to.

Shooting up from your chair, you nearly fell to the plush carpet, leaning against the desk. Gradually, you took a step forward, and another, searching for any secluded area among the lines upon lines of populated shelves. 

“Where is it, where is it,” you mumbled to yourself, passing the Greek Literature aisle, moving further into the darker section. When you spotted the end of the library, you turned to a dim lit section of Romantic poets. “Aha!” You exclaimed, finding the place you were searching for.

This particular section has been a favourite little hiding place for Hyunjin. Recalling the memories, you always caught him here whenever the two of you played hide-and-seek, or when to comfort him here after a particularly harsh spat with his father, the late Duke of Hastings. Above all else, he found himself isolating here whenever he wished to read by your insistence, finding solace in the words of Blake and Wordsworth, picked up on the shelves. 

You, on the other hand, did not come here to read. 

Backing up against the wall, you let yourself fall to the lush carpet. There was barely enough space to stretch your hands apart, feeling the wall on one side, and the bookshelves with the other. It was small trouble, though, as space was not the priority — simply distance. 

Thankfully, you had time — dinner would be served in about an hour, and the servants had been told not to disturb you as you ‘write’.

It was now or never.

“Lord forgive me.”

Grabbing onto your skirts, you raised them upwards, along with your petticoats. After undressing your pantalettes, your white stockings came into view, ending right above your knees, tied with baby pink ribbons. 

With your underwear gone, you felt the cold caressing your dripping cunt. Immediately your fingers rushed to swipe at the arousal that pooled onto the carpet, a hiss escaping your lips. Then, moving higher, you felt the swell of your clit, and began to rub circles, so, so slowly — just like Hyunjin did, exactly like his fingers did.

The ripples of pleasure crashed over you with every swipe of your fingers. It was the most wonderful feeling, experiencing it after a span of weeks. Yes, somewhere in the back of your rational mind, you knew you looked pathetic, whining softly from your own efforts, but your desperation took over; you had been patient long enough.

Your desire, however, had no such moments to waste with such gradual rubbing, so pent up inside you that it forced you to quicken your pace. You prayed that no one heard you, for the sobs that flew out your mouth increased, playing and teasing your clit till it nearly numbed you.

The real bliss poured out when you plunged two of your fingers into you, going deeper and creating that identical pace, relished before. You closed your eyes, and images came flashing back — the midnight eyes returned, along the malicious grin, and suddenly it was not your fingers that pulled and pushed into your cunt. Your mind dared to conjure up Hyunjin, his dark laughter ringing in your ears as he curled his fingers into you, reaching a spot which had you seeing the seven heavens. 

So far along, you did not care if the others heard. With your concoction before you, fingering you delirious, you called out his name. A panted “Hyunjin!” squealed out of you, the word laced with madness. How you begged for release, when it was actually in your control.

And maybe you would have come all over your fingers at that moment. Maybe that was a fantasy that would have been rewarded to you if reality had not been so unkind.

For it was reality that arranged a presence turning to his favourite hiding spot. For it was cruel, cruel reality, bringing at your secret aisle the very man who caused your current frenzy.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Sweet Duke of Hastings, who thought to surprise his wife and return home early, so he could join her at dinner this evening. Curious Duke of Hastings, who found the servants informing of your ‘work’ in the library, and so walking to you himself, expecting the distant sound of sighs and scribbles on paper. 

Shocked Duke of Hastings, when he heard his name instead, being moaned at the end of his library. 

His pupils dilated, gloved fingers hanging on the edge of the shelf, he grew flushed in his attire as he watched your near undoing. You whimpered his name over and over, as if that was your only comfort among the heavy sensation in your gut, the pleasure which numbed your senses. He trailed down to your sopping fingers, clumsy in their rhythm.

A shuddered breath escaped him.

It was then he let out the most self-satisfactory scoff. 

That moment, you opened your eyes. Widened when they settled on your husband, face exposing an aghast expression as he crossed his arms, gaze never leaving the mess between your legs.

He had the audacity to grin wickedly.

“Oh my, sweet angel. What do we have here?”

Your entire body stilled, fingers frozen inside of you. Every ounce of strength, which tried to make you speak, abandoned ship. 

Noticing clearly, a splutter of hellish laughter spilled from his lips. “All this time,” he began, feline amusement dripping in his voice. “All these lonely, lonely weeks, I was so guilty.” His boots made a soft thump against the carpets, grey longcoat fluttering after him. “I kept thinking, see, of you, so alone and unentertained. Stuck in her chambers all day and night, burning out her brain with her words. Writing of my examples.”

He unbuttoned his overcoat, pinning you with his gaze. “Little did I know you were impersonating me.”

You almost cried with shame. 

“God, I doubt I can call you angel, again,” he drawled, tossing his woolen jacket behind him on a nearby chair, pulling off his gloves. 

He uncovered his slender hands, continuing, “Not with your fingers still in your cunt.”

That nearly had you in tears — you yanked your digits out, making to push your skirts down in a hurry but were dutifully stopped by his raised voice.

“Pray, darling,” he inquired, and you could taste the ridicule as he stood before you, crouching down. “What do you think you are doing?”

He did not give you time to answer as he grabbed your hand, half-soiled by your endeavours. “Why have you stopped the show when the intended audience has arrived?”

All these questions messed with your senses, squeezing your thighs together as the high, threatening to undo you before, began to fade. “Hyunjin—” you said, but you were interrupted, as, with his hand, he lifted your trembling figure with ease. Legs unstable, you let him steer you until your back hit the bookshelves.

“Another notion puzzles me too.” His golden locks skirted along as he cocked his head.

“Why did you scream my name when you touched yourself?” 

Your mouth parted, remembering your incessant whining. The thought caused your entire body to burn up, your husband taking instant note. “Come on, now, darling,” he taunted, grip on your hand tightening. “We both know you are more than capable of speaking.”

It was surprising how you managed to speak, despite the phantom touches.

“I…” you paused, embarrassed that you tried to tell him the truth. “I do not know...damn it!” you hissed as you saw a phantom smile accompanying his hands. “I had this...this need, Hyunjin. Everytime I recalled that night, I…all I wanted was some sort of...release.”

“Oh?” he got out, and he had to cage you with his hands for his own stability. 

The thought of you, withering in pleasure — pleasure you did not realise you yearned for — had his mind transcending any sense. There he was, stirring the cauldron of desire bubbling in your veins, your face twisting in pain from your lack of knowledge. 

He had to pray for forgiveness for his mentality, but at this moment in time, he only knew of one religion. You, and your wishes, whispered in panted breaths.

“If that was what you felt, then why did you not tell me?”

If it was not for his hand gripping yours, you would have covered your face. “How could I?” you whined out. “You were so busy! I could never be selfish enough to put myself before you.”

His heart nearly burst from his chest. “My darling,” he hummed, stroking away the flyaways upon your face. “Do you not realise that I put you before myself?”

Your confusion had him continuing. “If you had told me that you had such...needs, then I would have damned the work to hell.”

Suddenly, you wished you were the most selfish person in the world.

“Every wish, your every want…” his eyes promised the world. “It is mine to bring it to you.

“So tell me, angel.” His fingers lingered on your face. “What do you want?”

Alas, that fated question.

What you wanted was to tell him without doubt that you wished for his fingers inside you again. What you wanted was your husband fulfilling his promises, showing you more, more, more until you forgot your name from the sheer force.

You hated how your speech could never voice it out loud with confidence.

The man noticed your face warming beneath his touch as you stammered, “I-I want—” pausing from his fingers on your cheek, “Hyunjin, I want you to…” 

Your pathetic attempts had him chuckling. “So innocent to me still?” He asked softly. “Even when I caught you moaning my name like a whore in the night?”

Whore. Sane you would have slapped him for saying such a thing, but the arousal that pooled at the term meant completely different. He was aware of your reaction, causing him to be compliant. 

One day, he would voice it out of you. One day, you would say from your own mouth that you wished for ruination.

“How about this, ____?” he started. He brushed a small kiss upon your forehead, heart fluttering at the chaste action. “When you want me to stop, voice that out instead.” The next kiss was upon the tip of your nose. 

You thought up a worrying confession, but when you saw his expression change, you realised you blurted it out.

“I don’t think I would want you to stop, Hyunjin.”

The molten lust in his eyes nearly undid you then and there. He offered you a low, satisfied growl, wondering how in God he could ever resist you.

“I don’t think I would be able to, angel.”

He did not say any more, swooping down and enveloping your lips with his.

You instantly accepted him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer, closing your eyes and letting him paint an artwork of desire upon your mouth. You could tell he was trying to be gentle, but your confession cracked the glasshouse of desire he had tended for so long. 

His tongue was inside your mouth at once, and you relished its desperation, letting it explore all of you as his hands wandered down, your own sliding into his locks. Softer than all the silks in the land, you already felt the moans bubble within your throat, partially escaping with every parting. His heavy breathing in your ears only wished for all distance to fade.

There was so much of him, all at once — you had shared kisses with him after that fated night, but you knew those kisses were the sole form of affection he could offer in those lonely weeks. The way he bit your bottom lip, soft and then a little harder, had you losing all sense.

It was such things that made you realise how much you missed his presence.

Tearing away from your lips, he gave fevered attention to your neck, trailing his kisses down your skin, open and wet and restless. “Hyunjin—” you began, but then you gritted your teeth at the pain of his suction upon your throat. His hands pushed you further into the shelves, and a few books began to fall at the force. 

“H-Hyunjin!” you exclaimed, eyes darting frantically to the classic editions that scattered on the floor. “W-wait, not here!” 

The man blinked in his haze of desire, looking at you. “Huh?” he got out, spit-slick lips parted, his whole body raising from his breaths. “Why not?”

“The-the books, they...!” you tried to explain, but with the stare he offered, you quietened within moments. “...Hyunjin?”

His answer was his hand taking your wrist and turning from the secluded corner. He steered you out of the hiding place, pace hurried with each step he took. Head whirling to every aisle, he cursed under his breath, finding the spaces between the shelves filled only with books. 

“What are you...searching for?!” you demanded in bated breaths, but then he let out a satisfied noise as he found an open aisle, the first line of shelves in the library. 

In front of those shelves sat a large, wooden step ladder — no doubt there to grab onto the higher sectioned novels. A knowing smirk enveloped his features as he led you to where it stood, backing you against it.

A small yelp escaped you as the man hoisted you upon the steps, you holding onto his shoulders as he slithered his arms around your waist. “There,” he said, tilting his head slightly upwards. “Now you shan’t worry about your novels falling.”

“Easy for you to say!” you crowed, already feeling unstable, despite sitting on the sixth step. “This time it might be me falling!”

“Well then,” he began, tugging your legs apart till he fit snug between them, “You just have to hold on tight, don’t you?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

Leaning forward, he halted your breath, brushing his lips across your neck. “I can stop if you wish,” he whispered on your skin. His hand rested over your chest, where it rose unevenly under his palm. When you did not answer he looked up, climbing so he levelled with your face. 

You felt his heavy breathing fan your lips. “Do you want me to stop, angel?”

His eyes saw right through you — with the way a malicious smile began playing at his lips, he knew his answer long before you registered it yourself.

Head shaking hurriedly, you murmured out your response as you grabbed onto the lapels of his longcoat. 

“Never.” 

You pulled him down, desire taking control of your senses as he undid you with his lips. His hands, sliding down, hitching your skirts higher than before, bunching it at your waist. Never giving himself a break on your mouth, he peeled off his coat, tossing it beside the ladder. Only when you broke away to take a panted breath did he begin his descent — kisses on your neck dragged down further, along your clothed abdomen until he parted, shuffling the fabric from between your thighs.

An uneasy fuck flew from his mouth — your glistening cunt welcomed him again, the recollections of the last honeymoon night crashing back. 

In truth, the events had not left his mind. The memories of his fingers playing with you, inciting those sinful sounds were the few things which brought him a high in the dark days of work. You, drenched by his efforts, dripping for him, and only him, to take care of you.

Seeing the sight before had Hyunjin restraining his cock. Fuck, he thought, leaning closer till his face was a mere inch from the center. He did not comprehend the consequences of this; what if he went crazy? A part of him was distinctly aware that if you were heavenly around his fingers, then you with his tongue would transcend reality.

Hands holding the back of your knees, he slung your legs over his shoulders, securing his fingers upon your thighs. With one last inhale, he closed the distance.

Nothing compared to his tongue running along your slit.

A hiss left you at the contact, tendrils of pleasure curling up your spine as he explored the edges of your cunt. He was teasing, being too leisured for your liking — he could not help himself, fearing he would rush the process and end it too quickly.

He wanted to be inside you the entire night.

Your incessant whining had him lapping up the wetness, gripping onto your legs a little harder as he delved in further, tasting your arousal and letting out a satisfied noise. Leaning your head back against the higher steps, your hands carded through his hair, his locks a comfort for the slow torment below.

When his tongue dove upwards, circling your clit, an obscenely loud moan tumbled out of you. He was so exceptional, so good at what he did to you, licking away at the bud as if he had not been served for days. Your whining was more encouragement for his antics, increasing his strokes with a slight curve to his lips. 

What reduced you to choked gasps was an old prospect from the first night — his digits, leaving one of their spots on your leg and slipping one inside your folds. As if his tongue was not enough, that singular finger created a rhythmic pattern of plunging in and out of you. 

You thrashed under his grip, hips rolling giddily along with his work. Even the ladder began to shudder, jutting slightly back and forth from your desperation. Although the squeeze on your thigh was an indication to calm down, you ignored it, too intoxicated by the thrusts of his tongue to realise his signal. 

He made you realise as he paused his ministrations entirely. You nearly shrieked at the lack of his presence, but then you looked down, and found his lust-hazed eyes staring at you. 

“H-Hyunjin?” You mumbled, voice raspy from your previous moaning. 

The slick glazed on his lips brought you another level of high. “I need you to stay still, darling,” he voiced, slender hand gripping onto your thigh. “You even have the poor ladder shaking.”

You willingly nodded your head, knowing you were lying through your teeth. If he continued with his tongue prodding at your clit, then you would start trembling from the thrill. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” he mused, blowing on your drenched cunt. Seeing you shiver had him chuckling. ”I need you to be still if you want true pleasure, sweetheart.”

An ironically chaste kiss upon the edges of your thigh gave you more reason to grip him harder. “I want you to enjoy this as much as I am.” 

As much as I am.

Good, sweet Lord.

Maybe you will never move an inch again.

“K-keep going,” you whispered, near frantic as you played with his locks. “Please.”

The please at the end was exactly what he needed before he pounced into you again. 

His tongue was relentless — a second finger joined in the venture, and the fullness of him was back again, with an intensity that only promised satisfaction. You knew it was coming, with the heaviness in your lower abdomen. 

You needed that release. Whatever it took, it was the only image in your mind, taunting you of the relief that came with it. With the hard grip of his locks, your husband sensed it straight away, quickening his pace with both his tongue and digits. 

Damn Hwang Hyunjin to Hell, for he was so unfairly good to you — licking your clit to a frenzy, touching a certain spot inside you, over and over again. He never missed, never faltered his labour as the burden inside you intensified. You sang his praise in your stained mind, hoping he could see the joy on your face.

“Hyunjin—!” You whined out, stealing a glance at his head, moving back and forth slightly between your legs. “It’s—the feeling, the one before—!”

You did not have to say anything else; his free hand, wrapping fully around your slung over leg, made you realise of his awareness. The feeling was at its peak then — one more of his stripe along your cunt, and it was over.

Fortunately for you, the Duke of Hastings kept his promises. 

One little nibble of your bud, plunging in his two fingers at the same time, and it was useless. Your release came rushing through, cries escaping your lips as you undid yourself onto his mouth. All sense of surroundings abandoned you: you were drifting away, like a kite losing its roots, further and further as his fingers slowed. You feared that you would lose all sense until his tongue lapped up the release. His hums of satisfaction anchored you back into the library, hands at your hips as he heaved upwards, watching over your dazed expression. 

You saw his every move, licking the remnants of your release off on his face. He then hovered closer, locks more sweat slick as they caressed your skin. 

“God, angel,” he rasped out, holding your chin with his stained fingers. “You…I can’t...I can’t get enough of you.”

He stole a kiss upon your mouth, but your shy whines caused him to go deeper, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. “Shit,” he whispered as he parted from your lips. “You must stop me, ____. I cannot take you all at once, I…no matter how much I wish, I cannot...fuck, I cannot taint you.”

And maybe it was your husband, admiring you like a poet would his muse. Maybe it was something more than the dull ache inside you, the flutter moving to your heart which had you saying the next words. 

“But I...” you paused, every panted breath heavy. “I never…never asked you to stop.”

Hyunjin stilled completely before you. 

His eyes were too much, but you did not stop the confession pouring out. “If...if there is something more, I…” his thumb on your chin hardened.

“I want to know. I want to see it all...even if it may taint me.”

There it was. 

The thoughts which haunted you for the past few weeks. You wanted more, even if that meant that this more would one day be satiated. You wanted to see the end, the final stage, because you knew deep down, your best friend was still holding back from you.

You saw it in his eyes. You saw his unadulterated desires, dark and fearful, yet you wanted to be surrounded by his darkness. 

You wanted Hwang Hyunjin to break you like he wished.

Sure enough, he saw it all over your face too. His jaw turned slack, and he debated slamming his head against the shelves to make sure he was not dreaming.

He did not think his wife would let him have a moment’s peace. 

“God help you, sweet angel,” he murmured, glancing at your dress — more specifically, how to get you out of it. “I don’t think I can leave you innocent any longer.”

You parted your mouth to speak — Hyunjin was about to interrupt you, perhaps take you to the final stage of your passions.

Everything was about to descend when you heard the shrill knock on the door.

Your heart jumped out of your dress, the man above you catching onto your shock. With an unexpected burst of anger, he turned his head towards the large doors and screamed, “Who the fuck is it?!”

The servant at the opposite side flinched at the tone of voice. “Um, there is a guest in the living room, Your Grace!”

That did not help his case. “Then tell them to piss off!” The Duke demanded, holding onto you a little harder.

“But Your Grace, he urgently requests your presence!” The boy insisted. “We tried telling him of your...distractions, but he would not listen!”

Hyunjin looked like he was about to tear the manor down with his orders, and you widened your eyes, holding onto him. “It’s alright,” you reassured him, and possibly reassuring yourself too.

He glanced at you, and the frenzied stare he pinned you with shut you right up. “Fuck,” he cursed, running an angered hand through his hair, the other not leaving your side — as if you would fade from his grasp. 

You feared it too, in truth, that he would disappear. The thought plagued your senses, much more than you would have liked.

“To hell with that bloody guest,” he growled, leaning into you again. He pressed his forehead against yours, cupping your face with his hands. “To hell with everyone.”

“Hyunjin,” you breathed out, relishing the contact. “Hyunjin, it’s okay…” you held his agitated stare, wondering why you were convincing him to go when you wanted him to stay. “I will be here, you know...when you come back.”

He searched your gaze for confirmation, needing to affirm your words. When he found the suppressed desire within, he could not help himself. 

He planted his mouth upon yours, finding solace along the lines of your lips — he loved how your every kiss was a comfort, a sweet little sin all for him to enjoy. In honesty, he could spend an eternity basked in your warmth, but alas, reality was a villain in his tale.

Forcing himself to pull away, he ran a tender thumb along your cheek. “I shan’t take long, angel.”

You nodded tiredly, in time to the man holding your waist as he settled you back onto the carpet. Lingering for a few moments, he made himself leave your side, grabbing his coat and donning the heavy fabric. He satiated his desires with a glance towards you, dazed off with your hands clinging the ladder railing still. 

A small smile catching onto his lips, he turned on his heel, promising murder to whoever disturbed the moment he dreamed of. Opening the door, he looked back, catching your stare. 

The smile upon his face grew wider. A smile so sincere, so loving, with all the world’s miracles nestled upon his pretty mouth. It was a smile that you had never seen before, with all your years beside him — seeing it now had you wishing you could bottle the image and carry it with you forever.

It was a smile which had you so in love with him.

Love.

It was then your heart dropped. 

Hyunjin, unaware, closed the door behind him, leaving you to your revelation.

Instantly, you clutched at your chest, heartbeat racing. 

In love.

You were in...in love with Hwang Hyunjin.

“No,” you slipped out, mind rushing a mile a minute. “No, no, no, no—”

You gripped the railing harder as the hand on your heart trailed down, shivering from the phantom touches of your husband.

Hell, of the husband that you had fallen for. 

One would think love was an entity writers would idolise — your own inspirations searched and indulged in all kinds of love, but you always accepted that an emotion so intense was not for women like you. Love was a rarity. Love was unconditional, strong and vivid and all-consuming. 

Love, undoubtedly, was a weakness.

Your breathing turned ragged, hands reaching to clasp your head in panic. 

I will be here...when you come back.

Your promise to him, before he left you to your hysteria.

Why would you ever say such a thing to him?

“Oh, no,” you kept chanting, turning over to your side, away from the door and towards the window, where night was small comfort to your nerves. 

You could not let yourself succumb to a man. No matter how dear he was to you.

And if that meant staying away from your husband, then so be it.

 IT WAS UTTER AGONY AVOIDING YOUR BEST FRIEND IN EVERY PASSING MOMENT. 

Perhaps you should have given reasonable explanation to why you decided to distance yourself, but of course, reasonable explanation was never your forte. 

Hyunjin, damn him, tried to make more effort in returning home earlier, despite his business demanding his presence with every passing day. You were almost powerless under his tender gaze, but you knew that you could not be swayed.

As if you had not fallen under his spell already.

Your only distraction was your novel, so you did just that — even with your husband in the manor, you closed yourself from everyone, writing furiously on your desk as if committing to anything else would cost your life. The flushed skin did not shy away as you wrote of your second experience, changing the events slightly so they fit your story. The memories tried to torture your mind, but you refused to submit. You could not fall for Hyunjin.

You could not fall for a man.

The duke did not realise of your avoidances, simply thinking that you evading his more heated kisses, his dangerous touches, was a result of your fatigue. He understood, knowing you worked your brain as hard as he. He was upset, obviously, when he craved your touch every waking second. For you, though, he would do anything. If that meant waiting, he would do that too.

However, your recoiling could only last so long. Your best friend knew you like the back of his hand.

He figured something was amiss when he decided to grace you with his presence one evening, expecting another show of your moans behind the door, only to have the distant scribbling of ink against paper. Entering inside, he awaited your surprise, your unadulterated joy, bracing himself to have his arms engulfed with your hug.

In reality, he received a mumble of blessing, and the continuing scribbling.

He was not trying to coax you into giving him affection. He was well aware of how hard you worked on your novel, but that day, he dearly wished you would abandon your project for just a night. Just one, single night, so he could show you how much he missed you every single moment.

Poor, unfortunate man. How was he to know that your affection was the one thing you could not give him?

Another few days into the silence, and Hyunjin had had enough.

He called to you one dinner, ushering the servants away with the flick of his hand. The dining room became all the more huge, like a lush vault, perfect for a sweet interrogation as the velvet curtains drew to a close, and the eyes of a hundred paintings focused on you. You swirled the soup with your spoon, refusing to look at him. 

“Darling?”

Damn him and his endearments. “Hmm?”

The man, too, seemed to be unsure of how to talk of the subject. “Is…” he put his cutlery on the table. “Is everything...alright as of late?”

Your gaze remained rooted to your food. “Of course,” you said. “Why would I not be?”

There was a heavy silence in the room, new and uncertain between the two of you. Your friendship with the duke had never been filled with such quiet — why were you creating such awkwardness around him?

You already knew the answer.

“Do counter me if I speak incorrectly,” he began, grabbing the stem of the wine glass. “But I have noticed you to be quite...secluded.”

“I am busy, Hyunjin,” you said curtly. “I have a whole novel to edit.”

His lips twitched downwards before opening his mouth, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip. “I know you do, and you know I am proud of you for it.”

Choosing to not say anything, you tried finishing off your dinner, aware that you were losing your appetite. It seemed your husband did not want to back down tonight. “____, I feel as if you are hiding something from me.”

The spoon in your hand nearly clattered in the bowl. “And why would you think that?”

“Because—!” Hyunjin paused, downing some more wine. “I do not know, but I feel as if you do not want to speak to me.”

He was too smart for his own good. “You are imagining things,” you waved him off, finding your salad fork oh so interesting in the candlelight.

“Look at me.”

His voice stopped you cold. 

Your gaze scrambled to meet his, and although his command was rough, his eyes exposed a completely different emotion. 

Pure concern washed over his features as he muttered, “Have I done something wrong?”

That question broke your heart.

“No, no, of course not,” you quickly said. You bit your lip in guilt, watching him sigh, almost in relief.

This was the consequences of your actions. A man who had done nothing unjust, yet was being punished. Pure shame coursed through your veins, catching the distress on his face, and you wondered whether you were being cruel. Maybe this time, your feelings were exaggerated.

If you were aware of such truths, then why could you not look your best friend in the eye?

That night, you hurried to bed, leaning on the edge in wait for him. Your thoughts were in disarray; your heart impatiently desired his return, and your brain berated you for daring to. 

Truthfully, it was horrifying how you had become so dependent on someone, when your entire life you relied on the fantasies in your head. Although your revelation was every lady’s dream in society, you felt as if another burden had been dumped upon your shoulders. This time, though, this burden would last for the rest of your life.

These thoughts were your singular company, when you lay awake all night. You were acutely aware of Hyunjin slipping between the sheets, but you did not move a muscle. A small part of you knew that if you turned, you would be unable to resist his whimsical gaze and wandering touches.

So you lay rigid, only letting yourself sleep till your best friend submitted himself to oblivion.

He, too, could not bear to live like this.

The Duke of Hastings was not a fool. He had not known you for over a decade to discard you lying through your teeth. It was beyond his understanding the reasoning of your change, but it deeply disturbed his soul. 

He turned in the bed, watching your back bathed in moonlight. Why would you not tell him what bothered you? What had he done wrong?

As he watched you stay rooted in one position, his thinking turned to dark corners. A realisation struck him; you started acting this way the day after he nearly took you in the library.

This alarmed him greatly — was that why you were so troubled? Were you...uncomfortable with his touch?

His heart dropped down to his gut. 

If you truly detested his affection, then he would not know what to do with himself. Recently, it was all that haunted him — you, you, and a little more you, strolling through his mind as if it were your domain, creating stories underneath his eyes. It only worsened when he discovered your sweet moans, triggered by his kisses and touches. God, the very thought of you, whining his name as you touched yourself, brought him a familiar feeling amplified. So ardently he wished to taint you further. 

Even thinking of the images had him clutching his pillow tighter, fingers aching to turn you over. 

However, the harsh fact was that you could not bear to look at him, and he had to live with that. Questioning you was of no use. 

Hyunjin only prayed that he did not scare you off. 

Unfortunately for him, his prayers were not to be answered. 

Days passed, and the distance grew. The man dared not say a word to you in fear you would stray further, and you dared not approach him in fear you would fall harder. It was the most abhorrent situation, and you knew you had to get away somehow.

Fate spoiled your plans when Hyunjin revealed some news.

You looked at the invitation in slight horror. “A ball?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he explained further. “When we were...interrupted that day…” he sighed a little. “It was Seungmin who was downstairs.”

“Kim Seungmin? Has he returned from the States?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “And he has decided that the first thing he wishes to do is throw a huge ball in celebration of his return.” A roll of eyes followed. “Forever the dramatist.”

You restrained your laughter. “It has been over 2 years since we met,” you wondered out loud. 

“Well, you can meet him at his estate when we attend the ball.” 

He felt your eyes on him as he declared his words. Awaiting your outright rejection, settling down on the chair in the living room. You watched his thighs tense under the peach trousers as he folded a leg over the other — damn him for being too attractive to refuse.

“Very well,” you only said, not ignoring the nerves which threatened to take over. They increased a little at seeing the smile on your husband’s face.

You needed to stop leading the man on. Never could you go to the ball with him. 

“It is a week from now,” he added, bobbing his foot excitedly. “I shall write back in acceptance as soon as possible!”

Nodding, you returned to your reading, hoping the faux conversations were enough distraction.

A week. Seven days to somehow escape from this event, or else everyone would see you enter the ball as an official couple, and then your fate as another man’s property would be sealed.

Had he ever made you feel as such?

You did not let yourself ponder over this further. Your only objective was getting out of this invitation.

However, you were a duchess. Trying to hide yourself from London society was an unattainable feat. 

The reminder had you nearly ripping the page off your book, too stressed to read on.

This became your focus of the next week, pondering over the night of the ball, scouring your mind with the possibilities which may occur at Seungmin’s estate. As the days neared, Hyunjin insisted you go shopping in search of a special ball gown, and you only obliged so you did not have to be in the same house as him. Still, if he was not there physically, his image preyed upon you in the markets, constantly reminded of his opinions and likings in every fabric you ran your hands upon. 

There was no escaping him. You were disgustingly obsessed.

Purchasing everything you needed, you requested it to be charged on Hastings’ tab, a privilege awarded to you ever since your joining with the duke. You always argued that you wished to spend your own money, but he would not listen.

“But I adore spoiling you, angel,” he would merely say, and buy up half the boutique, leaving you a flustered mess. The conversations did not leave you as you bought your dresses and accessories, returning home and dreading interaction.

Excusing yourself, you shut yourself in your room once more, and wrote.

Wrote away your soul in the last days, till it was the morning of the fated event. The sun shone magnificently on your home, but failed to radiate its light on your darkened mood. You had no choice on the matter — you were to accompany Hyunjin to Seungmin’s celebrations, and that was final.

You were about to fake typhoid when a letter arrived for you.

It was from your mother; she wrote in question of your wellbeing, and how much she felt your absence in the house. The content was not very interesting, and you debated writing back with a lack of enthusiasm when you read the last section.

She mentioned tonight’s ball — more significantly, how she felt ever so lonely without you with her, “enlivening her spirits”. The praises were nothing further from the truth, but it was her confession which had an idea rushing to your head.

“Lonely without me, huh?” you murmured, as you rang a bell for a maid. Arriving, you requested for a little trunk, asking for your new dress and other adornments to be packed. “For once, Mama, you have been useful.”

The packing did not take much time, the other servants calling for a carriage as you made preparations to leave for a night. Hyunjin, making his presence known, descended down the stairs, a grin upon his face as his hand fished in his inner pockets. 

When he saw your endeavours, though, his beaming flickered. “What is going on here?” he asked, refusing to look away from your luggage.

You turned to him, mustering up the bravado to face him with your decision. 

“I received a letter from Mama this morning,” you explained to him in faux ease, gesturing for the servants to bring your belongings outside. “She is feeling rather lonesome, so I thought to see her.”

The man was not convinced in the slightest. “Since when did you garner sympathy for your mother?”

Never confide in your best friend again. “Please,” you stressed, holding the letters in your hands. “She still took care of me the best she could. Plus, I would never want to be lonely at that age.”

He was not listening to this explanation though, his hands going into his pockets. “When will you be back, darling?”

The endearment made this all the worse. “The morning after.”

A heavy pause instilled on the both of you before he broke it. “But...but the ball. A-are you to just...abandon the invitation altogether?”

“No!” you began, locking your hands behind your back. “No, I shall meet you at Seungmin’s estate. It is a small setback, but—”

“____, this will be our first social event as husband and wife!” he countered, you grimacing at his minor outburst. “I want you by my side when we walk down the steps!”

“But I will be there, Hyunjin!” you exclaimed. “I do not understand why you suddenly want to follow these silly traditions!”

Gritting his teeth, your friend pinned you with his stare, growing fiery the longer you held it. Traditions never interested him, but this one had been a certainty he had been looking forward to. The image of you, descending the stairs with your hand on his arm, brought him an absurd amount of joy.

But there you were, bursting his bubble of dreams.

“Why is this all coming to light today?” he muttered, taking a step towards you. “Why, on the day of the event, you decide to tell me that you would rather go with your mother, who never truly cared for you, than me?” 

Than me, who always did?

You dared not answer his question truthfully — instead, you let your undeserved anger take the reins of your tongue.

“So you are already suspicious!” you snapped. “Why am I not surprised in the slightest?”

His eyes narrowed at the statement. You did not look into it further as you turned on your heel, heading towards the door. “Do not run away from me, ____!” He shouted, following after you. “Tell me what you implied from that horrendous comment!”

“Oh, let me uncover it clearly for you, dearest,” you snarled, standing at the doorway. The words which were to leave your mouth had sure consequences, but in the moment, you did not care. All you wanted then was an escape.

“You accuse me of scheming and demand me things which I do not want to give you.” 

Your hand gripped the letter behind you. “You’re becoming the one thing I feared, Hyunjin. You’re turning into a typical male.”

The man froze entirely at your claims.

Did not utter a defense against him as you sighed out, glancing away from his shell-shocked eyes. You did not bid your farewells as you descended down the stairs, reigning in your temptation to look back as you made your way to your transport through the gardens. 

As you slipped inside the carriage, clasping your hands in your lap, you wondered whether you had taken a step too far. 

You wondered, with rising dread, whether you had broken your best friend’s heart. 

 MAYBE RUNNING TO YOUR MOTHER HAD NOT BEEN THE BEST OF IDEAS.

Biggest reason being that she was truly a pain in the rear. The moment your carriage had arrived on the rocky entryway of your mother’s manor, she rushed down the steps. After engulfing you with an embrace which might have caused a minor stroke, she hurried you inside, her servants bringing your possessions.

You did not particularly miss your previous abode, although it gave you small relief. You passed the familiar hallways, and settled in the nostalgic parlour room where your mother gushed over your presence.

Still, this manor did not seem like home to you.

Conversation was mostly struck from your opposite, you nearly silent as the woman vented out her frustrations of every family in London, drinking her tea and urging you to take a biscuit or two. Your stomach was void of an appetite, missing other emotions which you abandoned on the other side of the city.

By the time evening arrived, all you wished to do was hide yourself into your old room, but your mother would not accept. Having the maids open your trunk, they brought out the ball gown you had picked for the occasion.

It was a dark, seductive red, swell of its puffs cuffed with black lace — this lace scattered over the fabric, lining not only the neckline but down the chest, rose-like stitches etched onto the bust. The high-waistline also bled further black stitching, almost all over the gown as it fell to the floor, with a midnight ribbon trailing at the back.

You bit back a fevered sigh. Hyunjin would have adored this gown.

The thought had you pursing your lips, requesting the gown be pressed. Then, walking over to the dressing table, you settled yourself onto the seat, using the accessories bought previously to style yourself. With the assistance of a few maids, you managed to accentuate your hair, adding small pearls within the locks.

The ballgown came back in an instant, and you undressed yourself, waving away the girls in your room. Firstly, you slipped on a thin chemise — then, you allowed a maid to enter to help with the corset, who tightened it at the back without mercy to your body. Barely able to breathe, you loosened it slightly after the girl left, focusing your attention on the gown. After adorning the petticoats and white stockings, you adorned your attire, slowly as to not crease its fabric. Hooking the back yourself, you turned to the mirror, holding the black gloves.

There was no doubt about this countenance — it was exactly to your husband’s taste. Clamping your lips together, you donned the gloves, the silk smooth beneath your touch as you filled them to the fingertips. With one final peek at yourself, you slipped into your shoes, and left the bedroom. 

You were a fool to think of any other person but your mother welcoming you at the entrance, but wishful thinking had always been your flaw. Her string of compliments had you adorning a ghost of a smile, but you did not say much as you both climbed into the carriage, instructing to journey to Seungmin’s estate.

Without a novel to distract you, you fell into a habit of clasping and unclasping your hands as you sat, waiting for the ride to be over. Your mother was small comfort as she filled the silence for you, but even her voice strained your mood — you wished for other discourse, or other meaningless entertainment.

You ached for laughter.

Whatever. This was your consequence. You must bear with it.

If your mother knew of your troubles, she certainly did not voice them out loud. She did ask of your relationship with Hyunjin, but you waved her off with false reassurances — you could not have her prying into your private life.

“I hope he has burned off your silly writing fancy!” she drawled, catching the lights of the destination flickering closer to our transport. “As a wife you have much more important duties.”

Gazing afar through the window, you spoke your truth. “Actually, Mama, he encourages it.” A small chuckle escaped you. “I think he wants me to be an author more than I do.”

“Oh?” The woman brought a hand to her chin, impressed. “That is a rare occurrence indeed.”

Catching your raised brow, she scoffed. “Do not gawk as if you are not aware of men. I am shocked he has given you freedom.”

You listened to her, watching the estate linger closer. “Child, you have found a man who does not restrict you in your passions. I do not know how you accomplished such a feat, but you must be extremely thankful.” A glance was stolen towards her. “Such husbands only exist in those books you love so much.”

Before you could comment on her statement, the carriage slowed to a stop, reaching the final stop. The footmen opened the doors, and your mother stepped out first before you followed, careful not to ruin your dress on the pathway. 

The crowds had you leading inside the estate, luxury which could compete with the Duke of Hastings being exulted in every corner of the interior. Dozens of lords, ladies and other aristocrats wandered in all places of the house, your own mother being swept away by her friends in her social circle. Your presence felt less relevant with each passing second, fearing you would lose yourself in the rush of golden curtains, rose perfume and unwelcome conversation.

You thought that this ball would grant solitude, but then you heard the bright drawl of a familiar lord. 

“By God, is that my dear bookworm I see before me?”

Jumping from the voice, you whirled on your heel. A surprised smile caught on your face.

“Seungmin?”

The said-man returned your shock with a mischievous grin. Lord Kim Seungmin changed greatly since the last time you saw him — what was once thinned, pale cheekbones were now full and golden, amplifying his eye-smile, which he did not lose in the Americas. He was adorned in navy blue, contrasting with his off-coloured pants, black hair styled effortlessly away from his forehead.

“My goodness!” he began, strolling over to you with his mahogany cane. “Even after two years you upkeep your radiance.”

“You flatter me,” you said as your smile widened. “You certainly have changed. I adore the tan!”

“I fear you are the sole admirer,” he confided, narrowing his gaze at his incoming guests. “As if I wish to look like a ghost among men!”

“You have earned my approval, at least,” you complimented in earnest. “Not that it would matter much.”

Seungmin scoffed at your comment. “Says one of the most affluent women in the country! When were you going to tell me you were Hyunjin’s bride?”

Your irritation sparked as your heartbeat raced. “It was very recent, I admit. I would have sent word, but it would not have reached you.”

“I daresay I am not surprised.” 

You peered at him, then. “No?”

He gave you an incredulous look. “My dear, everyone anticipated the occasion. Only you were clueless to the possibility.”

Gritting your teeth, you jabbed him with your hand, causing him to chuckle. “Ow! I was hoping you would mature by this time! No doubt your duke encourages this!”

Preferring to stay silent on the matter, Seungmin continued on the subject, making it difficult. “Where is he, by the way? Gossip tells me it is your first ball as a couple.”

“Is he not here?” A shake of his head had your nerves creeping back. “Oh, um, my mother was alone, so I thought to accompany her instead.”

You nearly grimaced at his callous features. “How bizarre,” he murmured. He then offered you his arm. “If so, then allow me to accompany you in his absence.”

Accepting his arm, he helped you navigate your ways through the huge foyer, the grand stairs welcoming you two as dozens upon dozens of aristocrats came into view — the host nodded his head in greeting at every passerby, leading you down each step, until your feet landed on the floor of the ballroom. 

Examining the area, you marvelled at the pastels colouring each wall, corner and crevice of the vast space in the room. Sweet music filled the air, and murmurs of many ladies and gentlemen resonated everywhere around you, growing louder as their eyes rested on you, your sensual attire, and the lack of husband on your arm.

“How about a dance, Duchess?” Seungmin asked you as he brought you closer to the center. 

Instantly you shook your head, stopping in your tracks. “No,” you refused, tugging on his arm. “I have no wish for dancing this evening.”

“As if you ever have,” he mused, earning your glare. “I presume you await for your beau? Everyone knows you dance first with him.”

A sharp breath exhaled from your nose. “Nevermind that, just take me where the cakes are.”

Laughter spilled from his lips, stirring you to the refreshments. “As you wish, ____.”

Making your way through the guests, you finally ended up where the food resided, tables lined from one corner of the room to the other, flanked in every type of nourishment. Your gaze found stands of cakes, and you left your hand on your friend’s arm, raised towards the deserts. As soon as a servant handed you a plate, the chocolate cake was in your hold.

“Honestly,” the host started, as you cut a piece with a fork, digging straight in. “And they call you the pinnacle of grace!”

“Who in heaven said that?” you asked, baffled as you ate another small piece. Seungmin, snapping his fingers, brought a tray of champagne over to you. Picking up two flutes, you began, “For me?”

Downing the first, he offered you a grin. “What made you think that?” he replied, already sipping the second. “My party, my alcohol.”

This time you giggled at his demeanour, he handing you a drink as you finished your cake. The bubbly goodness was welcomed, warming you up and calming your senses. 

After the third glass, the champagne-induced man let out a huge sigh. “Right!” he exclaimed, propping the glasses on the table beside you. “I must find myself a pretty lady to dance with.”

“Do try to stay on your feet, Seungmin,” you said, raising your flute in toast. 

“No promises!” he merely countered, disappearing into the crowd.  

Your smile faded at the isolation which hit.

There you were — hundreds of people surrounding you, many potential partners to dance with, yet there you were, hand not in another hand but wrapped around your alcohol. 

You could not blame a single soul. This was all your doing.

That had you consuming the champagne to the last drop. 

At least there was some form of relief in this ball, as you watched Seungmin and about a dozen couples form a circle at the center of the room. With the first opening of the music the host led his partner, all the others following suit. 

Watching the waltz had you remembering the last dance, the fateful night where this union came into fruition. Your friend’s smile, his hand on another’s waist, all these images reflected the very same you experienced many weeks before.

You bit the inside of your cheek, reminiscing deeper and deeper. You hated how every fibre of your body ached for his presence. The worst part was that it was not mere lust, or the carnal desire which erupted at his thought.

You longed for him — his banter, his mischievous eyes, and his rather heart-wrenching smile.

The music heightened, the climax of the dance falling on the ball room as Seungmin whirled and whirled his partner, a string of giggles faintly heard from the crowd. When he twirled her one last time, he caught her instantly, at perfect harmony with the ending of the sweet melody.

Applause scattered across the hall as the couples bowed to each other.

A curse escaped you then. 

There was simply no doubt of your feelings — avoiding him could never be the solution. 

This revelation may have arrived at the perfect time.

Because, as the music played once more, a figure emerged at the entrance. 

The murmurs, one by one like a slow wave, died down as they caught sight of him, gazes shocked.

Sipping your champagne, quite puzzled, you turned to the origins for this change of atmosphere. 

Every atom in your body stilled. 

Froze completely at the sight which stood at the foot of the steps. 

You were unable to suppress his name.

“Hyunjin.”

It was as if, by a miracle, he heard your shivered whisper — his eyes skimmed the crowd, frantic beneath the calm.

They found you in the chaos.

Your very breath disappeared from your lungs.

Hwang Hyunjin looked like the devil’s greatest fantasy; as if he stole the night and imprisoned it in his attire. He was adorned in lustrous black, waistcoat patterned with red swirls of velvet. His collar was slightly ruffled, cravat of midnight as it barely brushed against his chin. His tailcoat somewhat glistened in the chandelier light, dark leather boots still as he stood before the hall.

His greatest change was his hair. Once golden like the lights of heaven, it was now as black as the underworld. Half of the locks were swept up in a ponytail, the rest curling at his shoulders. 

The flute nearly dropped from your hands. 

Seungmin, finding his friend on the steps, burst into a smile. “Hastings!” he broke through the silence with enthusiasm. With his voice the crowd fell into frenzied discourse, the host making his way through his guests, strolling towards the new arrival. “By God, it has been too long!”

Hyunjin hummed, not particularly interested in what he had to say. His gaze from you did not stray for a heartbeat. Seungmin, catching on, wrapped a hand around his friend’s shoulder. “I see you only came for one person,” he said, leading him to where you stood. 

Champagne was not the only substance which heated you further, cheeks growing warmer the closer he walked over to you. Every move he emitted exuded sensuality, as if his bones were made of silk. 

You let yourself to a third serving when he stopped before you, Seungmin clapping his hands together in excitement. “Look at the two of you!” he proclaimed. “Your clothes match so perfectly!”

Sure enough, both of you adorned the same hues of dark reds and raven blacks. You felt his eyes rake over you, and you restrained to not do the same, lest you let more than your stare wander. “I always knew you two were right for each other,” your friend continued, grabbing his fourth flute, drinking away in glee. “I am overjoyed to see that you both see it.”

Something cold swirled in your husband’s stare, and you ran a finger along the empty glass, embarrassed to hear such genuinity. “Hyunjin, the second waltz is about to start.” He gestured his flute towards you. “I know you always dance with each other first.”

The duke’s eyes flickered to the host for a mere second before pinning on you again. “I have no desire for dancing tonight.”

You had trouble downing your drink. “How strange...” Seungmin noted, darting between the couple. “Your wife here said the same thing not an hour ago.”

“Did she now?”

The silence that followed was quite unbearable. Even your friend was unimpressed, offering Hyunjin a drink from the waiters nearby. “Oh, you both are such bores! Maybe marriage is not the solution after all.”

You dared not look at him then, fiddling with your black ribbon. “I need to get drunk!” the host declared, tutting his head at the tension created. “I will come again when you two stop being so bloody shy.”

Shy would not be the most accurate term, but Seungmin was too intoxicated to care. He strolled to compliment a gathering of ladies within your radius, which left you with the one man you feared to be alone with.

Hwang Hyunjin. 

Hwang Hyunjin, in his changed, midnight glory, watching you with an indecipherable intensity. Creating the wildest butterflies ever felt inside your body. 

You did not know where to start. 

The man did not understand where to begin either, tongue at loss for words. There were too many words to spill, too many feelings left constricted.

He wished to say something, but his senses had failed him. So, much like you, he stayed silent, wondering if the two of you would ever break this barrier.

Even then, he could not help but linger closer, leaning against the lush walls of the room, right beside you. His presence was a blessing and a curse at the same time.

Tailcoat brushing against your skirts, he examined the ballroom along with you, itching to reach for your hand. He would never really, but in that moment, you were beyond tempting. 

You see, he had no idea what you would wear tonight, and after the spat at Lansdowne, he yearned for change — hence the raven hair and darkened clothing, so unlike his usual pastel attire. He did not even think that you would attend the ball in fear of his presence, but seeing you before him, engulfed in his favourite colours…

He would have damned society and taken you in this very hall. 

Daringly, he let himself wonder whether you felt the same — he heard your shocked murmur when he arrived, and the further shocked stare which made him ever so smug. If only you would let him do something about it.

If only you would let him ease this tension before it spiralled out of control.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as Seungmin came stumbling back, alcohol, swishing back and forth in his new glass as he giggled at his guests. “Dear friends!” he broke out, hands raised, some of the drink accidentally slipping out. “Oh, forgive me, gentlemen!”

You heard Hyunjin sigh beside you as he held his own hands out to steady his friend. “Steady now, man!” he warned. The drunkard only chortled, foot stepping onto your dress.

“You should not have drank so much!” you scolded, raising your skirts. Glimpses of your stockings came into display, and Seungmin shrieked.

“Careful duchesh!” he slurred excitedly, leaning right into you and wiggling the glass as if it were a finger. Unfortunately, he had little control over how hard he shook his alcohol, and it all spilled over. 

Right onto your white stockings.

Yelping, you saw the middle part stain in pinkish-red, murking the material with every drop landing. “Seungmin!” you yelled in agitation. 

“Oh bollocksh!” he cursed, causing a few gasps around the hearing radius. “I apologishe, dear, so very very much—”

Hyunjin, witnessing the scene, stopped a nearby servant. “Please tend to your master, here,” he ordered, pointing towards Seungmin begging for your forgiveness. Nodding, the boy took the host away, the latter hiccuping as he asked for more wine. “And do not give him any more to drink!” the duke added.

Focusing on you, he rushed over, assessing the mess made. “Damn fool has spilled quite a bit.” Whirling his head to any exits, he spotted a dark hallway, remembering the route of the estate. “Come with me.”

You glanced at him, frantic. “Where to?”

He did not answer fully as he wrapped a hand around your waist, almost making you forget that you had wine spilled over you. “Seungmin has many spare rooms,” he explained, leading you out of the ballroom. Thankfully, the crowd was too occupied in preparing for the second waltz to care for the distressed couple. 

Keeping your skirts raised, you managed to keep your gown safe from spillage as Hyunjin led you down the less crowded hallways, depictions of the Kim family painted on the walls. “Ah!” He got out, reaching to a familiar room as he opened it, ushering you inside. “This is where I usually reside whenever I stay at the estate.”

The room was basked in dark, velvety colours, perfect for the man next to you. Lush carpet underneath, the huge bed, nestled at the wall at your right had its curtains drawn, revealing glistening indigo sheets, matching the framing of the bedroom. Dressing tables, wardrobes and the like were furnished at each corner, your focus drifting back to the dweller. 

There was barely any light, save for the oil lamp sparked to life by his match. Setting it to the side of the bed, it brought much more life to the room, previously engulfed in mystery. 

Without the upheaval, the space was basked in silence. You realised the hand on your back was sorely missed, and Hyunjin, standing a few feet away, clenched and unclenched that very hand, yearning for his fingers upon you once more.

But the two of you kept playing that little game of keeping quiet. Sooner or later, one of you will have enough of this sickening ploy. 

Groaning, you walked over to the edge of the bed, kicking your heels off as you saw your stockings, fully stained. “Damn it,” you muttered, promising Seungmin murder. 

Another few minutes of your grumbling, and he had had enough. 

“Maybe I can be of assistance.” 

Perking up, you found Hyunjin, walking slowly to you, hands fumbling in his coat pockets. After a few seconds of rummaging, he brought out a package, tied with red string. 

You raised a brow. “What is this?” 

“Open it,” he merely said, taking a step closer as he held it before you.

Hesitantly accepting, you tugged on the end of the bow, unraveling the tie. You did not forget the stare which rested on you the entire time you opened the wrappings. 

When the paper unfurled, you examined the contents.

Before you were a folded pair of black stockings.

A soft exhale escaped as you beheld the present, the midnight silk soft to the touch, already aware of its rich feel. You delved in further, and uncovered white ribbons at the top, for tightening their grip. 

“How…” you trailed off, dumbfounded at the coincidence. “How did you…?”

“No, no, this was…” he locked his hands behind his back. “Something I was supposed to give you this morning.”

“Oh.” This morning. When you two had that particularly nasty fight. “I see.”

You glanced down at the present again. Hyunjin had proven, once again, how refined his taste was. “I have never seen such exceptional detail on stockings before.” Discarding the paper at your feet, you ran your thumb across the material. “I doubt this suits me at all.”

There was a pause at that. 

You knew there was something he wanted to say. The way his jaw ticked, the boot lightly tapping on the floor — he was bursting to add a comment which may be a risk, considering the circumstance of your relations. 

Allowing yourself to be the first to dare, you peered up at him. The curiosity, explicit in your eyes, had him clearing his throat.

His hesitancy faded. “Show me, then.”

Catching the ferocity in his stare, you swallowed, hand at your skirts. “If…if you wish.”

And that was all he needed to begin.

You watched as the man descended on his knees, lingering upon you until he looked down, revealing your white-clad legs the further you raised your gown. You stopped before the ends, holding onto your skirts and petticoats as if your life depended on it.

Hyunjin’s gaze did not waver as his hand raised forward, finding themselves upon the bow at the top of the stockings as the other gently held your ankle. Untying the ribbon, he hooked his fingers under the tight fabric, your skin brushing against his knuckles. Slowly, he pulled down the stocking, uncovering your skin before him under the dim lamp light. When it bunched up, his hand at your ankle stretched the ends of fabric, sliding the stocking right off. 

Discarding it behind him, he repeated the unveiling on the other leg. He noticed your skin heating underneath his touch, and he dared not expose his growing delight. 

Once the other half slid off, joining its partner, a hand raised in front of you. You stared at him in dazed confusion, and his fingers curled, save for the pointer directed at your present. 

“The stockings, darling.”

The endearment had you falling short — his caresses on your shin brought you back to consciousness, your hand beyond your control as it handed the gift to him. Taking it, he put one of them beside him, bunching the other with his hands till he directed the entrance to your foot on his lap.

Slipping them on, he worked his way upon your heel; his hands were slow, fingers softer than the silk beginning to cover your leg. Every fleeting touch had small shockwaves coursing up your body, as if it was the first time he laid his hands on you. How were you so unaccustomed to his caresses still?

Maybe because he knew how to agonise you. 

When reaching above your knee, he brought the ends of the stocking to your thigh. His fingers fell to the ribbon dangling from the underside and, with the utmost care, began to tie the two pieces together, forming a pretty red bow. 

As he closed the pattern, he tightened the bow, securing the fabric — snuffing out any possibility for the fabric to fall.

He then continued on the other leg, gaze flickering from your legs to your face. He caught every laboured breath you released, every flutter of your eyes slipping you in and out of a daze. His fingers were slower still, as if he never wanted this to stop. The stockings were like a second skin, adding a lustre to your legs the more he covered you with it. 

Sliding over your knee for the last time, he held onto the blood-coloured ribbons. Fingers skimming against silk-stained skin, he tied another perfect bow, tightening it at the ends. 

All done.

His gaze lingered on the bows, the sliver of skin past your thighs. His hands too, refused to leave your legs.

It was then his eyes flicked upward — right into yours. 

You caught every swirl of desire residing inside. 

Every little detail etched on his face was stained with lustful anguish, suppressed hunger of things you dared not imagine. You held onto your skirts with more force, afraid you would lose strength in your hands. 

Hyunjin’s hands, however, had no such troubles.

For they began to carry out his wishes — they slid upwards, past the stockings and upon your upper thighs, spreading them enough to slip himself between your legs. This alone had you near crumbling for him, but his eyes asked for more. Even with the dim light, you had never seen a man so beautiful in agony. 

You wondered whether he was going to say anything. Silence was a giver of many answers, but the questions you held could only be answered by his lulling whispers. Despite protest, you willed your hands beside you, clutching the sheets, waiting for him to tear your soul in pieces. 

Finally, the Duke of Hastings parted his mouth.

“One word, angel.”

He squeezed your thighs softly. 

“One word, and I will never torment you with my presence again.”

A bated breath escaped you.

It was much too late for that. Hyunjin had already tormented you, had done so ever since your fateful realisation, and you knew he would do so for the rest of your life. It would hardly matter whether he was oceans apart or a hair’s breadth close — him, and everything he represented, was complete and utter affliction.

Such a shame that he was a torment you would sacrifice everything to be around every day. Such a horrible, horrible shame that Hwang Hyunjin was a presence you loved more than you could let on.

Hence was the reason you did not answer him with words. What you wished to say was much too vulnerable.

No, you answered him in actions — replied with your hands raising to clasp his face, leaning down to envelope your lips with his. 

You were surprised to hear a pained moan leave his mouth, and you realised that was the sound of pure, heart-breaking relief. Instantly his hands travelled further as he kissed you back with twice the fervour, hands sliding to grip your waist. Pulling you to him, he erased any distance between you, delving deeper into your mouth. He shuddered at how he went so long without your tongue swirling along with his, like parting from a lost companion.

Fingers sliding to his neck, you welcomed his enthusiasm, his desperation which heightened with every searing touch, every soft bite of his teeth against your lips. He broke away, peppering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, eliciting the sweetest whining from you. 

“...missed you,” he murmured on your skin, sending chills down your body as he kissed the edges of your dress's neckline. “I...missed you so much.”

“Hyunjin—” you began, wanting to say that you yearned for him, but the words on your tongue faded when his fingers bunched up the skirts of your gown, hitching it higher until the midnight stockings were back in view — he did not stop there, pushing the fabric further till it bunched at your waist, along with the petticoats. His hurried hands pulled down your underthings, sliding them right off your legs, discarding them behind them.

Seeing your cunt glistening in the lamplight nearly broke him.

“I—God,” he breathed out, hands spreading your legs apart. An aching whine escaped you at the action, the cool night air caressing your inner thighs. “Angel, tell me...we do not have to do this.” He glanced up at you, and the madness residing in his eyes infected your soul. 

Maybe madness was the only reason you damned the consequences.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Hyunjin licked his lips before blessing you with his closure.

The first stripe across your slit set you on fire. 

A soft groan through your mouth at the familiar sensation, the overbearing feeling of being ascended far away from this obscure bedroom. He had always worked wonders, but this time, the languor had faded, desire hardening his tongue against your folds. He pulled on your legs, sending his face further into your cunt, and you yelped at the ferocity of his actions. 

There was no denying it — the man had grown frantic without you.

Swiping in the arousal coating along your slit, a satisfied hum escaped him as he travelled upwards, your seething more encouragement. He struck gold as he found your clit, circling his tongue along the bud, rendering you helpless as you moaned without shame. You cared little if the guests heard you beyond the door, your husband making it too hard to contain yourself.

Perhaps you would have survived his treatment if he did not leave one of his hands upon your leg, trailing up your thigh. He slipped in not one, but two fingers straight inside, and your voice raised an octave — the gradual rhythm of his digits had that overflowing feeling creeping over you all over again. Your grip on his half-ponytail tightened, pleading for him to give you mercy, but the man was relentless, never opting for a break in his devouring.

“Damn it, please—” you grated out, instinctively rolling your hips against his face. The edge of the bed seemed more like the edge of the world. “Wh-whatever you do—”

You did not finish as Hyunjin squeezed your thigh, and you knew then in your dazed mind — a certainty that he understood. 

Within moments his pace quickened, fuelling the spark of nerves which swirled in your gut, threatening to overtake you. Teething your clit softly, then swirling his tongue along, you knew that if he carried on, he would break you on this bed. Something within you felt as if that was his was his very purpose.

Why the thought thrilled you, you would never know.

His rapid fingers and sensual tongue working harmoniously finally got through to you, as, with a whimpering cry, you came all over him, closing your eyes as spots of white stained your mind. You felt his ministrations slow, a small kiss gifted upon your sensitive clit before his lips pulled away. Other hand brushing across your leg, he soothed you from the high you experienced, whispers of his lilting voice perking you from your stupor.

“Hyunjin?” you quietly called, gazing at his lust-struck face. He did not look away as he brought the finger to his lips, sucking away at your residue.

You did not think you could ever get used to this image.

“Yes, angel?” he rasped out, straightening on his knees so his head nearly levelled with yours.

Catching the implications within your eyes, his own widened slightly.

“More?” he let himself wonder, and when you nodded much too desperately, he realised he had done it. 

All he needed was for you to voice it.

“Oh, my sweet little darling,” he whispered, taking one of your gloved hands. Slowly, he slid off the long gloves, repeating the same for the other. “This time, I cannot let you off.

His hands then clasped yours. “This time...I need you to say what you want for me.”

The declaration would have had you closing your legs in embarrassment if your husband was not between them. Not even embarrassment for what he said but...the idea of you wanting to completely oblige it.

Look at you — a few months ago, you possessed not a single inclination of what he suggested; what he asked for, what he so direly wanted you to say. The woman before this one would have rather buried herself under the earth than admit such desire for a man.

The Duke of Hastings, though, brought her out from her underground retreat, and revealed to her all that she was capable of. He showed her what everyone was so afraid to even talk about, and made you addicted to what was forbidden.

A dire shame you wanted Hyunjin to keep you intoxicated for the rest of your life.

You faced him once and for all. Asked him for the one thing which you never thought imaginable.

“Show me...all of it.”

Your hands travelled to his shoulders, keeping him close.

“Show me everything.”

If there was a way to bottle this moment and hang it on the walls of his heart, Hyunjin would have jumped at the chance.

Had he defiled you, after so long? Had he slipped his dirty fantasies into your mind, tainted you with his infatuation?

The answers to his questions were found upon your lips. He collided his own against yours as he gathered you up in his arms, standing up and taking you with him.

Your legs would have given way if we’re not for him keeping his grip — a grip which wandered upwards, catching the little metal hooks of your dress. He thrust his tongue inside your mouth, and the harsh frenzy delighted you, welcoming all of it as you opened for him wider. A shuddered breath escaped you at the hooks being undone by his hands, one by one till you felt your gown loosen.

At the last hook, Hyunjin pulled the sleeves off your arms, and the dress fell to the floor, leaving you with your corset and petticoats. You were caught off guard when he swivelled you around, you feeling the tugs of lace being unravelled with each pull of his fingers. The kisses did not cease, being rewarded at the crook of your neck. Each caress of his lips sent shivers down your spine — more so when he eased off the corset from your body, tugging off your petticoats along with it. 

All that was left was a thin, loose chemise, everything shown clearly beneath the white veil of its fabric. The man turned you to face him again, and his gaze turned molten at the sight that welcomed him. Taking your lips in his, he ripped off his own attire — the long coat, waistcoats, every piece from the waist up being discarded. He had to break away for a moment to take his shirt off, and you caught the sight of his lean figure, turned golden in the light. 

You could not help reaching out, running your curious fingers against his skin, soft and warm beneath your touch. He dared not speak, fearing you would take away your hand, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Tonight, you did not want distance — and neither did he.

Kissing you again, he pulled the lace in front of your chemise, loosening the attire until, with wandering hands, he dropped the last layer you upheld. Slowly, never leaving your lips, he backed you against the bed, holding you steady as he laid you upon the sheets. You never let go of him, aching to take all of him in your mouth, taste his very soul till it was the only thing that remained on your tongue. 

“Fuck—” a curse escaped him as he broke away, catching the swelling of your lips. His gaze trailed downwards, upon your breasts which perked at the sight. “You’re so—so beautiful, I—”

Trails of open-mouthed kisses attacked you after, falling upon your breasts where Hyunjin began swiping his tongue along the nipple. The foreign wave of pleasure had you ripping out the most atrocious moan, caring less if the whole manor were to hear. 

While his tongue played with you, his fingers worked at his trousers, unbuckling his belt as he peeled off the clothing, tossing it to the ever growing pile. You craned your head forward, glancing at the bulge near bursting from his underwear. A quivering sigh escaped you, rendering louder by the quickening of his actions.

Getting rid of his underwear, his cock sprung free, and you were surprised you had not passed out from the mere sight, red and angry and too bloody big. You could not stop staring, hard to believe that a man could possess such...such substantial anatomy.

“Like what you see, angel?” Your husband mused, leaving his place upon your nipple. Flustered, you tried to look away, but it was no use, when the man caught your chin with his fingers. “I’m surprised you can be shy even now.”

That did not help with your situation, causing you to heat drastically beneath his touch. Chuckling, he dropped a little kiss upon your nose before resting his forehead against yours. 

Grasping his cock, he levelled it against your leaking cunt, the head teasing your folds. Even the small action had you seething, the warm residue sending shockwaves across your body. You held onto his neck, fearing you would lose yourself if you dared not hold onto him.

His midnight eyes turned to yours, noses brushing. “This may hurt for a second, ____,” he confessed, voice barely a murmur. “But I promise I will make that second up to you.”

Nodding slightly, you watched only him as his gaze travelled downwards. Fear threatened to take over, but one look at your husband, and it all faded.

With a final prayer to the heavens, Hyunjin began his descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his cock slid into your cunt. A heightened whine bubbled up to your throat, and you let it free with each inch that entered, terrified that this man could break you with what he slipped inside you. Your walls tightened with its entrance, and the more you voiced out the more he tended, peppering sweet kisses upon your cheeks.

You did not know how long it was till he stopped, letting you adjust to him inside you. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets, yet your husband was a huge comfort, circling smooth strokes upon your hip with his thumb, holding your face as he held the universe in his hands.

Breathing deeply, he glanced at you — a nod was your response to his consoling gaze, knowing what he meant.

With that, the duke began to pull out.

He was slow, just as he was when he first entered you. He was gradual, languid, and the terror that haunted you was replaced with a new, different kind of high. 

You had never felt something so pleasurable.

You revealed your surprise to Hyunjin, stare glistening at the foreign sensation — your entire body was up in the clouds, relishing the slow withdrawal and the skill he brought in the bedroom. You were so sure that he was terrified too, scared of ruining this, but all you could feel was pure, unadulterated delight.

When the head reached the beginning of your folds once again, you thought that this was it — there was no more to be done, and your contentment was short-lived.

However, your husband surprised you as he slid inside you once again. 

This time, there was a slight increase of pace, and it kept getting better, your feelings heightening with each passing second as he dipped further into you. He was so unbelievably good, knowing just how to make you whimper — God, his gaze was enough to undo you, ablaze with all the hellfire from the underworld. The devil worked hard, but Hyunjin worked overtime, bottoming out into you once more.

From that point on, your bodies began to move in sync, you giddily moving your hips along with his, aching to have him inside the whole time. Your hands carded through his velvety locks, taking out the ribbons so his hair fell all about him, curtailing his face as he rocked back and forth upon you. By God, he was so exquisite, something straight out of an artist movement, despite the sweat beading down his forehead, despite the parted mouth, the slight panting.

“H-Hyunjin—” you began, interrupted by another sharp moan from his efforts. “Hyunjin, I think I’m close—”

This time, you were interrupted by his lips upon your neck, teething love bites everywhere upon your skin. He hummed against you at your warning, and thrusted his cock into you. The head reached a certain spot which had you seeing seventh heaven, seeing truth and peace and everything in between, because fuck, he knew where to strike.

You did not know how long it had been till you felt yourself dizzying, the feeling in your lower abdomen warning you of its leash snapping. Hyunjin, aware that you were close, only brought his fingers to your clit, prodding at the bud till tears stung your eyes. 

“I...fuck, angel—!” He gasped between thrusts, pressing sloppy kisses upon your lips. “Look at you, all...all messed up from my cock!”

Heightened wailing was your response, broken murmurs being spewed from your lips. Hastily the man shook his head, revelling in your utter ruination.

“Ah—! Come on now!” he cooed in his husky rasp, holding onto your head. “Say it for me, darling.”

A part of you did not think you could manage, but you had to if it meant he would bring you relief. The duke may have been the love of your life, but he was still, undoubtedly, a smug bastard. 

Despite that, you could not believe how easily you resorted to begging. 

“Please, Hyunjin!” You pleaded in half-pants, the tears spilling when he delved into that one particular spot again. “Make me do—whatever the hell I do, damn it!”

Huffing out a small laugh, the man held onto you a little tighter, retaining his grin. “Oh, ____,” he said, and the next words slipped out in his haze of lust, not realising he had revealed something of terrible importance.

After planting another disheveled kiss, he murmured, “You are so lucky that I love you.”

You did not have time for this declaration to settle before your husband obliged you in the best possible way; his thrusting turned erratic, fast and uneven, and the increased pace of his fingers was too much, all at once.

You had no choice but to let out a cry as you spilled onto him — some escaped from your walls and stained the sheets, whimpering breaths keeping you alive. His ministrations slowed as well, fingers stopping at your clit. 

Watching you undo yourself for him was certainly the last straw for him — for the first time he released into you, grunting at the impact. Parts of his orgasm, too, sullied the sheets, but that was the least of his concerns, as he held onto you for dear life, nearly shattering his entire self upon you.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed beside you on the bed, his deep breaths breaking the silence. You, too, panted for a while, gazing up at the dark ceiling. 

You expected your first thought to be utter delight at your first time. You had finally done what no one in polite society ever told you about, and it was so wonderful that you doubt anyone would have shared in your fortune. 

However, your mind was occupied with another matter entirely.

You are lucky that I love you.

You closed your eyes. 

Hyunjin loved you. Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend and husband, loved you when you thought it impossible.

Something within you then wondered if it was too good to be true.

“____?”

Noticing your name, you turned, finding the very man staring at you — in a way which would have your theories proven true. You did not know about yourself, but seeing him before you, black locks disheveled, skin glistening from sweat, you could not deny that anyone would fall for him if they saw him now. 

You tried to push your emotions past you, blinking back a bit of fatigue. “Yes?”

“Tell me what goes on in that mind of yours.” Turning over, he propped his arm, holding his head in his hand. “Are you alright?”

Perhaps you should have opted for a vague yes, but something in you did not want to beat around the bush anymore. You wished to tell him your truth.

“I was wondering about what you said,” you began, reflecting his position. 

“I have said many things, darling,” the man drawled. “What do you specifically mean?”

“Well…” you tried to avoid his gaze, but you knew by now that evading Hyunjin was useless. “Before I...you know…”

“Know what?” He mused, which had you rolling your eyes. 

“You know what I mean!” Sighing, you continued, constantly looking at his features. “Well, just before that, you said something to me...is it true?”

Silence fell on the room as your husband pondered at your question. His eyebrows raised, and you realised that he had figured it out.

“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I know exactly what you speak of.”

You waited for his response, suddenly aware of how naked you were in this bedroom. Dread curled at your stomach, and you debated grabbing the sheets and sneaking out of the manor. 

That is when Hyunjin gave you his answer. Gave it to you as he took your hand in both of his, pinning you with a stare he reserved only for you.

“They are the truest words I have spoken.”

He leaned into you, and your heart fluttered, much more dramatically now because of what he revealed.

A soul-saving smile adorned his lips. “Despite our circumstances, it was inevitable that I would fall, and I thank the heavens that I did. I love you, ____, even if you cannot return the feeling. I love you as the friend I never had.

“I love you because you are the most inspirational woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet.” 

When he finished, you wondered whether you had the words to respond to a confession as heart-wrenching as the one your husband blessed you with. Tears pricked the corners of your vision, and you leaned into his hands which cupped your face.

Brushing his lips against yours, you willingly accepted, giving him all the affection you garnered within you for so long. The tears trailed down your cheeks, and you had to pull away, hands curling at his locks.

“I-I…” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hyunjin, I-I love you so much—”

The man’s heart burst from his chest.

His rashness got the better of him, interrupting you with a searing kiss as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. 

Never in his lust-hazed mind did he foresee you reciprocating his affection.

He was ready to spend eternity in a one-sided relationship. He was ready to stomach the melancholy you brought if you were to fall for another, or if you simply never loved at all, blankly living your life without any form of affection to give.

But…to have you fall for him. 

What he said to you was wrong.

You were not lucky that he loved you.

He was lucky that you loved him. 

So the Duke of Hastings, pulling the clean sheets upwards, showed you how lucky he was, deepening the kiss and you offering all of you again, moving your lips along with his. 

And in this night, the two of you made another revelation — that perhaps reality was not the villain in the both of yours tales after all. 

THE DAYS AFTER THE BALL WERE NOTHING BUT EUPHORIA.

You wondered whether it was all a dream, with the happiness that followed without any strings attached. 

The passionate endeavours between the two of you did not stop at Seungmin’s manor — hands wandered in the carriage back home, and the moment you stepped at Lansdowne, Hyunjin backed you against the wall and ripped your dress right off, never wanting to stop ravishing you. You did not stop him, did not want to stop him, when you waited so long for him to engulf you without any barriers. By the time you both stopped in the shy hours of dawn, you had been drained of all physical strength, but filled with mental joy.

You fell in love with Hwang Hyunjin, and had the fortune of this love reciprocated. 

Sometimes, you wondered if it was all a dream — a twisted, subliminal illusion, tricking you into believing that marital life is what every writer writes of in the end, the solution filled with flowers and sweet kisses. You never thought, even in your wildest dreams, that you could achieve such bliss with another. 

Then, you would wake up with your husband’s arms around you, and finally understand. Finally comprehend what it meant, to never stray from a soul connected with yours. 

The weeks after also brought the finishing of your novel, your childhood dream all polished in your hands as you took it to the most famous publishers in town. You had fears of the reactions, as what you wrote during certain parts of the novel was borderline scandalous, but the men at the publishing house enjoyed the first few chapters you showed them, and asked for more on the next visit.

You were overjoyed by their reaction, but then doubt entered your mind at once — what if they were only agreeable to your writing because of your position? 

The thought soured your happiness. You did not want to be a writer because of your position in society, but because of your skill. There may have been thousands of other women with talents surpassing yours, but would never be able to achieve even the interest of a publisher. 

Hyunjin was the first to know of your news, and the worries which accompanied it. He listened to you on your second, third visits, scoffing at your disbelief of your turn of events. It was ridiculous in his mind how ardently you doubted yourself, waving off the publishers’ interests in your novel as sheer luck, or your station as the Duchess of Hastings. He assured you many a time, that your flair in creating stories surpassed no man or woman living in London. 

He knew those publishers well — well enough to know that they had never released a novel written by a woman, no matter how influential she may have been. Knowing you had managed to enter consideration for publishing was a feat in itself. The duke had absolutely no doubt that he would see your works in the hands of every person who knew how to read.

What you did not expect, however, was the request from the publishers to have your novel anonymously published. You demanded a reason, and they provided a whole list — women writing was only considered a secondary activity, and if word were to reach the city of a Duchess writing books instead of tending to her family, then it would cause an outrage. You could not believe your ears, despite a small part of you expecting this setback. 

You wanted your name on the book. 

Confiding in your husband once more, you told him of the condition, angrily pacing back and forth in your home. “It is simply...awful!” you spat, locking your hands behind your back, turning the room once more. Hyunjin watched you with a concerned look passing over his features as he looked up from his book. “Why should I hide my identity? I am proud of what I wrote, damn it!”

The man let out a sigh. “I think you should keep the name anonymous.”

That had you pausing. “I beg your pardon?” you demanded, thundering over to him. “Are you saying I conform to their conditions?”

“I am not suggesting it because of their reasoning. I know they are still too ashamed to try publishing a woman’s creation.” 

Closing his book, he set it to the side table. “My love, there is nothing that brings me more joy than seeing you accomplish your dreams. I want more than anything to boast of your mind, and the writings it invents. However,” he continued, “I fear when the public sees your name printed on the novel, a controversial one at that, and see it that they attack you.”

“But that does not matter to me,” you responded, hands on your hips. “In fact, I welcome their criticism! Let me see what poppycock they want to say of my hard work.”

Hyunjin clamped his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “I am happy you do not care for such people, but it would damage your future writings. It would damage your future.”

When you frowned at him, he held out his hands. You closed the distance, settling upon his lap, sliding your arms around his shoulders, while he did the same around your waist. “Tell me, angel, do you wish to write after this?”

“Of course.”

“Well, see it like this,” he began. “Let us say you publish the novel anonymously. It would be in instant circulation, and everyone would read it, no matter who they are. Why? Because your identity is hidden. There would be no bias against you.”

“So?” you asked, and Hyunjin gave you a look. “Okay, okay, continue!”

“As I was saying,” he carried on, “This would not only help you gain an initial audience, but, if you do wish to reveal yourself after that, then it would be perfect. You would have not only shown the public that a woman had written such a brilliant novel, but anyone who would have had previous biases would either conform to reading your writing, or be furious that they had been tricked into reading a woman’s novel.” He then added, smirking, “Which, in my opinion, would be a very amusing situation to witness.” 

You thought over what he said, mind in slight conflict. “In the end, though, it is your choice,” he reassured you. “Whatever you do, you have my undeterred support.”

The little addition had you smiling. “You make valid points,” you admitted, which had the man releasing a chuckle.

“You say that as if I have no intelligence,” he jeered, pulling you closer. “You will be thanking me when all of this goes as I predicted.”

“Don’t push it,” you countered. “We both know you have been proved wrong many times.”

“Hmmm…” he trailed off, leaning in, brushing his lips upon your skin. “At least I know I am right about one thing.”

“Oh?” Your head began to swim as he trailed a few lingering kisses up your neck. “And...and what would that be?”

He did not answer you — only offered an alluring smile before pressing his lips against yours. A soft hum left you as he moved his mouth against yours, slow and languid, teasing his tongue against the seams. 

You would have offered yourself right then and there if he had not broken away, drumming his fingers against your waist. The smile darkened as he gave you his reply.

“You cannot resist me, angel.” 

That, no matter how much it worked against your favour, was an undoubted fact.

After this though, you made your decision to keep anonymous, letting the publishers know of your change of heart. You knew that what Hyunjin said made sense, and, if your novel does receive recognition, then revealing yourself would create a huge statement in London society, positive or not. With this in mind, brought the final edited drafts of your work, and received information of the commissions and percentages taken by the publishing house.

Because the release of your novel was to take some time, you had some freedom with your everyday activities, which were once taken up by the constant editing. The duke, luckily, had begun to employ much more able men in his authority, and so his work was decreased significantly, to the point where he had days to spend with you alone.

During that waiting period, he suggested the two of you retreat to Hemingford, where you both spent your honeymoon. Your smile never left as you jumped at the idea, the man in turn making arrangements for the earliest carriage out of the city. 

Within two days, you were welcomed by the little manor, nestled in the gifts of nature. You found yourself warming to the whole place once more, memories of the past months returning in a flash. Images of the many groves of trees, small network of rivers and a special presence, soothed you in every part you walked through. You nearly forgot how dear Hemingford was to you in the chaos of city life, engulfing its regal, almost mystical atmosphere. A part of you hoped that the book would take forever to be published, so you could never leave the natural retreat Hyunjin’s ancestors had created.

The man himself was glad he opted to take you to the manor — he saw your nerves slowly taking over in London, and knew that the more you stayed in Lansdowne, the more the wait was going to eat you alive. Aware of your attachment towards this place, he made it his personal mission to bring you here, and try to provide you with a little peace. When he caught that certain smile of yours when your eyes fell on the manor and the gardens around it, he felt half his worries melting away in the spring air.

He hated seeing you so unnerved. 

After a few days resting in paradise, the situation was changed for the better. You, breathing in the very earth beneath your feet, observing the trees curved over you like a concerned parent, thought that you could stay here forever. Receiving a letter from the publishers’ of the near completion of copies made only brightened your spirits, and you sighed out into nature.

“Is something the matter?”

Perking up, you saw Hyunjin, who walked over from behind you. 

“Ah...not much,” you said, watching him settle beside you on the bench you sat upon, folding one dark-clad leg over the other. In his hands possessed a book of deep-shaded red, which he held with great care. “Thinking about the letter today.”

“I see.” His eyes wandered down to his fingers. “Actually, I do have something for you, relating to the subject.”

“Oh?” You followed his trail. “Does this book have something to do with it?”

“However did you figure that out?” He drawled, but then he faced you properly, unfolding his leg. “Here.”

You took the possession, eyes on him. “Whose book is it?”

A knowing smile escaped his lips. “Look at the front, angel.”

Curious, you obliged, checking the title. 

You completely stilled. 

Written on the front was the name of your novel. 

“Oh my God,” you got out, holding it with both hands, opening it to the pages. There it all was, inscripted upon the hundreds of pieces of paper.

Your writing.

Your sleepless nights, your labour, your every ounce of strength, tied together by paper and leather and string. 

Rushing, you opened to a random section of the novel, smile widening at the typewriter’s neat, cleaner version of your manic scribbles. The dialogue, the description of each environment — it was there before you, but this time it was not in your head, whirling indefinitely without a place to explain itself.

It was all on paper — in your very hands.

“H-Hyunjin,” you stammered out, not realising your heart was becoming a little too heavy. “Oh my God—where did you get this? Have they—they have begun to sell copies already?”

“Oh Lord,” your husband murmured, hands on your shoulders. “No, no, my love, this was of my own doing.”

When he caught the confused expression upon your aghast face, he explained further. “Before we left for London, I paid a visit to the publishers’, who had started typing up copies of your book. I requested the first copy made be given to me.”

His thumbs began to stroke soothing circles onto your skin. “I know you would have wanted to hold it in your hands before anyone else.”

Heavens above. He truly knew you so well.

You focused back on the book, closing it as you ran your fingers over the leather cover. “I…”

“No need,” he said, giving you an amused grin. “I already know I am the best husband one could ask for.”

He expected his banter to be returned, but you responded to him with a heart-shattering smile.

Holding out the book, you propped it in his hands. “I want you to have it, Hyunjin.”

This time, it was his turn to be confused. “Am I missing the joke here?”

You held his gaze, albeit with much difficulty. “I promised you something once, quite a long time ago. All my firsts are yours.” 

Your hand reached out, brushing against his. “This is my first novel. My most prized possession.” A pause, before holding that state with all your might. “I would want nothing more than for you to keep it.”

The duke used his every ounce of strength not to cry upon the bench. “Well then…” he began, taking the book from you. He turned to the front page, which was blank, save for the title name again, and the written anonymously typed onto its surface. “Well, ____, you must sign it for me!”

A laugh escaped you at that. “An autograph?” You jested, spluttering further when the man brought out his fountain pen, opening the cap. “I suppose with this enthusiasm, I shall throw in a little message.”

Hyunjin slapped a hand to his chest, brows raising in mock surprise. “By God, you spoil me!”

“Give it here!” You retorted, taking the pen and book once more as you found the landing page. 

You pondered for a few minutes on what to write, earning a few hurry ups! and the occasional she does not love me after all, the latter greatly exaggerated. Berating him, you finally thought of the words, arriving straight from the heart. 

Finishing off, you gave the novel back. “Let us see what faux sweetening you have made for me,” he chortled, eyes lowering to the text.

His grin began to fade as he read the message in his mind.

TO THE MAN WHO WAS MY FIRST FRIEND, MY FIRST KISS, AND NOW MY FIRST LOVE.

HERE’S TO MANY MORE FIRSTS WITH YOU. I KNOW THEY WILL ALL LAST. 

I LOVE YOU. 

Hyunjin knew that the sting in his eyes was not the spring breeze.

Slowly, he looked up, catching you staring at him with a smile—loving smile upon your face. A shuddered breath left his lips, unable to form the words.

“Oh no,” you began, jesting despite tears welling up in your own eyes. “It seems the duke believes in my faux sweetening after all.”

A coughed laugh left him at that, trying to clamp his lips together from smiling, but his emotions refused him to suppress himself. His eyes crescented, adding to his near teary grin. Propping the book to the side, he offered his familiar stare, laced with every fibre of affection.

“Come here.”

You jumped at the command, leaning closer as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you to him. He moulded his lips against yours, and you readily accepted him, offering yourself up entirely for him — as if you were not completely his by your own choice.

The slight madness laced upon his mouth had you whining onto him, taking in the entirety of his affection as you opened up to him. Your request was teased upon with his tongue, sliding along your bottom lip, but the man pulled away, panted breaths fanning your mouth.

He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers holding onto your face as if letting go would cause you to stray. “I…” he let out a deep, trembling breath. “I love you, ____. So much.”

Your heart would never tire of the declaration. “I love you too, Hyunjin.”

And as he claimed your lips once more, you wondered whether you had finally achieved what every work of literature praised in the most elevated of languages. 

Still, at least you knew this — that once there was a duke who you promised all your firsts to, and had somehow found his way into your heart. 

There was once a woman, who refused to believe in love for herself, only for this duke to convince her otherwise, by falling for her completely.

Love stories may be a mere creation of the mind, but at least, at the very least, you knew.

Your love story was real. The first which was not mere fantasy, but real and true and tangible.

You had a feeling that this first, out of all the others you shared with the Duke of Hastings, was going to last.

#stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids oneshot #stray kids #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin oneshot #hwang hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids dark hours #hwang hyunjin dark hours #hyunjin dark hours

[druigswhores]

something more

(originally posted by alpha-bug)

summary: where pietro confesses his feelings to you without actually confessing them to you, through a necklace. inspired by this prompt list.

content warning: pietro maximoff x fem!reader (i’ll try to write more gender neutral fics in the future!) obviously set in a world where he survives and civil war doesn’t happen. (friends to lovers, mutual pining and pietro being a sap.)

note: okay so this is my first fic in a while so i’m sorry if this sucks </3 i want to write more pietro/peter fics so please send requests ! (also lemme know if you can guess the movie bucky was confused about !)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

masterlist

"You're staring." Wanda points out, idly watching the older twin stare at the person who clouded his thoughts, not that Wanda needed to read his mind to know that.

"Don't you have something better to do?" Pietro scoffed, unwillingly looking away to glance at his sister. She chuckled, turning away from her brother to check on the pot on the stove, before continuing to chop the vegetables scattered on the chopping board.

"Don't you?" She simply asked, humming to the song playing out loud from her phone, Pietro's eyes were drawn back to you.

You were explaining the plot of a movie to Bucky who stared at the screen in pure confusion. "I don't get it? He killed her but he loved her?" Bucky asked you, in response you shook your head exasperated. "You saw her give birth right after, how could she be dead if she was naming her kids Buck?" You asked, glancing up when you heard the footsteps of someone approaching you.

"You're not replacing me with this old man, right?" Pietro teased, moving to sit next to you, reclining back on the couch, arm around your waist. You rolled your eyes at what he said, automatically leaning into him as the three of you continued to watch the movie playing on the big screen in front of you. The two of you barely noticed when Bucky decided to leave, too caught up with one another to bother caring about what's going on in your surroundings. You pushed him away from you when he tried to steal the m&ms you were currently snacking on only for him to pour most of the packet into his mouth.

"You disgust me Maximoff." You scoffed, biting back the smile forcing its way up. "And you love it Prinţesă." Pietro retorts, his eyes meeting yours. You opened your mouth to say something but nothing could come to mind, it was common for Pietro to randomly call you nicknames but that doesn't mean you were used to it, especially when he'd use pet-names.

Your friendship with Pietro came as a surprise to the rest of the Avengers years ago due to the differences in your personality but if you asked any of them what they thought about your friendship now they'd complain about how clueless the two of you are to the other person's feelings.

Somehow in the chaos that the two of you called your 'friendship', the line between platonic feelings and romantic feelings blurred. Pietro isn't the type of guy to steer away from romance but this situation was entirely different to anything he experienced. He cant just tell his closest friend that he loved you, he couldn't tell you how when he holds you in his arms it pains him to let go. How could he tell you that? After everything that happened to him in the past, the wall he built around his emotions to protect himself began to crumble and you were the cause of it. Pietro always struggled to talk about his feelings, his past. He felt the urge to protect himself and his twin from anything that could hurt them, he didn't want to make the same mistake again.

The unintentional movie night led to the two of you continuing to hanging out in Pietro's room hours later. It was your nightly ritual to watch an episode or two of a show that Pietro usually wouldn't want to watch before the two of you go to bed. Pietro was in the far end of his room, fumbling with something in the palm of his hand while you sat comfortably in the middle of his bed, head resting on one of his pillows as you set up the show on the laptop.

"For someone as quick as you, you sure are taking your sweet time doing whatever it is you're doing."

Pietro glanced back at you in surprise, almost like he forgot what he was supposed to be doing, too busy staring at the dainty chain tangled in the palm of his hands, with a small engagement ring at the end, in place of a pendant capturing all of Pietro's attention. It was fit for a petite woman. The silver was slightly scratched. Two slightly larger silver stones surrounded a slightly larger stone, although quite dull at first glance the engraving on the inside showed was still noticeable.

"I'm in no rush, dragoste mea." He chuckles, shoving the necklace into his pocket before moving to take his shirt off to put on a different one while continuing to speak. Your eyes followed his movements, subtly admiring his body as his muscles unintentionally flexed which resulted in you feeling your cheeks heat up, quickly looking away to not get caught checking out one of your best friends.

"You know I still don't know how I feel about Vision hanging around my sister." Pietro confesses, his overprotectiveness towards his younger sister evident as he continues to replay what occurred during dinner hours ago, Wanda confessing she wouldn't mind moving to a rural neighbourhood with Vision instead of staying at the Avengers Headquarters.

"People can't control who they fall in love with Pietro." You sighed tiredly not realising the irony behind your words, it wasn't the first time Pietro mentioned his hesitation towards the Android.

"People can't, robots can." He scoffed, walking to the dresser to put away his shirt, now wearing a pale blue shirt instead of the charcoal grey T-shirt he was previously wearing.

He moved to the bed, sitting beside you before shifting around to get comfortable. Your hand reaches out to the laptop to begin the episode only for Pietro's hand to place his above yours, stopping you.

"Since we're on this subject..." he paused to pull the necklace from his pockets before holding the necklace out towards you, letting the ring dangle from the chain between the two of you, twisting and turning because of the sudden movements.

You glanced at Pietro in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. He then pulls the hand that was covered by his own and turning it so your palm faced upwards, dropping the necklace in your hand. You held the necklace between your fingers, admiring the gems on the ring before noticing the engraving etched on the inside of the engagement band.

"I+O?" You read out the engraving in confusion, eyes meeting Pietro's soft gaze. He paused for a bit, struggling to put together a sentence that wouldn't cause the wall he created to completely collapse.

"Irina and Oleg, my parents. This was my mother's engagement ring. It was apart of the few belongings they've managed to find after what happened." He gently takes the necklace from you, signalling you to turn away from him so he can put it around your neck. Gently pushing all your hair to the side you felt goosebumps rise wherever Pietro's fingers grazed on your skin, the familiar heat rising in your cheeks once again.

You were secretly relieved that he couldn't see your reaction, the unspoken tension between the two of you currently was unbearable. You looked down at the ring, twirling it around with ur fingers while Pietro continued to speak.

"We decided that Wanda should keep our father's ring since he barely acknowledged me as his son, let alone a person." Pietro chuckles dryly.

Pietro turns you to face him, palm resting on your left cheek. "It looks good on you Draga Mea." He compliments you, eyes glancing down to your lips ever so often. "Why did you decide to give it to me?" You whispered, struggling to find your own voice.

Pietro's mouth curved into a smile, his thumb gently stroking your face

"Can't you tell?" He asked.

"Hmmm i think I'm going to have to hear you say it." You teased, smiling up at him, arms sliding around his neck pulling him closer towards you. He rolled his eyes feigning annoyance before telling you what you wanted to hear.

The next morning Wanda lightly knocked on her brother's door, wondering why he wasn't at breakfast. Waiting a couple moments for a response Wanda slowly opened the door only to be met with with the two of you lying in bed in each other’s arms,  the laptop ended up at the edge of the bed as you completely forgot about it after the events of last night. Pietro had his arms tightly wrapped around your waist while your head rested on his chest, the two of you smiling contently.

"They're good for each-other." Wanda whispers to her partner who stood beside her.

"They are indeed."

#marvel #MCU #Wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #wandavision #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #aaron taylor johnson #avengers #avengers assemble #peter maximoff #peter maximof x reader #pietro maximoff fluff #aou #quicksilver fanfiction #pietro maximoff fanfic #pietro maximoff Drabble #MCU quicksilver #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #marvel imagines #avengers age of ultron #marvel blurb #maximoff #pietro x reader #quicksilver headcanons

[alltoolewis]

30 with lando pls

"Ride me."- Lando Norris.

Summary- you and lando celebrate his highest placing poduim after you comfort his nerves before the Italian grand prix....

Words- 1808...

(Warnings- Alot of fluff & smut! 18+! You've been warned!)

------------------------------------

You couldn't believe how quickly it all flew by. It felt like just yesterday when you met him... you the new photographer for McLaren, who didn't have a clue about F1, moving away from everything you knew to travel round the world taking pictures of cars worth more than your credit card & him, the new rookie, who had so much confidence on the track but who had near to none when it came to speaking to women... until you came along & And now here you were... 3 years later, moved in together, traveling the world doing the thing both of you loved & what a better way than doing that together.

----

Your hands trembled just looking at him pacing the room,you could tell he was nervous.. I mean who wouldn't be, starting P3 in one of the most anticipated races of the calendar....

"Baby your making me dizzy" you giggled,slowly making your way over to him as he reaches for your clammy hand.

"Im sorry" he sighed, leaning into your touch as you pulled him closer "just nervous... I mean with all the pressure of me and danny starting up the grid & McLaren not having the season they hoped for, its just getting to me.. and you-" stopping himself, he looked deep into your eyes and for the first time you could see the panic and fear glossing his eyes like smoke...

"Im what baby?" You whispered, gently tracing your fingers though his newly combed locks, an action that you knew relaxed him...

"Your here..."

Confusion washed over you gently let go of him, taking a step back to watch his new fear wash over him..

"I can stay back here lando... if I'm the one making you nervous... I'm sure they wont mind me sitting out on this one, they have so many talented photographers, they won't miss m-"

Put of nowhere lando pulled you closer, locking your lips with his, taking all the unnecessary words out of your mouth.

"I'll miss you" lando mumbled against your lips, before pulling away pushing your forehead against yours...

"Your not the issue baby.. its just I know how dangerous this track is & I just don't want you to see anything that you shouldn't.... I couldn't cope with mysel-"

This time is was you to interrupt him, lifting up his chin to meet your.

"Lando I know the drill.... its not my first rodeo baby, every race is a dangerous one... I knew what I signed up for the minute I started falling in love with you & guess what... I dont regret one bit & you know why...?"

"Why?" He whispered, voice full of uncertainty.

"Because you.." you sighed, locking your lips with him again "are the best driver on that grid and you I've never been more proud of anything or anyone in my life.... your gonna be okay... and im gonna be right there for here for you, together forever eh?" You say, smirking as you see his face light up at your words, reaching out for your outstretched hand, locking your fingers as he repeated your words..

"Together forever"...

--------------

"How many more laps left??" You sighed, hands beginning to tremble as you looked at the monitor, lando dropping down to 6th after his pit.

"26" zac sighed as he sat next you, placing a hand on your knee "hes doing well you know.... he a supers-"

However zak never got to finish his praise as gasps fill the garage, looking up to see Max's car ontop of Lewis's. Heart skipping a beat as you realised just how close it was to being lando...

"I have to go- I... what if it was him.. he was so close to them he was only a second away... what if" you whispered all the possible scenerios as tear filled your eyes, causing zac to pull you closer...

"Listen... you can't live your life with what ifs (y/n).. it could of been him but guess what it wasn't andd look where he is know!" He smiles looking up at the monitor just as lando overtakes Charles, reaching p2.

"I mean you could leave... but Together forever I heard?" Zac smirks as he places a headset on your knee as he gets up to get back to his place... "just in case you want to pop in and check up on him... you stresshead"

As the lap count increased, so did your heart rate, as you seen lando still at p2 with 1 lap to go and a 2 second gap between him and perez. Hands hesitating to pick up the headset that remained on your knee like a safety blanket. Only picking it up as the mclaren garage erupts in applause, not only has lando picked up his highest ever poduim but Daniel won!

'Lets fucking go lads' lando screeches as you place the headset on, zac giving you a little nod, letting you know you can talk to him.

"Baby" you whisper through the mic, voice trembling with pride and emotion.

"(Y/n)!!! We did it! We fucking did it!!" Lando screams as he makes his way to the last corner..

"We lando?!? I didn't do anything but hid behind zac the whole time" causing lando to chuckle before the set goes dead and the garage yet again erupts... letting you know the mclarens have parked up.

Lando was the first one out, immediately running over to zac and the rest of the team, and although you could tell he was ecstatic, apart of you knew that he was gonna be disappointed about not getting p1... but he's a team player & at the end of the day thats all that matters.

After the hugs from the team, it was your turn to be pulled into your sweaty boyfriends arms, in the biggest bear hug you've ever been given.

"I'm sooo proud of you baby" you whisper, running your hand through is wet locks. Tears welling your eyes for what felt like the 50th time today.

"I love you so much" he screamed, picking your feet of the ground as he twirled you around, so fast you would of sworn he would of got the fastest lap!

"And by the way" he smirks, locking your lips with his "theres no me without you...."

However your sweet moment was inturpted as you get rudely pulled away from eachother by a certain ecstatic Australian....

"Alright love birds, plenty of that later" grabbing lando by the shoulders, pushing him towards the poduims "continue that later please, me and loverboy here have a shoey to do"

Your heart melts as you hear landos laugh, even from 10 meters away, but nothing made your race more than seeing him mouth the words anyone would dream about hearing.....

"Cant wait too rip them clothes off".....

And by lord did he keep his promise, not even being able to close the door before your 'mclaren 4' tshirt was pulled from your body.

"Ive been dying to do this from the moment I crossed that line" lando groaned as he pushed against the wall, using all his last energy, locking his lips with yours. Tounges fighting for dominance as he unhooks your bra, throwing it carelessly across the room.

Before you knew it you thrown on the bed, just as carelessly as your long forgotten bra.

"How the fuck did I get this lucky" lando moaned as he hovers over your already shaken body, eyes gazing over your bare body, filling with not only with lust but love....

Sitting up you, you lock your lips again....

"I should be saying that too you.." you mumble against his mouth, flipping your body ontop of his as your hands trace down his bare chest.

"Ahh taking in charge I see" he smirks, throwing his arms at the back of his head, as your unbutton his belt, seeing his hard cock push against the poorly made cotton.

"Only the best for my champion" you whisper, pulling down the last layer before getting to work. Lips locking over the tip, as you look straight in his eyes, making sure he can see the collection of pre-come of your tounge as it traces on his tip.

"Fuck doll..." lando wheezed as your hand goes up and down his shaft, his hands pulling your hair back as you take him deeper down your throat. His groans filling the room as your eyes welled up for a different reason this time as you feel his tip against the back of your throat, however you didnt have time to enjoy your meal for any longer as he pulls you away. Leaning down, he latches your lips to his, moaning as he tastes himself on your tounge.

"Dont want to finish in your mouth"

Laying back down, throwing one of your legs over his waist causing you to straddle him....

"Ride me." He demands, and like the good girl you were you took no time to fulfill his needs. Pulling out a condom from under the pillow he wa layed on..

"Dont judge me.. i knew this was gonna happen"

Lando chuckled as you slipped the condom on him, positioning yourself before sinking on him, Causing both of your breaths to hitch...

"Fuck (y/n)... how the fuck are you still this tight after 3 years of fucking you" lando moaned as your hips start to rock against his waist, finding your familiar rhythm as his hands find your waist. The sound of skin slapping could only be heard, as you allowed him to fill you up.

"Fuck lando" you yell throwing your hand back as he places his hand on your clit, matching the rhythm of your hips "dont stop" you scream as he picks up the pace.

Using his free hand to continue guiding your hips on his cock, pushing his hips up to meet yours.

Moans filled the air, both of you knowing full well that the rest of the mclaren could hear your 'private celebration' however neither you seemed to care as your screams filled up the room.

"Im so close" you sigh as lando continues to meet your hips half way, leaning down to meet his lips.

"Me too baby... fuck me too"

Without out any more warnings, lando let go, feeling his seed fill up the condom that was still thrusting inside you.

"Come on baby let go" lando yelled, hand moving faster against your clit as he, attaches onto your sensitive tits. Something that he knew could bring you to cum hust on its own...

"Fuck!!!" You scream as the pleasure washes over you, collapsing on his chest as you both tried to catch your breath.

"I love you so much" he whispered as he pulled your swollen lips into one last kiss..

"I love you too lando" you whispered back, leaning back into his chest as he begins to comb his fingers through your hair, a action that after 3 years of love he knew would instantly put you to sleep... and like everything that boy does, he never fails...

#lando norris #lando norris blurbs #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #alltooNSFW!

[scarofthewind]

Touch at Midnight || Vampire!Brahms x Reader

A/N: This took so long, I am sure half of you forgot about this mini series I did. I’m sorry this took forever, I was just trying to make it perfect as well as work on requests too. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, R18+, breast worship, blood kink, biting, oral (m receiving), dom!brahms, rough sex, no prep, reader is under mind control so consensual/non-consensual, mentions of masturbation, plenty foul/dirty talk, creampie

word count: 2.01k Tip Jar (every bit helps!)

Mini Series Masterlist

There was a time in your life that you thought you’d live past eighty and get to watch your children, grand-children and even great-grand-children, grow up. There was a time that you believed in the world being a decent place and that you would make your mark on it one day. Now, you realized just how delusional it all sounded. Now, you knelt before a man you thought you knew, thought you would grow old with, thought you would love forever, your life dangling before you with nothing to spare. 

When you had met Brahms, you never thought anything of him; just that he was a strange man who liked to keep to himself. You’d applied for a job to work under him; to cook, clean and care for him, as though he couldn’t do it himself. During the first few months of your duties, things were tense with you being new and Brahms really trying to understand what kind of woman you were. However, as the months went on into years, you slowly became drawn to the man, often times thinking of him from dusk until dawn. 

Your mistake really.

See, you had no clue that he was a monster; something only silly children believed in. He was soft and gentle before you’d found out- another mistake on your part. Now he stared down at you with dark eyes that were once directed towards you with such kindness and joy that you almost fell for it; you did fall for it the more you realize. You fell for a man with no remorse for taking a human life, a man that could kill you with just one movement, a man that you didn’t know. Those thoughts alone nearly killed you. 

You’d been sitting on the floor in front of his chair he had in the corner of the library, the moon peeking through the window curtains and casting a small amount of light towards his feet. His eyes were the only thing you could see on his face here in the dark; red with an anger so hot you had to pray he’d have mercy on you. You don’t know how long you’d been like this, unable to move as he stared down at you without moving an inch. The hair on your skin rose when he finally spoke, slow but sharp, “You had to be nosey, didn’t you?” Your lips trembled as you contemplated speaking. “I truly had no intention of ever hurting you; you did your work around the house wonderfully. Dare I say that you were the best at it?”

Your heart hammered in your chest at the confirmation of other caretakers before you, all of which were most likely dead. They probably got too comfortable too and went looking around in places that were off limits for a reason. Like his bedroom; where you remember finding a trunk full of blood bags from the hospital down the road. “Please,” you whimpered, watching him blink before shaking his head, silencing you. 

“I’ve spent years in that pretty little head of yours, listening to everything. I know all of your secrets, (Y/N).” You sucked in a breath as he leaned forward in his chair, hovering over your face with a look that only made you want to cower even more. “I’m honored to know how fond you were of me, truthfully I am. I’d grown fond of you as well, but,” he clicked his tongue, reaching out and grabbing your jaw roughly, ignoring your whimpers of pain. “You know too much.”

“Please, I won’t tell anyone I swear! Just let me go and I’ll leave tow-” you were cut off by a sharp laugh; Brahms’ eyes wild and manic. 

“Leave? No, no, no, you’re never leaving me.” His eyes were intense, red as the flames of hell and staring into your own without so much as blinking. “Here are your options; be my personal blood bank until you die, which is usually a couple of weeks, or, prove to me that you’re worth keeping alive. Of course, both require you to stay here with me,” Brahms touched your cheek gently with his other hand, moving some hair from your eyes. 

“You know I care about you, don’t you (Y/N)? Don’t you want to stay with me?” His words had an effect on your mind that made it hard to think. The world seemed to slow, as if you’d been drugged, but you knew that it was just the power he had, manipulating your mind to believe that whatever he said was true. You could feel tears fall from your eyes as you stared into his condemning ones, a soft hush falling from his lips as he wiped the tears away. 

It was wrong for you to say yes, you knew it even though you couldn’t stop it. Yet, some dark part inside of you almost wished he would keep you this way; brain being manipulated by whatever he wanted for the rest of your days. At least that way, you could imagine everything being right; you could day dream on the thoughts he forced inside your head. One’s where you end up with him, one’s where your happy.

One’s where he loved you just as much as you loved him.

This isn’t love, you thought as you made yourself sit up enough to press your lips against his. 

This isn’t what I wanted, you told yourself when he spread his legs in the chair and you unzipped his pants. 

This wasn’t how I was supposed to live, you cried as his fingers moved through your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his cock.

All you could do was prove to him that your life meant more than just being used as food. The buck of his hips every time you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock made your eyes sting, the length making it hard to take all of it in your mouth. “You look so pretty like this,” Brahms gasped as he felt you take more of his member in your mouth, his eyes scanning your face and his mind going a mile a minute. He knew everything you were thinking as he pushed more ideas into your head, his control on you something he wished he’d never have to do. 

A lulling tug of tiredness waved in the back of his head, knowing that he hadn’t gotten to eat tonight because of the unfortunate incident of you finding his real food supply in his room. Of course, fresh blood always tasted so much better than the crap he had in bags. Brahms felt himself grow bored of watching you try to make him come, you jaw surely was hurting by now. Roughly grabbing your hair, he pulled you off his cock before standing up and pulling you up with him. You barely could get a word out as he turned you facing the front of the shiny, black piano, bending you down to where your front half was pressed against the cool surface. 

He wasted no time in ripping your clothes off of you, throwing them around the room and spreading your legs for his wandering eyes to see. A low growl made your cunt clench as he watched your juices build at your entrance where he drug the tip of his cock across. Brahms gave you no warning before sinking inside you to the base, the air practically taken from your lungs as he began moving immediately, your tight walls getting him off perfectly. “Do you know how many nights I wanted to do this?” He asked as he thrusted his hips roughly, the tip of his cock ramming against your cervix with no signs of easing up. “I’ve watched you, my innocent, precious (Y/N). Your fingers stuffing this filthy whole of yours as you squirm in bed, trying to cum.”

You can feel your walls tighten around his length at his words, your hands trying to grip the flat surface of the piano from the force he was jostling you around with. Your breasts bounced wildly, his hands coming up from your hips to find purchase there. His fingers pinched your nipples, twisting them and pulling until you were soaking his cock in your juices. “Did you know I was watching you touch yourself? I bet you did; you liked it didn’t you? Having someone else watch you fuck yourself until your tired...hmm?” 

“N-No,” you groan, trying to reason with yourself, but the impending orgasm you felt building making it all the harder to. Quickly, Brahms moved you to where you were facing him, your back fully pressed against the piano as he fucked into you at an in-human pace. You couldn’t help the sounds that were coming out of your mouth, urging him to continue. 

“I know what’s in your mind, my love. I’ve seen you think of me while you squirt all over the sheets,” you tremble at his words as his thumb barely grazes your clit. His mouth moving to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and nibbling on it before teasing it with his tongue. With one sharp sting, he sinks his teeth into your breast, a short cry coming from your lips as he eases his hip movements while lapping at the blood pooling from the wounds. “If only you could see in my mind too. Then you could see just how man nights I’ve fucked my fist to the thoughts of this.” He chuckled to himself, licking his lips that were stained crimson. Pulling his head back, he stared down at you with something you didn’t recognize. 

The feeling was good though. Something positive out of the emotional negative you’d been put through. Brahms nearly stilled when you reached up and touched his face, his eyes watching yours for any signs of you trying to get away; all he found was sincerity. Running your fingers through his curly hair, you pressed his head down to yours where he kissed you without another word. From there, the sex was as beautiful as the day you first met him. Then, there had been sun, now there was the moon shining down on both of you. When he had first shaken your hand is was cold but now as he held yours, pinned above your head, it was all warm. 

His teeth managed to find your neck, biting there and feeding a couple of times but other than there, his lips never left yours which were swollen from the heatedness of the kiss. You moaned into his mouth when his fingers circled your clit, your thighs shaking from the intensity of the orgasm that proceeded to wash through you. Brahms made sure to hold you close, swallowing your gasps and cries of pleasure as he eased you through your orgasm. His cock twitched inside you a few more times before he finally came, deep inside you with no regrets. Everything was quiet for a minute, your lips molding against his and the soft pants leaving them was the only sound left. 

When he finally pulled away, you could see the glowing red of his eyes fade, returning to their normal hazel color and looking down at you with the kindness you had once known. His hands moved the hair out of your face and wiped away any tears that still fell, his fingers gentle against your skin. This may have been a different man to you now, but he was still the Brahms you’d fallen in love with years ago. 

That was enough to make you stay.

#🏵.original work #😈.smut #horror imagines #horror x reader #au #Slashers #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms: the boy 2 #brahms heelshire x reader

[pickledpascal]

Secret Weapon

Chapter Four: The Thrill

Warnings: Gore, shootings, guns, violence.

Word Count: 3.7k

Secret Weapon Masterlist

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Seeing Silva in the flesh… It was unsettling. It had to be that blond hair. It was way too light, making him stand out. Ezra had to admit, for a villain Silva wasn’t the most discreet in the way he portrayed himself. Half the people Ezra went up against didn’t always have that… quality about them. There could be aspects about them that made them recognizable but none as stand-outish as Silva. 

Ezra and James stood in the cell with a guard, awaiting for M to appear. Sure enough, the sliding doors off to the side of them opened up to reveal M with Tanner behind her. The man of the hour was encased in a glass box, illuminated brightly from the lights inside. Silva sat in the cell, clad in a nicely pressed prison suit. While MI6 had quite the reputation of taking down some of the worst criminals in history, sometimes they liked to treat them nicely. A little too nicely if Ezra had anything to say about it. 

M took a breath, stopping as soon as Silva’s eyes caught hers. It was like she saw a ghost. Someone who came back from the dead. Ezra and James share a look before fixing their gaze on the man in the cell. It’s a little too quiet, only sounds in the room being their light breaths and the far off buzzing of the lights. 

“You’re smaller than I remember.” Silva spoke first. His voice came through from a speaker, his disembodied voice echoed throughout the small chamber they were in. An enclosure Ezra knew he would despise being in if he were in Silva’s position but Ezra wasn’t the man trying to kill the head of MI6…

M cut back, voice clipped. “Whereas I barely remember you at all.” Oh, no. Ezra could tell she did. Perhaps she remembered him a little too well.

“Strange.” Silva hummed. “For me, it feels just like yesterday.” Then, a smile made its way to the edges of his lips. A creepy one. Perhaps a bit excited for his situation. “Are you surprised?”

“Not particularly. But then, you always were a slippery one.” M admitted, eyes trained on Silva to catch every last move he made. She hadn’t been in the field in a while but her observational skills never suffered.

Silva let out a huff, a laugh. “Maybe that’s why you liked me so much.”

“You flatter yourself.” M hissed.

Silva nodded slightly, tilting his head to look at the pair of agents off to the side of M. “Right. Because they’re your favorites now, aren’t they? Hm? Especially that tall one. I can imagine why.” His eyes raked across Ezra’s form, a dangerously flirtatious glint in his eyes as he stared. It made the agent uncomfortable but he didn’t let it show. James’ gaze hardened at Silva. Being built to kill only enhanced his protective tendencies. “... They kept me for five months in a room with no air. They tortured me, and I protected your secrets, I protected you. But they made me suffer… and suffer… and suffer.” Ezra cocked an eyebrow. Been there, done that. “Until I realized it was you who betrayed me. You betrayed me. So, I had only one thing left: my cyanide capsule. In my back left molar. You remember, right?” MI6 didn’t do things like that anymore. If an agent was killed, then he was killed. There weren’t many cases of kidnapping agents for information anymore. “So I broke the tooth and bit into the capsule. It burned all my insides. But I didn’t die.” He let out a light laugh, shaking his head. “Life clung to me like a disease… And then I understood why I had survived… I needed to look in your eyes one last time.”

M tried her best to not show any emotion. Even if Ezra could tell there was a storm brewing inside her. “Well, I hope it was worth it.” She said simply before she continued, “Mr. Silva, you are going to be transferred to Belmarsh prison where you’ll be remanded in custody until the Crown Prosecution Service deem you fit to stand trial for–”

“Say my name.” Silva interrupted, the sudden change in his emotion surprised M but she quickly composed herself. “Say it. My real name. I know you remember it.”

M narrowed her eyes momentarily. “Your name is on the memorial wall of the very building you attacked. I will have it struck off. Soon, your past will be as nonexistent as your future. I’ll never see you again.” She turned to leave and almost did until…

“Do you know what it does to you? Hydrogen Cyanide?” Silva narrowed his eyes, raising his voice to catch M’s attention. With a glare, he reached into the depths of his own mouth and with a loud, scraping crack, he removed his upper palate. A prosthetic implant that showed the disgusting row of broken, spiked teeth and burned tissue on his face. With a grin, he looked at M. “Look upon your work, mother.”

M watched. The only part of her that showed the horror she was feeling were her eyes. Silva could tell as he looked into them. M quickly turned on her heels and left the room, the agents and Tanner followed her. They walked back to the main corridor of the bunker, M turned all business-like.

“Let me know what you recover from his computer. Has he transmitted the list? If so, to whom? I want this resolved.” M said as they walked, glancing from Tanner to James.

James nodded passively, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Tanner is about to leave with M before she stops him, turning to the two agents. “His name is Tiago Rodriguez. He was a brilliant agent but he started operating beyond his brief, hacking the Chinese. The hand-over was coming up and they were on to him so I gave him up. I got six agents back in return and a peaceful transition.” There’s not much more to say. A reasonable act, even if it possibly cost the life of another. 

“We should go, ma’am. Board of Inquiry begins in thirty minutes.” Tanner reminded M, a slightly concerned look in his eyes. His entire job was being the assistant to the head of MI6.

M nodded, looking at Bond and Wayne again. “I want to know what’s on that computer.” She said again before she followed Tanner out of the bunker. 

The pair watch her for a moment. Ezra then turned to James and pursed his lips, “Time to see if that brain still works, eh?” He joked softly. 

They were a bit tense after James was saved from Silva’s island. The man did reveal the reason Ezra was there. Not exactly to be James’ partner but to watch over him, make sure he didn’t die. James didn’t take well to being watched like a hawk. Never did. That’s why he barely had any partners on missions and usually M would respect his choice. Not this time, it seemed… Ezra and James walk to Q’s new headquarters. Alix could feel the tension as soon as they entered the room but they had a feeling the agents would work it out. 

“I don’t blame you. Not really.” James admitted in a murmur, looking up at Ezra. His words surprised the dark-haired man. “You’re quite the agent. I just think you didn’t… have to be pulled back into all this because of me.”

Ezra tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as a light smile formed on his face. “You’re blaming yourself. Not a good look, 007.” He playfully nudged James with his shoulder. He understood, though. Agents had a complex. They were confident and charming until it came to someone they loved. Then, they blamed themselves. “You haven’t forced me to do anything I didn’t want. Quite the opposite really.” He hummed with a wink. 

James bit the inside of his cheek, refraining himself from smiling. It was hard not to. 

“Quit the flirting, will you?” Q shook his head as he looked down at his computer. Alix was typing away as well as a whole team that was trying to get through Silva’s computer. They sat near Q. Apparently Alix was almost on the same level as Q, just not as included with agents besides their father. 

“Now, looking at Silva’s computer, it seems to me he’s done a number of slightly unusual things… he’s established fail-safe protocols to wipe the memory if there’s any attempt to access certain files.” Alix explained, adjusting their glasses as they looked at their computer.

Q nodded with an affectionate smile as he listened to Alix. Perhaps there was another reason they were up there with him. If only Alix could see Q where Ezra was standing. “Only about six people in the world could program safeguards like that.” He continued for Alix. 

“Of course there are.” James hummed, watching Q carefully attaching cables and wires from Silva’s laptop to the MI6 computer systems. “Can you get past them?”

Q chuckled, “I invented them.” As soon as he’s done attaching the cables, the big screen in the middle of the room lit up and filled with data. “Right then… Let’s see what you’ve got for us, Mr. Silva.” The screen looked like it was filled with a spider-web, data entangled in all sorts of ways. Ezra knew he wasn’t cut out for the Q-Branch. Unlike Alix.

“Sir, what do you make of this?” Alix asked, glancing up at the big screen as the maze of data got even more confusing. 

“It’s his Omega site, most encrypted level he has… looks like obfuscated code to conceal it;s true purpose: security through obscurity.” Q narrowed his eyes for a second, hands clicking on his keyboard as he tried his best to decrypt it. 

James stared at the images. It certainly screamed Silva. Chaos with all the different lines and arrows and codes. His island was practically a big supercomputer with servers all over the place just to power it. Then the images change, rapidly with each try Q typed. 

Q’s tone became irritated. “He’s using a polymorphic engine to mutate the code… Whenever I try to gain access it changes. It’s like solving a Rubix cube that’s fighting back.” 

As numbers roll across the screen, Bond’s eyes catch onto something. “Stop.” He quickly said. It was calm but piqued the interest of Ezra and Q. The web stopped mutating now that Q wasn’t trying to get in. A tiny word is visible as James stared. “Granborough… Granborough Road. That’s an old tube stop on the Metropolitan line. Been closed for years. Use that as a key.”

Tapping a few keys, it finally orientated the images. It’s clear to see what it was meant to be. Other words and symbols are legible. “Oh, it’s a map…” Q realized.

“Subterranean London…” Ezra hummed. Then he blinked. Fuck him. 

A few clicks rang out, hatches in the floor unlocked and slowly flipped open. It confused the rest but it seemed Ezra and James had the same thing on their minds. “What’s going on? Why are the doors open?” Q asked just before the agents bolt from their positions.

“Silva…” Alix realized, eyes fixed on the place the agents once were.

Ezra and James ran to the corridor, stopping at the observation chamber when they realized the two guards at the chamber were down. Both necks broken. “Q, he’s gone.” James quickly said into his earpiece as he caught sight of a grate in the floor that was pulled aside. Silva’s escape plan. “Wayne, I need you to warn M. Go to her meeting if you have to.” He said, slightly out of breath before he started to climb down.

Seemed Ezra didn’t have much of a choice so he simply nodded. He ran back up the corridor. “Got both of us yet, Q?” He asked into his comm. He needed to get out. Perhaps get a car.

Q answered clearly, “Got both of your locations. Easier since you’re still in the bunker.” He joked softly.

“Glad to know you’re not panicking, Q.” Ezra sighed as he pushed past a few doors. Aggressively since he was still running. Agents and other operatives stared at him. Should they have been following him? Probably but it was 009. Whatever it was, he should have been able to get through it.

“Oh, I am. Jokes are just part of my coping mechanism.” Q admitted.

As Ezra made his way to the surface, he heard Q and James banter yet again. Something about the tube. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. Ezra can’t have a car, not yet. Running would work but that meant he had to run halfway across London just to get to M. He hoped he’d get there in time. He’d feel guilty, having M’s death on his hands. 

So he ran. Ezra pushed his legs as hard as they could go, feet were sore after just a few minutes of running through the crowded city of London. They stared, not that Ezra had much time to look. 009 was back on the job and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to finish it. After all, he had a life to live. One that didn’t include London falling or his child out of a job. What kind of father would be if he let that happen? 

Desperation only made Ezra more furious. More motivated. To kill. 

Ezra arrived at the Whitehall Office, just a few moments after Silva it seemed. The security guards inside were freshly dead. The agent grabbed his gun, time to open fire. He quickly went down the hall, shooting stay goons as he arrived at the Board of Inquiry. Such a strange thing to see panic in a usually calm room. 

Silva quickly caught sight of Ezra, turning his fire on him but the agent quickly ducked behind one of the desks. The courtroom was a mess, shots getting fired in all directions. As discreetly as possible, Ezra made his way around the room only getting shot at twice. Silva missed both times. 

He wasn’t the best shot.

James burst in, adding to the line of fire from the cover of a doorway. 007 took a survey of the room as quickly as possible, looking for a distraction of some sort to get M out of there. He glanced at Ezra, winking at him. It took a moment for Ezra to register it but he quickly nodded. The pair pick a fire extinguisher to shoot and do so immediately–steaming white powder obscures their vision of Silva.

But it also obscures Silva’s sight of them.

Eve and Ezra make their way to the middle of the room for some cover fire, letting Tanner guide M out of the building. It seemed Silva had a similar idea because moments later, the offensive fire died down causing James to try and chase after him. Ezra did the same. 

As soon as the pair burst out of the building, they’re too late. Silva was in a police vehicle and drove away. But then… there’s another vehicle off to the side of the building. The agents share a simple look. 

Seemed they had the same idea.

Soon, M and Tanner emerge from the building. Tanner helped M into the car, trying to climb into the other door before the car shot off. He’s confused before he recognized the driver as James.

“007, 009, what the hell are we doing?” M demanded. Ezra looked at M through the rearview mirror. Neither of them answered. “Are you kidnapping me?”

Ezra tried, jokingly, “That would be one way of looking at it.”

Slightly skeptical, M looked out the window at all the chaos happening outside. EMTs were driving, screaming in the opposite direction. Toward the building. It wasn’t exactly hard to put together what the agents were doing. Smart, really.

“Too many people are dying because of me.” M sighed, parts of her walls were coming down. Though, not fully. They never would.

Bond looked at her in the rearview mirror. Their eyes met after a while. “If he wants you, he’s going to have to come and get you. We’ve been one step behind Silva from the start. It’s time to get out in front. Change the game.” The plan was slowly starting to form in his mind.

“And I’m to be the bait?” M simply asked. The pair nodded, surprised when she agreed. “Alright. Just us. No one else.” She wouldn’t have it any other way. The two agents she trusted most with her life.

It couldn’t go wrong. Could it?

Then Ezra pressed a button on the dash of the car. A comms system. “Q… We need help.” The man said, glancing at the man next to him. 

“I’m tracking the car, where are you going?” Oh, Q. He was always the voice of logic. Well, they didn’t exactly need to tell him that at the moment. He’d see.

James spoke up next. “We got M. We’re about to disappear.”

“What?” Two voices this time. Ezra could tell who the second one was. Alix. God, they were so clueless sometimes. They probably got it from him, to be honest.

Slightly amused by the inclusion of Alix, James let out a chuckle. “I need you to lay a trail of breadcrumbs impossible to follow for anyone except Silva. Think you can do it?” Right, back to business. 

“I’m guessing this isn’t strictly official?” Alix asked over the comms, quieter.

Ezra admitted softly, “Not even remotely.”

“So much for my promising career in espionage…” Q’s voice was farther away. Ezra could imagine his disappointed expression already.

—--

M, James, and Ezra stand at a series of different storage units, the car behind them. Ezra looked around at the different units, he had one here too…. The agent walked around to try and remember where it was. M watched as James fiddled with a lock on one of the doors. “Well, I’m not hiding in there if that’s your plan.” She said with a light scoff.

“We’re changing vehicles. Trouble with company cars is they have trackers.” Bond said matter-of-factly as he pulled the door up. It revealed a 1964 Aston Martin DB-5 in a light gray, almost silver color. His favorite gadget.

M let out a light laugh, “Oh and I suppose that’s completely inconspicuous.” 

“Where’s Ezra?” James changed the subject, looking around outside the unit until the agent appeared seemingly out of nowhere with a few guns in hand. 

Ezra went to the DB-5’s trunk. “Wherever we’re going, I have a feeling we’re going to need to stock up, hm?” He popped the trunk open, throwing the guns in the trunk. 

James smiled. He liked the way Ezra thought. Preparedness was not Bond’s forte. With a kiss to his cheek, Bond ran over to Ezra’s storage unit. He took a few more bigger guns before he pulled the door down. The trunk was filled with quite a few guns and other gadgets once Ezra closed the trunk. The pair got in, M sat in the back as the DB-5 roared to life out of the lock up.

They’re on the outskirts of London already and Ezra leans into the passenger seat. Might as well try to get comfortable, he could tell they’d be there for a while.

“It’s not very comfortable, is it?” M hummed as he looked around inside the car. One would have thought she would feel at home in the car, it was about as old as she was. 

James flicked up the cover on the stick shift to reveal three buttons. Ejector seats. One for the driver, another for the passenger, and the last for the backseats. “Are you going to complain the whole way?” He’s slightly irritated but there’s a light affectionate glint in his eyes.

“Oh, go on then. Eject me. See if I care.” M crossed her arms, her shawl moving with her.

Soon, they’re not in London anymore. City was far behind them, only the rolling hills of the countryside started to fill their vision. 

M spoke up again, “So where are we going?”

“Back in time. Somewhere we’ll have the advantage.” James answered. Surprisingly cryptic for someone who liked straight-forward things.

Suddenly it clicked for Ezra. James hadn’t had much of a life before MI6. But there was one thing. Skyfall. His home. 

They were going home. 

Hours later, it was midnight and M was fast asleep in the back seat. Ezra turned his head to focus on the road, then he glanced at James. “Are you sure about this?” There wasn’t much going back now, even if James wanted to. “I can handle it from here.” Ezra whispered.

Adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, James shook his head. He knew Ezra could handle this alone. Far more gracefully than he ever could. But he needed to prove to himself that he could do this again. Be the tool that kills the machine. “I know, darling. But I need to see it through. For my own sake.” James admitted softly. 

Admitting his own faults to Ezra came easy to him. Far too easy than he thought it would ever be with anyone… Besides Vesper. 

He never thought love would come to him again. Not like this. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t think of her. Until Ezra Wayne inserted himself into his life. At the beginning, Vesper was on his mind all the time but then she was slowly washed away like the waves outside his windows. Bond didn’t forget her. No. But existing with the guilt of her death became easier when the dark-haired man would smile or laugh or if James would get the rare chance to see him shirtless.

Well, the only time James did see Ezra was purposeful. The taller man had left his bathroom door open by accident and James took a peek inside. Ezra was preparing for a shower, steam covered the mirror in front of him and he turned slightly. Two adjacent scars stood underneath Ezra’s pectorals among lines of different tattoo lines running down his arms and torso. 

James just hoped he could live another day to see the rest of his body.

#oc #daniel craig character #daniel craig #james bond #james bond x ezra wayne #ezra wayne #007jamesbond #009 #spies in love #spies #secret agents #secret weapon

[bucksfucks]

         amorosa // steve rogers

chapter seven: scattered touches

 chapter one // chapter two // chapter three    

     chapter four // chapter five // chapter six

               ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

                             main masterlist

                            series masterlist

summary || three months after you’d called it quits with steve you realise you miss him more than you thought you would.

pairing || sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader

word count || 1,979 words

warnings || sugar daddy/sugar baby themes, financial issues, undefined age gap, sloppy car sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, angst, fluff — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes || yes this is full of cliches and tropes, let me live out my fantasy hehe

     It was easy for the days to turn into weeks and the weeks into months. With nothing to ground you to reality, life felt like it was slipping through your fingers; not that you really minded. 

    Moving out of Steve’s place was by far the most miserable you had been. 

    He wasn’t there, you weren’t sure if he even lived there anymore. 

    Steve had let work consume him just like you had let your thoughts consume you. 

    Three months passed, in the time you had managed to find a new apartment for yourself. A good, fun job that you actually liked. A job where you wouldn’t have to run around waiting on tables of rich men.

    A job that wouldn’t remind you of Steve. 

    “Do you ever wonder how he’s doing?” Simoné’s voice filled the cozy kitchen the two of you shared. 

    She was still working at the restaurant, but she always enjoyed it more than you ever did. 

    “Nope.”

    Yes you do. You lie awake wondering who he’s with now. If he’s found someone else to spoil.

    “I can tell when you’re lying to me,” she chuckled, giving you a knowing look over her shoulder. 

    You sighed, a sympathetic smile on your face as you knew she was just trying to be a good friend and help you. 

    It was pasta night which meant you were on noodles and she was on sauce. 

    That’s the one good thing about working at a restaurant, the cooks are nice enough to give you free cooking tips. 

    “I do, yeah,” you admit, “I just hate that I do.” 

    She nods, a warm hand on your shoulder as she plates some food for the both of you as you open a bottle of wine, pouring two generous glasses. 

    “He never said anything about Peggy?” She asked as you grimaced at the sound of the other woman’s name. 

    “She was his wife, they ended on bad terms, and that she’s definitely not one to mess with. That’s all I know.” You sighed as you fell into one of the dining room chairs. 

    Simoné gave you a look that said she had more questions, questions that you probably didn’t have answers to. 

    “Peter was nice enough to offer getting some more information on her, but,” you stopped, the sound of your ringtone filling the small apartment. 

    You picked it up, seeing Steve’s name pop up.

    There were no emoji’s, no sign that you had ever been in a relationship of any sorts with him. 

    “I’m not picking it up.” You told Simoné as she rolled her eyes, “you know curiosity killed the cat, but the answer brought it back.”

    You narrowed your eyes, gnawing on your lip as the device vibrated in your hand. 

    “Fine,” you groaned, swiping across the screen and quickly retreating to your room as Simoné shouted various words of encouragement. 

    “Steve what is it?” You said, perhaps a little harshly as you heard a soft sigh on the other end. 

    “Sweetheart, just let me explain everything. Please, I know I sure as hell don’t deserve this chance, but if you let me, I’ll make it up to you.” 

    His voice was low and sweet, slightly hoarse as you hated to admit that you missed the sound of it. 

    There was a hollow feeling inside of you ever since you, in a way, broke up with Steve. 

    “One cup of coffee.” You said, trying to hold back the emotions in your voice. 

    “One cup of coffee.” He echoed your words, your stomach fluttering as you heard him chuckle, “that’s all I’ll need.” 

    “That’s all you’ll get, Rogers.” You chid back, playful edge in your voice before you hung up the phone in an attempt to put together what you were about to do.

~

    Leave it to Steve to pick the fanciest, classiest, and nicest café in all of New York to take you to. 

    You still felt out of place, the hoodie you were wearing must’ve been a dead giveaway that yes, it was your first time here. 

    Yet, you couldn’t stop the feeling of excitement as you lifted your head each time a new patron entered the small shop. 

    It never ended up being Steve. 

    Until it did. 

    He walked in wearing nothing less than what you expected; a neatly tailored suit, polished shoes, and the posture of a Greek god. 

    Fuck. 

    You, along with everyone else, had their eyes on Steve as he stalked through the tables and stopped in front of you. He bent down, placing a kiss to each cheek, “how are you?”

    “Fine,” you replied, slightly mesmerized by his presence.

    He smiled, taking a seat across from you before a waiter quickly took both of your orders, Steve reciting yours from memory. 

    “How’ve you been, sweetheart?” He asked, the pet-name making your heart ache as you didn’t realize how much it would affect you. 

    “Okay, living with Simoné now. And uh, I got a job too, so it’s been good.” You told him, and you weren’t lying. 

    He nodded his head, eyes trained on you as your cup of coffee was placed in front of you.

    “Have you been?” You asked the dreaded question, figuring it was now or never to rip off the bandaid and find out if he’s been seeing someone new. 

    He sighed, running his fingers through his hair; a nervous habit. 

    “I’ve been better,” he gave you a tired smile, taking a sip of his coffee as he leaned on his elbows in an attempt to get closer to you. 

    His musky cologne washed over you, it wasn’t the same one from before. 

    You didn’t know why it broke your heart. 

    “I’m sorry to hear that,” you said, not really knowing how else to fill the silence. 

    He chuckled, “I’ve missed you, you were always so,” he trailed off, “polite.”

    It didn’t take much to realise it was a euphemism and you had to fight back a shiver. 

    You swallowed thickly, inhaling a shaky breath as Steve leaned in closer. 

    “Let’s cut to the chase, yeah?” He asked and you nodded, eyes darting around the little café suddenly feeling as if all eyes were on you. 

    You sat and you talked, you took turns listening, a pastry and a few cups of coffee later, you felt like the old Steve, your Steve, was back and sitting in front of you. 

    “I never meant to hurt you, sweetheart. Peggy,” he whispered her name like it was a curse, “is a part of my past, my past that I wish I could erase.” 

    You wanted to reach over and hold his hand, your fingers twitching and aching for him warmth, but you stopped yourself. 

    “My intentions were never to hurt you, I’ve always wanted to protect you.”

    “You lost my trust, Steve,” you almost whispered as his eyes softened. 

    “I’m not asking you to forgive me, all I want is to know you’re safe and taken care of.” 

    You nodded your head, averting your eyes as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers. This was the Steve you fell in love with. 

    “Can I give you a ride home? It’s getting late and I hate the thought of you on the subway alone at night.” 

    You nodded your head, grabbing your things and following Steve out as you let his words replay in your head. 

    You were on autopilot as he opened the door of his car, a new one by the looks of it as you crawled inside. 

    The drive back was quiet, the subtle roar of his engine mixed with soft music consumed you both as you slowly relaxed into the seat. 

    “Right here?” Steve’s voice brought you back to reality as he pulled up outside of you apartment building, “the one and only.” You chuckled, the first time you had smiled a genuine, carefree smile that night. 

    “I would invite you up, but I think Simoné has an early morning tomorrow.” You said, a small flame erupting inside of you.

    The tension between the two of you had been thick ever since you got into the car. Steve nodded his head, “no worries, sweetheart. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.” 

    You didn’t want to leave, your brain telling you to tell him goodnight, but your body wanted to pull him in by his tie and let him taste you. 

    “You okay there, sweetheart?” He asked, a small smirk on his lips as you shook your head, “yeah, uhm, just thinking.” 

    He hummed, “what about?” 

    You could feel his breath over your face as he leaned in, yours shaky as you met his eyes.

    “Just stuff,” you could barely get the words out before his lips sealed yours. 

    You gasped into his kiss, your fingers going to tangle in his collar, pulling at his tie as he hummed. 

    “Did you miss me, Princess? Did you miss Daddy?” You whimpered at his words, skin feeling on fire as he let his hands roam up your arms. 

    “Daddy sure as hell missed you,” her growled, pulling you over his lap quickly as you let out a squeak, laughing as the way his tie got tangled in your hoodie strings. 

    Your laughter was short lived, a moan replacing it as he ground your hips over his. 

    “Fuck,” your words were strangled as he gently sunk his teeth into the skin of your neck, “that’s it baby, feel what you do to me? How fuckin’ hard my cock is for you already?”

    You shivered, your head falling onto his shoulder as you whined. 

    “Shh, it’s okay, Daddy’s here, ‘m right here,” he whispered, “let me take care of you.” 

    He cradled your face, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt, “please.” You croaked, throat dry before his lips were on yours once again. 

    “Wanna feel you,” you nearly begged, both of your hips rocking against each other as he threw his head back. 

    His lips were red, wet, and slightly swollen as his tie hung loosely around his neck as he made quick work of his belt. 

    “Fuck, Princess,” he groaned, “that’s what you want? Need Daddy’s cock?” He cooed as he slipped your leggings down one of your legs, not bothering with the other.

    It was a tight, crammed space, both your backs would feel it tomorrow, but in the moment, neither of you cared. 

    “Move your panties to the side, that’s it, Princess,” he praises, feeling the head of his cock at your entrance as you throw your head back.

    Sinking onto him has you breathless, nothing else mattering as he fills you up and grips at your hips like he’s afraid to lose you again.

    “Fuck, I-I thought I’d lost you,” he pants as you move your hips over him, “thought I lost the one good thing in my life.” He admits, your heart skipping a beat as your bodies move in sync with each other. 

    You press your forehead against his, the feeling of his warm skin enough to bring a tear to your eyes as he rocks you against him. 

    It’s embarrassing how close you are, but you didn’t realise how much you’d needed to be touched. Not be anyone, but by Steve. 

    “Want you to come for Daddy, don’t hold back,” he grunts, eyebrows knit tightly together as you both sloppily reach your highs in just a matter of minutes. 

    You’re left panting, the windows foggy as Steve presses kisses to your face. 

    You don’t care about the implications, not wanting anything or anyone other than Steve right now.

    It’s a cool night when you finally step out, Steve doing the same before he’s pulling you into one last kiss as he watches you walk away. 

    You give him one last look over your shoulder, “hey Steve?”

    His head perks up, “call me.”

tagging //  @jennmurawski13 | @nakedrogers | @vollzeitliebe | @kelbabyblue | @jevans2 | @babyyhoneyydarling | @cloudystevie | @lahoete | @speechlessxx | @aikeia

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers au #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers drabbles #steve rogers drabble

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 10

WC: 1633

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: anxiety, angst, brief fears of infidelity, discussions of childbearing and marriage/gender roles, psych theories, some manipulation, age difference, brief mention of domestic violence (there is none)

A/N: If you have any questions regarding the tags for this chapter and want to ask me about it before reading please do so! The chapter is not necessarily dark but I understand that some may want me to give a more detailed warning/context. I want all my readers to be as comfortable as possible 💙

🧠

It started out small. He would bring up Dr. Stratton during conversation more and more often. Three times now he had been late to office hours, causing you to have to wait outside his room, nervously checking the time. But it’s nothing, you continue to remind yourself. They’re just good friends that haven’t seen each other in years. And you trust them both.

When another Friday night passed with Laszlo skipping drinks in favor of meeting with Karen, you decided to stay in as well. It had been a month since they reacquainted with one another. In those weeks you had seen less of him outside work. Your sex life was stagnating too, much to your annoyance. He had even canceled at the absolute last minute on a dinner date. Naturally, you had begun to feel a twinge of jealousy at his lack of attention. He kept saying it was work related. Nevertheless, the sullen temperament you'd adopted went unnoticed by the doctor. You felt foolish; you weren’t so needy that you had to make a big deal about it. So you said nothing on the issue.

You sat on the old couch in your apartment. Bitsy was getting ready to go out with Lucius for date night. Picking at your fingers, you decide to ask your roommate for advice. “Hey Bits?”

“Yeah?” she called from her bedroom.

“Can I ask you a question about Lucius?” you start.

“Sure, what’s up?”

You pause as you think of how to word your thoughts. “Do you ever, like, get jealous? When he hangs out with other girls I mean.” Her head pops out of the door frame as she finishes fastening her earring, eyebrows raised in question. “It’s just that Laszlo has been spending a lot of time with Dr. Stratton now that she’s back in town. I trust them and everything, but I’m starting to feel a bit left behind I guess…” you trail off.

“Oh honey, that's normal.” She waves a hand through the air as she speaks. “There’s this girl at the lab that Lucius works with and for the first month I was convinced she was trying to steal him away from me. Turns out she just wanted Marcus, his brother!” Bitsy lets out a cackle.

“Right…” you pick at the skin around your fingernails. “I just feel silly about it. I’m sure I’m overreacting to the whole thing, though. Laszlo would never do anything, and I don’t think Dr. Stratton would either,” you remind yourself outloud. "There's just this thing John said to me about them having a past and I can't get it out of my head."

“It's not silly.” Bitsy had moved further into the bedroom, causing her voice to be slightly muffled. “But if it bothers you that much, talk to him about it. He’s a psychologist, it’s kinda his job to understand emotions and things like this. And if he loves you like you say he does then he’ll put a bit more effort into giving you his attention.”

You marinate on what she’s told you. Bitsy is right, if it bothers you that much then you need to bring it up with him. Be an adult, use communication, and all that. “Why’re you always right and level-headed about everything?”

“Someone’s gotta be, with a hot head like you,” she snarks. Her phone buzzes letting her know her date is downstairs. With a squeeze on the shoulder she bids you goodbye, telling you to let her know if you need anything.

_

The atmosphere in Dr. Stratton’s office felt off. What was usually so open and warm had felt forced and awkward. You were still ignoring the guilt of your jealousy at the doctor. She wasn’t as talkative today, unlike usual. Instead, it was strictly business. You chalked it up to her having an off day.

The two of you discussed in more depth the fetishes and kinks from the list you had compiled. Unfortunately, due to spending less time with your boyfriend the last few weeks you hadn’t had much of an opportunity to try any of the new tricks you were learning about. Therefore, you had little to really talk about in that regard. You found that you didn’t particularly mind, as you were feeling less inclined to want to share about your love life due to your envy towards the woman in question.

Dr. Stratton quietly gathered together her notes from the session and placed them into the folder. You were about to ask if she needed anything else from you when her lips parted before closing again. She leaned forward on her desk towards you. Her fingers steepled under her chin.

She licks her lips. “There is something I wish to discuss with you unrelated to the study.”

You didn’t like where this was going. Dread pooled in your gut at the concerned look on her face. “O-okay.”

“Now I want you to understand that I only bring this up out of concern for your wellbeing and emotional health. But some of the things you have told me over the course of this study have me worried.”

What on earth could you have said that would cause this sort of reaction from her? She was the most calm and collected person you had ever known. To have her speaking out made your heart race in your chest.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before opening her mouth again. “In truth I worry about your current relationship. I fear that-”

Brows furrowing, your mind goes to the worst conclusion. You blurt out “what? No! He doesn’t hurt me or anything, I don’t know what would have given you that impression but I- ”

The doctor reaches out with her hand to settle on your forearm. “My dear take a breath, I meant no such thing.”

You take a deep inhale to compose yourself. “Then what are you talking about?”

“Speaking as your friend, and as an alienist, I fear that this boyfriend is potentially using you for your youth,” she begins the tale she concocted, unbeknownst to you. “In my experience as a psychologist, the young women such as yourself that I encounter with significantly older male companions find themselves locked into the relationship. Typically, it is from dependence on money at first. Over time, the male pressures the woman to be compliant in things like marriage and childbearing. I understand how difficult it is for a woman as driven as you to balance your aspirations with relationships and domestic matters. Do you want children?”

Her statement and question take you back. Confusion is written all over your face. Marriage? Children? Neither you nor Laszlo had ever brought up either subject. You didn’t even know if it was something he was interested in. “Wait what? I'm not sure I follow…”

“Men around his age go through an identity crisis in which they begin to become aware of their mortality. A change in priorities. The most common desire is to procreate, to start a family in which to pass on their wisdom is strongest here. Are you prepared to give him children soon? Of course there is nothing wrong with wanting to be a mother, it is a very noble role. Yet you do not strike me as someone ready for such a large step.”

You can barely form a coherent thought at her onslaught. The whole conversation was so out of the blue that you felt incredibly lost. Did you want children? Did he want children? Now? You wrap your arms around your torso to stave off the uncertainty and anxiety you feel creeping in. No words come to your defense at her interrogation. You are speechless, jaw dropped.

She stands and crosses the room, placing her cool hands on your cheeks. “My dear you are still a child yourself. This is something you need to consider. To… consider the possibility that you can’t give him what he needs. That he may need someone closer to his age with the same priorities, someone more willing to give in to his needs now. I don’t think you’re ready for that. I’ve seen the cost that these girls face. And the societal pressures and judgement you would face being with someone so much older? I think it could throw you into a state similar to after your friend passed. I wouldn’t want to see you in that position again. I want you to have your freedom."

Dr. Stratton looks up at the clock suddenly; “oh! My, I’m going to be late for a meeting, you’ll have to go. I don’t believe we need any more sessions for the study, but I will let you know if anything changes.”

You are too in shock trying to process everything she said to you as she ushers you out of the door with a “think about what I said, dear.” The door shuts behind you.

Karen sat with a huff. She felt a tad guilty for what she had said to you. She had no idea if Laszlo wanted marriage or children, he hadn’t when they were first together. But times change. She hoped that by using the angle of kids and identity crises that she could subtly plant a seed of doubt in your mind. Strike quickly and overwhelmingly, plant the doubt that you weren’t right for him, then push you out before you have the chance to seek answers or reassurance from her. It seemed you bought her false concern as actual worry. You were a great girl. But you were just that - a girl. You couldn’t give Laszlo what he needed, not like she could.

Now she simply had to wait and let your mind eat away at itself, leaving him for the taking.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @thatoneartgalsstuff @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s

#psychopathia sexualis #the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler fanfic #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #tw anxiety #tw infidelity #tw psychological manipulation #gender expectations #scuttle-buttle

[sapphicwhxre]

Hi! could you do fluff 50 and smut 40 from the prompt list with Harry, pretty please? <3

after everything

♡ 40: “this isn’t what i had in mind when i yelled fuck you.”

♡ 50: “this isn’t adrenaline, i want to spend my life with you.”

-

warnings: smut, angst, mention of death, grief, war, f. oral, and vaginal sex

-

everything around you was a blur. hogwarts, your friends, your life. nothing felt real anymore, you wanted to scream and sob. but you couldn’t. in a matter of seconds, your heart had shattered into a hundred thousand painstaking pieces and then shut down completely.

“harry potter. . . is dead!”

among the crowd, deatheaters shrieked with pleased laughter. voldemort himself stood before you with radiating pride.

people took their sides one by one but you stood your ground. not because you wanted to, per say. you no longer cared. there wasn’t a shred of hope or motivation left inside of you any more. not with harry dead. not when your eyes landed on your boyfriend’s cold, limp body and everyone around you suddenly despaired.

he’d want you to fight but you weren’t sure if you could do it.

then his body leaped forward, harry was... alive. he ran and he fought with every ounce of himself. you’d always known could do what he was chosen to do and you fought too. the battle seemed endless but you gave it everything you had left inside of you.

and that was how you’d arrived to the end of the flaming, barbaric second wizarding war. that was why you were now sitting by crumbles of a stone pillar, staring off at the ruins before you.

it hadn’t quite sunk in yet ─ any of it. you were forced to deal with it all at once when your red lipped, battered boyfriend came running towards you, pulling you into an impassioned, ‘i almost lost you' embrace. his touch was cold and desperate and harry scrunched his eyebrows as you shoved him away to the ground. he and his bruised knitted eyebrows stared back up at you and you stepped back, overcome by sudden sobs.

“fuck you harry,” you spit through spilling cries. the boy got back up, determined and rushed to your side.

“y/n, it’s okay now,” he whispered, reaching out to touch you. toppling over with your head in your knees, your body raked with heavy sobs. “love, we won.”

his stomach churned while you mumbled, “fuck you, harry potter, fuck you for leaving me! i th-thought you...” you couldn’t say it, especially not in this state.

“marry me.”

you almost didn’t hear him through your bizarre sobbing but the two simple words hit you like a train. “marry you?” you breathed.

“marry me, y/n,” harry repeated, deep emerald gaze penetrating you.

“no.”

narrowing wet eyes, you shook your head and stood up, storming away from him. “no! absolutely not! you... you bastard!” you screamed, emotions scrambling. “you don’t get to put me through this and decide to fucking propose in the heat of the moment! you don’t get to make me think that you want to be wed to me after everything, you ─”

harry cut you off, pulling you by the waist and looking you in the eye. “this isn’t adrenaline, i want to spend my life with you.” he breathed his words, desperate to make you believe him. “i love you and i’ve never been more sure of that than right now, y/n.”

you believed him yet you could only back away and hiss at him through another sudden, heavy sob. ”fuck you.”

“i’ll buy you a ring, i’ll ─” you cut him off in disbelief. “i don’t need you to buy me anything, my answer’s yes. i love you.”

a silence followed, briefly and he beamed, tears of joy picking his eyes. “brilliant.” he sighed. cupping your face, harry pressed his lips to yours with an intensity you’d never felt before. this time, you didn’t pull away. in fact, you pulled at the collar of his shirt and tugged at locks of his dark hair to deepen the kiss as deeply as you could, yearning to be as close as possible to him.

“harry,” you asked softly and started urging him towards the back hogwarts entrance, not wanting to be interrupted by the inevitable clamouring of everyone who survived. grinning at you, he kissed your temple and took your hand, pulling you to the first empty room he could find. harry pressed you towards the wall gently and kissed your neck frantically, as if it was the first time he'd seen you in years. “i love you,” harry gasped and took a hand to your breasts through your shirt. “i love you so much.”

“this isn’t what i had in mind when i yelled fuck you,” you moaned softly, chuckling a bit. “i’m sorry about that, by the way ─ really.” his tongue swiped your lip quickly and his hands squeezed you softly. “i forgive you,” he laughed, working your garments off as quickly as he could. “you don’t have to go so fast, ‘m not going anywhere babe.”

the reassurance meant more than words could handle to harry but he kissed you firmly and continued. “i know you aren’t, i wouldn’t let you. but i need you y/n.” and that answer was good enough for you.

harry moaned at the sight once your tits fell out of your bra, ready for him to devour. not a second wasted, he attached his mouth to your bud, toying with the other in his fingers. “harry,” you hummed, finding grip in his hair as he sucked at your skin and flicked his tongue against you. he bit softly before pulling away to give the rest of your body attention. a soft but needy groan escaped your lips at him dropping to his knees, right between your thighs. harry delicately slid your panties off of your legs to reveal your eagerly soaked core.

“you’re incredible, you know that?” your response was hooking his head with your leg and prompting his face to your pussy. “harry, i love you but if you don’t put your mouth on my cunt right now,” you warned breathily, “i might just take back that yes i gave you.”

“someone’s not very patient,” harry mumbled before diving his tongue between your legs. he took to an unsteady pace, instead concentrating on relearning every inch of your taste and hearing every moan he pulled from you. “oh, harry, like that,” you praised, legs starting to shake and hands grasping at tufts of his hair. open mouthed kisses and hungry sucking at your pussy while harry's fingers gripped at your ass took you to a point where you were bucking towards him greedily. he muttered against you but you barely heard him over your moans and nearing orgasm. “so good, y/n.”

it washed over you and harry lapped up your cum onto his tongue, slurping and sucking at your sex to taste all of you. taking a bit onto his fingers, harry stood and took his digits to your lips. “suck darling.” you complied without breaking eye contact and sucked your arousal off of his wet fingers. at the same time, he pulled his dick out of his trousers and readied himself to fuck you.

“good girl,” harry praised as his tip parted your cunt to enter you. you groaned in a slight pain that was instantly taken over by bliss. “fuck,” harry mumbled into your ear. “so nice and tight for me, lovely.” harry’s thrusts into you remained impossibly loving, bucking deeply into you. “harry, you feel so good,” you moaned loudly.

“just for you y/n,” harry took hold of your thighs to prop you up and fuck higher into you, making your tits bounce for him. “just for the beautiful woman i’m going to marry.” film worthy sounds came from the both of you, finishing onto the other.

“i love you,” you collapsed your head into harry’s neck, feeling the safest you’d ever felt. harry whispered your three words back with the utmost significance.

“i love you too. more than anything and after everything.”

─────♡

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #hogwarts x reader #harry potter series #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter #harry james potter x you #harry potter fluff #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter imagine #harry potter imagine #harry james potter smut #harry potter smut #harry x reader #harry x reader smut #harry potter x reader smut #harry james potter x reader smut #harry potter angst

[jaekaicx]

free falling

oh and i wrote a lil thing for it. ao3 link

alts and fic under cut :3

He was gonna fall.

Oh god he was gonna fall.

Marcy could only watch as King Andrias (King. Andrias.) held Sprig over the edge. They could hear his giant hand squeeze around his small body. Sprig’s grunts of pain twisted at something inside of Marcy, but he just couldn’t bring himself to look away.

So much has already happened in such little time. Marcy was still trying to process Sasha’s betrayal, yet his mind was still reeling from moments ago, when they got outed by King Andrias. He could still see their faces imprinted in their mind: Sasha’s anger and Anne’s distraught. He hadn’t even begun to work through any of those emotions yet. Everything kept happening so fast. It felt like they were scrambling to pick up the pieces of himself while someone else kept stomping all over them.

And as everything continued to go on around him, as the world continued to crumble in Marcy’s hands, they could barely bring themself to pay attention to Anne’s plea to Andrias. Some sort of “power of friendship” speech out of a cartoon Marcy normally would’ve soaked right up if it weren’t actually happening to him right now.

Now all Marcy felt was a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t work. Anne could plead all she wanted about how much Sprig meant to her, but Andrias wouldn’t listen. Not after everything he’s done. Besides, they knew well enough by now that Amphibia isn’t some fantasy. No, this was a place where tropes got thrown on their heads and dreams got crushed.

And he was only proven right when King Andrias opened his hand and let Sprig go.

Sprig was just a small flash of pink and green before he fell out of sight. A crushing weight fell onto Marcy’s chest.

No. No no no nononononononono! Sprig! No he can’t-

The world around him blurred together as Marcy’s mind ran a mile a minute. There’s no way Sprig was dead. There’s no way. But they knew the castle was high up in the sky by now, nearly a thousand feet up at least. No one could survive a fall from that high.

The weight only got heavier as his mind spiraled further. None of this would’ve happened if they had never come here in the first place. If Marcy just hadn’t been so dumb, so naïve. If he had never trusted Andrias, had never run off to Amphibia, had never found that goddamn music box! None of them would be here now. Anne and Sasha wouldn’t hate each other. Wouldn’t hate Marcy. Andrias wouldn’t have the power of the calamity box in his possession. Sprig wouldn’t have fallen.

They had to fix this.

As if on queue, a bright blue light flashed from in front of Marcy. Anne was there, crying on her hands and knees, her hics and shaky breaths drowned out by the sound of flowing energy. Waves of blue light surrounded her, roaring with life. No way…

It- it couldn’t be… right? Marcy had skimmed over bits about the gems holding immense power, but that couldn’t mean they had power too. Yet, the proof presented itself right in front of them, as a trail of blue power crawled its way over to Anne from the music box.

So much of Marcy’s mind begged him to stay and watch, because holy shit the powers were actually real?! But they shoved it all to the side as they took the perfect opportunity to go. The attention was all on Anne. Now was his chance. Marcy bolted up and ran for the window, begging that the bots’ aim hadn’t improved. Their heart leaped when the lasers hit just inches away from his feet, but he kept running. They ran up and launched themself out the window and into the open sky.

…

Air was fucking painful.

The wind whipped around them as Marcy dove through the sky. It rushed past his face, strained their skin and whipped around his cape. He could hardly keep his eyes open with all the air rushing up into them, and the wind ruffled their hair all over their face. But they kept going. They had to save him. He had to do at least one good thing in their life.

Marcy positioned himself into a diving form, vague calculations and notes about aerodynamics and airflow flying through their head. He stiffened their limbs and made his body as straight as possible, willing their body to just go faster. He stared downward, focusing on the pink dot as it grew, bit by it. Marcy allowed a little bit of hope to form in their chest. His muscles strained, and they could feel himself try to stretch farther, as if it would make him fall just a little faster.

The dot grew into a figure, and soon they were feet away from Sprig. His tears splashed onto their face as the air roared around the two. His mouth was open in a soundless cry, drowned out by the roaring wind. Marcy reached out, just inches away from him now. He stretched out, hoping to grab something, anything, before grasping a small pink hand.

They pulled him up and wrapped their body around him, shielding Sprig’s body with his own. Marcy could just make out their own whispers of “I got you” and “You’re gonna be okay” escape from their lips. He gripped him tighter as the ground hurtled towards them.

Marcy’s eyes were shut tight, closed the moment he wrapped himself around Sprig. It would only be moments before the two would hit the ground, and Marcy could do nothing but try to keep Sprig from getting too hurt. He tensed up, waiting for the time to come. They even thought he saw flashes of their life fly by their eyes. But just as he braced for impact, he felt a much softer thump as the feeling of free fall went away. They peeked open an eye to see the familiar red feathers of a dear friend.

Joe Sparrow. He had caught them. Oh, right. Marcy had whistled for him as he dove out the window.

Marcy could finally hear their heavy breaths without them getting drowned out by the rushing wind. He could faintly make out small, shaky breaths from the young frog in their arms. Right, they should probably let go.

Marcy repositioned himself on the seat as Joe climbed up through the sky, towards the flying castle. They opened up his arms to see Sprig curled up on himself, shaking.

He didn't move from Marcy’s lap, so they carefully asked, “...Sprig?”

Sprig slowly opened a large eye, peering up at a concerned Marcy. “I-...” he whimpered, “...M-Marcy?”

They let out a relieved sigh. “Y-yeah. It’s me.”

Sprig let his eyes open up fully as he realized where he was. He patted around his body as he let out a breathy laugh. “I’m… I’m alive?! Holy frog I’m alive!!”

He held himself as he laughed, rocking back and forth on the saddle as tears leaked from his eyes. Marcy let himself smile, chuckling a bit as they watched Sprig. Despite the persisting pit in his gut, a small bit of warmth grew in it, comforting.

I… I did it.

They saved him.

Despite everything going to shit, at least one good thing happened that day.

#gaymer art #hehe hair go wooooosh #see i write sometimes #amphibia #amphibia true colors #amphibia fanart #marcy wu #amphibia fanfic #sprig plantar #anne boonchuy #idk ive just been thinking abt that scene