#‘⠀please know how much i want this ( desires )

[shy-writer-999]

AHOY can i humbly request op men hcs for when they accidentally cum too early (monster trio + ace sabo law and kid) if you so desire 🤲

i got a couple requests about this same idea and i am so happy to oblige!! (afab reader) please note there are a handful of instances of "girl" being used in dirty talk! (´ ᴗ｀✿)

ZORO

He’s buried deep inside of you when he cums on accident.

He can’t help it, you’re just too wet and hot for him—he underestimated how close he was to cumming.

You’re both sitting up and you’re straddling him with your legs wrapped around him. Every time he fucks up into you, his tip nudges on your g-spot.

The dirty noises you make are what really drive him crazy.

Every time you say, “fuck Zoro,” or “feels so good, Zoro” his cock twinges—he can only take so much.

One particularly deep thrust and he’s convulsing and shuddering.

He can’t even get out a warning, he just explodes inside of you with a deep groan.

“Zoro, did you just cum? What the fuck”

“’m sorry babe”

His cum is leaking out of your cunt and you’re pouting because you were really looking forward to cumming on his cock.

“I wanted it, Zoro” >:(

He pulls out of you, and you whimper at the emptiness.

“I’ll make it up to you” he purrs in your ear, and you get goosebumps.

He picks you up and puts you on your back on the bed. He scoots down between your thighs and starts to fuck his cum back into you with his fingers.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“Do you like it when I finger fuck you? You like how my fingers feel inside of you?”

You quickly become a fucked-out mess. He knows how to use his hands, that’s for sure.

He admires the cum seeping out of your entrance that he shoves back in with his fingers—it adds so much lubrication, and the idea that your wetness and his cum combined are being stuffed back inside of you gets him hard (again).

“Cum on my fingers, baby, juuusttt like that.”

SANJI

You’re riding him cowgirl-style when he cums inside you too early.

His hands are on your hips and he’s looking up at you, mesmerized by the way you roll your hips on his cock and by the way your tits bounce as you grind back and forth.

He’s lost in pleasure. Heat builds inside of him and every time you moan his name so sweetly, he gets closer to letting go.

Unexpectedly, his orgasm crashes on him like some huge wave, white-hot and crushing.

He bucks his cock up into you and his grip tightens on your hips, holding you in place.

He can feel your walls pulse around him, and you try to keep fucking him, not realizing what just happened—you’re confused at the fact that he’s making you stay still.

When you inspect his face further, he’s making that face, the face he makes when he orgasms.

His brows are pinched together, his eyes are closed, and his mouth is open. He’s making the cutest panting sounds and lets out the occasional muted whine.

“Fuck, my love, sorry”

“Sanji, did you just cum?”

“Mmmhmmm sweetheart, my bad”

He takes a couple moments more, surrendering to the last ripples of pleasure from his orgasm

“Just give me one minute and I’ll go for round two, gorgeous.”

His eyes are glossy, his cheeks are flushed, and his hair is ruffled—he looks messy, and it emphasizes how hot he is.

You make the move to pull off his cock, but his hands hold you in place.

“Hold on, angel, I’ll be ready in just a second.”

You huff and sigh, sitting there with his cock in you. It does feel good so there’s not much to complain about. Also, his refractory period is insane; he can go round after round, and he never fails to make you orgasm multiple times.

He’s like a rabid animal for your pleasure and he’ll do anything to get more.

After a few minutes, he’s ready to go again.

“Alright darling, keep riding me. Wanna feel you cum on my cock now.”

LUFFY

Luffy is fucking your doggy style with his chest pressing on your back.

His arms are wrapped around your waist and he’s fucking you hard and fast.

You have no clue what’s going on other than that Luffy is railing you into oblivion.

He’s literally feral and could fuck you for hours (and he does)

After so much toe-curling pleasure being extracted for your core, you’re sweaty, sticky, and dripping with own arousal.

There’s a small puddle underneath where he’s fucking you—drops of your own juices that have seeped downwards.

You can hardly talk at this point, the only word you can force out is his name “Luffy.”

In an instant he cums all over your insides, painting your cunt white. It’s so much cum that it oozes out of your entrance and onto the base of his cock.

He knew that he shouldn’t have, but the orgasm had hit him like a train.

“Fuckkkk” he groans and pulls out of you.

“Luffy, did you just cum?” You’re annoyed because you had been so so close to orgasming.

“Yep” He’s nonchalant about it.

He doesn’t think it was such a big deal, but he knows that he should and will make you cum. He always does, so it’s no biggie if he released too early on this one. No matter what happens you will be more than satisfied.

So, he fingers you for a while until he can go again, then he fucks you so hard you see stars.

LAW

When he’s not making sweet love to you, he has a really dirty mouth.

He lets it all out shamelessly.

“Poor little thing. You need me to fix you up?”

His voice is deep and sounds like honey, with a sprinkle of smugness

He’d like you to beg him for it, he gets off on the idea that you need his cock so much you resort to being pathetic and whining for it.

“Yeah, you want my cock that badly? You wanna cum on my cock like a good girl?”

He’d fuck you prone bone and rub your clit at the same time, and when he gets tired of that he makes you ride him reverse cowgirl.

He is an ass man, there’s no question about it.

He’d grab fistfuls of your ass as he watches himself slide in and out of you.

As you spasm around his girthy cock, he starts feeling like he’s going to lose control.

He’d groan and growl at you to keep going, “ride it just like that and don’t stop.”

He’d throw in the occasional pet name—they only make an appearance in bed.

He’d praise you and tell you that you’re “doing such a good job for me, sweetheart, pussy feels like it’s made for me.”

Out of the blue, he’s cumming. He didn’t realize that he was at that point and he’s surprised.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, fuck.”

He loves to cum in you, but he pulls out at the last second and cums on your ass.

“Lawww,” you whine. “Wanted to cum on your cock. Why’d you pull out?”

He knows that he came far too early and he’s pretty embarrassed about it, he apologizes once but won’t say more than that.

His spur of the moment thinking is that if he pulled out before you orgasmed, he can eat you out until you cum on his tongue. He’s not a huge fan of a mouthful of his own cum so he had to prevent that.

When he goes down on you, he makes a real mess until his face and your thighs are covered in your juices.

He fingers you at the same time and alternates between licking your clit and fucking you with his tongue.

And boy, does he deliver. He eats you out so well that your orgasm is better than what it would have been if you came on his cock.

Your eyes roll back in your head, and you grab and pull on his hair so hard it hurts.

“All better now?”

ACE

Ace has you in a mating press, fucking you as deep as he can.

He has one of your thighs pushed up, his fingers are digging into your supple skin.

As he grunts out sweet things, he looks so damn hot.

His muscles are rippling, his hair is really messed up, and his freckles are scrunching up.

He just won’t shut up during sex, he knows you love hearing him.

“You’re so gorgeous with my cock in you.”

“Do you like how my cock feels, pretty girl?”

“So wet for me, sweetheart”

“Your cunt is so tight for me, beautiful, you’re doing such a good job.”

“Want you to cream on my cock, baby, let it all out for me.”

Before you actually can cream on his cock, the pace of his hips becomes frenzied and haphazard.

He’s groaning suspiciously deep and desperately—you wonder, is he about to cum?

He is, in fact, about to cum.

He gets so carried away by how your walls are squeezing him and how pretty your face looks that he shoots cum inside of you unexpectedly.

His hips come to a stop and he almost collapses on top of you.

“Fuck, babe, I’m so sorry, came too early” he’s pouting, you can tell he really is sorry.

You tell him it’s ok but he knows how badly you needed it.

“Let me make it up to you” he kisses your cheeks and forehead and then pulls out of you.

He goes to grab your vibrator and comes back.

Ace spreads your legs on the bed and one of his hands comes to hold your thigh down for better access.

He turns on the vibrator’s pulse setting and holds it up to your clit, you yelp in response.

"Fuck, Ace, feels so good” you keen his name as the vibrator’s pulses send zaps of electric pleasure to your core.

He starts to finger fuck you and you get to the point of orgasm rapidly.

“You’re doing such a good job, princess, just a little bit more.”

“Cum on my fingers, darling.”

You cum and gush all over his fingers.

Afterwards he gives you kisses and promises he’ll try his best not to cum too early next time.

SABO

Okay, so I DO want to write about Sabo but I fear I don’t know his personality much since he hasn’t reappeared where I’m at in the anime—it will only be in a few episodes though, I think! So I’m going to do my best guesses based on what I know about him. From my understanding he’s a little freak of a man, and by that I mean he’s HOT and I want him to be freaky in bed… Also he seems polite. AM I tripping or does it seem like he’d be the type to do love bites during sex and have a really dirty mouth? And he could get a little possessive…

Am I just projecting? … Probably. So here’s what I came up with:

He’s fucking you in missionary when he cums too early.

He’s in the middle of saying something really nasty.

One of his hands is braced next to your head and the other reaches down to rub circles on your clit.

When your hips jerk up in response, he has a little smirk.

“Does that feel good? You like it when I touch your clit?”

Because of his position, he gets a really deep angle, fucking down and into you.

He watches your face the whole time and adjusts his movements based on how much you moan or how contorted your face is with pleasure.

“Fuccckkkkk, you’re taking it so good.”

He adjusts his strokes to be as fast as they can, and when your fingernails start digging into his skin the pain pushes him over the edge (he likes it)

When he cums too early, he’s pretty dramatic about it.

Just shoots his cum inside of you with heaving breaths and the cutest O-face.

He apologizes a lot afterwards and will do anything you ask him to, so he can make up for it.

---

Also aaaghhhhh I wanna feed the kid lovers so bad but I fear I am just not attracted to him so I shan’t write for him (well, not right now at least…)

that's all for this one!! don't be shy to send over some pseudo-kinktober requests, check my masterlist for the info or just send over whatever pops into ur head lol.

[dragonsholygrail]

gimme a loving monster husband harem that loves me for me and won't get angry or disappointed when I suck at life please.

I went like super high-fantasy with this. If you’d like a different version lemme know but this is the brainrot speaking for me right now lmao

You groan, putting your head in your hands from the stress you’ve been going through for the past few days, weeks, or was it months? You didn’t know anymore but you were so tired.

Your Monster Harem surrounds you, providing comfort where they can. Your Dragon concubine wraps his tail around you from behind, silently letting you know he’s there for you. Your Phoenix Hybrid and Wolf Hybrid concubines rest beside you. Your mermen and demon concubines spread out among the steps. All while your Minotaur concubine lays before you are your newest prize.

“Your majesty, you’re ruining the empire. The people are in desperate need of leadership,” one of your advisors dares to speak up, their concern evident if they risked speaking to you outright about it.

Your mermen and demon concubines hiss at the advisor, furious that they insult you. Your Dragon concubine growls in warning, eagerly wanting to set the advisor on fire for their disrespect. And your Minotaur concubine bellows in anger, shaking his head and ready to charge at them with your command.

They all knew you were trying your best. Even when you felt like you were constantly failing and sucking at life, they were always right there to comfort you. Showering you in all the affection you could desire. In their opinion you were a wonderful and beautiful Empress no matter what you did. They loved you endlessly and there was nothing that could take them from your side.

“I think you need to leave while you’re ahead. Or else you’ll be leaving without one,” your Minotaur concubine rasps, just waiting on your word to take this bastard out.

But you don’t, far too distraught to find the joy in murder today. And the advisor scurries out of there in the blink of an eye.

At the sound of a cry breaking past your lips, all your concubines turn to you. Their hearts aching to see their empress in such pain. Rushing toward you they hurry to comfort you, all of them surrounding you and reaching to hold even an inch of your precious plush body.

“Don’t listen to them, my love. You’re doing all you can,” your Phoenix concubine murmurs with so much tender affection it allows you to cry even harder.

“And it’s enough! More than enough,” your Wolf concubine quickly adds. He nuzzles into your neck, a rumble moving through his chest at your closeness.

Your tears move through you freely as you release all your pent up emotion. Your arms wrap around as many of your concubines as you can, basking in their warmth and adoration.

From behind you your Dragon concubine growls, still not liking to see his Empress in such distress. His forked tongue runs along the nape of your neck, causing you to shiver against your concubines.

“You’re doing so good. No matter what anyone else says. Trust us. Trust me,” he says lowly. His claw reaches out and softly turns your chin toward him, meeting your eye for a moment before descending down and kissing you passionately.

Your other concubines help you to lay back on your throne and get as comfortable as possible. Not wanting you to worry about a thing. As you get swept up in the hot kiss of your Dragon concubine, they swiftly undress you. All of them wanting to kiss you as well.

You gasp into the Dragon’s mouth as you suddenly feel the other’s mouths and tongues covering your sensitive body. They grab at you, their differing claws taking handfuls of flesh in their palms, loving your squishy body and how it welcomes their eager hands.

The Minotaur concubine reaches your precious cunt first. Groaning at your glistening lips, not knowing how quickly you get wet for them. His wide tongue runs through your folds you cry out, body jerking into his mouth.

The Dragon takes the chance to slip his tongue deep inside your mouth and you moan. All these sensations clashing together and creating a symphony of pleasure.

You desperately try and rock into your Dragon and his magical tongue, into the hands of your other concubines, and into the skilled tongue of your Minotaur all at once. Your pleasure skyrockets at the never ending pleasure unleashed upon you.

Your Dragon’s tongue somehow moves perfectly in sync with your Minotaur’s. Both of them dipping their tongues as deep inside you as they could go. Your Minotaur switching between sucking on your clit and filling your fat cunt with his wide tongue. Your dragon moving between exploring your mouth and brushing his tongue against yours. All of it making your toes curl and your body shake.

The Minotaur concubine is shocked at how quickly you gush all over his tongue, your release flooding into his mouth. He releases a long grunt and laps up your orgasm like a man starved. It has you whining and whimpering into your Dragon’s mouth.

Your other concubines go nearly feral at the sight of your release. Their hands and mouths stop their groping, biting, and licking to gravitate toward your sweet essence. They swipe at your thighs all fighting for a taste.

All of them trying to push your Minotaur out of the way to get to your pulsing core first. You sigh with contentment as you lean back against your Dragon, knowing you’re in for a long night of pleasure.

All the worries about your Empire fading into the background to wait another day.

[twinkletfout]

— Cockwarming Hiromi Higuruma🎀

Soft whiny moans escaped from you, as you sat on Higuruma's lap his cock snuggled inside you. He gave no attention to you as he looked through his documents and scribbled on it. Your pussy trying to accommodate his sheer size as it moulds its shape inside you, god, you wanted to move so bad. Your legs were splayed on top of his thighs while you were gripping on the desks trying to sit still. If you moved a bit trying to get some kind of friction, one of his hands would come to slap on your twitching clit.

You turned to look at his face slightly with your innocent eyes, begging him to let you move. But too bad, he was liking this too much. “Hm?” He grunted, still not looking at you. You whined to get his attention, as you felt him twitching inside you “hiroo?” You asked with a drunken gaze. He sighed as he put his pen down, relaxing on the chair. When he adjusted the way he sat, your hips instinctevely sank on top of him, feeling him stirring even deeper inside you as you let out a moan, trying to maintain your composure.

He let out a chuckle at your pathetic state “you are practically begging for it, aren't you?” He whispered in your ear when you felt your back pressing onto his clothed chest. One of his hands came up to graze your abdomen, as he gently rubbed it. “Feel that?” he said moving a bit, as kissed the nape of your neck, the breath hot against your skin. You stirred on his lap, letting out a whimper. He gave a harsh slap on your thigh, “be quiet, sweet thing” he mumbled “we don't want anyone interrupting us, right?” his hand snaked up towards your throbbing clit “so wet f’ me” he jerked his hips, you bit your lips so hard as you tried to contain the moan.

He pushed both of your legs up to your shoulders telling you to hold it in place. If anyone walks through the door in front of you.. they will get a clear view of what's unfolding between them. But you knew no one dared to come through that door when you were with Hiromi. But the thrill of being used like this only made your desires deepen. He kissed your cheek several times as he whispered “im gonna fuck you— so hard” his breath hitched when you said in a hushed plea “please”

You felt him smirking slightly as he gripped on your thighs to pull you up slightly to pound into you. You threw your head back as you felt your need getting satisfied through each thrust. The chair under him shaking violently cause of the sheer force of him fucking into you. He grunted close to your ear. Letting you know how much you are making him feel. Your walls clenching on to his girth so tight when you felt yourself orgasming around him, he let out the most erotic moan known to mankind “God— you are killing me” you were trembling all over as he kept you in place not giving you any second as he kept on pounding into you determined to fill you to the brim.

“Slow- go slow, hiro!” you pleaded, he shushed you, as he shifted the weight of both of your legs to his one hand, and used his other hand to give a firm slap to your ass. A suppressed moan left you in the stinging pain. “I told you to be quiet, didn't i?” his pace picked up as he gripped on to the flesh of your ass, when you felt him fumbling the rhythm, his grip on your ass tightening, leaving harsh, red marks as he thrusted inside for the last time, strings of cum painting your gummy walls. As he let out a long pant, releasing his grasp on you as he made you look at him. A grin flashing across his face at your fucked out expression as he leaned in to kiss you, his cock still warm and snuggled inside you.

[cloudnineminusnine]

spicy sun wukong and destined one headcanons, mdni.

(thanks to nanashiii and the *cof cof* deep conversations we're having on this topic! credits to her too! s2)

⚠︎ those were made with black myth's sun wukong/destined one in mind ⚠︎

sun wukong

• lots of wet kisses;

• biting and licking too;

• he would love to be touched nonstop, be it your hands caressing his face, your lips kissing on his neck, or your nails scratching on his chest;

• totally messy when giving you head cause he gets too overwhelmed by the warmth of your soft skin around his ears;

• would be fucking noisy. moaning, grunting and, of course, talking. he just wouldn't shut his mouth (you want that mouth shut? kiss him);

• the nonstop talking would somehow turn you on;

"you are so tight", "ah, i can feel you pulsating around me", "it is so deep inside you", "so hot... are you trying to make me melt?"

• his breathy voice and the precisely detailed descriptions would be more than enough to test your resistance;

• whenever you take him in your hands or mouth he instantly turn into a babbling mess;

• would still be pretty vocal tho, he knows you like it;

"your hands are sooo smooth", "you won't stop staring, heh... you like it that much?", "so that pretty mouth do much more than just yelling at me...", "you want me to just push it inside, don't you?";

• he also insists on his dirty little questions until you answer (or beg) him properly, that's like music to his ears;

• would find it amusing that his dirty talk have such an impact on you, and even cackles at your needy moaning;

• what really turns him on is seeing how desperate you get by his words and actions, plus your embrace around him;

• you want him to go faster? good. he will go painfully slow just to oppose you, taking it out completely then pushing as deep as he can and repeating it until it gets hard for him to resist your begging.

the destined one

• heavy-breathed sloppy kisses;

• he would make you touch him by taking your hands and guiding them through his body;

• is all over you whenever you take him into your touch, his gaze splits between your working hands and your face contorted in desire;

• lots of moaning, grunting and cussing under his breath. lots of pleading too;

"please, please...!", "keep going", "i need you so bad";

• gets impatient in the middle of it and ends it by himself (he loves being watched by you);

• he's very needy;

• but he's also very mischievous and once he gets confident enough you're fucked (literally, ha);

• hands roaming all over your body, groping possessively;

• his mouth would be either whispering obscenities against your ear or planting kisses and biting on your neck;

• the more you beg the faster he goes, as if following your orders was instinct;

• he would love to eat you out, sometimes being able to cum just from getting you off;

• you got him rolling eyes back with the firm grip on his furred head, he goes crazy over it;

• praise. him. he loves to hear you telling just how good he makes you feel. all the time.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Yandere vampire hunter D

‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊Yandere D and his obsession ♡...

~✧ Having D as your yandere is a complex experience. He wants to be close, but he stays far away. He needs to make sure you're safe, but please don't see him. He cannot bear the pain of your rejection.

~✧ Unlike his reputable existence- he's not a cruel yandere. he's too gentle for a dhampir, but too unorthodox for a human. He's an entity all of his own- a strange creature that beckons silently and unexpectedly under to your heed and calls for help, without you even knowing it.

~✧ He's a stalking yandere who watches and protects you from far away- he'll always be the eerie extra set of footsteps that follow accompany you home. He's the shadow who occupies the darkness that lingers in doorways- the shape of a foreboding figure leering silently in your home when you think you're all alone... Unaware of the filthy vampires blood that wets his blade, the one that stalked you home that very evening. He took care of it, but you don't need to know that.

~✧ He is always near- as much as he can spare, when he is not hunting the creatures whom he shares blood with. It is not often that he parts from your shadow from afar, and traverses away from the direction of your sweet breath and presence- but when he does, you'll always linger in the back of his mind.

~✧"I mean it D. This is getting dangerous now". The parasite will seeth quietly, only to be wordlessly silenced with a stern commanding grip. This is of no concern to you, stay out of this.

~✧ The parasite will grumble and huff. Of course this is of concern to him. He can see every dark crevice of this dhampires mind- and frankly he's tired of the constant presence of you occupying it. Your name, your face, your hair, your figure, your blood-

~✧ Silence. D will command with a cool, icy tone. Peeved.

~✧ D has vowed to protect you from everything that means harm, and he means everything. Even himself. He can deny all he wants, but he knows his urges will always be lurking within him- no matter how hard he resists. Be assured he's a damn good fighter, but it will urge him to stay away further for the sake of your safety.

He is half human like you, yes- but he also has the blood of vampyre. Dark depraved creatures of the night that desire blood and agony. He cannot deny himself of his own existence, he has tried well and truly- and this obsession of his won't change that.

The parts of him that reveal are always soft and lenient. Subtle and protective. If only you could see the darkness of his desires that twist and coil within him like a nest of asps. Slithering and hissing with poison and desire.

~✧ But believe it when I say this, he is not a sadistic creature. Especially towards you. He may hunger for you, desires of possession and adoration grasping at his cold heart- but trust that no harm will ever come to you. Especially by his own hand or word. Does he frighten you with his daunting height and unnerving presence? Very well. He'll stay out of sight, appearing nothing more than a shadow in your footsteps. Does being followed home scare you? Then he shall take care in not getting too close then- close enough where you are within his sights, but not close enough where you can hear his steady and even footsteps following in your own tracks.

~✧ As time goes on and you inevitably catch onto his presence, things will gradually change. There's only so many times you awake to find yourself properly tucked into bed after collapsing onto your couch after a long day at work, or capture a glimpse of the tall foreboding shadow in your doorway to use the same excuse of exhaustion to explain it. It's not just paranoid fueled visions anymore.

~✧ However, much to your chagrin and determination to expose whoever this mysterious guardian angel of yours is, he'll never expose himself. He can't afford it. You'll often be left feeling like a fool as you call out into the dark street for whoever he is to appear- only to be met with the stillness of the lonely night and sound of cicadas chirping softly in the grass.

~✧ The only scenario in which he would ever approach and expose his identity, is if you were in trouble. Still- once the threat is gone, and you are safe, he's eager to dispel back into the shadows.

~✧ The thing with D as a yandere, is that he's fully lucid about what he's doing is... Wrong. But he can't help himself. Often he is troubled with the morals of his own doing- a neverending internal debate. Thoughts upon thoughts spiral and twist into an endless entangling web, and all he can do is mull over it and helplessly tangle at his own thoughts with a distant stare and tongue held between his sharp teeth. Brooding and mulling.

~✧ He knows this isn't right. His desires to protect you are more than that of a silent saviour- he's not doing this for a reward or thanks- he's not looking for your gratitude or admiration. He's selfish. So selfish. You are something that occupies the loneliness that will forever haunt him- keeping you alive is all he has left to grasp upon to give him hope for a life beyond this bleak ongoing existence of his.

~✧ He's so selfish when he imagines you waiting at home for him. Selfish when he imagines holding you, gazing upon you adoringly because he's missed you after a long day's work.

~✧ He won't admit these little fantasies of his- his yearnings for a life of his own. He doesn't dare say them out loud- like an unspoken dream that'll fade if ever spoken. A silly whimsy of a naive child who doesn't know any better...

~✧ These little thoughts will stay his. Only he can keep these delusional conjured memories- they're the only ones he can keep.

~✧ So please, take no mind of him. Live freely in the light as he guards you in the shadows. Take your fill of life and death sweetly and peacefully, all under the watchful eye and encompassing cloak of night of none other than vampire hunter D

I'm admittedly not quite sure if I like this or not, I feel a little in the dark with his character due to only watching the two movies (?), and knowing there's novels out there that'll explain his lore and character in much more depth.

If there's anyone who knows more about vampire hunter D, I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas!

[gyuuberryy]

a love affair in colour

pairing: art tutor!jay x princess!reader

synopsis: as a princess exploring her artistic passions, you’re drawn to jay, your mesmerising art teacher whose lessons stir more than just creativity. what begins as a quest to master your craft quickly becomes a whirlwind of tension and forbidden desire. with every brushstroke and shared moment, the line between teacher and lover blurs. but when societal barriers and personal doubts threaten your connection, will you both find a way to embrace a future together, or will your love remain a beautiful but fleeting masterpiece?

genre: strangers to lovers, forbidden relationship, comfort

warnings: kissing, lots of tension, mentions of status difference, angst, a little suggestive

note: i used my experience in art to detail all the content related to it so bear with me if it seems a little modern, i don't know much about how they did art in the olden times. also jay just constantly raises my standards??? i love that man so much he's so husband material it hurts TT enjoy reading!

word count : 11.1k

royally yours masterlist | prev:heeseung | next: jake

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

you’ve always been drawn to art. as a child, while other princesses were learning courtly etiquette or practising diplomacy, you were sneaking into the gardens to sketch the trees or hiding in your chambers, fingers stained with ink as you copied paintings from the castle’s grand halls. but those were mere indulgences, fleeting escapes from the rigid structure of royal life.

when your parents noticed your growing talent, they encouraged it—as a hobby, of course. something to amuse yourself with between diplomatic meetings, public appearances, and the pressures of royal expectations. but for you, art was never just a pastime. it was a passion. an escape. a way to express the parts of you that didn’t fit into the carefully curated image of a princess.

so, when you told your parents you wanted to pursue art seriously, it was met with initial resistance. a princess has duties, obligations, responsibilities. but you persisted, and eventually, they relented. if you were going to study art, they wanted the best for you. that’s how jay came to the palace—an accomplished artist in his own right, though he came from modest beginnings. he was hired to help you master the craft before your trip to paris, where you’d study under the finest artists in the world.

jay’s reputation preceded him. he was known not only for his skill but for his ability to bring out the best in his students. when he arrived at the palace, you were both eager and nervous, unsure of what to expect.

your first meeting was in the grand studio, a room that had once been your sanctuary. now, as you stand by the window, gazing out over the palace grounds, you feel the weight of what’s to come. you’re no longer a novice; this isn’t just a casual hobby. this is the beginning of something serious, something real. and the thought of it is both exhilarating and terrifying.

the door creaks open behind you, and you turn to see him—jay. he’s younger than you expected, though older than you by a few years. his clothes are simple, a stark contrast to the luxury of your surroundings, yet he wears them with a quiet confidence. his dark hair is tousled, as though he’s just come from a long day at work, and there’s a certain intensity in his eyes, a focus that makes your stomach flip.

“your highness,” he greets, bowing low.

“please, just my name,” you say quickly, hoping to dispel some of the formality that hangs between you. “if we’re to work together, there’s no need for titles.”

he straightens, and for a moment, you think you see a flicker of something—surprise? amusement?—in his expression, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. “very well,” he says simply. “shall we begin?”

you nod, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves as you lead him to the easel set up near the window. it’s been prepared for your first lesson, a blank canvas stretched taut, waiting for the first stroke of charcoal or paint. you’ve done this before, hundreds of times, but never under the watchful eye of a teacher like jay.

“before we begin,” he says, setting his bag down on the table, “tell me why you want to do this. not because you have to—because you want to.”

his question catches you off guard. you’d expected him to dive straight into the technical aspects of drawing or painting, not to ask about your motivations. but there’s a seriousness in his tone that tells you he’s not just asking out of curiosity. he wants to understand. he wants to know you.

“i’ve always loved art,” you admit, folding your hands in front of you, feeling a little exposed. “it’s the one thing that’s mine. in a world where so much is decided for me, art is where i get to choose. it’s... freedom.”

jay nods slowly, as if weighing your words. “art is freedom,” he agrees quietly. “it’s expression. it’s telling the world who you are without saying a word. but it’s also discipline. and commitment. if you’re serious about this, i’ll push you. i’ll make sure you’re challenged. does that sound like something you’re ready for?”

your heart beats faster. his intensity is palpable, and it’s hard not to be swept up in it. “yes,” you say, though the word comes out softer than you intended. “i’m ready.”

he regards you for a moment longer, then reaches into his bag, pulling out a small sketchbook and a piece of charcoal. “we’ll start with something simple,” he says, handing you the charcoal. “i want you to draw me.”

you blink, surprised. “draw you?”

“it’s a good exercise,” he explains, moving to stand a little distance away. “if you can capture the essence of a person, you can draw anything.”

your fingers tighten around the charcoal as you sit at the easel, facing him. it feels strange, having him as the subject. his features are sharp, defined, but there’s something else—an intensity in his gaze that makes it hard to concentrate. you take a deep breath and begin to sketch, the sound of the charcoal scratching against the canvas the only sound in the room.

it’s not easy. his face is a study in contrasts—strong jawline, soft eyes, dark brows furrowed in concentration as he watches you work. you find yourself getting lost in the details, trying to capture the exact curve of his lips, the shadow beneath his cheekbone. but the more you focus, the more elusive it becomes.

“you’re overthinking it,” jay says suddenly, breaking the silence. he moves behind you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body, though he doesn’t touch you. “you’re focusing on the parts, not the whole. step back. see the bigger picture.”

you try to follow his advice, but his presence behind you is distracting, and the scent of him—earthy, with a hint of something fresh—fills your senses. your heart beats faster, though you try to ignore it.

jay steps closer, his breath warm against your ear. “here,” he says softly, reaching out to guide your hand. his fingers brush yours, sending a jolt through your body, and you almost drop the charcoal. “loosen your grip. let the lines flow.”

you do as he says, though your heart races at his nearness. his hand lingers over yours for a moment too long before he pulls away, but the connection between you doesn’t fade. the air feels charged, as if something unsaid hangs between you.

when you finish the sketch, it’s rough, imperfect, but there’s something there—a spark of life, of emotion. jay leans over your shoulder to examine it, his expression unreadable.

“better,” he says after a moment, his voice low and approving. “you’ve captured something real here.”

you look at the drawing again, trying to see what he sees, but all you can think about is the way his hand felt over yours, the way his voice seemed to wrap around you like a secret.

as he moves to gather his things, you realise that this is just the beginning. the first lesson. but already, something has shifted between you. something neither of you can name yet, but it’s there—in the shared glances, the lingering touches, the unspoken connection.

and as jay turns to leave, promising to return for your next lesson, you can’t help but wonder if this is really just about art—or if something far more dangerous has already begun.

the days following your first lesson with jay felt like a strange new rhythm. art had always been a deeply personal escape for you, something that existed in the quiet moments between royal duties, but now it had become something more. each session with jay stirred something inside you—not just the desire to improve, but a spark of something you couldn't quite name.

jay had been nothing but professional, his focus always on your craft. but beneath his calm demeanour, there was an undercurrent, a kind of intensity in the way he looked at you during your lessons. it was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there, like the brushstrokes of a painting hidden beneath layers of paint.

today, as you enter the studio, you feel it more than ever. the room is bathed in soft light, the kind of glow that makes everything seem warmer, softer. jay is already there, setting up supplies on the table, his back to you. you watch him for a moment, your eyes tracing the broad lines of his shoulders, the way his hands move with such precision and care.

“good morning,” you say, finally breaking the silence. your voice comes out softer than you intended, the room swallowing the sound.

he turns, a brief smile crossing his face. “good morning.” there’s a hint of warmth in his tone, but as always, it’s controlled, measured. jay has never been one to show too much emotion, though lately, you’ve caught glimpses of something more.

“i thought we’d try something different today,” he says, gesturing to the large canvas in the corner of the room. “i want to work on your observation skills.”

you nod, intrigued. “what do you have in mind?”

instead of answering immediately, jay picks up a chair and places it in the centre of the room, angled toward the sunlight. he then takes his sketchbook and charcoal, positioning himself in front of the chair but far enough away that there’s space between you.

“i want you to sit,” he says simply, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before flickering away. “i’m going to sketch you.”

the request catches you off guard. “me? but... shouldn’t i be the one practising sketching?”

he smiles faintly, shaking his head. “today, i want you to feel what it’s like to be the subject. to understand how the artist sees you.” he glances at the canvas, and then back at you. “it’ll help you observe the world around you with more empathy, more connection.”

the thought of jay watching you, studying you so closely, makes your heart race. you’ve always been behind the canvas, never in front of it. to have his eyes on you, not just in passing but with the intention of capturing every detail—it feels strangely vulnerable.

but you trust him. there’s something about jay that puts you at ease, even when you’re unsure of yourself. so, you sit in the chair, adjusting your posture slightly, your hands resting in your lap.

“relax,” he says softly, his voice gentle. “you don’t have to pose. just be yourself.”

you try to do as he says, leaning back into the chair, though your heart is beating a little faster now. the room is quiet except for the faint scratch of his charcoal on the page, and you’re acutely aware of his gaze as it moves over you—your face, your hands, the way the light falls on your hair.

he works silently, his brow furrowed in concentration, and you find yourself watching him, trying to read the expression on his face. there’s a softness there that you hadn’t noticed before, a kind of careful attention that feels almost… tender.

for a while, neither of you speaks. you’re not sure how long has passed—minutes? hours? time seems to lose its meaning in this space, as if the world outside the studio doesn’t exist.

“so you want to pursue art huh?” jay’s voice breaks the silence, and you blink, surprised by the question.

“yes” you reply, shifting slightly in the chair.

he doesn’t look up from his sketch. “why did you choose art? out of everything you could have pursued?”

the question is one you’ve asked yourself many times. you think back to your childhood, to the afternoons spent sneaking away from your tutors to draw in the gardens, the way art always felt like a safe space in a world full of expectations.

“i think… it’s because art lets me be free,” you say slowly, choosing your words carefully. “in everything else, i’m the princess. i have to be perfect, poised, controlled. but with art, i can be messy. i can make mistakes. it’s mine.”

jay pauses, his hand hovering over the sketchbook for a moment before he continues. “freedom is important,” he says quietly. “especially for someone like you.”

there’s something in his tone, a weight to his words, and you wonder what he means by that. does he understand what it’s like to feel trapped by expectations? to want something more, something beyond the roles you’ve been given?

before you can ask, jay looks up, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he started sketching. his gaze is intense, but not in a way that makes you uncomfortable. it’s more like he’s seeing you, really seeing you, in a way that no one else ever has.

“you have a natural grace,” he says softly, almost as if speaking to himself. “but it’s more than that. there’s something… untamed about you.”

your breath catches in your throat. no one has ever spoken to you like that before. not with such quiet certainty, as if they’ve seen beyond the surface of who you are.

you don’t know what to say. the air in the room feels heavier now, charged with something you can’t quite name. you shift in your seat, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze, but jay’s expression remains calm, thoughtful.

he tilts his head slightly, observing you with the same intensity he’s had since the beginning of the lesson. “there’s more to art than technique,” he says, his voice low. “it’s about connection. about understanding the person you’re drawing, not just how they look, but who they are.”

his words stir something inside you—a sense of being understood in a way you’ve never experienced before. you’re not just a princess in this room, not just another student. you’re you, with all your complexities and contradictions, and somehow, jay has seen that.

it makes you feel exposed in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and yet there’s a comfort in it, too. you’ve spent your whole life hiding parts of yourself, but with jay, it feels like you don’t have to.

finally, he sets the sketchbook aside, standing up and crossing the room to where you’re seated. he doesn’t hand you the sketch immediately, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s unsure about showing it to you.

“you can tell a lot about a person by how they draw,” he says quietly, standing in front of you now, his gaze unwavering. “but you can tell even more by how they let themselves be seen.”

your pulse quickens, the weight of his words settling deep within you. it’s not just about the sketch anymore—it’s about everything. the way you’ve been navigating these lessons, the way you’ve been letting him into your world, piece by piece.

he holds out the sketch to you, and when you take it, your fingers brush against his, a fleeting touch that lingers in your mind longer than it should.

the drawing is beautiful. he’s captured you in a way that feels both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. there’s a softness to your expression, a quiet strength in the lines of your face, and yet… there’s something else. something deeper.

“it’s beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the lines with your fingertips. “i’ve never seen myself like this before.”

jay watches you carefully, his expression unreadable. “that’s because no one’s ever looked at you like this before.”

the words hit you like a gentle wave, their meaning sinking in slowly. you glance up at him, unsure of how to respond. there’s a new tension between you now, but it’s not the kind that comes from desire or rushed feelings. it’s deeper than that—a connection, a shared understanding that goes beyond mere attraction.

for a moment, you sit in silence, the sketch resting in your lap as the light from the window shifts slightly, casting long shadows across the room. you can feel the change in the air, but neither of you moves to break it.

and as jay steps back, giving you space, you realise that this—whatever it is—will take time to fully unfold. you’re not rushing toward anything, but there’s something between you now, something real and undeniable.

but for now, you’ll let it simmer. there’s no need to rush. not yet.

the days have passed like pages in a book, each art lesson with jay slowly building a tension that you feel in the very air of the studio. his presence is constant but controlled, his touch fleeting yet always careful. you’ve found yourself looking forward to these lessons more than you’d ever anticipated, though not only for the sake of art. something else draws you here each time, something that’s harder to admit even to yourself.

when you arrive at the studio today, the familiar scent of paint and canvas greets you, mingling with the crisp morning air. jay is there, of course, already preparing the materials, his back to you as he arranges brushes and bottles of linseed oil. the sun filters in through the tall windows, casting long beams across the room, turning everything into shades of gold. today feels different, though you can’t quite pinpoint why.

he turns as you approach, offering you a brief smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "good morning," he says, his voice as calm and composed as ever, though you think you detect a slight hesitancy behind his words.

"good morning," you reply, your heart already beating a little faster. the last few lessons have been charged with a new energy, a subtle yet undeniable pull between the two of you. you've tried to keep your thoughts focused on the art, but with each session, it’s become harder.

jay steps over to the large canvas he’s set up for today’s lesson. "we’re going to work on technique," he explains, holding up a palette of mixed colours, the vibrant hues blending like a sunset in his hands. "i want you to feel the texture of the paint, how the brush moves against the canvas. it’s all about control and release."

you nod, though the concept seems easier said than done. painting has always been more of a challenge for you, especially when it comes to finding that balance. jay, however, has a way of guiding you through each step without ever making you feel inadequate.

"let’s start with the basics," he says, handing you a brush. his fingers brush against yours for the briefest moment, and you feel a spark travel up your arm, though you’re sure he doesn’t notice.

you position yourself in front of the canvas, trying to steady your breathing as you dip the brush into the paint. the first few strokes are tentative, careful. you focus on the movement of your hand, but your mind is distracted by the weight of jay’s presence behind you. it’s as if the air in the room has thickened, every sound, every movement, magnified.

jay watches in silence for a few moments, then steps closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his body behind you. "here," he murmurs softly, his voice right beside your ear. "let me show you."

before you can respond, he places his hands lightly on your waist, adjusting your stance. the touch is firm but gentle, and it sends a shockwave through your body. your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you’re hyper-aware of every point of contact—his hands on your hips, the warmth of his chest just inches from your back.

"relax," he whispers, his voice low and calming, though you can hear a slight strain in it, like he’s carefully keeping something in check. "you’re too tense."

easier said than done. you can barely think straight with him so close, let alone concentrate on the canvas. but you try, forcing yourself to take a breath, to focus on the task at hand. jay doesn’t move away. instead, he steps even closer, his chest nearly brushing your back as he moves his hands from your waist to your arm, guiding your wrist as you hold the brush.

"feel the paint," he says, his breath warm against your ear. "don’t fight it. let it flow."

his hand wraps around yours, firm but careful, and he moves your arm in a slow, fluid motion. the brush glides across the canvas with ease, the paint spreading in smooth, even strokes. his touch is light but deliberate, and you find yourself following his lead, your body responding to the way he directs the movement.

"you’re doing well," he murmurs, and you can feel his breath against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "just like that."

the room feels smaller, the air thicker, as if the space between you is shrinking with each passing second. you try to focus on the canvas, but it’s impossible with jay so close. his presence is overwhelming, consuming, and you’re acutely aware of every shift, every movement.

"you don’t need to force it," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper now, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "let the brush move with you."

you nod, though your throat is too dry to speak. the closeness between you is intoxicating, and you can feel the tension building with each breath you take. jay’s hand tightens slightly around yours, and for a moment, you wonder if he feels it too—the pull, the unspoken connection that seems to have grown stronger with each lesson.

he guides your hand in another slow stroke across the canvas, but this time, the brush slips slightly, leaving a streak of paint that’s a little too heavy. you let out a soft, frustrated sigh, but jay only chuckles, the sound low and warm.

"don’t worry about perfection," he says, his voice rumbling in your ear. "art isn’t about being perfect. it’s about feeling."

his hand lingers on yours a moment longer before he lets go, stepping back slightly. the sudden absence of his touch leaves you feeling off-balance, as if the ground beneath you has shifted. you exhale a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and lower the brush, your heart still racing.

"good," jay says, his voice a little more distant now as he moves back to the table. "you’re getting better. it’s all about control and release, but it takes time to find that balance."

you nod, though your mind is still reeling from the intensity of the moment. you’ve never felt so aware of your body, of your own reactions, as you do when jay is close like that. it’s as though he knows exactly how to touch you, how to guide you, without ever crossing the line—but just barely.

you place the brush down on the easel, turning to face him. jay is busy cleaning the palette, his face unreadable as he focuses on the task. but there’s something different about the way he holds himself, a tension in his posture that wasn’t there before.

"thank you," you say softly, breaking the silence that has settled between you. your voice sounds a little shaky, but you hope he doesn’t notice.

he glances up at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before flickering away. "it’s my job," he replies, but there’s something in his tone—something almost… uncertain.

the silence that follows is heavy, filled with the unspoken tension that has been growing between you for weeks. you can feel it in the way he looks at you, in the way his hands linger just a little too long when he helps you. it’s as though you’re both standing at the edge of something, but neither of you knows how to take the next step.

finally, jay sets the palette down and steps back, putting a little more distance between you. "we’ll keep working on this," he says, his voice returning to its usual composed tone. "you’re improving, but there’s still more to learn."

you nod, feeling a little breathless, though you’re not sure if it’s from the painting or from the closeness you just shared. "i’ll keep practising," you say, though the words feel almost trivial in the weight of the moment.

jay gives you a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "good," he says softly, before turning back to his brushes. "we’ll pick up again tomorrow."

you linger for a moment, watching him as he carefully cleans the paint from his hands, his movements precise and controlled. and as you leave the studio, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed between you, something that neither of you can ignore for much longer.

the pottery studio feels different today. the atmosphere is heavy, thick with anticipation, but you try to ignore it as you sit at the wheel, your hands already messy with clay. the wheel spins slowly beneath your fingers, but no matter how many times you’ve tried, the clay refuses to cooperate, collapsing into a lump before you can give it any real shape. you groan in frustration, watching another failed attempt crumble under your touch.

“take your time. it’s all about feeling the clay, not controlling it,” jay says softly from behind you, his voice calm but carrying that familiar undercurrent of something unspoken. he’s watching closely, his presence as steady as always, but today it feels more intense—like a subtle hum in the air that makes the space between you vibrate with tension.

you sigh, wiping your hands on your apron. "i don’t think i’m getting this at all," you mutter, staring down at the shapeless mound on the wheel. pottery has proven to be a far bigger challenge than painting—there’s something about the unpredictability of the clay that throws you off balance.

jay steps closer, his footsteps almost silent on the studio floor. "you’re too tense," he observes, his voice low and measured. "let me show you."

before you can respond, he’s already moving behind you. the air shifts as his body nears, and suddenly, you can feel the heat of him pressing close. he slides onto the bench behind you, his legs on either side of yours. the intimate position makes your heart race instantly, your pulse quickening in response to his proximity. his chest brushes your back, his breath warm on the side of your neck, and suddenly it’s hard to focus on anything other than how close he is.

he pauses his movements. “is it okay if i sit behind you like this? i may need to touch your hands as well.”

you nod at his soft words, “yes that’s alright.”

the studio feels smaller, the world outside forgotten as you’re enveloped by his presence. you can feel the solid warmth of his chest against your spine, the way his thighs gently cage yours. every point of contact feels electric, the tension simmering between you palpable.

“relax,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, low and soothing. his breath brushes the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “you’re trying too hard to control it. you have to let the clay respond to your touch.”

his hands move to cover yours, his fingers sliding over your clay-streaked knuckles. his touch is firm but gentle, guiding your hands to the wheel as it starts spinning once again. the sensation of his fingers wrapping around yours sends a ripple of awareness through your body, and for a moment, all you can focus on is the warmth of his skin, the weight of his hands over yours.

"feel the clay," jay instructs, his voice quiet but filled with intent. his breath is warm against your ear, and the proximity, the intimacy of the moment, makes it nearly impossible to concentrate. "it moves with you. let it guide you."

his hands press lightly against yours, directing your fingers as they glide over the surface of the clay. the wheel turns slowly beneath your palms, the soft texture of the clay smoothing out under the pressure. you try to focus on the task at hand, but the sensation of his body against yours—the gentle weight of his chest pressed to your back, his legs framing yours—is overwhelming. the world narrows down to the feel of his touch, the sound of his steady breath so close to your ear.

"you need to feel the shape," jay continues, his voice lower now, more intimate. his hands move with yours, guiding your fingers as they dip into the soft clay. his touch is deliberate, patient, and it feels like he’s not just teaching you pottery, but something deeper, something far more personal.

your hands move together as you both shape the clay, your fingers sliding inside the hollow of the vase. the action is slow, almost sensual, and the suggestiveness of the movement doesn’t escape you. the pressure of his fingers over yours, the way his hands direct yours in shaping the delicate interior, feels too intimate, too deliberate. the tension that has been building for weeks now feels almost unbearable.

your breath quickens, your heart hammering in your chest, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. jay’s chest presses more firmly against your back as his hands guide you deeper into the clay, shaping it from within. his fingers dip, mirroring yours, and the act of molding the vase becomes something far more intimate than you could have ever anticipated.

"just like that," jay whispers, his voice huskier than before, his breath hot against your ear. his hands slow, his fingers lingering on yours as you move together. the wheel spins quietly, the clay yielding to your touch, but it’s hard to focus on the art when the closeness between you feels like it’s about to explode into something more.

you can feel every movement of his chest against your back, the rise and fall of his breath growing uneven. the heat of his body is overwhelming, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on the clay. your pulse is racing, and you’re certain he can feel the way your body trembles slightly under his touch.

suddenly, you realise you can feel his heart. it’s beating erratically against your spine, matching the rapid rhythm of your own. the awareness crashes over you like a wave—he’s feeling it too. the tension, the pull between you, it’s not just in your head. his hands tighten slightly over yours, his chest pressing more firmly against your back, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like the world is tilting.

you bite your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady, but it’s impossible with him so close, with the weight of his body grounding you while simultaneously setting you on fire. your fingers dip into the clay once more, but all you can feel is the warmth of his hands over yours, the way his presence fills every corner of your mind.

jay’s breath hitches, barely audible, but you hear it. you feel it. the tension between you has been simmering for weeks, and now it’s at a boiling point, undeniable and heavy.

after what feels like an eternity, jay finally pulls his hands away, the absence of his touch leaving you cold and disoriented. his chest moves away from your back, and he stands slowly, as if he, too, is struggling to shake off the intensity of the moment.

"good work," he says, his voice quieter than usual, almost strained. he steps away from the wheel, his hands clenching and unclenching as though he’s trying to regain his composure.

you remain seated, your hands still coated in clay, your heart still racing. the silence between you is thick with everything unsaid. you can still feel the echo of his hands on yours, the warmth of his body lingering against your skin.

finally, you glance over your shoulder, your eyes searching his face for some kind of answer, some indication of what he’s thinking. but jay’s expression is unreadable, his gaze fixed on the now-complete vase on the wheel.

"you did well," he repeats, though his tone is quieter, almost distant. there’s something unresolved in the air, something that neither of you dares to acknowledge aloud.

as you stand, your legs unsteady, you can’t help but feel that something between you has shifted irreversibly. the line you’ve both been walking for weeks feels dangerously close to being crossed, and the question now is whether either of you is ready to take that step.

the last day of your art lessons starts with a sense of melancholy that you try to push away. you know that this will be your final session with jay, and although you’ve learned more than you could have imagined, the thought of no longer spending time with him feels like a loss. he greets you at the studio with his usual warm smile, but there’s something different about him today—a lightness that wasn’t there before.

“we’re not staying inside today,” jay says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “i figured we’ve done enough of that. you’ve been using my supplies, so i thought it’s time you get your own.”

you blink, surprised by the suggestion. “you mean we’re going shopping?”

he nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “you deserve your own tools. besides, i want to show you my favourite spots.”

the idea excites you more than you’d expected. it feels intimate, personal—like he’s sharing a part of himself with you outside the confines of the studio. and so, you follow him out into the bustling streets, the city alive with activity as you walk side by side, the sky overhead a muted grey that promises rain.

the first shop is a small, unassuming place tucked between two larger storefronts, and you wouldn’t have noticed it if jay hadn’t pointed it out. inside, it’s a treasure trove of art supplies—shelves stacked high with paints, brushes, and sketchpads of every kind. the scent of paper and wood fills the air, and you can’t help but feel a little like a child in a candy store, overwhelmed by the endless possibilities.

jay moves through the aisles with ease, clearly at home here. he picks up brushes, testing their weight in his hand before handing them to you to feel. “this one’s perfect for detail work,” he says, holding up a fine-tipped brush. “and this,” he adds, pulling out a thicker, more rugged one, “is for broader strokes, more expression.”

you watch him as he speaks, his voice low and sure, and you find yourself more captivated by him than the tools he’s showing you. there’s something about the way his hands move with such confidence, the way he seems to understand the soul of each item, that draws you in. it’s a side of him you haven’t seen before, one that’s less restrained, more passionate.

he catches you staring, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “what?”

you quickly look away, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “nothing,” you mumble, pretending to examine the brushes in front of you.

but you can’t hide your growing admiration for him, and you suspect he knows it. he moves closer, his arm brushing lightly against yours as he reaches for a set of soft pastels. “try these,” he says, handing them to you. “i think they’ll suit your style.”

you take the pastels from him, your fingers brushing against his in the exchange, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged. you swallow hard, trying to focus on the colours in your hand rather than the way his touch lingers in your mind.

from there, you move to the next shop, a slightly larger one filled with canvases of all sizes and shapes. jay pulls you toward a display of stretched canvas frames, explaining the difference between cotton and linen, the various textures and how they interact with different mediums. he talks with such enthusiasm that you can’t help but smile, his passion contagious.

“pick a few,” he says, gesturing to the rows of canvases. “you’re going to need a variety if you want to keep experimenting.”

you nod, feeling a sense of freedom in the choice. as you select your canvases, jay hovers nearby, occasionally offering suggestions but mostly watching with a quiet intensity that makes your skin prickle. you wonder what he’s thinking, whether he’s just as aware of the subtle tension that’s been growing between you over the weeks.

the third shop is more modern, filled with high-end supplies—gorgeous palettes of oil paints in jewel tones, sleek metal easels, and handcrafted wooden boxes for storing brushes. it’s clear jay has saved the best for last, and as you wander the aisles together, he shows you some of his favourites, his voice soft and reverent as he talks about the craftsmanship behind each item.

“i’ve always wanted one of these,” you say, running your fingers over a beautiful wooden palette, its smooth surface gleaming under the soft light. “it’s almost too nice to use.”

jay grins, standing beside you as he watches you admire it. “you should get it,” he says, his voice warm. “every artist needs something that feels special, something that inspires them to create.”

his words send a shiver through you, and you glance at him, the closeness between you suddenly palpable. the quiet intimacy of the moment, standing together in the softly lit store, surrounded by the tools of your shared passion, feels heavy with something unspoken. you nod, slipping the palette into your basket, trying to shake the fluttering in your chest.

as you leave the last shop, your arms full of bags and supplies, the sky opens up, releasing a sudden torrent of rain. the drops fall fast and heavy, soaking you within moments. you yelp in surprise, pulling your hood over your head, but it’s no use—you’re drenched almost immediately.

jay laughs, a rich sound that cuts through the noise of the rain. “looks like we’re in for it!” he shouts over the downpour, his hair already dripping wet as he holds a hand out to catch the rain.

you can’t help but laugh, your spirits lifting despite the sudden storm. the two of you stand in the rain for a moment, looking at each other, before jay suddenly grabs your hand.

“come on!” he says, pulling you into a run.

you follow him, laughing breathlessly as you race through the rain-soaked streets, splashing through puddles and dodging other passersby who huddle under umbrellas and awnings. the bags of art supplies jostle against your sides, but you barely notice, too caught up in the exhilaration of running with him through the storm.

the rain comes down harder, drenching you completely, your clothes clinging to your body and your hair sticking to your face. but none of it matters—you’re both laughing, the world around you a blur as you sprint through the narrow streets, your hand still held tightly in his.

jay pulls you into a narrow alleyway, ducking under a stone archway for shelter. it’s barely enough to shield you from the rain, but you’re both out of breath, giggling uncontrollably as you lean against the cold stone walls.

you’re both soaked, your clothes dripping water onto the ground, but the warmth between you is undeniable. jay’s hair is plastered to his forehead, droplets sliding down his face as he looks at you, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

you can feel the heat radiating from his body, even through the dampness of your clothes. you’re pressed so close to him in the narrow space that you can feel the tension building, the awareness of every inch of space between you—or rather, the lack of it.

jay’s laughter fades as his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the air between you shifts. his gaze softens, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something more serious, more intense. you’re both still, the rain beating down around you, but inside this tiny archway, it feels like time has slowed.

he reaches up, his fingers brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, and the simple gesture sends a shiver down your spine. his hand lingers by your cheek, and you can feel the warmth of his touch even through the coolness of the rain.

for a moment, neither of you say anything, the space between you heavy with everything that’s gone unsaid. you can feel your heart racing, your breath catching in your throat as his eyes drop to your lips for just a second, but it’s enough to make your pulse quicken.

then, without thinking, without hesitation, he leans in.

the kiss is slow at first—tentative, as though he’s testing the waters. his lips brush against yours softly, almost delicately, and for a moment, it feels like the world stops. the rain, the city, everything fades away, and all that exists is the warmth of his mouth on yours, the softness of his kiss.

your heart stutters, your body frozen for a split second before you kiss him back, your hands finding their way to his chest. the kiss deepens, and the tension that’s been building between you for weeks unravels in a rush of heat and longing. his hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, pressing into him as though you can’t get close enough.

the rain falls around you, forgotten, as you lose yourself in the kiss. there’s a desperation to it, like neither of you knows when—or if—you’ll ever get this chance again. it’s intoxicating, overwhelming, and everything you’ve been holding back spills out in that single kiss.

when you finally pull away, breathless, jay rests his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close as though he’s afraid to let go. you’re both panting, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, but you can’t seem to move, can’t seem to break the connection between you.

the kiss lingers in the air, an invisible thread still tying you to jay even as the rain continues to fall. his forehead rests against yours, his breath shallow and quick, matching the erratic rhythm of your heart. for a moment, everything feels right, the world outside forgotten, the storm cocooning you in your own little universe.

but then something shifts. you feel it in the way his grip on your waist tightens briefly before loosening, in the way his eyes darken, filled with a sorrow that cuts through the joy of the moment.

he pulls back, just a fraction, enough to put space between you but not enough to break the connection entirely. his gaze drops to the ground, as though he can’t bear to meet your eyes.

“we… we can’t,” jay whispers, his voice heavy with regret.

the words hit you like cold water, the warmth of the kiss suddenly feeling distant. “what do you mean?” your voice is soft, confused, almost pleading. you take a step closer, unwilling to let him slip away. “jay, what are you saying?”

he sighs, running a hand through his damp hair, his shoulders tense. “you know what i mean,” he says quietly. “you’re a princess. you belong to a world of crowns and thrones, and i… i’m just your art teacher.”

you shake your head, the rain beginning to soak through your clothes, but you hardly notice. “i don’t care about that! my parents wouldn’t either. jay, this—this connection we have, it’s real. you can’t just pretend it isn’t.”

his eyes finally meet yours, and for a moment, you see the same longing reflected in them. but then he looks away again, his jaw tightening. “maybe your parents wouldn’t care, but i do. i won’t let you throw away your life for me. you have responsibilities, a future. i can’t be the reason you turn your back on all of that.”

your heart aches at his words, at the way he’s trying to protect you even as it tears you both apart. you reach for his hand, holding it tightly. “you’re not asking me to give anything up. i’m telling you what i want. you. you’re what i want, jay.”

he looks at your hand in his, and for a second, he doesn’t move, as though he’s frozen between what he wants and what he believes is right. “you don’t understand,” he says quietly. “you’re used to a life of luxury. i can’t give you that. i won’t let you settle for less.”

the frustration bubbles up inside you, mixing with the hurt. “it’s not about that. it never was. do you really think any of that matters to me if i’m not happy?”

jay’s gaze softens, but the doubt lingers in his eyes, a shadow of the barriers between you. “i need time,” he says, his voice pained. “i need to think about this.”

you bite your lip, the tears you’ve been holding back threatening to spill. “take all the time you need. just… don’t take too long. please.”

he nods, his face filled with a mix of guilt and sorrow. then, like the gentleman he is, he steps closer, offering you his arm. “let me take you home,” he says softly, his voice carrying a tenderness that only deepens the ache in your chest.

the walk back to the palace is quiet, both of you wrapped in your own thoughts, the sound of the rain the only noise between you. his arm around yours feels protective, grounding, but it’s bittersweet knowing that he’s still holding a part of himself back.

when you finally reach the palace gates, jay pauses, turning to face you. the light from the lanterns casts a soft glow over his features, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still.

“goodnight, princess,” he says, his voice gentle, though there’s an unmistakable distance in his tone now.

you look up at him, wanting to say something—anything—to make him stay, to convince him that this is worth fighting for. but the words stick in your throat. instead, you nod, forcing a small smile despite the heaviness in your heart.

“goodnight, jay.”

he gives you a final, lingering glance before turning and walking away, the rain continuing to fall as his figure disappears into the night. you stand there for a long time, watching him go, your heart aching with every step he takes.

as you finally turn and walk inside, the warmth of the palace feels stifling compared to the cool rain outside. the emptiness left in jay’s wake presses down on you, and the realisation that you might not see him again for a while hits you like a blow.

in the days that follow, the quiet is suffocating. you try to fill your time with painting, with other lessons and royal duties, but nothing seems to lift the weight pressing on your chest. each moment stretches on, and the palace, usually filled with the comfort of familiarity, now feels hollow without him.

your parents notice your change in mood but don’t pry, their knowing glances suggesting they’re aware that something more than art is on your mind. still, you keep jay’s name on the tip of your tongue, unable to speak it without feeling the ache of uncertainty.

and so, you wait. you wait for a letter, for a word from him—anything to tell you that he hasn’t let go, that he’s still thinking about you as much as you are about him. but with each passing day, the silence only grows louder, the doubt harder to ignore.

what if he doesn’t come back? what if he decides you aren’t worth the risk?

the thought makes your heart tighten painfully. you sit in your art studio, staring at an unfinished painting, the brush limp in your hand, as you wonder if jay is fighting the same battle within himself.

it feels like an eternity has passed since that rainy day, since that kiss that felt like the world shifted. and now, all you can do is hope that he finds his way back to you before it’s too late.

the days stretch long and quiet after that night in the rain, and the distance between you and jay feels more unbearable with each passing moment. you keep replaying his words, the look in his eyes, the way he had kissed you—like he wanted to hold on forever but didn’t know if he should.

you throw yourself into your art, hoping the colours and brushstrokes will distract you from the weight of his absence. but the empty space he’s left behind is hard to ignore, especially as you finish the final piece you’d been working on for weeks—a vibrant painting of a parisian street, your future awaiting you there.

paris. the word itself sounds like a dream. the trip is supposed to happen soon—your long-awaited opportunity to study art in the heart of a city known for its creativity and beauty. it’s everything you’ve worked toward, yet now the thought of leaving without jay feels hollow.

what was once the pinnacle of your aspirations now feels incomplete. you had imagined this adventure, this new chapter of your life, and pictured jay being a part of it. but now, with his silence lingering between you, you’re uncertain of whether he’ll still be there when it begins.

sitting at your desk, you stare down at the blank parchment, the quill hovering in your hand. you haven’t spoken to jay since he walked away that night, but you can’t bear to leave for paris without reaching out, without giving him one last chance to understand how much he means to you.

the words come slowly at first, but then they start to pour out, your emotions and thoughts spilling onto the page.

dear jay, it feels strange writing to you after all this time—after all the moments we shared that now seem so far away. i’ve been thinking about what you said that night, about how we come from different worlds, about the future you think i deserve. but you need to know that none of it matters to me if you’re not a part of it. i’ve wanted this trip to paris for as long as i can remember, to learn from the best, to immerse myself in art and culture. it’s something i’ve dreamed about for years. and yet, now, as the day of my departure gets closer, all i can think about is you. i don’t want to go to paris and leave you behind, wondering what could have been. you’re as much a part of my passion for art as any paintbrush or canvas. you’ve shown me new ways to see the world, to express myself, and i’ll always be grateful for that. but more than that, you’ve become someone i can’t imagine my life without. i know you think i’m giving up too much, that i’m risking my future. but my future isn’t just about royal duties or titles. it’s about choosing the life i want—and i choose you, jay. i wish you could see that. paris is calling, but so are you. i can only hope that when you think of me, it’s with the same longing that fills every moment of my days without you. i hope that when you think of our time together, you’ll realise that this isn’t about status or sacrifice—it’s about love. i’ll be leaving soon after my birthday, but before i go, i need to know: will you come with me? or will i have to leave you behind? with love, [your name]

after sealing the letter, your heart is heavy with both hope and fear. you send it to jay, knowing that the next move is his. each day that passes without a response stretches the wait longer, the ache of uncertainty growing.

you try to stay busy with preparations for your trip, packing supplies and finishing your artwork. your parents notice the change in you—the excitement for paris dimmed by something you can’t quite bring yourself to share with them yet. they ask if you’re nervous, if you’re ready for the adventure, and you smile, telling them what they want to hear. but deep down, all you want is to hear from jay.

paris is just around the corner, but so is the decision you’re waiting for—the choice that could change everything.

the ballroom is a swirl of colour and laughter, filled with nobles, artists, and well-wishers all gathered to celebrate your birthday. the chandeliers above glitter like stars, casting a golden glow over the elegant space, and the music weaves through the conversations like a living thing, light and joyous. your parents spared no expense for this occasion, not only to mark your birthday but also to celebrate the upcoming adventure to paris.

it’s your birthday ball, but your mind is elsewhere, your heart tugged toward a memory that refuses to leave. you stand in front of your painting, the centrepiece of the night, hanging proudly on display for all to see. nobles and artists alike gather around it, marvelling at the vivid colours and delicate brushstrokes. you nod and smile politely as they offer praise, but inside, your thoughts are distant, wandering to a day not long ago when everything felt simpler.

the painting is of the marketplace—a bustling, lively scene full of energy and warmth. it’s the day you and jay had gone shopping together for art supplies, the day you let yourselves be ordinary, blending in with the crowds. the colours are bright and rich, capturing the vibrant chaos of the market: vendors calling out, the smell of freshly baked bread, the sound of coins clinking and people bartering for goods. in the corner of the canvas, nestled in the shadows of an alley, is a small, quiet space. it’s where you and jay had shared a moment away from the crowd, a stolen minute of peace amidst the noise, where the world had seemed to slow just for the two of you.

every brushstroke is infused with that memory—the warmth of the sun on your skin, the soft brush of his hand as he reached for yours, the unspoken connection that had blossomed between you in that hidden corner of the market. it was a day that felt like freedom, a glimpse of something more, something forbidden but undeniably real.

“your highness, it’s simply breathtaking,” someone says beside you, pulling you momentarily back to the present. a noblewoman in an exquisite gown stands at your side, her eyes wide with admiration as she gazes at the painting. “the light, the detail… it feels as though i’m standing there in the market myself.”

you nod and smile, offering a polite thank you, but her words barely register. all you can think about is him.

the weight of his absence has been heavy, pulling at your heart with every passing day, each one more difficult than the last. and now, on the night of your birthday, as you prepare to embark on a new chapter, all you can think about is the chapter you left unfinished.

you glance at the painting again, tracing the familiar lines of the marketplace, the hidden alley. that was the moment you knew there was something between you and jay, something more than just student and teacher, more than just friendship. it was the moment you allowed yourself to hope. but now, standing here alone, you wonder if that hope was misplaced.

and then, through the hum of voices and the soft strains of music, you hear it—a voice that sends a jolt through your entire body.

“you captured it perfectly.”

the sound of his voice makes the air around you seem to freeze. your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat. slowly, you turn toward the source, and there he is—jay, standing just a few steps away, his eyes locked on the painting, his expression a mixture of awe and something deeper, something raw.

for a moment, you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. after weeks of waiting, of wondering, here he is, standing before you, his presence filling the space that had felt so empty without him. he looks different tonight—still himself, but dressed in a way that blends with the formality of the event. yet, there’s something in his posture, in the way his dark eyes flicker between you and the painting, that betrays the turmoil he’s been carrying.

“jay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. but he hears you, as he always does.

he takes a step closer, his gaze shifting to meet yours, and for a moment, the world around you disappears. the ballroom, the guests, the music—it all fades into the background, leaving only the two of you in this fragile, suspended moment.

his eyes soften as they take you in, and there’s a vulnerability in his expression that you hadn’t seen before, something that makes your heart ache even more. “you remembered,” he says quietly, gesturing toward the painting. “the marketplace. that day.”

you nod, your throat tightening. “how could i forget? it was…” you pause, searching for the right words, but nothing seems adequate. “it was perfect.”

jay’s gaze lingers on the painting, as though seeing the memory play out all over again. his lips part, but no words come. instead, he takes another step toward you, his presence so close now that you can feel the pull between you—the unspoken tension that had simmered just beneath the surface for so long.

“i’ve been thinking about that day,” he says, his voice low and rough. “about us.”

your heart hammers in your chest. “and?”

his eyes flicker with a mix of emotions—regret, longing, and something you can’t quite place. “i thought i could stay away. that it would be easier, safer, for both of us. but i couldn’t.” his voice wavers, just slightly, and the vulnerability in it makes your pulse race. “not tonight.”

you swallow, your chest tight with the weight of everything left unsaid. the distance between you feels unbearably small, but also impossibly vast. he’s here. after all this time, he’s finally here. but the question still lingers, heavy in the air between you: what happens now?

just as you open your mouth to speak, to ask the questions that have been burning inside you for weeks, jay steps closer, his eyes locked on yours. the noise of the ballroom fades even further into the background, until all that’s left is him. and in that moment, with his gaze so full of emotion, you know that nothing has been forgotten. every stolen glance, every brush of hands, every whispered word—it’s all still there, between you, as real and undeniable as ever.

the night may be full of celebrations, but the only thing that matters is this: jay is here, and nothing will ever be the same again.

the grand ballroom continues to pulse with life around you, but the world feels quiet in the cocoon of jay’s presence. you haven’t even fully processed the fact that he’s here, standing in front of you after weeks of silence. his eyes—deep and full of an emotion you’ve longed to see—are fixed on you, as though he’s drinking in the sight of you, afraid to blink in case you disappear.

the weight of his absence, the unanswered letter, the uncertainty—it all rushes to the surface, but you force yourself to stay grounded in the moment. you open your mouth to speak, to ask the questions burning in your chest, but before you can, jay takes a step closer.

“you never stopped painting,” he says quietly, nodding toward the marketplace painting, his voice filled with a mix of awe and relief. “you’ve grown even more since i left.”

his words are a gentle balm to the ache in your heart, but they only skim the surface of what you truly want to know. you swallow hard, the emotions too thick in your throat to speak.

your breath hitches. “why didn’t you respond to my letter, jay?”

there’s a beat of silence before he looks away, the rawness of his feelings flickering across his face. “because i didn’t know if i was strong enough to walk away again,” he admits. “and i wasn’t sure if i could give you the life you deserve.”

“after everything we’ve been through, you still think i care about that?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of all the unspoken words. “i just wanted you, jay. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes another step forward, closing the distance between you until his presence is overwhelming. “i couldn’t respond, because i knew that if i did, i wouldn’t be able to stop myself from coming back to you. and once i did, i’d never want to leave. but you… you have paris, you have a future.”

“and i want you to be part of that future,” you say, your voice stronger now. “i’ve had weeks to think about this, jay. i’m leaving soon, and i need to know where we stand before i go. please, just tell me how you feel.”

jay’s eyes flash with a storm of emotions—hesitation, fear, and something deeper, something that has been bubbling just beneath the surface. he reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing yours, the touch sending warmth rushing up your arm. “i’m terrified,” he admits in a voice so soft it makes your heart ache. “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and i don’t want to ruin it.”

“you won’t,” you say, stepping closer until your hands are fully entwined, your pulse quickening as his warmth floods your senses. “i don’t care about titles, status, or what anyone else thinks. you make me feel alive, jay. that’s all i need.”

his grip tightens on your hand, and for a moment, it seems like he’s grappling with the depth of what you’re offering. his breath comes in shallow, uneven bursts, as though he’s trying to hold himself together.

“i don’t want you to sacrifice everything for me,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “you’re a princess, destined for greatness, for a life most people can only dream of. i’m just... a man who paints.”

you step even closer, until there’s barely any space between you. “and that’s enough for me. more than enough.”

for a split second, he looks at you as though he can’t believe you’re real. but then, before you can say anything more, he steps forward, pulling you into his arms in one swift motion. the warmth of his body against yours is overwhelming, but in the best way, and as his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly, you feel the tension that’s been building between you melt away.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear as he holds you close. “for leaving. for making you wait.”

you close your eyes, leaning into him, your heart swelling with the relief of finally having him here. “you’re here now,” you murmur against his shoulder. “that’s all that matters.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands resting gently on your arms as his dark eyes meet yours. and in them, you see everything—the love he’s been holding back, the fear, the hope. “i love you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “i’ve loved you since the first day we met, and i’ve been fighting it ever since. but i don’t want to fight it anymore.”

your heart swells at his words, the weight of them settling deep in your chest. “i love you, too,” you whisper, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you as you say the words out loud for the first time. “i always have.”

the smile that spreads across jay’s face is like sunlight breaking through clouds, and before you know it, he’s lifting you off the ground, spinning you around in a burst of joy and laughter. the world around you spins with him, but you don’t care—because for the first time in what feels like forever, everything is right. everything is exactly how it’s supposed to be.

when he finally sets you back down, your feet touching the ground once more, his hands stay on your waist, grounding you in the moment. his eyes, full of love and warmth, search yours, and for a second, neither of you speak. you don’t need to. the silence is filled with everything you’ve both been waiting for.

“i want to be with you,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “but i don’t want you to lose yourself for me.”

you smile, shaking your head. “i’m not losing anything. i’m gaining everything i’ve ever wanted.”

jay’s hand finds yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he looks at you, his gaze full of the future. “paris,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re still going?”

you nod, your heart racing at the thought of what’s to come. “i am. and i want you to come with me.”

he hesitates, just for a moment, as though the reality of what you’re asking is still sinking in. but then, his smile grows, and he nods, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “i’ll come with you. we’ll go together.”

your heart leaps at his words, the hope you’d been holding onto finally blossoming into something real. paris—together. it’s everything you’d dreamed of, everything you hadn’t dared to believe could happen. but now, standing here with jay, it’s all within reach.

“we’ll see the world,” he says, his voice soft but filled with excitement. “we’ll paint, we’ll live, we’ll—”

“we’ll be happy,” you finish for him, your smile widening as you lean into his touch.

he nods, his forehead resting gently against yours. “yes. we’ll be happy.”

and in that moment, as the ballroom buzzes with life around you, as the painting of your shared memory hangs on the wall behind you, you know it’s true. you and jay—together, free, and full of love. the world is yours, waiting to be explored. and with him by your side, you know that this is only the beginning.

as you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the future stretches out before you like a blank canvas, waiting for you to fill it with all the colours of your love, your passion, and the adventures you’ll share. together, you’ll paint a life full of beauty, one brushstroke at a time.

and as the night fades and the dawn of a new chapter begins, you know—this is your happily ever after.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @punchbug9-blog @firstclassjaylee @capri-cuntz @addictedtohobi @jaysfavoritegirl @yuniesluv @isa942572 @academiq @missychief1404 //the ones in bold could not be tagged for some reason. im so sorry guys tumblr is acting up :(

[siriussslut]

I was wondering if you could do a regulus x reader smut. Where they're in a relationship and one night they're chilling in his dorm a bit drunk and regulus like sketching and drawing reader and she offers to be anatomy refference which leads to him edging her and sketching her while she's laid out infront of him while he's in her. And then after it's like ON.

this turned into sub!regulus which i wasn’t planning but is so 🤤🤤🤤

warnings: unprotected sex, praise kink, anal fingering, cutie sub regulus

masterlist

you take another swig of the bottle and then toss it back on regulus’ pillow. the two of you are lounging on his bed, drunk and giddy. he’s sketching you in the journal in his lap, glancing at you every few seconds as he draws.

you stick your face over his sketchbook.“how’s it going?”

“well, i’m drawing you, so beautifully.”

“you’re such a dork,” you giggle, glancing down at his page. your eyes stick to the way he drew your cleavage, obviously one of the parts he focused on the most.

“you only ever draw my top half. why don’t you draw a full body picture of me?”

“i need anatomy practice, i’m rusty,” he answers, continuing with his drawing.

your brain is fuzzy from the alcohol, stupid, so you push your tits above the neckline of your top. “draw my tits.”

his head snaps up. he flips to a new page, sketching the soft outline of your breasts.

you sit mostly still, slowly scooting closer and closer, bringing your chest nearer his face.

when he’s finished with his drawing of your breasts, he shows it to you, pressing a kiss atop one as you study it.

“it’s really good, regulus.” you look up at him through your lashes. “maybe i could help you with more anatomy?”

“yeah. why not?” his voice is breathy, a little too high. you remove your top completely, and then slip out of your skirt and your panties, tossing your clothes to the floor.

“you’re so pretty,” he whispers, staring as if he hasn’t seen you hundreds of times before.

you roll your eyes. “draw!”

he flips to a new page and begins his rough sketch, lining up your body parts. you’re sitting on the bed, legs spread wide, your dripping cunt on full display.

you slide one finger inside of yourself, moaning. regulus is now looking at you more than he’s drawing.

“i told you to draw, reg,” you say, breathy.

“can i… please can i touch?”

you nodding, pulling your fingers out.

he runs a finger through your folds, collecting your slick before pushing his pants to the floor. his cock is inside you in seconds.

you push his head back, hands on his throat, feeling his heart race beneath your fingertips. “draw, baby.”

his cock is quivering inside of you as he continues his drawing. you play with your clit, moaning and dripping on his erection.

you can tell how hard he’s resisting to fuck the living daylights out of you.

hours later, you’ve came more times than you can count, and he’s still waiting inside of you, drawing.

“i’m finished!” he suddenly exclaims.

you circle your fingers around your puffy clit. “show me.”

he turns the sketchbook to face you. you gasp. “oh, regulus it’s beautiful.” his cheeks color.

on the page, you’re finger fucking yourself, eyes shut tight, face screwed into a moan. your pussy is glistening wet, dripping on his cock.

you push his sketchbook aside, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his lips. “i have never been more turned on in my life.”

you run your tongue along his face, licking. you want to devour him whole, there is simply too much love and desire inside of you for one person.

you mumble against his slippery jawline. “you’re such a good boy, reggie. i know that was hard for you, and you did such a good job.” you grab his balls as you speak, tugging.

he gasps, cock twitching against your walls. “i love you,” he whispers, looking at you with blown out pupils, eyes foggy with lust.

you kiss his lips, pushing him down to the bed. “i’m gonna treat you so well,” you mumble between kisses and tongue. “you’re gonna come so many times.”

you fuck yourself on his cock, thrusting up and down. you pump lube onto your hand and slide it beneath his ass, grabbing onto a cheek before slipping into his hole.

he screams, arching his back. you fuck him with your hand, sliding in and out to the rhythm of your thrusts on his cock.

his ass clenches around you, cock jerking.

you don’t stop fucking him as he comes, instead grabbing his balls with your free hand, adding more stimulation. he shoots hot ropes of cum inside of you. it drips out onto his dick, thick and creamy.

you slip off of his cock, letting go of his ass. you slide down the length of his bare, sweaty body. he’s lying and panting, completely boneless. you pull his soft cock into your mouth, sucking.

he gasps, but bucks his hips into your face.

you grin around him, ready to make good on your promise.

[kurishiri]

william v.s. darius . . . william rex epilogue 🌹

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: very suggestive scenes that are awkwardly translated. also i translated this at 1am; you've been warned lmao

Kate: So we’re going shopping!

William: That we are. It’s become less crowded now, which would make it the ideal time for window shopping, right?

W: Let’s choose something together. One that would suit you.

Unlike the lively buzz of the street fair, where many people had gathered,

here, we didn’t have to worry about our surroundings, so we could walk at our own pace.

(Will knew that, so he invited me here.)

(…And the fact I could spend time together with him like that was a delightful reward as well.)

William: That outfit looks charming. It seems like it would fit your air.

Kate: Wah, this looks wonderful! It goes well with the skirt next to it too.

I was happy at how we walked side by side as well, in a good mood, and——

Kate: …Could we hold hands?

William: What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same.

When his beautiful fingers touched mine, our fingers intertwined together.

Kate: Hehe, thank you.

I squeezed his hand back, when…

Kate: Ah.

As if being led away, my eyes stopped on something,

with that something being a crimson red ribbon that went with a dress that left quite an impression.

When William followed my gaze, he narrowed those red eyes.

William: Indeed, I can easily imagine you in that.

W: Then, this dress is for you.

—— Time skip; William’s room ——

Kate: …How does it look?

I tried on the dress that I had gotten as a present as soon as we returned.

In response, Will, who was sitting on the sofa, narrowed his eyes, making their way from the top of my head to my toes.

William: Would you mind spinning around for me?

Kate: Like this?

When I did as I was told, the crimson ribbon fluttered.

William: It does suit you.

Kate: Thank you. Then I’ll be wearing this on our next date.

I looked down at myself, biting down on the feeling that sprung from within me,

when I realized the way he was looking at me.

His gaze on me seemed to hold a bewitching smile,

and I felt a familiar twinge that had been locked within me resurface.

Kate: …Will.

I found myself drawn to him, until I stood right across.

Kate: I want you to kiss me.

William: ——Then come here, my robin.

With that invitation, I sat atop his legs, and when our faces drew together, close enough where I could feel his breath…

His hands caressed my cheeks.

Those eyes, the color of blood, held a hint of amusement.

Kate: …Don’t keep me in suspense like that.

William: Hehe, my apologies.

W: I simply wanted to see more of you being honest with your desires.

Becoming more excited with how his fingers teased my lips, I took his finger into my mouth. [1]

William: ……… [surprised]

W: Pfft, haha. It makes me happy that you’d like to have a taste of my fingers as well.

W: But then you won’t be able to kiss me like that, right?

Kate: Ah…

Withdrawing his thumb, half-open lips met with one impatient for a kiss.

Kate: Mn…

His tongue slipped in, giving me a numbing sensation as they playfully intertwined together——

And when he let go, he gave a small smile.

William: …You are free to decide what it is your heart seeks and what you would like to do.

Kate: …I know.

William: And perhaps your heart may change. Our feelings can’t be restricted, nor should they ever be.

W: Of course, not by others, and not even by ourselves.

Kate: …So that is to say,

K: I am free to do as my heart wants. And even in this very moment [2], I love you, Will.

William: Yes, I figured as much.

Kate: Huh?

William: Your heart is close to mine, and we are not separated in the slightest.

W: That is how my heart feels——at any moment in time.

Kate: Will…

My lover before my eyes seemed to always, no matter in which moment in time, take pleasure in unraveling what was in my heart.

Feeling this, I…

Kate: If we stack even these smallest moments… they can become an eternity.

William: …Indeed.

Our lips met once more, being fondled affectionately in my mouth.

William: And I would like to have a taste of you, to my heart’s content.

W: If it is as you say, and these small moments can become an eternity… I would like to embody it.

Kate: …Will…

When I kissed him, he sought me deeper.

William: Should we take it to the bed? Or…

Kate: …Haa… I want more… like this…

William: …I imagine it would be quite frustrating to move, after all.

With the ribbon of the dress undone, my chest relaxed [3].

As if the wrapping of the present was removed, my skin was now exposed,

and my nipples gave way to my desire.

William: …Kate.

With his lips calling my name, his tone filled with emotion, pleasure rushed through me.

William: Could I engrave my feelings in you?

He sucked on my breasts, leaving a mark as red as his eyes.

The throbbing in my core excited me and trickled within me,

and I welcomed his palm as it slid in——

While indulging in the sweet excitement he gave me, I tasted the pleasure of this small moment in time.

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev fin

NOTES:

[1] I wasn’t sure how to phrase this; part of it may be like midnight or 1am translating, but I also wasn’t completely sure how to translate this part of the line [その指先をはむりと含んだ] (sono yubisaki wo hamuri to fukunda) as well. So I’m mostly kind of guessing based on the context of the lines that come after.

[2] Kate uses the word [刹那] (setsuna) here, which means a moment or instant, though this particular word, unlike another similar meaning word, [瞬間] (shunkan), [刹那] is derived from the Sanskrit word kshana, which in Buddhism refers to the “shortest possible interval of time.”

[3] They say here [胸元が緩む] (munamoto ga yurumu), where [胸元] refers to like the chest or breast area (but can also mean the solar plexus), while [緩む] means like to loosen, slacken, relax, that kind of thing, both for tangible things like parts of the body and intangible things like rules. I’m not really sure exactly how to translate this, but it’s probably referring to how a woman’s breasts are bare, without the support of anything like a bra.

END NOTES: the difference between will and darius' end was interesting, like how they both treated the boy. they're probably trying to hit home the differences between them... which darius seemed to pick up on. i wouldn't say i'm very good at translating william, per se, but i did enjoy his story as well, and just the way he spent time with kate and darius! i feel they highlighted a lot of characteristics of his here that i feel many would like, appreciate, or be drawn to.

full masterlist 🌹🪽

[heartofbusan]

My live reactions of AYS's final (for now 😌) episode 💛💜

-----

Jimin really had a lot of input on the itineraries and restaurants. He should get a producing credit 🤧 : 'Keeper of JK's every want, need and desire in the form of food, accommodation and more 👀': Park Jimin

OH MY BABY Like Crazyyyy!!

They really are the top singers in Korea lmao. You sometimes forget it, with how normally weird they are.

The owners of the restaurant must have been thrilled to have them. #Blessed

The boyfriend shot!?!?!? YOUR HONOR! HE DID NOT deny nor refute the outright allegation!!

Jungkook enjoys life to the fullest.

Also, Jk loves beer.

ESCUSE ME?!?!?!?

THEY GET FLIRTY WHEN DRUNK. DRUNK SHENANIGANS HAVE HAPPENED. I AM SURE OF IT.

Jungkook is such a good boy. You tell him to do something, and he does it. #obedient

JK's stomach makes all his life's decisions.

This hot tub scene is going to end me as a functioning member of society. WHAT THE HELLLLLLLLL

THIS SURE IS NICE

THIGHS. NO NOTES.

COME ON BABY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!? WHAAST

Jimin doesn’t want to extend JKs suffering. So sweet!!

"That’s my Jungkook." Omg

"HONEY"

WTF IS HAPPENING, SHOULD I LEAVE THE ROOM

Baby reference no. 4852820 and counting.

-The more relaxed they are, the more they forget they're being filmed. The touches increase, and the fawning commences. Also, Jimin watching himself and seeing how he's presenting himself for the show is such an interesting occurrence. There's an interesting thought happening there as he becomes aware of it... Is he seeing and becoming aware of his layer of veneer as they were filming? He scaled it back for sure. He let more of his acute feelings through as the seasons progressed. I love that it became less like work for him.

-They are idiots! And I love them for it! The Jeon Park household is filled with laughter. And grunting ofc. Don't forget the copious amounts of grunting. I'm watching this at work and by God if someone walks in on me listening to this...I'll get called into HR 😃 #worthit

ONGOD JIMIN ON THE FLOOR LEGS SPREAD WHO APPROVED THIS MESSAGE?!?!

Also: Jungkook loves cooking. Whomever is making fun of him for choosing to be in the kitchen is an idiot. Please always be happy JK!

Precedent. This show is setting it. Remember it well.

You realize that they have the means to travel like this all the time?!?! But they chose to take us with them? WE ARE BLESSED.

Jimin always finds a moment to connect, physically as well as emotionally. He'll never leave his man hanging on a joke.

BUT JUNGKOOK IS RIGHT THERE WITH HIM ON THE EQ SCALE..He sees Jimin fully, and he treats him gently and with tender care. Knowing Jimin is quiet because the trip is nearing its end😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

They deserve to live their lives without serving us. Without feeling like they need to show us, just because it makes us happy to see them happy. Then again, if this is them normalizing them as a unit and seeing them together, and if it serves them just as much as it does us. Well then I hope they keep up this exceptional excuse to make content. The hate will always be there. The shippers too.

But what will never change is the commitment they have towards each other. They really do complete one another *bawling*

I loved this episode! It was so relaxed and paired back. They really are a give and take couple, giving each other space, patience or attention. Really, they should get married. It's just too perfect a union.

[sugarushwriting]

dedicated to @softkisshyunjin 🩷🫶🏽 thank u for the idea!! and omg thank u for having my notifs on.

kim seungmin

a man who’ve you noticed, but never even thought of in that way

until tonight

“say please.”

seungmin is not an idol in this drabble, but instead just a popular/important/rich figure somewhat (due to the event)

not proof read ☺️

wrote this like 2 times only to erase (he was gonna be a mob boss) then i was like naaah, then wrote this drabble in an hour

mhm hehe minors dni (please don’t)

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

oh my. so many words, curses, thoughts, desires went through your head when you saw kim seungmin.

i mean as usual, he was a handsome guy, but today, no, today he just looked different. hit different, if you dare to say.

his short black hair. the tailored silk black suit, with the black shoes. silver necklace around his neck.

you wish that necklace was hanging above you.

the silver rings around his fingers.

imagine the marks they would leave on your flesh.

the way they would feel if seungmin was to run his fingers across your body. if his fingers were to plunge deep—

“you good?” you heard your friend say from beside you.

“huh?”

“were you even listening to me for the past 3 minutes?”

nope. “of course i was.” you lied to your friend. you were so thankful she brought you to this elite event that only the most important and powerful people could attend.

kim seungmin was one of them. you’ve known him since college, as you two were academic rivals in the debate club.

and he was just too good at it, it pissed you off. so much so you could never even imagine yourself looking at seungmin in anything but disgust.

it’s not like you found him ugly—no, quite the opposite in fact. he was cute, with his long fluffy hair—until today.

it was short. and it made his sharp features of his face stand out even more.

you inhaled a deep breath as your eyes raked over his silk suit. you sighed in defeat to yourself.

lately, you’ve been noticing how handsome he was. his shoulders, his lanky figure, the long fingers.

every. little. thing.

now that you two were graduated, and now completing internships at the same law firm, you had to see him almost everyday in a suit.

and he had to see you almost everyday in a dress or skirt—when you weren’t wearing pants.

seungmin preferred the skirts and dresses.

and he was happy you was wearing a short dress tonight so he could ogle your legs.

you don’t even know if you still considered him a rival, but you never thought you want to have seungmin take you to bed.

to have you begging on your knees for him to please you. you shook your head slightly trying to rid of your thoughts.

you were so screwed. the night was just beginning, and you were sure this even would last for the next four to five hours.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

as time went on you found yourself stealing glances at seungmin when he wasn’t looking. or so you thought, but he caught you a few times.

little did you know, he was doing the same to you. wondering when you got so fucking hot. wondering when his mind went to imagining about debating you about world politics to imagining bending you over in a bed on all fours.

he needed some air and quick.

he walked through the event up some stairs pass the ballroom. he found a hidden area, with a small balcony over looking the courtyard.

he had to get himself together. just because you were stealing looks doesn’t mean anything, right?

he was always a menance because truthfully he found you cute and stupidly hot and attractive. especially when you argued and got passionate about said argument.

many times he thought about wanting to start a nasty argument with you just to tell you to shut up for you to bark back, “make me.”

he heard footsteps coming up the steps and almost didn’t hide until he heard it was your voice. he hid in the corner, in the shadows.

luckily for him, you were too busy talking to yourself.

“get over yourself! you can’t be thinking about him like that! not here! kim seungmin of all people? are you out of your mind?”

you spoke to yourself, hands going through your hair, occasionally smacking your forehead.

“kim seungmin, you cannot imagine him that way! there is no way you can imagine him naked! stop!”

you sighed and huffed, walking to the balcony, not even phased that the door was slightly opened, and not even aware of seungmin just feet away.

seungmin was holding in his laughter. even when you argued with yourself, you made the same hand gestures and facial expressions. it wasn’t until your next sentence that he revealed his hiding spot.

“he probably couldn’t even please me! yep that’s right! kim seungmin probably can’t even make me come!”

“to the hell i can’t! who told you that?”

you literally shrieked at the voice. you could be so unaware sometimes.

“how long have you been here!”

“long enough to hear your entire monologue including you making a bold statement that i can’t make you come.” seungmin said a bit annoyed.

you flustered, your face turning hot. “i—uh.” you couldn’t even make an excuse. you were caught. “why are you spying on me in the first place!”

“i wasn’t spying,” seungmin scoffs, “i was here first. i hid when i heard someone coming up the stairs just in case i wasn’t actually allowed to be up here.” he went on, the narrowed his eyes at you, “now, don’t change the subject. why did you say i couldn’t make you come?”

you swallowed. seungmin looked so offended at that statement and so fucking hot. you were speechless and shrugged.

enough was enough, seungmin thought. he saw your eyes lingering on him throughout the night, and often at your internship. he saw the lustfulness behind those eyes. he wasn’t dumb. you wanted him.

and he wanted you.

“get on your knees.”

“excuse you?”

“are you deaf or just slow? get. on. your. knees. brat.” seungmin remarked.

you huffed and mumbled, “i am not a brat.”

“fine. get on your knees, pup.”

you whimpered. seungmin’s voice was different. laced with something more dominant, more than his usual teasing or menacing side.

you obeyed and slid down to your knees, your dress riding up.

seungmin smirked. his hand when to cradle your face, his thumb swiping across your bottom lip.

“don’t know if i like you more like this, all nice and submissive, or if i prefer you bratty and defensive.”

“i’m not a brat!”

“mhm, definitely when you are bratty.” seungmin smiled, and slipped his thumb past your lips. “you don’t understand how much your mouth turns me on. the amount of times when we debated, i just wanted to shut you up.”

your tongue swirled his thumb, and he sighed in bliss. “so perfect. just for me.”

“seungmin you either hurry up or im walking away.” you threatened.

“i dare you to try.” he challenged.

of course stubborn you got off your knees and went to walk past seungmin, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you around so quickly, all you saw was a blur before he pulled your body to his.

he leaned down to your ear, “big mistake.”

that threat, the venom laced from his throat, just made you drip even more with wetness. it added on to what you were trying to calm down from the night.

you gulped when seungmin pushed you against the wall, your face and front end smushed. seungmin melted his front side to your back.

you felt the tent in his pants. you purposely pushed your ass to him, he hissed and pushed your hips away from him. he deeply groaned with a laugh that sent chills through your bones.

“playing with fire sweetheart.”

using his foot, he spread your legs, and pushed your dress to bunch it against your waist. your backside felt cold when he removed himself, only for a loud groan to leave your lips.

because seungmin smacked you. he smacked your ass so hard you were sure, that a handprint and ring marks would be left tomorrow, and for the next week.

and that made your cunt crave even more.

“do you like that, sweetheart?”

you couldn’t even lie so you nodded your head.

seungmin chuckled. he rubbed your ass to soothe the sting. “good to know you like playing dirty.”

another smack was landed on the other cheek and you bit your lip to keep quiet. seungmin didn’t like that.

he scolded, “i want to hear you.”

you stuttered, “but—but the people?”

“i don’t give a damn about them. i am more than happy to let them know how good i make you feel and how hard i make you come.”

he hasn’t even done those things yet, but yet his words sounded like a promise.

another two smacks came down to each cheek, causing you to groan out loud.

“more like it.”

seungmins fingers traced the lace of your underwear, before he slowly pulled it down your legs, signaling for you to lift your feet so he could rid them completely.

he slid them in his back pocket.

your forehead rested against the wall, waiting for his next move. you wasn’t expecting his fingers to immediately prod at your entrance.

“fuck so tight, sweetheart.” he hummed. “gonna stretch you out.”

and that he did. because seungmin used three fingers as he prepped you. rutting his fingers in and out at a fast pace, not even giving you mercy.

he had one thing to prove and he was close to it.

a kiss landed on the back of your shoulder, then a slight nibble, then he used his teeth. that just made it more pleasurable.

moans were slipping out your lips, at a pace that couldn’t keep up with how could he was making you feel.

the side of your face pushed against the wall, seungmin roughly pulled down the straps of your dress to under your breast, his free hand wrapping around your figure to grab one harshly in his hand, then twisted that nipped.

you moaned his name in pleasure, your hands against the wall to keep you upward.

then you felt it. the knot forming in your lower stomach. you bit your lip, as your moans became a pitch higher and seungmin knew you were close.

his fingers picked the pace up, his thumb tracing circles on your clit.

“oh my, seungmin im so close!” you grumbled, your knees getting weak.

then seungmin pulled his fingers out.

son of a bitch!

you turned around quickly, needing to rest your backside on the wall as your knees and thighs were losing strength.

you don’t care if he saw your bare breasts or cunt right now. you were seeing, red.

“you son of a bitch seungmin!”

“i thought you said i couldn’t make you come? im just doing what you said.” he smirked proudly.

you whined, you don’t care, you just need that orgasm. and you need it from the man in front of you!

“seungmin!”

“beg for it.”

“huh?”

“say please, sweetheart.”

“seungmin,” you began to argue rolling your eyes.

“say. please.” seungmin gritted. “or i walk out right now.”

you didn’t want to believe him, but you know he would. he would leave you dripping and left without your orgasm. you’ll cringe at yourself later.

“please seungmin!”

“please what?”

“please make me come! i know you can! i know you can make me feel good, just please!” you begged, your head hitting the wall behind you.

you were so frustrated, you didn’t realize how fast seungmin was when he pulled his dick out from his pants.

“all you had to say, sweetheart.” he mumbled in your ear, his breath sending more chills down your spine.

he kissed and teased your earlobe, then kissed below it, before he plunged his dick into you.

“fuck you seungmin!” you yelled out, the intrusiveness of his dick stretching you out more than you were used to.

“that you are.” he laughed, kissed your lips, then picked your legs up so they were wrapped around his waist.

“hold on to me.” he ordered and you did so, just as he began rocking his hips back and forth, at a bruising speed, trying to get both of you to chase your orgasms quickly before you two got caught.

he didn’t care if you both were heard, but the thought of another man walking in seeing you drool over him drilling into you, made him angry.

possessive.

jealous.

“ah seugnmin,” you moaned out, unsure of how to finish the sentence. he was making you speechless, and for once in your life, it was due to seugnmin doing something good to you.

seungmin groaned and gloated that his dick made you so speechless. he had you. he had you just where he wanted, now.

your hand went to the back of his next, gripping tight, as your other hand remained on his shoulder.

“seungmin, im close, please, please don’t stop.” you begged.

“i won’t sweetheart, i promise.” he stopped just for a second to kiss you deeply before he continued his ruthless thrusts.

your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping your bare ass, he was able to sneak one hand in between where your bodies connected and rubbed your clit.

you tucked your head into his cheek, breathing, groaning, moaning, crying profanities as you felt another knot forming, and seungmin felt your walls closing in around him.

“that’s it, come around me.” then he demanded you to do so, “come around me now.”

he bit your earlobe sending you over the edge, your coming seeping out of you, onto seungmins cock, only for him to thrust two more times and his own come met yours inside you.

“fuck.” seungmin was out of breath as he kept your body up by pushing you against the wall, his attached to yours. his nose was buried in your neck as you felt his hot breath.

both of your chests was heaving so hard.

seungmin then laughed. “you owe me an apology. hurting my feelings saying i couldn’t make you come.” he whispered into your neck.

you chuckled as well. “im sorry seungmin. you proved me wrong.”

seungmin’s head lifted from your neck with a smile,

“can you say that one more time? i want to record it to make it my new alarm.”

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

inspired by:

thank you tasaki

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

hey :) i've identified as arospec/ace for a while now, and i feel comfortable in that identity. but i do have some questions about a feeling i've been experiencing.

for about a year now, i've really been craving a physical relationship. not necessarily a sexual one (though i've never been opposed to one, being pretty firmly sex-neutral) but i just want to touch someone else and be touched, all over. i don't care if it's a platonic or romantic relationship (i don't distinguish much between them, tbh)---i just want to be physically close and intimate with someone.

my question is, is this a common experience among aspec people? when i try to explain it to my allo friends, they naturally think of intimate touch terms of a sexual or romantic context. because of this, i'm wondering if any other aspecs can relate to this feeling/know of ways to make it better.

thanks :D

It's possible you could experiencing sensual desire. The sensual spectrum is its own spectrum just like the romantic and sexual spectrum and you can experience sensual attraction and desire in a similar way. And it's just a desire to be sensual or tactile with another person, and often includes a desire to do things like touch, cuddle, even sometimes things like smelling the other person.

And I could see why this might confuse allo people a bit because allo people tend to wrap all this stuff together instead of parsing out the individual feelings. So often if they're experiencing sensual desire or attraction it often can be interpreted as connected to other romantic or sexual feelings.

The other option I could see is if you're touch starved. But if you're craving a relationship specifically and not just touch in general, sensual desire makes more sense.

I'm not sure how common it is, but I'll throw it out to followers. If anyone experiences anything similar and wants to talk about it or give their own thoughts, please do!

[oliversrarebooks]

a good grade in being brainwashed: wants and needs

Masterlist

tw: pet whump, bbu-adjacent, dehumanization, conditioning, references to drugging, references to dubcon

He was getting a good grade in being brainwashed, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

"He seems a little clingy, though."

B211's heart sank into his knees. He knew that was one of the absolute worst things a prospective owner could say about him, the very thing his handlers had spent so much time trying to train out of him. Don't cling. Don't be needy. Be affectionate, but only when your owner desires it. Be silent and still and obedient otherwise.

Don't be needy. Don't need. Don't want. Wants are for people. Your only wish is to please your owner.

He didn't miss the nasty glare that the salesman shot him before putting his customer service smile back on his face. "Yes, this one is very affectionate, which isn't to everyone's taste. Perhaps you'd be more interested in this Romantic…"

B211 fought down the whine in his throat as the customer removed her hand from his chin and walked over to one of the other Romantics, A797. He watched as A797 flawlessly executed each position, all with a smile that was just loving enough without seeming desperate. Just the way they'd all been taught.

God, B211 hated him.

B211 knew he could be the best Romantic in this whole damn showroom, if only he could be given a chance. He'd worked so hard at his training and conditioning, absorbing everything thrown at him, always striving to be the best in the room. He knew his quality -- he was eager to please any sort of master in any way they wished, ready and willing to become whatever they wanted him to be. Their lover, their fantasy, their toy, their shoulder to cry on. He was confident he could do it all.

And yet, here he was, left in the lurch yet another day. If things didn't look up, he'd spend another night in his cold bunk. Another night where his training headphones whispered to him about how much he craved touch and affection. Another day where he had to fight down his cravings so he didn't scare off potential owners. Another failure, another denial.

It was enough to make him want to pull his hair out, if that wouldn't absolutely ruin his appeal.

"I think I'm going to talk to your handler about another course of conditioning. I don't know how it's possible, but you've still got too much willfulness in that head of yours."

B211 scrambled down into a kneel, touching his head to the floor, as soon as he realized that the salesman was addressing him. "My sincere apologies, sir. I will endeavor to do better," he said, reciting one of his hundreds of programmed phrases.

"I can tell when a pet's more concerned with his own needs instead of the customer's," said the salesman disdainfully. "Honestly, you could probably do with another round on the Drip, wash that right out of your head. I think that's what I'm gonna recommend."

"Yes, sir," said B211, his inner elbow twinging with the feel of a phantom needle. He knew very well that he should accept whatever medication, training, or punishment he was given, as it was all to make him a better pet. But he hated the way the Drip made him feel, the way his mind was so slow and dim now, compared to --

No, that wasn't right. His mind had always been slow and dim. That's why he was well suited to being a pet. That's what they'd told him, why he'd signed up. He was slow, and dim, and unable to cope with life, unable to pretend to be a person. So he'd done the right thing and signed up. Instead of an endless cycle of pain and disappointment, he'd receive unconditional love and affection from an owner who truly wanted him. All he had to do was follow his training. Simple instructions. Practice these poses. Recite these mantras. Speak politely. Let go of your wants. Let go of your needs. Be perfect.

That was all he had to do.

He didn't actually remember signing up, of course, because the Drip had erased his memories (how many times). It was best for a pet to not remember (what didn't they want him to remember) so he could be blank and empty for his owner to fill with love (what was he before he was blank).

(was he ever loved)

He shouldn't be thinking those thoughts. That's why he wasn't getting bought. Stupid, stupid.

"Well, B211? Do you have a problem with that?" the salesman demanded, pulling him back to reality.

"No, sir."

"Oh, I think you do. I can tell you have something to say. Out with it."

It was a trap. It was always a trap. He'd fallen into it before, he thought, although his memories of those times were hazy and tinged with pain. "I think whatever you and my handler decide for me would be best, sir."

He was being hauled upwards by his shirt, the salesman glaring down at him. "That's your problem. You shouldn't think. You should just get it right."

B211's mind searched for a better answer. Slow, too slow. "I want whatever training I'm given, sir. I want to be the best possible pet for my owner. I trust in my handlers to make me the best pet I can be."

"Better," he sneered.

The ring of a bell indicated another customer had arrived, sparing B211 the salesman's wrath for now. This particular salesman always liked to take it out on the pets when they weren't selling like he thought they should be.

All he wanted was to be touched and loved. Wasn't that what he had signed up for? He couldn't remember, of course, but that's the only thing it could have been. Why didn't anyone see that? Why didn't anyone pick him?

Maybe the salesman was right. Maybe he should go back on the Drip. He was thinking too much. Of course he was right -- his handlers always knew what was best for him.

"Oh, I'm not sure a Romantic is what I'm looking for, exactly," said a voice that was so strangely familiar. "I don't need -- I mean, I don't really have those kinds of needs."

B211 strained to hear the conversation in the other room, beyond the curtain separating the Romantic showroom from the rest of the pet store. That voice. He didn't know why, but wanted to hear more of that voice.

"There are a lot of unfortunate misconceptions about Romantics, and I'd say that the primary one is that they're only for sex," said the salesman. "That's absolutely not the case -- maybe ten years ago, but modern Romantics are so much more. They actually have much of the same programming as our platonic Companions, and even some Domestic capabilities. They're the perfect choice for a busy man who wants a little love in his life."

"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a look at them…"

The customer pushed aside the curtain leading to the Romantic showroom, and B211's heart stopped.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark skin and darker curls, and large, sparkling eyes that he could get lost in. He was handsome, very much so, but that wasn't what caused B211's breath to catch in his throat -- he saw many handsome customers. No, there was something about this one that ran deeper than his looks. B211 was seized with an inexplicable, undeniable desire -- this man absolutely had to buy him. This man should be his owner.

(But pets weren't supposed to have desires.)

The customer was staring at B211, too, but not in the way he would prefer. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Oh, I wouldn't recommend that one," said the salesman. "He's a bit more high maintenance than our other Romantics, and you're looking for a pet that's very independent, right? I'm sure a lawyer doesn't have that much time to spend entertaining a pet, which is why I'm going to recommend this model…"

The customer, the lawyer, let himself be pulled away from B211's case, and B211 was filled with bubbling rage towards the salesman. Something flashed in his mind, a memory, perhaps, of fighting, of kicking and screaming, of having to be held down by four people as the IV was inserted into his arm --

No, that wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. He couldn't hate the salesman, or the handlers, who only wanted the best for him. If the lawyer wasn't a good fit…

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Why was this so important? He'd been passed up by so many people, what was one more to him?

B211 couldn't help but watch the lawyer out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he seemed bored with the other models the salesman was showing him. Distracted. He glanced back at B211, who quickly lowered his eyes to the floor.

"I think I have just the right fit for you!" said a bubbly saleswoman, emerging from the front of the store. She was leading along a man in a slouchy t-shirt and jeans, who was looking around the Romantics showroom in awe, as though he'd never seen so many pets. The saleswoman stopped in front of B211's case. "He's a refurb, so he's available at a discount! He's very affectionate and quite intelligent for a pet."

"Well, he's not bad looking," said this new customer. "Pet, introduce yourself."

B211 snapped to practiced attention. "Hello, sir, my designation is B211, and I'm a Romantic designation with additional Companion training. I enjoy cooking, old movies, and cuddling, and I'm always open to new adventures!"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. He's not really my type. I was hoping for something a little more… demure, do you have anything like that?"

"Certainly, sir, right this way!"

Normally, B211 would be devastated at losing another prospective buyer, but this time, all he could think about was the lawyer. The lawyer who was currently standing in front of the showroom's most expensive pet, being given the hard sell.

"…and he can do anything you want, sir. He'll be there for you when you need companionship, and quiet and out of the way when you need space. He's fully automated and intelligent enough to serve as a personal assistant or run a household. And when it comes to his Romantic skillset… he's very easy to please, and very eager and capable of pleasing others. If this pet is within your budget, I think he'd be the best suited to your needs, sir."

His needs. What were the lawyer's needs? Pets didn't have needs, couldn't have needs. B211 knew he could do whatever that so-called premium model could. But the lawyer probably had more than enough money to go premium, and why would he buy a discounted refurb when he could buy a brand-new luxury model?

"He does seem like an ideal fit…" said the lawyer.

"Would you like to spend a little time with him? I'm sure once you do, you won't be leaving this showroom alone."

"Well… maybe… but I'm still interested in that one. The one I saw when I first came in."

And the lawyer looked straight at B211.

It was impossible, wasn't it? Why would he be interested in B211 when a premium model was an option? Did he actually recognize B211's value? Was that why he'd been so drawn to this man as an owner?

The lawyer walked his way. B211 tried his hardest to read the expression on his face -- an essential skill for Romantics, to be able to read their master's smallest emotions -- but came up short. He couldn't tell what this man was thinking at all.

But his eyes looked kind. And B211 felt…

It was a feeling he couldn't place. It wasn't happy, or aroused, or quiet, or agreeable. B211 suspected it was one of those feelings he wasn't supposed to be having, one that the Drip was supposed to wash out of him.

"Are you sure, sir?" said the salesman, trailing after him. "This one is a refurb, you know. That's why he's on a discount."

"A refurb? Do you know why he was returned?" The lawyer's eyes never left B211.

"Ah, his original owner simply found a new relationship, and was displeased with the amount of attention this Romantic required. He's been wiped of those memories, and we've done our best to train out his unfortunate need for attention, of course, but he'd be a risk compared to our premium models, which can all be customized just for you for only a small additional fee…"

The lawyer wasn't paying attention to the salesman at all as he continued his pitch. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind.

And B211 finally placed what that strange feeling was. Safe. The lawyer made him feel safe. It wasn't something he had felt in training. It was something much older, something he shouldn't remember.

"I want to buy this one," said the lawyer abruptly, cutting off the salesman's patter.

The salesman couldn't hide his shock. "Are you sure, sir? There's no rush. We'd be happy to put a model on hold for you for a small deposit if you'd like more time to make up your mind."

"I've made up my mind. I want this one." The uncertainty on his face from a moment ago was gone, his voice firm. Firm enough that B211 dared to hope.

"If you're certain, then… I'll draw up the paperwork. But keep in mind that we don't accept returns on refurbished pets."

"I won't be returning him."

And the lawyer smiled at B211, actually smiled.

And someone had finally seen him. Someone wanted him. Someone was going to love him.

All he had to do was not screw it the fuck up.

Masterlist

[yanderes-galore]

A romantic concept *or* alphabet for Annalise (Bloodborne), please?

🕊️ anon

Sure! I'll try my best ^^; The lore took me a few tries but I hope I got it! Felt am Alphabet would be better length-wise.

Yandere Alphabet - Annalise

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Blood drinking, Blood, Subtle possessive behavior, Isolation, Dark themes, Dubious/Forced relationship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Annalise has been in isolation a long time, an immortal vileblood vampire in a ruined castle without subjects. She's locked away in her throne room... hidden by illusions. When she meets someone like you, she deems you worthy of her presence.

Especially if she invited you here herself, knowing you're a hunter.

Annalise acts graceful and calm. At first she doesn't want to show any attachment or affection. However... She'd be the type to beckon you closer, softly touching your cheek and chin as she praises you.

She's surprisingly gentle, as though her touch will corrupt you if she isn't careful. She isn't an intense yandere. In fact... She may just captivate her obsession before they know what's going on.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Ironically for a being that consumes blood, she doesn't typically get her hands messy. Maybe a long time ago before her war's stalemate... but not much now. The only blood that coats her hands is her own vile blood and... maybe yours if you let her have a taste.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Annalise no doubt makes you a vileblood like her. She originally held back from it, deciding it would only hurt you. However... eventually her fondness for you wins over.

Annalise would not mock you and would probably keep you in her throne room with you, ignoring her better judgement. She hasn't had a companion in so long since the war. Her guilty pleasure would be having you by her side.

She has no reason to mock you... you are the best company she could ever ask for... she's glad to have found you...

Now you are hers to keep, the blood now within you proves so.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Not much except keep you in Cainhurst Castle within the throne room. You have some freedom to roam...

But you ultimately belong with her.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

At first, she doesn't want to be attached and corrupt you. Yet once she makes you a vileblood, she's more vulnerable with you. She's fond of you which makes her vulnerable with you.

She hasn't behaved such a way in a long time.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Disappointed yet expects it. She should've known you wouldn't take too well to her claiming you. Of course you'd want your freedom...

But hopefully she can convince you to stay, after all... you'll begin to crave her blood.

It's a sweet taste... a taste that creates sinful desire... fight all you want...

You'll come back for more of her.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No and she doesn't enjoy you trying to escape. However, she may let you go...

Only because she knows you'll come back once the withdrawal hits.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

I can't think of many but maybe the realization that, after consuming her blood, you crave her? The moment you pledge to her bloodline... you can't leave, even if you tried. Annalise knows this... and she isn't worried.

You'll soon come to terms with the fact you're hers... and you'll accept your place at her side in her throne room.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Not much except keeping you beside her as long as possible. She hasn't had good company to talk to in what feels like decades. Let alone someone to love since the war.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Not really, but if she did, she'd find a way to cope. She has you in ways no one else could, anyways.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Soft-spoken, affectionate, even if she hesitates at first. She starts by being unsure how to address you or speak to you. It's... been a long time since she spoke to someone properly.

In a way you can consider her a subtle yet possessive yandere, taking great joy in making you consume her blood. After all... such an act makes you addicted... reliant on her like a drug.

For the same reasons, you could consider her controlling, yet she hides such desires well.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

How you meet her is through a mysterious invitation to come to her castle, like in the game. Due to the supernatural ways of how her and her bloodline works, maybe she knew about you before she properly met you?

Then, after she met you and you kneeled before her, she decides you're a valuable asset to her covenant. Another soldier for her army... with enough charisma, she may even push you to listen to her every word.

At first she plans to just use you as a useful soldier... yet as she observes you...

She realizes how lonely she really is.

Her courting is really just manipulation, even though she hesitates on going through with it for the sake of caring about you... eventually you'll drink her blood.

That's about how her courting goes.

She's an easy yandere to avoid, yet when she's attached, it isn't easy to leave.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not entirely. Although she doesn't interact with many others.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

I assume restraints, but she doubts she needs punishment. You're already quite attached to her blood-wise now... metal cuffs just reinforce such ties.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

You may not realize it but... quite a lot once she has control over you.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very patient... She's been around for a long time as a vileblood vampire... Naturally she's patient.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

She most likely will... although her mental state is already pretty fragile. She hopes she'll never have to... but she knows the world is cruel. She hopes to prevent losing you altogether.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Yes and it's possible... but you may just end up crawling back.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Hard to say. Probably her past and the fact she's been in isolation a long time.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

She'll comfort you the best she can, however, she knows it's best to let you cope. She understands she's asking a lot. She's sorry about it.

She may just leave you be until you're ready for her.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

SKIPPED

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

You could easily just not accept her invitation. That, or, not drink her blood. Yet, after you consume her blood, you've already resigned to your fate.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Not intentionally.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Not a worship yandere. In fact, your dependency on her blood may make you worship her.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

There's barely any pining. At minimum, maybe a few days? Depends on how often you come back to her.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Unintentionally.

[nxtaliaistyping]

Thinking about Morpheus making you ride him as punishment :(

Author’s note: oh my god the season 2 behind the scenes look has me screaming, I’m so excited. I need him back in my life.

18+ nsfw, fem reader, slight bondage

Morpheus is nothing if not an attentive lover, always putting your pleasure first. While you’re in his realm, you don’t have to lift a finger, don’t have to want for anything. He provides.

And while he spends long stretches ravaging you, of taking you apart piece by piece via his long fingers stroking your clit until you squirm and cry for him, or fingering you while your gush around his lithe digits, there’s occasionally times where he finds you…challenging.

That mouth of yours has a tendency to run rampant, undermining his authority. He is a king, a god…more than a god; an endless. And to think a bratty little mortal like you has the audacity to be in his domain, his kingdom, and demand more of his time and energy? Well, you simply need a correction. A simple reminder of your place.

So that’s why you find yourself straddling him, thighs burning as you move up and down. He looks every bit the king of dreams as he sits on his impressive throne, how high you both are allowing you to survey the room while you ride your lover to the best of your capabilities. An unseen force is keeping your hands pinned to the small of your back, not even giving you the slight relief of bracing your weight on his thighs or shoulders.

No, instead you simply have to rut against him, feeling every bit like a concubine, pleasing your ruler.

“Are you getting tired my love? That cannot be the case I’m sure, since you were so eager to have me earlier. Quite…insistent, were you not?”

You whine pitifully at his words, the ache of your limbs at the repetitive motions setting in. Morpheus doesn’t have quite the same need to cum that you do, after all you both are in the dreaming, as much a part of him as he is of it. He can withhold his orgasm for as long as needed, which seems to be long enough that you’re soaking his lap with your needy juices.

“Making a mess I see, so wanton.” He chastises, but still makes no effort to help you move.

“Please…”

“Hm?” He tilts his head, a neutral expression plastered on his regal features. “Is there something you need, dearest?”

God you just want to scream, but your outburst would most likely not help your situation, so you give him a particularly strong slam of your hips before batting your eyelashes. “Please just fuck me.”

Instead of your desired response, he simply tuts. “You misunderstand the situation. This is…correctional. Your penance if you will. After all, you were the one being especially mouthy while in my realm. So it’s only right you prove to me you’re worth the attentions of a king.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how reminding you of his status above you makes you whine and clench your pussy around him. Your body is an instrument he is especially well versed in playing.

“Perhaps I have been too accommodating to your every whim and desire. I have created a spoilt thing it seems, so used to not putting in the work to achieve what she wants. This lesson is needed.”

Knowing no other way, you fight against your bodies’ exhaustion to ride him with vigour, rolling your hips. Pleasant hums occasionally pass his lips, the minuscule praise like a drug as you move faster on his lap.

You must get too carried away, as he gives your hip a light slap. “Now now, do not allow yourself to get carried away. Remember, it’s rhythm that is important in sexual situations such as this. Not just how fast you can move your hips on me.”

At his reprimanding, you nod your understanding and mutter a soft apology, building a rhythm that works. The sheer fact you’re riding him on his throne, in his throne room, really settles in. Anyone could walk in, heaven forbid Matthew flies in and gets the shock of his (after)life.

But you can’t deny how much it turns you on, to be dream of the endless’s favourite mortal, his favourite little pet to entertain him. It’s almost power in a strange sort of way, but it thrills you nonetheless.

Eventually, your lover’s hips start to move up in time with your thrusts, causing the breath to leave your lungs quickly. Your hands are released, and you quickly move them to his shoulders, feeling the material of his black cloak under your fingertips.

“Touch yourself. Feel the pleasure that I allow you to take.”

You don’t need to be told twice, fingers hurriedly rubbing circles on your clit as he fucks up into you with tenacity. “Please…can I cum?”

“You can do better.”

A moan rips its way from your lips before you can stop it. “Please…please my king, I need to cum. Please let me cum, I won’t talk back again, I’ll be so good…please.”

A trace of a smirk tugs on his lips, and he gives a simple nod of his head. Blue eyes trace over your trembling form as you finish all over his lap. A few thrusts later, he’s buried to the hilt inside of your weeping cunt, filling you up. He allows you to slump against him, gentle fingers moving up and down your spine to soothe you, his release warm inside of your spent pussy.

“Was that to your enjoyment?” He mumbles lowly into your ear, and you can’t help the girlish giggle you make as you nod against him. His smirk is now transformed into a soft smile, not allowing you to see this moment of vulnerability as he presses kisses to your hairline.

“Do not make such demands of me again, unless you want your next punishment to not involve climax for you at all.”

[ami-atmosphere]

See What I See 🪞

[Read on AO3] [Full Illustration, R18] Pairing: Gale x Amihan (Tav) / WindWeave

Summary: Amihan is worried about her apparent lack of expression. Gale proves otherwise in front of a magic mirror.

Warnings: Mirror Sex, Vaginal Sex, Smut, Post-Canon

Word Count: 1.2k

“Gale,” Amihan whimpered. “Is…is this truly necessary?”

The couple stood bare in front of a magnificently-sized mirror, not one of their already existing mirrors, but one that Gale conjured himself with his magic– a demonstration, he insisted. Amihan had previously spoken of her dismay regarding her own inexpressiveness– how she knows she can appear distant and unconcerned, how it makes her feel unattractive compared to the blooming ladies of Waterdeep. Naturally, Gale disagreed with this notion and decided he must go about and prove that she already was beautiful and expressive.

“Of course, my breeze,” Gale replied. “Otherwise, I fear you would refuse to believe me, stubborn as you are.” He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“No, I want you to see what I see,” He whispered against her neck, voice dripping with desire.

A shiver ran through Amihan’s spine, and he smirked, feeling her tremble within his embrace. Gale knew she loved his voice, particularly when he’d take a more commanding tone. She loved giving him control, loved learning about what he likes, and that in turn was intoxicating for him. Amihan turned her face towards him, her lips parting and her eyes looking at him with that touch of innocence and pleading he loved so much.

“Show me,” she managed, voice wavering but still full of resolve.

“With pleasure.”

Immediately, his lips found hers in a heated kiss, his tongue gently coaxing her lips to open and allowing her very own to swirl with his.

“Mmph…” Amihan moaned in their kiss, her legs losing balance as he put more fervour in his movements. He was devouring her, and if not for their mortal lungs, he was convinced he would never part his lips with hers. Alas, Gale did eventually break away from the kiss, allowing the two of them to breathe, a thin string of saliva connecting them for a few more seconds. He marvelled at her reddened lips, her lustful gaze. Oh, how he loved seeing her like this.

“Simply exquisite,” he grinned. “Now, my breeze– If you would, please.”

His hand beckoned her eyes to face the mirror, and Amihan watched herself with heavy eyes. She never saw herself this way, never seen herself looking so positively sinful.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against her ear.

“I don’t–” she tried to protest but was quickly interrupted by Gale’s wandering hands. One settled on her breast, while the other slowly moved lower towards her core.

“So sensitive…” he continued.

“Gale…” Amihan mewled, her head resting on his shoulder as both of his hands began to move simultaneously. He had always been a master of concentration and of the somatic component, and he capitalised on this skill just as much as his practised tongue on his darling wife. His hand below slid between her folds, feeling her slickness, coating his fingers with her.

“…And so wet.”

Oh, what he wouldn't give to have his tongue lap her essence at that very moment, but he relented. There are plenty of days ahead of them to do just that. Still, he found his hips moving softly against her ass, his hot, aching cock dripping generously on her ivory skin.

“Need…you…please–” Amihan begged, her voice ragged full of need. “I want…to see myself…as you fuck me…”

Seeing, hearing, feeling a person like Amihan, who's normally so full of self-control, calm, and collectedness, in this state, so deeply affected by him, begging for him— needing him. Him, only him. It was better than any pleasure the Weave could provide, and it’s a wonder he didn't burst right there and then. Of course, this was not their first time, but by the gods is it intoxicating, like anew, every single time. So how could Gale possibly deny his precious wife’s adorable pleading? When with just the sound of her voice, with the way she looked at him— hells , if she wanted him spinning around her during the act, he was certain to follow.

He lined himself to her centre, the length of him rubbing against her soft folds for some moment, coating his length with her fluids, breath hitching at the feeling. Amihan whimpered, he was so close but refused to enter still. Her hand wrapped around his arm, nails digging on his skin. His teasing was torture for both of them he knew, and yet that made their joining all the more rewarding.

With a knowing smirk, he finally let his cock enter her tight, warm entrance, and immediately Gale was reduced to a mumbling, grunting mess. He took a deep shaky breath to help himself recover composure and continue his hands’ previous ministrations, now joined with his thrusts, tender in pace but firm, and deep.

His hands were relentless in their attention to her body. One rolled a nipple between his fingers, while the other rubbed at her swollen bud, in time with his thrusts. Amihan bit back her moans, her eyes instinctively closing in her own attempt of focusing and recomposing herself.

“My love…my breeze,” Gale murmured between thrusts, “Open your eyes…you promised…please.”

“Gods, Gale–” She let out a needy whine, finding it hard to focus. Her eyes opened once more, and her gaze flitted to their reflections. Of Gale desperately rutting against her, and of her own wanton expression.

“See what I see,” he rasped with a wide smirk. “Look how alluring you are…how lewd…how expressive,” followed by indistinctive strings of praises against her neck.

Gale felt her clench around him at his words, making him drown in that sweet sensation of her tightness. His hips slammed further against her in response. Amihan held on to the mirror, watching her own expression with hazy, unfocused eyes.

“So perfect,” Gale began again, his grip on her becoming tighter, getting more possessive. “Mine…only mine. Only I get to see you like this. Only I…”

“Gale , fuck– ” Amihan cried out curses from her delicate lips. Gale could tell she was close, as was he. His thrusts became more frenzied and erratic, determined to make her reach her peak with him.

“Let go, my breeze. Let me feel you, let me see you,” he cooed, the hand on her breast moving up to her chin to keep her gaze anchored to the mirror.

“Can’t…anymore…coming…Gale– I’m–”

Her back arched against him, mouth opened wide, followed by a gasp and a shiver. Gale felt her contract around him and he followed soon after, spilling inside of her with more strings of incomprehensible praises, not quite as poetic as he normally preferred to be. He kept himself within her for a few more moments, burying his nose in her hair, arms still tight around her, savouring every last drop of their release.

“I love you,” Amihan whispered, her head turning to plant a soft kiss on his temple.

“And I you. I trust I have convinced you on the matter?”

“I don’t know…” she smiled playfully. “Perhaps we need to repeat the activity three more times in order for me to make a sound judgement.”

Gale’s eyes widened in surprise at his wife’s remark, then laughed.

“Have I rubbed off on you that much, dear?”

“Quite.”

[sitp-recs]

Part II: table for two

Following my list featuring the sea (now with a lil banner cause I’m getting in the reccing zone again baby!!!!), I thought I’d make this a series called “fic as a sensory delight” and continue the trend with good old Drarry domesticity walking hand in hand with some food porn appreciation. Who knew that Drarry living their best life while enjoying tasty treats could be so personal? These fics feel like a comfort meal when life gets too crazy and provide a delicious sensory experience. From cottagecore to road trips, found family, case fic, established relationship and even kinky delights - this list has a bit of everything and features food as a main character either bringing Drarry together, healing past traumas, helping them connect with their heritage or simply playing as a love language. I hope these fics bring you as much comfort, joy and healing as they brought me. Happy weekend!

🥘 Breakfast by @moonflower-rose (E, 3k)

Breakfast is Harry's favorite part of the day.

🥘 Market Saturdays by @sorrybutblog (M, 3k)

In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love. Not an AU.

🥘 Salt and Sauce by onbeinganangel (T, 3k)

Sure, of course he knows how you take your tea. But does he know your chippy order?

🥘 Cupboard Love by @shealwaysreads (G, 4k)

Harry’s life, and love, in food.

🥘 Don't Bite the Hand That Feeds You by InnerLilith (E, 11k)

In which Harry takes Draco out for Eritrean food, and Draco has a severe obsession with Harry’s hands. Smut ensues.

🥘 Harry Potter and the Showstopper of Doom by @doubleappled (M, 11k)

In which Harry’s an amateur baker, Draco wants him to go on the Great British Bake-Off, Petunia never misses an episode, Sue is a witch, Paul Hollywood is Paul Hollywood, and everyone eats a lot — like a whole lot — of baked goods.

🥘 Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose (M, 13k)

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that.

🥘 Connecting Lines, Connecting Crimes by @sleepstxtic (M, 15k)

“Hello, Harry,” Draco said. He was wearing a black turtleneck under a long grey overcoat, and he was already flushed with sweat. His hair was tied into a knot; it was longer than I remembered. He was older than I remembered. There were lines around his eyes, and I wondered if they were from laughing or frowning. “Hello,” I managed. “You must be with the British Ministry?’ He nodded. I thought I might faint.

🥘 Bridges by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 16k)

Harry and Draco are on a trip to Budapest to help with Kingsley's re-election, but that's the boring bit. More interesting: Harry Potter is changing his Tinder preferences to include men. Also interesting: Harry's spending more time with Draco Malfoy than he ever has, wandering around the city. And Harry doesn't hate it. The city's pretty gorgeous too.

🥘 Sourdough by @academicdisasterfic (M, 17k)

Draco writes romance novels and doesn't leave his apartment much. Harry bakes bread and sells it to Draco. Draco is quite weird. Harry might like that.

🥘 Preserving Lemons by @saintgarbanzo, @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 17k)

Harry is cooking food he couldn't care less about; Draco is making art he couldn't care more about. A story about kebabs, miniskirts and the way preservation can transform a lemon.

🥘 Passion Cake by @icmezzo (T, 19k)

It’s all about desire. (Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, and from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. Also, will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is?)

🥘 Knead by laughingd0g (E, 83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

🥘 Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

🥘 Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.